Chapter 13
With haste through the distantly familiar roads went Link and Zelda, she looking with a tender reminiscence at the flowers and fields of green so formerly fresh in her memory, viewed only by the few furthest-travelling wayfarers which Hyrule seldom sees these days, then urging Link onward; he leading them personally, for he alone knew these roads better than any.
And she would not take rest nor give further delay to their journey, but kept urging him away and deeper east than she had travelled in quite some time. And the ivy-laced trees grew taller, and the wood lumbered over them, their pathway becoming more crooked and agrestial than from whence they had come, the curling, aged branches of old looming mystically with animated leaves beckoned so forth by the wind. And as the moving trees seemed to linger closer Zelda would find herself straying nearer to Link's side; and she urged upon him to hasten their speed.
She was made anxious in the early hours of day, she knew what awaited her at the end of their journey eastward, she knew who would be there to receive her with the warmth of welcome. She looked upwards, seeing the flowing canopy of trees, heard the trotting sound of hooves, of the wind coming through their winding road like a passing traveller would, and again she looked over her shoulder and urged Link onward with her verdant eyes. Rest would come to them upon their arrival, she told him with only a glance, and the slightest furrow of her golden brow. Her palfrey trounced the hard dirt beneath her, and by noon she hoped to reach the barrier of the wood, which on the other side would greet them with a picturesque scene of lawns and bountiful fields; time passed quickly, when suddenly she looked forward again to see a beam of light ahead at the mouth of the wood, a wondrous sight to behold. She cried "There it is!" to Link, and dared to race his courser toward the barrier and into the open fields which awaited them.
Link knew not weariness when he was beside his princess, nor she for she was eager to return to her second home. They rushed forward on their mounts, he taking her right, close in stride; his courser whickered loudly as they pressed forward to see the windmills atop the hills and the fields he had come to know and love, and just as he had begun to realize how close they truly were, Zelda's voice sung out to him as a lark in the morning would, and he jerked his reins to the right to angle himself up the winding pathway, casting his gaze toward his princess who he loved more than any field or place of this world. And then he watched her as she smiled so softly, a beautiful, naked smile which brought a delicacy to match this gentle place. Link understood such a smile.
It was very nearly early noon and the sun was shining high above, blanketing the fields in a soft colour, and he watched again as Zelda rejoiced in that sunlight she had missed so dearly. So glad was she, so filled with happy thoughts—with her cries of mirth and belts of laughter—there seemed thenceforth to Link a beauty that he had not seen from her in many years, and an endearing childishness secondly, which to him seemed to replace her dampened spirit infecting her soul for a better part of the year.
And thus they came closer to their journey's end, over the bridge and up the hill to see the gate that stood unchanged, which to Link appeared unaffected by the passage of time, as if the barrier of the wood protected it from the worries and troubles afflicting the land.
All was changed in the realm of Akkala, of the citadel overlooking the great eastern sea. But here after they passed over the old bridge, they came upon Mrs. Clavia who had been sweeping the porch out front. Link knew her well, but she turned her head in surprise anyway, looking upon them with curiosity as he dismounted firmly from his courser. They had come to this place alone as a pair, dressed as mere travellers of the road would to avoid unwanted detection; and as he went to help Princess Zelda down from her palfrey, he saw that she had set her broom down and came forward in earnest to greet them. He did not expect to be welcomed so soon; he was eager to make rest in their old home once more, here at the end of their long journey from the realm of the Sheikah.
Who did not know that they would be returning? And yet who would be surprised if they saw them as they were now? As something more than companions, as lovers, even? He turned to Zelda and she gave him a knowing look he understood too well. But he felt it was as though she had come to this place not as the Princess of Hyrule, but as his dearly beloved; rather, he felt these things would not surprise the common folk, those who had come to know them not as they truly were: as a knight and princess bound by oath and duty. His misty dreams of the past did not foresee such a moment. And for it, his mind was lost to such thoughts.
He found himself drawing close to Zelda's side. Much more close than normal. It was an unconscious thing. Something instinctual. Mrs. Clavia told them that her husband, Mayor Reede, had left the village over a fortnight ago. He was taken upon a journey of his own to the neighbouring village of Lurelin, where he would meet with Rozel the village head, so they might discuss what could be done to better both of their villages, and increase the traffic between them. He was supposed to return several days ago.
Further she told them how those who travelled twixt here and there had been accosted by unusual and fanciful monsters, and how talk of strange things had been spreading about. Things of the magic kind, or rather, mystical to behold in such a peaceful land as this. Superstition was never strong in the culture of Hateno Village, but even such a place as this cannot withstand the tides of change forever, it seemed to him then.
"What things do you tell of?" asked Link.
"Not so loud," Clavia answered, "for it is said to speak in detail of it might keep it here forever. We have agreed not to talk about it so freely. When twilight drops heavy across the western sky and the mountains fall into shadow, walk the pathways through and around the village. You too may see strange things well enough. For that is between this place we dwell and the veil leading beyond. I will say no more."
For a long while he thought in silence, while Zelda stood beside him deep in her own introspection. And at last he found his voice, enough of it to bid Mrs. Clavia a good afternoon, for they were both in need of some rest before they set out again and inquired about this new mystery. For the moment, he had not put great stock in such wild claims. But his earnest nature was always sufficient for others; and with a smile, their caretaker and friend say goodbye and took her leave. Then, turning to Zelda bearing a look of concern, he smiled with a warmth to try and temper her state of being. One simple look into her vibrant eyes was all it took for them to continue. Afterwards they took their horses and tethered and unsaddled them, for they were just as weary, even so good and strong as they were. Drink and food would restore their spirits, so they went into the home to find its storerooms curiously stocked. And with the hares they had hunted earlier in the day, they roasted that with tomatoes and spices. Outside they sat and ate by the well beneath a myrtle tree, where they used to sit in the summertide evenings a long time ago; there they talked about the present, about the future.
So soft was her voice then.
"What do you wish for this child inside me?" asked Zelda.
"Peace," answered Link.
She looked at him with a lament not easily discerned and said: "Is that your only wish?"
"One must be careful when he wishes," said Link. "To wish for more is to become curst."
Zelda pondered this awhile and did not reply. An uneasy air grew between them, he felt. That was not his intention. He stirred a little, and then sat closer to her. The day seemed enchanted, the sun very strong nearing its highest point in the sky. A forceful wind ran over the hills and down the mountainside to meet them. She reciprocated the gesture, pressing her cheek against his shoulder.
"Would you rather the child grow up between these mountains?" asked Zelda once more. But her voice now was hushed. "Castle walls are no place to raise the young. It is so cold . . . so heartless. It is a curse enough that we might begin our family there."
Link stayed silent. He could not find the courage to bid her reply.
By weary ways they found themselves back inside their abode. To their old bed, and in each other's arms. He had not the words for such things today. He would rather speak them through other means. Through his touch . . . his breath on her skin. She was always so gentle in his arms, that he felt he might crush her as one would a flower. Soon spring would pass and the summer flowers would grow, and Link would find himself quickly approaching fatherhood; and the mist of dawn and the turning leaves spoke to him differently the passage of time. In his dreams he saw Zelda heavy with child, and her face beautiful as it always was. He saw the leaves turn orange and yellow. He saw the come of autumn. The birth of a beautiful baby. A daughter for his own to name. He could see her—see Zelda holding the child against her breast—as a mother holds a child. His dreams had been so like this of late. Gone were the nightmares, the distant memories of anguish and suffering, those which sought him when the sun passed over the eastern horizon, and darkness lay across the land.
In a while his eyes opened again, and there was still light shining through their window. A cast of light to illuminate his princess there laying beside him, a little strip of colour to gild her face so lovely that he felt this was still a dream. Her lidded eyes, even breath, and the listless hand draped across his hip told him she still lingered in a dream of her own. He had hoped it was a peaceful vision much like the one he dreamt. A simple fantasy to keep her in comfort across the murky waters of the mind. Indeed, she slept as if a spell had been cast upon her. And for that he felt a smile creep along the corners of his mouth, to see her in such a peaceful, enviable condition.
So the day wore on and he would not wake her. For it was not something he could bring himself to do. He might have passed back into a dream. He did not know, for his sleep had now been black. No further visions came to him, and the next his eyes opened he found himself in low-lit darkness. A pale-blue light spilled from the window. No candles were lit. When he stood to look out into the night he saw the moon as a shining opalescence. For a moment it drew his gaze, as if he had been entranced by it; and then after a while he came to again, and looked around. He called out for Zelda once. By her name first, and then her title second. By the time he realized there had come no response, he had already fled out the doorway. First to look yonder the well and second to walk across the bridge underneath a starless night sky.
He did not know of the time. When had the sun set? The moon seemed to be in an odd place. The invisible stars left him naked in the dark, unguarded, and unsure of himself. His cloak billowed about as he took determined steps down the centre pathway of Hateno Village. His fist was strong on the pommel of the Master Sword. The road was eerily quiet. He heard not the owls he normally heard at this hour. He heard nothing, not even the rustle of the leaves or the wind itself. This led him onward still; for he deemed it to be the strangeness Mrs. Clavia spoke of earlier, and he went on hoping to find his princess. He felt so odd now, to be apart from her. If only for the moment, it was enough to unnerve him. It had been so long since he felt this feeling. He had promised the Goddess he would not lose her again. He remembered those days of the past, when he would wrap himself in a loose cloak, find shelter in strange places, and sleep a troubled sleep alone with other forsaken things. Such thoughts led him up the hill and toward the schoolhouse. No lights were visible in its windows. The horizon beyond it was black as pitch, dark and dreary looking. If not for his knowledge of stranger things here, he would think himself lost in some nightmare he dared not tread. But still he marched onward, and opened the doors and went inside to see empty chairs and walls bearing no drawings. It was what he did not see which frightened him more than all else. He felt an evil here. Something born of malice. Much like the gloom which had died out with the vanquishing of the Demon King. He pushed onward still up the staircase. He counted his steps, had taken these steps many times before.
Zelda must have heard him creeping up the stairs. They did creak, he realized, as she gazed at him from her sitting position at a desk. In her right hand was a lavender quill, and a piece of parchment rested in front of her. She was garbed in a light blue dress, her crownless, golden hair flowing downward to meet bare shoulders. A singular blue hairpin held back her bangs, above an unpowdered face. Her soulful eyes, typically a bright colour reflecting that of emeralds, were muted, morose even. And beneath them he saw dark circles, as if she had hardly slept.
"I have not summoned you," said Zelda. "Why have you come into these personal quarters unannounced?"
"To beg for forgiveness, your highness," said Link firmly.
He fell to one knee, and averted his eyes so he might not see her glare of hatred.
"And are you worthy of my forgiveness?" asked Zelda.
"I am deeply ashamed of my impudence," answered Link.
"Is shame all that you bear?" said Zelda.
Link shook his head without raising his head. "It is not," he said.
"What else do you carry with you?" she asked further.
And with that very question, Link's eyes might have roved back into the past, as if he were gazing at old days, then he shook his head again to wrest him away from it.
"The past," he said.
He heard the floorboards creak underneath careful-footed steps. Princess Zelda had risen from her chair. Her quill had fallen to the floor. She now stood before him, and he dare not look at her. He kept no right to look at her anymore.
"What is it," said Zelda, "about your past which troubles you so?"
And then Link replied, "I dishonoured my family name, brought shame to my father."
His thoughts turned to forsaken things once again.
"You tarnished my virtue," said Princess Zelda of Hyrule. "There in my nightmares it still haunts me. There, I alone see what you did to me at the Shrine of Wisdom. Don't you remember? My father uncovered the horrible truth of it; your King. You secretly wished death upon him, I fear."
Link's mind was chaos. His heart hammered so much it hurt.
"I did not mean to . . ."
"But you did," Zelda said.
"I only desired to bring you comfort," Link continued. "To bring an end to your tears and sorrow. I could not bear to see you suffer like so . . ."
"My body was not yours to debase."
Link felt anguish. A lone tear of his own streaked his right cheek. "I could not stop myself," he said.
"You lack honour!" said Zelda, her voice filled with hatred. "Truly you should have taken your own life, for such an act of treachery and disloyalty against your master permits no other recourse."
Link finally raised his head. He looked up at his princess. Her face was devoid of emotion, of feeling, even.
"I will give my life for you," he said. "You need only command me."
And in his surprise, he saw there on her expressionless face a smile spread wide across it. She was so beautiful to him. Even with that sinister smile stretching from ear to ear. Her mouth opened slowly.
"Do it," she commanded.
With a careful swallow, Link nodded. No longer did tears fall. He had no feeling for such things anymore. Bearing a dreadful meticulousness, he drew the Master Sword from its sheathe. Slowly it came outwards. He paused. She continued to look down at him with that same expression he would never forget. And it was there finally he realized his sword was humming fervently, and its magical blade had turned to be a shining pale-blue luminescence.
The enchantment of the Goddess.
Steel-blue eyes widened. His fingers gripped tightly the hilt of his sword. There came a shock like lightning into his arm as he flung his sword about the air in the direction of the evil being. And no more shock came to him from anything, as his own sword's metal passed through it like a song, and the false apparition of his beloved vanished with a sinister laughter echoing around the four corners of the room.
"Alas," cried Link. "Only a coward takes shelter, wicked evil!"
The eerie laughter grew. It was shrill, like the whistling of the wind in winter.
"Do not fear, hero!" echoed the evil entity. "It is you who will find no refuge. Your sleep will be haunted as will your wake. Fare-thee-well!"
"My blade will find and vanquish you, demon!" he cried.
And then Link, wroth with anger and exasperation, took the Master Sword and flung it through the air. It crashed against nothing. The world shattered into a thousand shards colourless as the dark blanket of the starless night sky.
And the nightmare fell to ruin.
When he had finally awoke, Princess Zelda was there above him with her arms all round him. The sun was still shining through the windows. He could hear the songbirds singing from the myrtle tree by the well. Immediately his arms went to her in a quick, powerful embrace. Link held her tight like that, and she squeezed him gently in return.
"What bothers you so?" asked Zelda. "Link! You are shivering and damp with fever."
It was long before he mustered the courage to speak. He had to collect himself in the warmth of her loving embrace. It was all he had left in this moment. Then a look came over his face as though he were carefully remembering things that had happened very long ago, and after another moment of deep silence he would look Zelda in the eye, and then turn away just as quickly. So softly was his words which followed, that she would scarcely hear them.
"It was but a nightmare," Link said quickly. "Nothing more. Any who has witnessed death suffer such spells of terror. I am ashamed to admit these things. Forgive me."
"You should not feel shame from your memories," replied Zelda.
Link only nodded. He lacked for words in this moment. Instead, he saw Zelda smile softly again. There were many things about that smile he loved. But when he looked up to see that beautiful smile and all its details, the evil demon of his nightmare came to thought.
His grip on her grew tighter. Zelda seemed to recoil slightly from it.
"Come, daylight is still about," she said. "Let us see where it takes us."
Her voice was soothing, like the songbird's outside their window. He felt himself relax underneath her gaze. It was something similar to magic. Something holy, he felt.
Link smiled smally, said, "We should go see Symin and the children."
And here they were at this hour sharing another kiss together. Their fingers entwined against one another in love and feeling. Her eyes were fixed strongly on him. Afterwards, they dressed themselves and went down the staircase, arms about each other still. Often he would steal a glance at her, and she at him, and in turn they would smile. They went like that out the door and over the bridge.
