In retrospect, Telma supposed that she really hadn't known what to expect when she returned home, and by that logic, she'd had no real right to be surprised.
There was glass all over the floor and some of the furniture was overturned. The cat was sitting on the hanging plant, a shrub atop her head like a crown. Ashei was leaning back against a shelf, obviously flustered. Ilia looked tremendously guilty. Shad was hobbling back and forth with a crutch under one arm. And just when Telma thought things couldn't get any more bizarre, a bulblin came trotting down the steps wearing a dishrag as an apron.
Her luggage fell to the floor with a loud clunk and she whipped her head back and forth, unable to make heads or tails of anything. She realized suddenly that everything had frozen in place, and that all eyes were focused on her. So after giving everything a moment to settle in, she assumed a vague smile, and stated that, "It's always something," before dispatching upstairs to fetch the broom.
When she returned, movement had resumed as usual. Ilia was sweeping some of the glass into a dustpan with her hand.
"Oh no, honey, don't do that, you'll cut yourself," Telma commanded. She grabbed Ilia's hands and realized that they were bright red. Ilia hung her head as Telma inspected them. "Goddesses, child, what in Hyrule…"
"Burned them," Ilia answered quietly. "Hot water."
Telma glanced at the girl skeptically. "Of course," she said, playing along with what was obviously a lie. Then she commanded Ilia to stand up and let her do the sweeping. Ashei was doing very little to help, so Telma caught her eye. She seemed pale and tired, so Telma told her to take Ilia upstairs. She suggested that both of them rest for a bit. But Ashei had no intentions of going anywhere with Ilia, as her expression clearly stated, so she declared with a harrumph that she was going out, and disappeared with a slam of the door. Ilia vanished up the staircase, and the bulblin followed her—which still made no sense to Telma—leaving nobody but Shad.
"Okay," Telma finally said, catching his eye, "I'm never leaving this bar again. What—" she said with a sweep of the broom— "in Din's name—" sweep— "Was that?!" A third and final sweep, added for emphasis.
"You've missed a lot," Shad answered blatantly. "Shall I explain?"
"Please," answered Telma, who could feel a headache coming on.
"I suppose it all started right after you left. Link and I took a day trip to Lake Hylia, but I broke my leg. I've been walking with a crutch ever since—I mean, I'm fine, now. But I have a limp. Not sure whether that will go away. I don't mind," he continued urgently at Telma's shocked expression. "Really, I don't. I do a lot of sitting around, anyway. I'll be all right."
"And what happened after that?"
"Link felt bad, so he wouldn't leave his room. So Ashei took him fighting. And somehow he ended up with a pet bulblin. Her name's Mildred, and Link spared her life. So she owes him a debt, and she has to serve him until she repays the debt. Her honor depends on it."
"How does that have to do with the glass all over my floor?" Telma pressed.
"I'm getting to that!" cried Shad, who was beginning to get impatient. He collected the dustpan from Telma and emptied the glass into a bin. Then he took Telma's shoulders and steered her over to a chair, sitting her down gently.
"Why am I sitting?!" Telma asked, but Shad didn't answer.
"Then Ashei threw a party—you weren't going to know about it, but, uh, I just told you. I don't know why I told you that. Drat… anyway, Link got really drunk. He talked a lot about his past. And then he kissed Ashei—"
"He what?!"
"—and it all became very messy from there. Ashei went to visit Princess Zelda and Doctor Borville to get help because Link's been acting quite odd lately. And it turns out—well, you see, it turns out that—" Shad stopped to adjust his glasses, voice faltering. Then he sighed. "Telma, it turns out that Link is actually quite ill."
Telma stood up very quickly, and Shad sat her right back down. "He's been hung over all day," Shad continued calmly. "He was ailing from nightmares, I believe. He seemed very distressed. Ilia and I took care of him, and then we cleaned up the rest of the bar from last night's party. And in the middle of it all, Ashei walked in. She told us everything that Zelda and Borville had to say."
"And what's that?" asked Telma with concern.
"Link has some form of bipolarity. Borville thinks that it was triggered by the war. I guess that Link was held in confinement after the war because he was dying. Ashei makes it sound like he barely scraped by, and then hit one of his highs. He was happy for a few months. But now he's going downhill again, and he's falling fast. Ashei's afraid he might… well, he might do something stupid."
"And the glass is all over the floor because?" Telma continued halfheartedly.
"Because Ilia thinks that Ashei triggered this whole thing. They got into a fight ten minutes ago. Screaming and everything. Then Ilia slapped Ashei. Twice. She went reeling into the wine cabinet and that's why Ilia's hands are red."
Telma's expression was hard to describe—caught between sadness and confusion and surprise, Shad suspected.
"Louise is in the vegetation," Telma concluded.
"Jumped up there when Ashei knocked the cabinet over," Shad answered. "She burrowed down into the flowers. I think she was scared."
"Well," Telma finally sighed, standing up and retrieving the shaking cat from the plant. "It never ends, does it?" she asked.
"I imagine that things would be terribly boring any other way," Shad decided. "After all, gods forbid there be some peace and quiet…"
The cat meowed in agreement.
…
The Princess flexed the muscles in her legs; then her arms; then her shoulders; then her neck. And then she let them all relax at once. The doctor had told her it would help to relieve her stress, but she was starting to think that nothing would do that.
Thronesitting was terribly boring. Twice a week from eight in the morning to twelve o' clock noon she was expected to sit on a cushion and answer the demands of her people. And from one in the afternoon to six in the evening, she repeated this process. During this time she was allowed one meal and one brief walk through the courtyards. Sometimes, nobody showed. Other times, the entire kingdom materialized at her feet. But no matter the outcome, the demands were always the same—monotonous cries for food, for freedoms, for medicine, for justice. People who felt they had been wronged. People who felt they hadn't been given their fair share.
It was surprising, therefore, when one day four guards showed up dragging a zora boy in their arms.
"Your Majesty," one of them announced, "Prince Ralis." The soldier spoke with scorn when he addressed the boy with that title, and Zelda's expression hardened.
"Why have you brought him here?" she questioned.
"For questioning," he answered. And with that, he threw the boy forward into the carpet, where he let out a faint, disheartened whimper.
"I'm afraid I don't understand," Zelda said.
"I shall handle this," decreed an oily voice, and Zelda jumped at the hot breath in her ear. She glanced over her shoulder to find herself face-to-face with Chancellor Crevan. He was looking not at her, but at the boy, but his presence was unnerving all the same.
"Of course," said Zelda quietly. "Such matters are… yours to handle." A bell rung suddenly, signaling six o' clock. Her duties at an end, Zelda got to her feet. She paused in her ascent, glancing down as something cold wrapped around her ankle. It was the zora prince, gazing up at her with terrified green eyes.
"Please," he said quietly. "They're going to hurt me—Your Highness—please-!"
Zelda felt Crevan's hand around her arm. "Leave the boy," he advised. "He will not be harmed. He is under the delusion that he is in danger, but I can promise you that he is in good hands."
"Why, then, is the evidence of the contrary so overwhelming?"
"I suppose you are united in your delusions. A side effect of royal blood, I imagine," the chancellor answered, and she could hear him snicker. He turned to Ralis. "Come, boy," he demanded, and with the help of the guards, Crevan dragged the boy down a corridor and out of sight.
There was a groan from the other end of the room as an onlooker got to his feet.
"That zora boy has been here for weeks, you know," the man said.
"I wouldn't doubt it, Auru," the princess answered.
"I have asked you half a dozen times to fire that man," Auru claimed, finding his way to Zelda's side, "and yet you have not obliged."
Zelda searched the old, withered face of her former tutor. She knew that his wisdom went far beyond her own, and yet she used the oldest excuse known to royalty. "The council would not approve. They elected him, after all."
"And have you ever considered firing the council?" Auru continued. Zelda's posture tensed, but the old man merely smiled. "I see," he said quietly. He reached forward and took Zelda's hands in his own. "Your hands are cold. That man frightens you."
"I don't trust Crevan," Zelda answered simply, glancing back to the spot where the chancellor had vanished as if he might still be listening.
"Why should you trust anybody who so elegantly avoids telling the truth?" Auru returned, and fell into step beside the princess as she made to exit the throne room.
…
Ilia sat on her mattress glumly. The whole room was dark and quiet, and all she could really focus on was the fact that she had slapped Ashei into a shelf of wine bottles and that now she just felt plain sick. And tired. And worried, too. About Link, yeah, but even more about Shad. She didn't know why she was so worried about Shad would think of her. She just was. Even though Ilia knew that Shad could never, ever dislike her, she still worried about it sometimes.
She flopped back on her pillow and thought about him some more. She really liked Shad. Then again, who didn't? He was just so funny. And brainy. Ilia supposed it was the little things about him that she liked best, like the way that he played with his glasses when he was flustered, or the little strands of hair that fell out of place when he lost his balance. Or the way that his face went bright red sometimes. And she liked his nose, because sometimes when he was under the weather he would sniff, and scrunch up his nose to one side, and it was all very silly. And he had dimples, which Ilia was very fond of, because Shad didn't grin very often. She liked to think that when he did grin, the dimples were a sort of reward. "Congratulations!" they seemed to say. "You made me laugh!"
And she also liked that he didn't mind having to walk with a crutch. He'd taken it as a blessing; the first thing he'd said when Borville announced that he might have a limp for the rest of his life was, "Good! All the more reason to read a good book!" Oh, that was another thing Ilia liked about Shad. He liked reading books. And he liked sniffing them, too. He said that there was nothing better than the smell of a book. He said he could tell a new book from an old book by the way it smelled. And he said if a book smelled better, then that meant the book was better. Ilia once asked Shad if he only liked books for the way they smelled and he said that that was probably seventy-five percent of it.
Oh yeah, percentages. Shad didn't talk in percentages a lot, but when he did, Ilia always giggled. She hadn't even known what a percentage was when she first met him. He had said one day, "Ashei spent ninety-nine percent of her money gambling on the east road." Ilia said she didn't understand, so Shad told her what he meant. She had fallen in love with the idea, and had been doing it herself ever since. She once told Telma that she was "Fifty percent smiles and fifty percent sweet," and Telma had hugged her so tightly that she was afraid she might pop. And Ilia caught Shad's eye over Telma's shoulder and grinned the biggest grin she could possibly muster.
And Shad had just grinned back, dimples more prominent than ever, and he blushed a little, and adjusted his glasses, and sniffed, all in a combination of all of the things that made Shad, Shad.
And it was one hundred percent wonderful.
…
By six o' clock that evening, Link felt back to normal. He was clean, he was refreshed. Sure, his head felt like an anvil, but he was definitely on the road to recovery. The problem was, having a clear head meant confronting the petty things again, and as the final images of his nightmares vanished temporarily from his mind, images of something not-so-imaginary came rushing back in.
Ashei. The kiss. That long, unnecessary, kiss smack in the middle of Telma's bar, where all of Castle Town was free to witness it. If not for Shad and Ilia, Link definitely would have been the talk of the town for weeks to come.
He sat back with a sigh, cursing Ashei- and most other women, for that matter- for turning him into a hormonal, sexually aggravated nincompoop. He hadn't asked for this.
Okay, she was attractive. But she was also Link's friend and fighting partner. They workedtogether, for Din's sake. Didn't that make her off-limits? And besides, she'd kick the living crap out of Link if she ever realized that he wanted her that badly.
But, ugh, it was true. And it wasn't just her body. It was her brilliant, bold spirit. She was proud and captivating and funny and sexy.
He collapsed back onto the headboard with an aggravated sigh. He'd told himself there would be consequences. Of course, he had expected the consequences to consist of Ashei shoving a knife up his ass or something, not this extreme confusion mixed with mild arousal, of all things. It was certainly a turn of events, and he had by no means seen it coming.
And besides, he reasoned, it's just a case of hormones. I'm a teenager, damn it. And this is healthy, right?
…Well? Wasn't it? What with the returning nightmares, and the voices in his head, and the vomiting all over the sheets? What with the getting drunk and thinking about Midna and war and blood and then spending all day hung over in bed?
Maybe, Link continued, this was good for him. Yes, it was awkward. Yes, Ashei probably wanted no part in it. But she didn't have to know he felt this way. Right? Right.
A knock came suddenly on the door.
"Link? Are you up?"
"Yeah," he grunted in return.
"Oh. It's me, Shad. Uh—everyone's back. We're having a group meeting downstairs. Join us?"
"I'll be down in a minute," Link answered. He took a second to gather his bearings. And then he slipped out of bed, stood up, and smiled faintly when he didn't topple over.
…
"Link," Ashei breathed in relief when the boy hobbled down the stairs. She leapt out of her seat and ran over to him, throwing her arms around him protectively. "Good to see you." She could feel him become suddenly tense in her grip and she remembered the previous night—but that had been nothing, yeah? He had simply been drunk. Surely he was just as embarrassed by the action as she was. Surely he had no intentions of kindling a relationship. Ashei wasn't interested, after all.
When she pulled away, he was smiling lazily. "You didn't wake me up this morning," was all he said. "Usually, we scream at each other."
She just rolled her eyes and returned to the table where the Resistance had always held meetings. Telma, Shad, and Ilia were already seated. Ashei and Link took their seats, and Link was incredibly conscious of everyone staring at him intently. Finally, he sighed in defeat.
"I didn't know you'd invited me downstairs for a staring contest." He observed their un-amused expressions. "Or is it a straight face contest? I'm not very good at those."
"How have you been feeling?" asked Shad abruptly. Link just shook his head.
"I think the answer to that is pretty obvious. Or was I just imagining the events of this afternoon?"
"That's not what he means," Ashei clarified. "What we mean is… well, you've been kind of sad, yeah?"
"In general, you mean? I've been… all right," Link answered, suddenly feeling insecure. He shifted back and forth. "If this is about—listen, I know I behaved… inappropriately. I've been a mess, and I'm sorry. I've kind of been sloppy with my actions, and…" he diverted his eyes from Ashei. "Well, I'm working on it."
"But have you been happy?" Ilia asked.
Link was about to say yes. He came incredibly close. It was the immediate response, after all. Well-rehearsed to the point of absolute fluency, yes would have been the easy answer. But it occurred to him all of a sudden that it would also have been a lie.
"No," he answered slowly. "I haven't."
"I didn't think so," Ashei said. "Link… how have you been feeling? Answer honestly."
Link's shoulders fell. "Well, I…" he looked around, and the words he wanted to say played through his head.
I'm… uneasy, he wanted to say. Uneasy, because I'm starting to feel afraid of myself. I feel like I'm losing my grip. At any given moment, I could lose it. My mask of happiness is slipping away. It's like my defenses are being blown up. The voices have started again. And the nightmares are back. Sometimes, I think I'll never be happy again… but then I think of you. I think of the lot of you, being funny and stupid and making mistakes like I do. And I think of Ashei, who is stubborn and rude and altogether amazing. I think of what I'd do if I got her alone, and it helps to push out the bad thoughts. And I know that it's bad to think of her like that, and I feel guilty about it, but it's the only way to make myself feel better. Because I'm a chemical mixture that's about to lose control, and it's like I need a perfect balance to control myself…
But that's just it. Too much time like this, and I might lose that sense of control. And I don't know which end of the spectrum I'll be on when it happens—
"Link?"
He glanced up, emerging from his thoughts. "I've just been feeling ill," he fibbed. "Tired. I think I've been drinking too much, and…" he glanced around, trying to come up with something to say. "Well, I'd like to get out for a bit. To the countryside—"
Ashei was giving him a look that very clearly cried bullshit. He tried not to focus on it.
"It's all just been very messy, and I think that—I think that I need some time off. From all the ruckus, I mean."
He was expecting cries of malarkey! but received none. Instead, the group just nodded collectively.
"Ashei proposed a trip to Ordon," Ilia finally said. She reached across the table and took Link's hand. "Would you like that, Link?"
"Yes," he answered quickly. It was partially true, after all.
"I think it will help you get your mind off of things. We'll all go—take a group holiday—"
So that you can monitor me, Link recited in his head. Yeah. I get it.
"—and it will all be delightful, won't it?"
"Yes, of course," Shad agreed.
"And right at the time of the Fall Festival, too, Link!" Ilia cried in mock-delight. "You love the Fall Festival, don't you, Link?"
He pulled his hand away, trying to hide his suspicion. They were acting suspicious, after all. What did they know? Apparently more than he did.
"Yes," he said slowly, glancing from one friend to the next. "I do."
"Fado will be happy to see you," Ilia was rambling. "You can help out with the goats… and we'll have Father fix up rooms for Shad and Ashei…"
And Ashei was saying, "I'm looking forward to learning how to wrangle… hear it's quite the sport…"
Shad just kept ranting about how nice it would be to meet Rusl's family. And Telma kept repeating, "Send them my love! All my love!"
So in the middle of it all Link just stood up and started walking away, faking a smile and ignoring the voices behind him. It was all very rehearsed, and he was remarkably uncomfortable.
And once he had turned the corner, he stopped to listen, because something that Ashei was saying had caught his attention.
"I don't think he knows…" Ashei began. And Shad just shook his head.
"Poor lad. If I were that ill, I'd want to know as well."
Link raced up the stairs very quickly after that, his blood hot in his veins. He wasn't really sure what happened next but somehow he found himself sitting on his mattress, punching his pillow over and over again. And then he took it in both hands and threw it very hard against the wall. And then he started laughing, and he didn't know why.
I DON'T KNOW WHAT THIS STORY IS ANYMORE. I'm updating in the wee hours of the morning because I have midterms all week and if I don't do it now, it's not going to happen.
Thanks for your support, yadda yadda. Oh, good news. I finally planned out the rest of the plotline, and I can confirm that we are… not even halfway through. Sorry, guys.
As usual, I didn't proofread. If you find any errors, too bad, I'm not going to change them.
I deleted my Tumblr account for the sake of my writing. That's like signing your soul to the devil and then deciding you want it after all. Since I made this tremendous sacrifice for you guys, I expect copious amounts of praise and thanks in your reviews this time around.
No, but all sarcastic remarks aside, thanks for continuing to put up with this story even though I crank out chapters like a sloth cranks out… well, other sloths, I suppose. The next chapter focuses on the trip to Ordon, and if that doesn't steam your noodles, then I don't know what will. See you on the flip-side.
-CTJ
