Notes at the end of the most recent chapter.
"So, Link. How was your meeting with Mipha?" Zelda asked, flipping pages in a royal ledger she presumably obtained from King Dorephan.
The Hylian knight smiled very subtly, but it was a drastically different sight than he normally-stoic expression.
Laughing between breaths, the princess exclaimed, "I thought so. The first time I met the Zora champion, I swear she was the most innocent, kind being to ever live. If that idea is mirrored by your experiences, then it must be true!"
"Unfortunately, it seems King Dorephan requires some assistance balancing his domain's finances. Of course, that is not in my realm of expertise, so I'm afraid we must return to Hyrule Castle at once. However, I'm sure there wouldn't be any harm in taking a visit to Lake Hylia on our way," Zelda offered.
Link's grin melted into a meek look that usually accompanied fear.
'I simply must do what she tells me. Nothing more. She did not tell me to enjoy it, so I won't. I don't deserve that after what I've done. Protect her and obey. Nothing more.'
"Link?" Zelda seemed concerned upon seeing that rather curious expression plastered all over his face. Clearly it was a red flag after what he'd done the last time she tried to treat him as a person, much less a friend. The scars still remained from that specific event, in fact…
The princess gulped, and her sworn knight removed all emotion from his face once more, returning to his version of normal.
Princess Zelda had visited the lake several times in her life, before Ganon's threat of existing seemed all too real. Now she was accompanied by one who would lay down his life to ensure she had hers.
'How noble', she thought. 'I've condemned this boy to die for me and he's the only one I've ever revealed a meager secret to...'
Link ignored the expansive lake that served as a landmark for seafarers entering Hyrule, opting to practice his swordsmanship instead. To him, the luxury of seeing natural beauty belonged to his princess, not his lowborn eyes.
As he struck the air with the Master Sword, he thought of his roots and his home. A golden-haired, blue-eyed boy newly aged seventeen spontaneously chosen by a divine weapon to fight an ancient evil alongside a goddess-gifted princess.
He was nothing compared to her, yet to her, she was nothing compared to him.
Bound by the Oath, Link was tearing himself apart thinking about how worthless he was. A brute with a sword, he reminded himself. Nothing more.
Zelda could never admit to Link that she was afraid. As her father had reminded her many times, it is her duty to server as a role model for the soldiers waiting to die by a power greater than them. Scholars and archaeologists struggle to unlock a power that might very well save Hyrule and she sits around and tries to break her sworn protector's oath.
It didn't add up. How is it possible that two souls, so painstakingly crafted to be a dynamic duo could have such dissonance? Some orphaned peasant wasn't supposed to draw that sword, Link thought. It should have been a member of the king's guard, or a master from the training grounds. Not him.
Yet the boy always forgot that the sword only has one master: its chosen.
Zelda still felt that her attempts to press Link into talking were heathenish and traitorous, even though she'd relieved him of that particular clause of his oath long ago. She decided it would be best to give him time to himself for a while, at least until she unlocked her power.
Hopefully that would be soon…
As the princess and her knight silently contemplated their situation, a storm brewed overhead. Zelda retreated beneath a tall tree with leaves thick enough to keep her dry, but Link seemed utterly unfazed, continuing his practice.
Small, sweet drops of rain quickly turned into thick, relentless ones, soaking the entire landscape—and Link.
"I doubt this will let up anytime soon. We may have to find shelter come nightfall. There's no way we'll make it all the way back to the castle in this weather."
Link nodded curtly, sheathing his sword and stepping under the tree. In close quarters, princess Zelda now realized that he wasn't soaked at all. The armor he wore, which he was currently unstrapping, was waterproof. Only his head was wet.
"What are you doing?"
The knight continued undoing his armor, taking the time to ensure he didn't damage a single strap or fastener.
At last, the sky-blue tunic slid off his lithe body, revealing the same sort of white tunic he always wore. Link draped the tunic around the princess, gingerly, and tied one strap to secure it.
It would keep her dry as they walked to the nearest inn.
He would guard her with his heart quite literally upon his sleeve—defenseless. He might very well freeze; the rains grow cold as summer ends.
Link's dedication to his oath meant more to him than his own happiness.
After a short walk through the downpour, the pair had at last found shelter. It was a simple inn, noticeably similar to one they had stayed in not long ago. Zelda paid the innkeeper the fee for two beds and removed the tunic Link had put on her. It did a better job at keeping her dry than she expected. The only part that was wet was her hair, but when she looked over to Link, his shirt was soaked. She could see the faint outlines of his slim body and the way he tried to hide his shivers. Princess Zelda decided at that moment that it would be unfair to her knight to deny him happiness. She did not feel any romantic attractions to her protector, rather a strange air of sympathy—no, empathy. She knows how he feels. He may know how she feels. Maybe Zelda can go on knowing that her knight may one day become more than a shadow.
He could become a friend.
Link sheepishly removed his tunic and trousers, now clad in only his underclothing and stockings. He washed the discarded clothing in the inn's washbasin and hung it up to dry at the foot of his bed. Still, with red cheeks, he climbed into the bed and quickly fell fast asleep.
Zelda watched the entire ritual.
He's afraid. Not of her. Not of the innkeeper. Not even of King Rhoam.
Link is afraid of himself. The way he tries to hide his body, the way he hastily climbed into bed so that he couldn't be seen any longer. He's not burly and muscled like the heroic statues outside Hyrule Castle, yet he isn't petite and scrawny either.
That must be it. Not just his body type, but Link as a whole. The boy in one package.
He doesn't fit in. He isn't a kingsguard, yet he's no sell-sword. He's not a peasant, but he certainly isn't noble. What is he exactly?
Being a knight is the only thing certain and unchangeable to him. Zelda is trying to change the statue of his identity without a chisel. She might break him, or the wind and waves might get there first.
She must support his dedication and reward it. Silence him? No, quite the opposite actually.
She doesn't know it yet, but Link saved Zelda. For so long, she had given up on trying to access her powers. Now that the threat to the realm is so tangible as Link wields that shimmering, indestructible weapon of the goddess, she has once again true faith in discovering herself. No longer will the visits to the places of power be merely routine.
Zelda's gift is ready to be discovered, but she isn't searching in the right place. Not yet.
She needs to believe that her knight is more than a knight first.
Several days later, Zelda and Link rode to Sanidin Park. In the middle of the biggest rotunda stands a horse on its hind legs, rearing to greet traveling riders.
The princess was in the middle of a very long one-sided conversation about horses. Link had said a few mere words about how to tame her mount, and considering that was the only thing he'd said in quite some time, she wanted to hear more. Not about horses, not about anything in particular. She just wanted to hear his smooth voice once more.
No, she wasn't falling in love with it. Zelda was concerned. She swore to Hylia that she heard a fearful tone in his voice. Seeing that he had already nearly had himself killed by monsters, though only one scar to show for it, she was rather interested in his well-being. He has no family, no friends, and is forbidden from speaking—a surefire recipe for disaster.
Zelda decided she would take Link with her to the final spring of power that she hadn't yet visited. But she wouldn't just up and go, commanding him along. She would take time to make sure he felt safe with her. He's a person, too, and though he tries to shut them off, he feels just as much as she does.
She wants to make sure that it's clear his presence is important to her. Not verbally, of course. She wouldn't be so blunt and beg him to not kill himself, yet she wouldn't shy away from helping him either.
Maybe the prospect of being his friend isn't so far off after all.
The two hopped off their horses and entered the park.
"See that mountain? That's Mt. Lanayru."
"It takes its name from the goddess of wisdom. Lanayru's decree is very specific. It says: 'No one is allowed, under the age of seventeen…
"For only the wise are permitted a place upon the mountain.' I've prayed at the Spring of Power, and at the Spring of Courage, yet neither awoke anything inside me. But maybe up there. Perhaps the Spring of Wisdom, the final of the three, will be the one. To be honest, I have no real reason to believe that will be the case. But there's always the chance that the next moment will change everything. Tomorrow...is my seventeenth birthday."
"So then I shall go, and make my way up the mountain. And… you will come with me."
Link immediately dropped to a knee.
Zelda grabbed him under the arms and pulled him up.
"Please, Link. I know your secret."
His face paled.
"This is all you have. Being a knight, protecting me, wielding the sword that seals the darkness..."
His eyes, and posture, softened.
"But I want to give you one more thing. Come with me, up the mountain. Not as my lesser. Not as my squire, nor my bodyguard, nor anything other than my knight. As… my friend."
Zelda smiled softly, to which Link also smiled.
Again, they mounted their horses, except this time Link did not keep his distance.
He rode alongside his princess—no, his friend.
Friend…
Link liked the sound of that word.
And at last the clock struck twelve. No more ticking, no more tocking, only silence… and peace.