Chapter 10
Three months later, on the welcomed eve of the coming springtide days heralding a newly marked year, they came to Kakariko Village.
All that last morning as they moved south Link had been gazing at the mountains. To see the Dueling Peaks again, towering above all else in their grand form, he could not help but be awed by the uniformity in their might and majesty. When they came close enough to see the distant ring ruins and passed through the chine, to be graced with a pleasant sight of the tranquil Sheikah village, he suddenly realized he was mistaken in his worrisome doubts on attending this long-overdue assembly.
It was after noon now. Far to the north on that same afternoon, Sir Gralens kept command over the Akkala Citadel and all the ever-expanding, prosperous lands which surrounded it.
The sun rising behind a spurring clutch of mountains irradiated the peaks to be amber-coloured and sublime and glittering gold too. On the very highest points of the summit, the last remnants of snow still shone bewitchingly in the cast of light. Link could just vaguely glimpse the tip as it penetrated the distant, overlapping sheets of low-hanging, puffy clouds of white covering the lands in its own kind of warmth.
Such a viewing lifted his spirit somewhat.
Yet the sight up ahead likewise made him pause to reflect. Forasmuch as Link had initially thought to stay behind, even when approached by the Princess Zelda herself, things between them had been ill at ease. He recalled that one sombre evening after the academy had shut its doors for the day; she had come to him, escorted by her newly-ordained knight attendant, Sir Toren. Though, he was her knight attendant only but in name; Zelda, while reluctantly allowing him to make leave the service of the princess's guard, had wholeheartedly refused to release him from his vows. It was there afterwards she told him of her intent to travel here in the first thaws of spring, and of her desire for him to accompany her. In the moment he had not bade her a reply, but some several weeks later he received—by knightly message, no less—her own royal command for him to come. In truth, the Knight Academy was made busy by the start of the new year, and as its new headmaster, he had not desired to abdicate his post for any long measure of time.
But Princess Zelda's official decree was not one to be easily rejected.
And their royal progress down the winding roads of Hyrule had not gone so amicably. In these times, there indeed were swifter methods of travel available, but Zelda had wished to demonstrate to the peoples of the land their kingdom was intact. So, they made their path by horse-drawn carriage, with a score of knights, guardsmen, and servants to follow them much like the days of old in the time of the king. Despite that, little had they shared nigh a word between one another; rather more often than not, he felt they had intentionally avoided crossing paths. Perhaps, Link thought that had been for the best. He recalled that one bright, moonlit night at the Thims Crossing, where he had wandered a little too close to her tent. Underneath starlight, he heard a voice from within—two voices, to be more precise. One belonging to a man he understood to be Sir Toren; the other, a woman, undoubtedly the princess herself. It seemed to him she had been fraught with worry and grief against the consolation of her knight, yet he had not lingered too long as to understand the truest nature of their private conversation.
Which brought him to his present predicament. There, up ahead at the front of their column, he saw in the clear distance an unmistakably beautiful face, and above it a wide, ring-shaped hat. He could just make out her elated smile, stretching wide across the corners of her face as it normally did.
To Link, seeing that greeting smile brought some small measure of relief to him. He had been cautious of it at one point in his life, but now, here underneath the soaring sun beaming on his shoulders, with the breezy wind at his back, and the sparrows arching through the blue skies above, he felt he had finally come to enjoy it.
He twitched his reins and his black courser, cantering around the centre of the column behind the princess's carriage, and headed up to meet the chief of the Sheikah. The breath of wind on his face spurred him further as he approached her, and when he had closed the distance between them following a rearing of his courser, he hailed her with a raised right hand. "Good day to you," he said. "It has been too long, has it not?"
Paya continued smiling, said, "And so it has, Master Link."
He bore an expression to match her own. His courser whickered loudly, but Link steadied him with a jerk of his bridle. Up ahead, he saw a stable hand coming to aid him with his dismount. Adjacent to them, the lengthy royal column finally came to a halt, and everyone began their own preparations to settle down at the end of their week-long journey. Further beyond, he could see Sir Toren opening the royal carriage, and with an outstretched hand, helped Princess Zelda step down from it with all the gentlemanly appeal of a chivalrous knight.
A larger, much older Sheikah man near Paya's side—one he recognized to be Dorian—favoured him with a nod of recognition. "Your return is most welcomed, Sir Link," he greeted warmly. "It has been almost a year, am I correct?"
"Just near enough," he replied evenly.
With the stable hand approaching, he instead took that as his cue to get down from his mount without aid. He was not wearing a suit of armour, just his champion's leathers and a thin coat of chain mail underneath it. Zelda had insisted upon him to wear it . . . and it was very comfortable, after all.
He landed with a thud and then settled his horse. Leading by the reins, he handed him off to the stable hand. "You have my thanks," he said to the boy. Turning to face his hosts, he fixed himself and rested his left hand on the hilt of the Master Sword dangling at his hip. "The Princess will be along shortly," he continued calmly.
Paya opened her mouth and then closed it without replying. Dorian glanced at her, a fleeting inquiry in his old, wrinkled eyes. Receiving no response, he turned to see Princess Zelda walking towards them with Sir Toren in escort. He felt then his expression changing into something lesser to that of joy. Zelda, coming briskly as she always did, averted her eyes from him as his own struggled to stray her long-limbed form. And with his forthcoming failure to do so, he noticed the princess was not dressed in her riding leathers, much like she did so when they had travelled together in the past. She was dressed now as royalty would, with her blue, long-flowing gown trimmed glittering gold and adorned by shining rubies, gem-encrusted as it was. Her soft, oval-shaped face was framed majestically by her now below-the-shoulder length golden hair, which itself was bound by one singular braid, like a wreath of flowers set upon her head. The glitter of jewellery was all about her: a bejewelled crown in her hair, crimson-red garnets in each ear, a silver lace pendant of diamonds between her modest breasts, made to be full and accentuated by her close-fitting bodice. Several of her lithe, dainty fingers each had their own gold and silver around them.
He felt it again now, while his frightened heart was knocking against his chest like a fist on the door to safety. He tried—futilely so—to force his mind away from such thoughts. It was not easy, especially when Zelda had seemingly gone right past without paying heed of him, nor a simple glance toward his direction for comfort. He would figure afterwards he had probably deserved such treatment.
Sir Toren, who had lingered slightly behind the quick-footed princess, regarded him with a curious look. Link then turned his head to see both of their Sheikah hosts lower their heads deeply in a lord's respect.
"Your Highness," Paya said as she approached. "We humble few of the Sheikah tribe welcome your celebrated return to Kakariko Village. Always know this place is your second home beyond the stone walls of which your ancestors dwelled."
Zelda nodded and smiled. "It is so good to see you," she said in return. "Sir Link had told me of your much-anticipated ascension to chief. But now, I may see it with my own eyes the fruits of a long and arduous labour."
"The Princess honours me greatly," Paya said shyly. Link could see a reddish blush spreading across her cheeks, flattered by Zelda's words. "Are you made tired from the journey here? Please, my modest village is open to the comforts of your men. A large encampment has been erected for them to make their rest for the duration of your stay. And the doors of my own home lay open for you to make your personal quarters."
"Your kind hospitality will not go unnoticed," Zelda replied evenly.
Link stood silently nearby, listening to the two nobles talk amongst themselves. Both seemed comfortable in each other's presence, even though in truth, they were more akin to distant strangers than anything else. Her words took him by surprise; Zelda had appeared to have spoken of him fondly, but in his heart he knew it was mere cordial pretence. For nought shared or said between them in quite some time forespoke of a fond amiability, nor the pleasantries of close bonding.
Yet his ever-wandering thoughts led him forthwith from this place. Some uncomfortable moments passed as they talked further, and quickly he had begun to disregard their conversation. Instead, Link found his mind unconsciously straying; he looked over to see Mellie's plum garden, which by now had been inundated with many amber-coloured sundelion flowers. Looking over his shoulder, he watched the numerous guardsmen and knights beginning to unpack their loads and tend to their weary horses. Over the hill, he saw the ring ruins, of which many still levitated above the earth in their mysterious way. Turning to face the princess once more, he found them deep in a genial dialogue he had no wish to interject.
It was not his place to, after all.
And it was thereafter Link realized, it was he who had ultimately become discomfited by these lesser details which few paid heed to. Even so, he gleaned from their conversation several things of import: Impa was currently away, investigating some ruins on the outskirts of the village with Cado. As well as this, Paya explained to him of the Hyrule Survey Team's current whereabouts. Following a successful expedition in East Necluda, they would be returning soon as well; and with them, their leader, Tauro, who would finally make rest in the village yet again.
When they came to meet at Paya's residence a few hours later to have supper and be introduced to their own quarters, he was faced with further uncomfortable moments. Unpleasant enough, in fact, to make him briefly wish he was back in Akkala overseeing the unforgiving tutelage of the academy's current class of knights. It kept him busy after all, and for it he could shirk his duty and be less mindful of the ever-growing list of complications in regard to his waning relationship with Princess Zelda. There was even something to be said for the predictable springtide skies of blue in Akkala following the passing of winter. He could surely find peace in observance of the shimmering waterfalls from atop the battlements of the citadel; to see the rainbows painted majestically upon the thin sheet of mist born from the endless torrent of water, and beyond that, the ever-expanding central hub of Hyrule which was Tarrey Town.
He tried uselessly to guide himself toward a mood of understanding and patience. Half an hour later, when the ashen-haired stewards had set their dinner table and brought forth their fresh banquet of various delights, only then did he realize such aspirations were just merely that. With the Chief of Kakariko Village sitting on the far end of the table, Princess Zelda had unexpectedly taken her seat next to him, near Sir Toren's own side. His set of bamboo sticks now in hand, he sooner realized—irrationally so—all the interested eyes about the table were glaringly fixed upon him. Under the circumstance, it rendered him nervous. Link tried to ignore that; he focused hard, in order to mind his table manners under the watchful eye of so many.
"Sir Link, will you fetch me the plate of carp?" the princess asked gently. "It has been many years since I last enjoyed its flavour." For the first time all day, she turned to look at him in the eye, and said: "I can recall you once enjoyed its mild taste as well."
Link gazed back at her, abashed. He looked to see Paya eyeing him intently in her own way, and then returned to that of Zelda's stare. Instead of answering, he nodded with an evident nervousness about him, and then reached over the table to take the plate of fish in hand. With his bamboo sticks, he carefully took an appetizing strip of the fish and placed it on her plate.
"Thank you very much," said Zelda.
He could not read her emerald-coloured eyes, even with the flickering lanterns about the hall casting their animated light upon her. She had been so unreadable to him recently. Even with her warm, inviting demeanour, he understood it to be nothing more than a show of deception for the others.
As the long seconds passed further into longer minutes, their supper went along in a mutual silence. He could not bring himself to speak, so instead he poured most of his attention onto the appetizing food itself. Indeed, he was made to be famished by their long journey across the winding roads of Hyrule, and the feast before them was enough to satiate that hunger.
After a while, with the sun finally setting behind the wide backdrop of mountains through the opened doors of the hall, Link heard the meek voice of Paya rise from the edges of the table:
"I have learned of Master Kohga's capture," the chief said in an apprehensive tone. "Likewise, the Shadow Guard has since bidden me word of the Yiga Clan's recent whereabouts. Supposedly, the remnants of their group have reorganized themselves at a hideaway in the Drenan Highlands."
Princess Zelda, with her own bamboo sticks in hand, shrugged indifferently. "Master Kohga has been in our captivity for several months now. For what it is worth, he has been as well-disposed as any prisoner I have ever bore witness to. While our investigation of the attack on myself and that of Sir Link continues, there are presently no further plans to pursue the few who still remain loyal to him."
"Well-disposed?" Paya asked quietly. She was sitting back in her chair, having not eaten for some time. "Well, If you believe this to be the appropriate course of action to take. As he has been excommunicated from the Sheikah, I will entrust his judgement to your rightful rule."
"That reminds me," the princess said thoughtfully. "The Sheikah Shadow Guard has been safeguarding the Royal Family with unwavering and steadfast devotion since the very beginnings of recorded history. I have always appreciated and valued the close connection my family has shared with your tribe. However, with the restoration of the kingdom, came the resurrection of the esteemed Knights of Hyrule. Sir Link himself has helmed this welcomed upbringing, one of a lineage most revered amongst the articles of history lost in the fires of the second Great Calamity. It is because of this, I have decided to scale back the operations of your forces. Unyielding was their support, but now the Sheikah must focus its attention on their own people."
Paya was gazing pointedly at Princess Zelda; he saw her swallow with some difficulty as well. "If this is the wish and command," she said gracefully, "of the Princess of Hyrule, then the Sheikah shall humbly obey. Our people are forever yours to command, your highness."
Zelda smiled. "I thank you," she said. "Such an oath made eternal is not easily upheld."
He quickly understood a double meaning in that carefully worded response.
At this moment, Link turned his head to see Sir Toren sipping quietly from his cup of wine. He had not uttered even a word since their arrival here. He was still clad strongly in his blue-coloured padded doublet, which he had been wearing all day. By now, Link himself had dressed down to be more comfortable in the safety and security of this hallowed village. Even the Master Sword rested against the wall in the corner over by the doorway. But Sir Toren had not done so, being Zelda's own personal guard and knight attendant now. Such a duty required more than just iron-willed devotion. It was a mantle he knew all too well of, one which he had understood and obdurately worn for many years.
When their evening meal had come to an end, and the stewards came to take their plates away, Link went to step outside for some fresh air. By now, it had grown steadily darker. The first owl called not too far away. Beyond that, he could hear the musical waterfalls pouring into the lake behind the hall; it was a familiar, comforting sound. He decided to walk down toward the centre of the village in order to gather his mind and settle himself. Once in a while, a gusting of wind would pass between the mountains to swell through the village, catching his now free-flowing, shoulder-length hair. He lingered like that, alone with just his guilty conscience and painful memories to walk alongside him. Eventually, he found himself before the statue of the Goddess erected serenely at the centre of a small, clear pond laced with blooming lily pads. Torchlight reflected off the dim waters in alluring colours of red and orange.
With a mild apprehension, he stepped onto the old, wooden bridge leading to the statue. For some reason, the way the light played upon it—breathing life into its still form—seemed to lure him in like that. Perhaps, he thought, he could speak a word or two to her, alone like this. He suddenly realized several months had passed since he had prayed to the Goddess. It was so unlike him to do so, and understanding his dereliction of devotion only spurred him further along.
Placing his left hand over his heart, he got down on one knee. Link closed his eyes, unconsciously thinking to himself many things which served to ultimately weaken his spirit. He strove to dissipate those thoughts, believing now only in the benevolent Goddess above, and what all she did to keep the world they dwelled upon both safe, and secure. For a long moment he stayed like that, asking her not for answers, but only to aid him on the path he had chosen so reluctantly. He had not known whether it was the right path, or if he had erred in his many decisions he made along the way. But it was the pathway which he now walked, and no amount of regret would wrest him from such a binding road. Minding this, he prayed aloud:
"Goddess, do not forsake us. Do not forsake me. I struggle against a demise worse than death. Deliver me from a temptation I can hardly resist."
The owls called out again. But there came no further reply.
After a while, Link stood and looked solemnly at the Goddess before him. Bowing his head slightly one last time, he turned on the heel of his boot.
And right in front of him stood Paya, who had been watching him from a short distance away at the edge of the bridge.
Link could not, in fact, see her expression in the dim, gloomy light of the young evenfall hours of the dwindling hour, but he could at least make out her unmistakable shape. The night sky above was lit up with an arch of spring stars strewn through it like shining lace in the dark, and a bright, circular moon amidst all which served to capture the beauty of Hyrule in one singular spirit.
He stepped closer, noticing how her hands were laced to rest in front of her. So by the time Link had come nearest to her, the softness of her face and the warm, inviting smile which bespoke such, became evidently clear to him. "Do you oft partake in these evening spells of prayer?" Paya then asked. "I had not known you to possess such a curious habit, Master Link."
"This is not normal," he said, finally.
"It is not?"
"Is that so unusual?"
Paya said, speaking carefully, "There is no shame in such devotion. You need not be defensive, Master Link. There are many times I find myself wandering these roads, and many more nights where I have stood or knelt before the Goddess, the same as you have just now."
Link, fingering the pommel of the Master Sword dangling along his hip, angled his head upwards to gaze at the clear nebula above. He said, almost soundlessly, "The Goddess has not spoken to me in many years. There are times where I have felt abandoned, almost. Perhaps that is no mistake. For it is true I have shirked not only her love, but her grace as well."
Paya shook her head. "You should not think such things," she said; "and to utter them aloud is to breathe life into such untruths. The Goddess loves all whom she shelters underneath her all-encompassing wings. She is our truest sanctuary, Master Link. Even in these trying times, you must not forget that."
Link was registering everything he could: the brightest lights above, her clear voice underneath starlight, and moonlight . . . her carefully crafted words, and the hidden implication of them.
Looking upwards like that, he swallowed. "Trying times . . . ?" he asked, slowly.
"Yes," she replied calmly. And then, after a pause, "Grandmother has spoken to me about things . . . things which few who walk these mortal, blessed lands have come to know."
He turned his head to look at her. There, he saw her close her eyes, looking downcast. "Tell me of these 'things'," he said.
Lidded eyes averted, Paya swallowed. "I have seen how she looks at you," she said quietly. With an abrupt pause, she seemed to struggle to speak further. "Her love for you . . . it is beyond question. But there has been a change; something dreadful has come between you two. I can see it in how you struggle to face her; and how you falter whenever her eyes do meet your own. Just who keeps guard the Princess's bedchambers this very second, Master Link? Not the gallant hero of legend, I see, but a simple knight who could never hold such a title."
He nodded slowly; Link had been more or less expecting this. It was a relief when it came, a breaking of the heavy spell of this night.
"It is difficult to talk about," he said. "Someone of my position should be beyond reproach."
"Even a hero suffers indignities," she whispered. "There will be no reproach. We are how the Goddess made us. We must be what we are, or we would lose our way on the path she has designed for us."
He watched her walk past him to look toward the Goddess statue. She did not say anything else, with her face averted like it was in the dark of the night.
"I have wronged her in unspeakable ways," Link uttered dismally. "I do not believe myself to be worthy of her forgiveness. And I know the Princess, kind-hearted and true as she is, would undoubtedly do so. What sort of man am I . . . to go to her now and beg for such, after all which I have done?"
There was another brief silence, and then Paya turned around. Link, staring at her now, saw on her expression numerous emotions which he struggled to identify. The chief of the Sheikah was never one to mask such feelings. He recalled that fateful time when he had first crossed paths with her. He could see that same love twisted and knotted into her visage tightly, one he could never fully repay.
The same, for that matter, might even be said of Princess Zelda.
"Can you ever fully understand?" Paya asked; her tone was laced heavily with passion. "You must go to her and make things right. I would never feign to understand fully your bond with the Princess, but I can see, even now, the long thread of fate about you two, as clear as the stars shine in tonight's night sky. Do you recall my words? The Goddess herself has weaved from this same thread your preordained path to follow. Such has led you through fire and war, to ultimate victory over the greatest evils which this hallowed land has ever seen. If you choose to stray this path now, Master Link—to shun destiny—I do not dare to wonder of the consequences. Look you now up at the stars and read the signs! They are all about us, even now. She speaks to us in many ways: through the ever-flowing streams and the waterfalls which fill the lakes, teaming with life. There, in the many kinds of trees, where birds and countless creatures of nature make their nests and raise their young. In the skies above, where her light shines to the detriment of all fell monsters of the land and the evils born from their hatred. Her mark and sign are there, even in your holy blade—the sword of evil's own bane—which has continually sealed darkness since before the fall of a great kingdom many eons ago. Take this thread in your hands, my hero! There, at the end of it, I know in my heart of hearts you will find the answers you have been seeking all your life."
Link had said nothing in reply, but following Paya's heartfelt confession, the words on the edge of his tongue were all but lost to him.
For a long moment Link stood motionless, dealing with an impetuous regret washing over him as if he had lain upon a beach beset by a rising tide in the dark. When he did turn, it was towards the hall where the princess now resided. Even at this distance, he could see the home bustling with warmth, its subtle, orangish glow a beacon in the night underneath stars which shone their own sort of light to cast off the darkness. There, on the gate between cherry blossom trees, two lanterns dangled, flickering dimly to attract all kinds of insects. The waterfalls behind cascaded downward into the lake, feeding the picturesque scene like an artist's brush crowned with white upon a canvass of boundless tenebrosity. Beside him, with exquisite grace, the chief of the Sheikah tribe placed her left hand upon her breast and bowed her head, as if she had been beckoned to do so by some otherworldly presence unseen, biding this physical plane of existence they called their home.
Link swallowed, struggling without great success to adjust his mind for the oncoming tryst with Princess Zelda. It was difficult to resist the growing fear which threatened to stifle his beating heart full of amorous love, and the blood which it pumped. Fate was beckoning him; the Master Sword slung along his hip hummed slightly.
"I will go to her now," he said.
This had been said with him facing away from her. Time passed without knowledge then, as he took steps up the long staircase leading to the hall, steps which he would not remember afterwards. His perception of the world seemed to shift and turn uneasy with every heel strike upon the wooden floor. He had not even registered the unforeseen revelation Sir Toren had not been at his post, and the princess was left unguarded for him to intrude upon. A few moments later, he found himself upstairs, purposeful eyes scanning the room from right to left in search for the woman he so desired.
Link looked. From behind the translucent paper screen, very much indeed as from behind a stage curtain, resplendent in blue and gold, with a lavender quill in hand, came the Princess Zelda. Draped over her shoulders was a dark cloak, which overtook the very edges of her dress near the floor. She was crownless, with a circlet of silver set upon her freshly-combed—although unembellished and plain—strikingly golden hair reaching further down her back than it had so in years. They had not shared the comforts of each other alone like this in many months. She was always so mesmerizing to look upon, the long bangs of gold framing and setting off flawless white skin. To see her beautiful and vulnerable like this stirred him, forcing him to remember the purity of her voice. He wished so much to hear it again, but it was there on her face, where he saw the expected sadness to steal him away from the moment of unbidden desire.
There was a fireplace up here, not lit. On a desk in the corner of the room, there was a piece of parchment resting upon it, and an inkwell beside that, freshly crushed and ground in preparation for writing. The windows on the outer wall were open to the sounds of the falling waters beyond them; Link could even hear the shrill noises of cicadas in the distance. As she looked at him with her tired, uneasy eyes, a hard bitterness rose up from inside him, and an interest he could not deny, and a third thing, like the obvious hammering of his pulse, beneath all of this.
"Link," said Princess Zelda of Hyrule, stepping outwards and away from the thin paper sheet separating them. Her golden hair billowed about her with each strike of her bare feet. She was demure in her manner, submissive to his approach.
He did not respond promptly. Instead, he approached her slowly, carefully so, as not to alarm her. She did not move away from him, nor did she utter anything in reproach. Once he came within arm's reach of her, Link steadily fell to one knee, and then took the hem of her dress in his right hand. Bringing it to his lips, he finally bade her reply.
"Zelda," he said.
He was tired, and his mind and heart had been dealt numerous blows these past months. He could hold out no more. And looking upon his princess who bore need there on her lips as if she had desired greatly to speak of it, it would appear, she too, had given in once again. In those brief, silent seconds following their greeting, she seemed to be filled with an unrestrained emotion born from the depths of her heart.
"I can wait no longer!" Zelda cried. "Say it."
"I love you," he said quietly.
"Say it once more."
"I love you," Link repeated.
She permitted herself the small, warm smile he well remembered. "Give me your hand," she ordered in her superior way, raising her own left hand, palm facing upwards like a knife.
Link nodded, and then with an outstretched arm, placed his right hand gently atop hers.
It was the first time they had touched in many months.
"Speak," she said tersely. "If after all this time, you have finally decided to confront your heart . . . to face our love, then tell me."
"I have seen the signs." He could hear tension in his own voice; his words seemed to unnerve Zelda as well.
"The signs?" she asked.
Her tone was steady and calm; Link's face grew thoughtful as he recalled a distant memory. "One night, long ago," he began, "I sought refuge in a ruined temple; it was there, a voice from beyond the veil challenged me. At the time, I had believed it to be that of the Goddess. I can still hear that haunting voice there in my mind, accusing me of deceit and treachery."
Zelda's golden brow knitted. "You must have dreamt it."
"From that day forth," Link continued carefully, "I had sworn an oath to the Goddess that I shall be your lover no longer. Zelda, I vowed it, upon even the naked blade of the sword which sealed the darkness."
The princess's smile faded. She withdrew her hand and, almost apologetically it seemed, turned away from him. She then said, "I scarcely believe you would do such a thing."
Stricken by shame, Link turned his own face away. "I did," he uttered quietly.
It took some time, but Zelda turned around, facing him with a determination there on her beautiful face. He saw in her emerald-green eyes, a reflection of the grassy plains of Hyrule Field, much like that fateful day beneath the castle in the sky. "Perhaps," said Zelda a moment later; "but you must be freed from another vow, before the Goddess can hear you."
Link looked pointedly at her now, tracking implications to their endings. With these words, he realized his ultimate desire was near at hand. He said, entreatingly so, "I ask you to free me from that vow, Zelda."
"I gave myself wholly to you," she admitted, as if coming to a deep realization; "and you took me."
"Consent," he pleaded again. "Free me from my vows."
She was silent a moment. Then: "You have changed, but I am the same."
But before he could manage to interpret either her words, or the unexpected way they were spoken, he said, "Consent. I beg this of you, for the salvation of all the land. By my honour and pride, I must now cease to be your knight."
"No," she said with a mild asperity. "I would save no one at that price. The Goddess does not ask us to forswear love. Your vows to be my knight attendant matter not. I will not release you from what binds us together."
He did not answer for a long time and suddenly became afraid to look at her. Turning away, he said, finally, "That which was must be no more."
Facing her once again, he saw her mouth open, but no words came out. There was something strange about her which captured his attention. Then, her rising voice, cutting through the silence of the room like the sharp edge of a blade against flesh came about:
"Can we make it be no more?"
He soon discovered his hands had balled themselves to be fists. And when his own voice came in response, his tone was weak, and unsure. "We can forestall fate . . . deflect the menace which has eaten away at our hearts and souls."
"There is no menace," she corrected him sharply. "You have imagined it, much like the children imagine ghouls and ghosts in the dark places where the eye cannot see."
His mouth felt dry again. Something in her tone, the way she was speaking to him, the very truth of it, spurred him to react like so. He was silent so long afterwards she took a step towards him.
Link's voice stalled her advances. "I yield," he said. "Zelda, I yield; I humble myself. I have been so wrong, have I not?"
She seemed to search the floor for an applicable reply. Either that, or her heart. "To think yourself responsible for everything is not humility."
"Are you, then," he asked, "the root cause of all this?"
Link, his heart pounding, saw Zelda hesitate. The soothing sound of the waterfalls outside somehow had gone away. He heard nothing, as his vision and mind centred on the princess in front of him. Zelda had not yet spoken her reply, but he watched helplessly as she took some steps toward the bed. After sitting upon it, she motioned for him to take his own place next to her. He swallowed and, knowing what this could possibly lead to, went forth anyway and found himself beside her seconds later.
Zelda was looking at him, so close as she was. Her verdant eyes set upon him, shining like two glittering jewels. "I am the one who was created to support you," she said, with an unmistakable urgency in her voice, "who will go with you through the void, the darkness." With close attention to detail and custom, she took his hand in her own and led it to her covered thigh. A moment later, she placed her own hand upon his, saying, "I will always be your strength. You once said to me, 'Without Zelda, there would be no Link'."
He said nothing for a long time. Neither did Zelda. But some time afterwards, with her hand now gently squeezing his own, he stood. "I wish now to be alone," he uttered.
From below in her low position, Zelda said, sharply so, "You are alone in your pride. Know that pride in what is not yours is a falsehood."
Link shook his head. He felt drained, almost numb. "But I was to bring light back to the land of Hyrule, to vanquish the evil that has haunted these lands for a millennium."
Princess Zelda frowned, disappointed in his words. "It was not the light you desired," she corrected him. "It was my hand you so wanted. I am no trophy to bear home. Yet now you blame our love for your impetuousness. And I am to destroy this oath which has cost us so much to preserve? I will never do such a thing."
Link looked away from her, saying, "It is not what you want that matters . . ."
"I will not do it."
"Neither is it this happiness you seek that matters."
And it was with those callous words—weaved and spoken from the confusion of his tormenting thoughts—he seemed to remember something, or be recalled to a distant memory. Link turned then, trying to read the expression on the Princess's face in the shadows of his hazy vision.
She had turned her own face away. "Is it happiness which devours my soul?" she asked, rhetorically so. "Or . . . is it something else?"
Link, as if entranced by her question, uttered, "Who am I not to throw myself at your feet?"
"I do not ask to love you," Zelda said quietly. "Is it my fault I cannot live without you? That I am in need of you so much? I do not live for the kingdom. Just say, 'For you, I prefer death to life'. If you do this, then I shall consent; and everything which must follow, will follow."
Link was silent for what seemed like a long time. Then, hesitantly, he said, "That is not possible."
"If you insist," Zelda replied coldly. "Happy is the woman, who knows why she must sacrifice herself; to give up her own freedom."
"But you know, Zelda."
Finally, Zelda stood up and came toward him quickly. "Fate cannot separate us," she exclaimed, merely a foot away from him. "The Goddess cannot separate us! Evil itself has faltered in the face of our love! If I surrender, it is to you alone. Do you not wish for this? What else must I say?"
The flowery scent of her had permeated his senses. Her voice, like the strumming of a violin, had ensnared him as a beautiful song would. Even furious as she was, the princess was nonetheless wonderful. How long had it been since he came this close to her? He knew immediately the answer to her most salient question. "Only," he started, "the 'yes' that I see on your lips."
And the Princess Zelda, with her arms at her side and her hardened expression relaxing in the face of his ultimate capitulation, bade him swift response: "If you see it," she whispered, "then it is there. You may do with me as you wish."
Deliberately he knelt once again; Link took the hem of her dress between his fingertips and placed his lips upon it for a second time. "Zelda, my heart and soul," he uttered amorously.
"Take this heart of mine," she said quietly, "this soul; they belong only to you."
He had a need for that. But there was something else on his mind at the moment. "It is your body I want now," he said, reaching out for her.
"Take this forbidden body, then," Zelda said to him. "Take it and revive it with your love; hold me as if you would never let go. I am not as like a poe to be feared." In this moment they embraced, and he ran his fingers over her shoulder, where the corners of her dress hugged her most tightly. With an effortless motion, he began to slide it downward, revealing her bare, unblemished skin. But surprisingly, Zelda pulled away slightly, saying, "Do not undress me here. Let us bide ourselves until tomorrow. In the hour of the wolf, we will go and meet in secrecy, where none may seek to disturb us."
It was afterwards, when they had caressed and relished the closeness of one another, did Link find himself preparing to take his leave for the night. Sir Toren, who Zelda had sent away, would doubtlessly be returning soon. And so, he kissed her full upon the lips and bade her his loving goodbyes, and with a strong stride and his fist upon the pommel of his magical weapon, he turned to go.
Yet he found himself stopped in his tracks by a meek, almost soundless beckoning of his name.
He turned to face her once again.
"What troubles you, Zelda?" he asked, softly so.
There was a strong silence between them. Zelda, shifting nervously there in front of him, placed a timorous, trembling hand below her navel. She was seemingly near to tears, but she had come forward in a show of strength to master them.
"Link . . ."
His pulse hammered; his blood began to flow rapidly.
"The Goddess . . ."
The vigorous heart which pumped it pounded.
"She has blessed us with a child."