Chapter 4

Zelda stood by the open door of her house, looking nervously into it, watching the candles flicker inside with an expression indicating profound distress. At intervals people walked past her into the house, offering only a glimpse or a brief nod of the head in respect, before vanishing within the walls and out of view. It had been a morning of terror—though there was only further anguish to come—for everyone arriving was aware of that, she felt.

From the village behind her, a crowd gathered, and the fretful talk of rumour. There was little audible noise from within the house beside her, though she knew much transpired within, as royal apothecaries, surgeons, and physicians crowded into the small home at the edge of the village. Zelda could scarcely pull her attention away from the twisting funnel of the open doorway, as her mind became distorted; her vision centring on it amidst her spreading mania. She did not know how many more would come, nor if it would matter. But when she saw a peculiar balloon high up in the distance, travelling along the skies to land at the Ancient Tech Lab up on the hilltop, she knew Purah and Robbie had already arrived. Many more would follow, she realized, feeling a sickness well up in her stomach, forcing her to retch.

It was another dreary day, with the muted sun obscured by thick, grey clouds. It was colder now as well, here at the end of autumn. Zelda, recovering from her ill state, wrapped her arms around herself, gripping her sides with her hands. The bleak ambience matched her present circumstance. It would be a different sky, a different feel to the day entirely, if only he was well and near her.

Symin came out of the house, giving her a quick worried glance, but not stopping to talk. It was not a good time to talk, she sensed. Zelda grew even more worried, then, as she watched him walk past her and down toward the village. She had already ordered her guards to go and disperse the ever-growing crowd on the opposite side of the bridge. But it did little to bring any comfort to her, nor did the older Sheikah man's deep expression of grief.

Zelda finally gave in, stepped timidly into the house to see a number of figures turn to her. They were grave in appearance. There was blood on their clothing; they had been called upon unexpectedly to provide their services and had worked all morning with little rest. With the advent of Zonai technology, their journey from Lookout Landing took only several hours. Without their aid, the princess knew, her dearest knight would not have persisted past noon. And praying was the only thing she could do. Praying for his miraculous recovery . . . his very life. For her to wake up tomorrow and see his wondrous smile, and to hear his soft-spoken voice once more. For him to stay this mortal plane of existence because she would not—rather, she could not—envision herself carrying on with him gone so soon from her side. Praying, knowing such things were in the hands of the Goddess Hylia now, and it would be her blessing which would ultimately rescue him from the clutches of eternal darkness.

Zelda instinctively reached outwards for the wall to steady herself. It was suddenly very difficult to stand, hammered down like so by her emotions and ill-minded thoughts. Those surrounding her exchanged troubled glances at each other, but otherwise offered no comfort, nor aid. Her subjects understood her better than she had thought, she realized then. Yes, there was not but one she would accept such acts of succour from, and he was currently indisposed, lying on his death bed just up the staircase. And he was closer still to passing than she would ever like to admit. She could not begin to fathom such an outcome, more pointedly.

From behind Zelda, an unsure hand touched her shoulder. She turned to see Symin looking sternly at her. She closed her eyes briefly, and then sighed heavily.

"Not yet," she said shakily.

Symin did not speak, but the dim candlelight showed his sombre eyes above a haggard, wrinkled visage. His hand drifted off her shoulder, and then he bowed his head, before turning to exit the house again.

Zelda watched him go, stride heavy and filled with emotion. Through the open doorway, she could see Robbie and Purah from a distance, talking amongst themselves, and then greeting Symin as he approached them.

She turned away to look back at her subjects. The way they surrounded her in their brooding manner unnerved her, but she would eventually muster the courage to speak.

"Doctor Galbert," Zelda said, gesturing with a listless, pallid hand, "you may speak freely now. Please, I wish to know further of Sir Link's condition. What treatments have been administered?"

The physician's gaze was steady as he looked upon his princess with hazel eyes beneath an aged, curly brow. His beard, whiter than the freshest snows of Hebra, was long and dangly.

"He is not well, your highness," Galbert said with his high voice, wiping his bloodied hands on his dark frock. "The blade which penetrated his abdomen was coated with a potent poison. Its only purpose was to kill . . . never to incapacitate. Swift was his deteriorating condition, but we have treated the wound with honey and essence of armoranth. His decline was stalled, yet he has since taken a fever."

"Is it a mortal wound?" Zelda asked.

There was a silence as Galbert mulled over this question. He seemed hesitant in his response. "It is deep," he finally said, nodding his head; "and infectious, though we know not the outcome of it all. His state is tenuous, but he is thankfully of youth, which may indeed save him. Know only that we have done what we can, and now, his most precious life is in the very hands of the benevolent Goddess. I have lit several candles in her holy name, and I shall go to light several more beneath her shrine before the day passes into shadow."

Zelda was silent a long time. She turned away and looked upwards then, at the staircase leading to her bed; to where she dared not tread.

"All of you may take your leave," she heard herself say. "I wish now to be alone with him."

Galbert closed his eyes and bowed his head. "As the Princess commands," he said soberly, his face sullen and dark. "I will be just outside the door, if you further require our services."

Her other subjects made no sign they had even heard her. When she turned back again, she saw they had already fled from the room. And then, as her eyes began brimming with tears, she stepped carefully toward and up the staircase.

Zelda mastered her tears, standing as tall as she could. There was a terribleness, a sense of dread, rising within her thought, as she came upwards to look upon his barely-conscious, incoherent form resting on the bed. Everything was quiet, save for his laboured, erratic breathing as he lay slightly propped up against the headboard. His eyes were open, widely so, though when her gaze met his own, she realized he did not appear to see her; and in his spiritless eyes of the most muted blues, she felt as if she stared into a void—a pitiless chasm, even—with only darkness looking back at her. And lo! Link had truly not seen her, never registered the simple fact that she had entered into his presence. Ever so quick was he to acknowledge her, to stand at attention before everything she did, and when she touched her trembling hand to his lifeless own which rested near his side, he did neither.

She looked away, squeezing his hand hard, and then closing her eyes tightly as unbidden tears streaked both sides of her face. She could not hold it back, not any longer. Her heart was breaking, she felt that deep in her soul.

Zelda opened her eyes again, sucking in a desperate breath before she cried out a howling lament. Burying her face in his stilled hand was all she could do now, as she begged the Goddess for reply; pled to rescue Link from his wretched fate. Her golden brow furrowed, then, her face hardening to a sharp focus. She clutched his hand there alone, withered by tears, by sorrow, trying with great effort to pull something from the depths of her soul; strived to tap into a sacred power long since diminished. She went deeper still, her mind narrowing past the planes of physical life to enter into a cosmic world of stars and mist. Her left hand made a fist in the sheets, her right, grasping him even harder. Amidst her focus came the shrill cries of her mind as she pled the Goddess—rather, anyone—for help.

But nothing came from her prayers.

Her power was gone, she realized. The Goddess had abandoned her, here, now, and in her hour of dire need. If only she could bathe him in her warmth—her holy light—she thought, quelling the poison which no doubt polluted his bloodstream. He was normally very tan, flushed a healthy red colour and so full of life. And now, his skin was pale and just so cold, she felt, as her fingers travelled lovingly along the length of his open palm. She interlaced her fingers with his, and with a weak, frail countenance, looking at him with a sorrowful, though loving smile . . . she laid her head against him in resignation.

She found herself reminiscing then, as she perceived the erratic, messy rise and fall of his chest from beside him. She remembered all the hurtful things she had said to him. Recalled her threat to banish him afar, just yesterday morning, even. Yes, she realized then, as she could feel a greater agony take foothold in her heart. She had loved him so dearly, still did, and would until her own life left her body. And yet, that precious, all-encompassing love had somehow turned to scorn. Through it all, Link had endured it, never to change himself; never to forget his oath to protect her. Now at the end, he had unquestioningly sacrificed himself just to keep her safe for another day. But she knew it was not simply out of duty. Rather, she knew he loved her, as she loved him. Wholeheartedly so, to a fault, even. It is why he never left, never abandoned his duties, even when his services were otherwise no longer required. He was a man apart, Zelda determined, shifting her face against the freshly damp sheets—stained with sadness—bearing an initial purpose of keeping him warm. Link was her first and only love, she thought, and every part of her wished for him to be her last.

Zelda looked at his bare chest, then, seeing the many scars covering his body. Some were deep, some were small, but all of them he had acquired through his service to her family. It shamed her then, made her feel regret to realize just how much he had sacrificed for her. Her fingertips curled around him instinctively. His own were calloused, so firm, and rough to the touch. She loved every part of him, observed every detail like so.

And then she saw his pale-blue eyes flicker toward her, coming to rest on her own.

Her heart stopped. The air in her lungs fled outwards. She felt his fingers, feeble and delicate, entwine against hers receptively. Lifting her head off him, she looked into his pained, glassy pools of blue to see herself clearly reflected in them.

"Close your eyes," she whispered sadly. "My dearest knight, please, save your strength." Her left hand went to his damp, dishevelled hair, her fingers breaking a thin, bloody crust as they travelled through it lovingly.

Link said nothing; it was evident he could not even if he desired as much. But he turned his head ever so slightly, pointing it into the direction of the Master Sword which rested against the wall next to him. A luminant cast of pale light streamed through the glass window then, highlighting its blue and golden form in all its majesty.

She came to a sudden realization, seeing that.

"You wish for her to be near you?" Zelda asked, very softly.

Again, no reply. But she could feel his fingers squeeze her own again in the slightest way. Nodding firmly, she departed from him briefly to take the Master Sword in her hands. And once she did so, laid it against him on the bed and into his hand. But he had allowed himself no further movement. His eyes closed, alone no more, and with the sword which chose him above everyone else to bring him comfort. It seemed to Zelda—looking at his declining form then—he would be at peace with his own death like that. With her here by his side; with his sword in hand.

As if on cue to her thought, she heard from behind a feminine voice. "It is difficult to accept," said Purah, as Zelda turned to face her. "Link is no mere knight. To see him fallen like this . . ."

"He was struck down in cowardice," Zelda said quickly. Venom laced her words, then. "In my own home, no less."

A silence followed as Zelda looked Purah over briefly to see her diminishing expression. She was dressed in her typical attire, ash-white hair done up in a double bun. The Sheikah woman was never one to allow despair to crease her flawless skin, but she did horribly to hide it this time.

"And what did Galbert have to say?" she asked calmly. "Such things are his expertise, after all."

Zelda stood then, backing away from Link. In a low tone, she said, "That there is nothing further to be done. He has taken fever, and a poison courses through his body. He is constantly fading in and out of consciousness. Just look at him!"

And Zelda's voice, reeling with emotion, seemed to unnerve her. The princess saw that clear on her own upset expression. Perhaps, she thought, Purah had never seen her in such a condition as this.

Taking note of her state, Purah relaxed her tone. "He is very strong," she said quietly. "Please, Princess Zelda, have some faith in his strength. As Link would have faith in yours."

Zelda had heard similar words before. But they were effective, nonetheless. She was right, after all. Link would never give up on her like this; never abandon hope. She watched as Purah fidgeted nervously with her recorder she always carried around.

"Is there nothing else we can do?" Princess Zelda asked, folding her arms around herself to draw a bit of comfort. "I cannot stand idly here and watch him suffer like this."

Purah contemplated this a moment. "I do not know," she then replied evenly, turning her head to view Link's unconscious form. "On my last expedition to the Shrine of Resurrection, I was unable to make entry into the cavern. It appeared someone had purposefully demolished it, collapsing the cave system itself. Such technologies are my expertise, you see. Link's wounds he has suffered here are beyond my skill to heal, you must understand."

"But we cannot let him die!" Zelda exclaimed.

"Princess Zelda!"

And it was precisely in that moment with Purah admonishing her—for exposing her weakness of heart—where she knew she had revealed something confined to the deepest corners of her heart. Purah adjusted her visor on her forehead, looking squarely at her now. Zelda could hear the Sheikah woman clear her throat, preparing herself to speak.

Her mouth opened, saying, "Princess Zelda, you—"

"Yes!" Zelda interrupted her. "Do you understand, now? I needn't make it any clearer, I think. Link . . . he is more than just my knight. Yes, can you see? He holds not only my good favour, but my heart too. And I wish for him to hold more than that in the future. Our future, the one we were destined to share together." Her voice was trembling now. She swallowed hard, and continued, saying, "He has given up so much for me, for all of us. He was so strong, true of heart and harbouring an unbreakable will. Now, look what he has been reduced to! And it is all my fault!"

Zelda had lost all composure. She faltered then, her hands going outwards to the balustrade to keep herself from falling in her despair. Purah, with some measure of concern, reached out to support her.

"Do not place this burden on yourself," said Purah, interjecting soberly. "None of this was of your doing. I am ill positioned to correct you, nor is it appropriate for me to comment on matters of love. So please, forgive me if I err, Princess Zelda . . . but I must ask you to come downstairs. Link is in no better hands than that of Galbert. And never forget the embrace of our Goddess, who remains ever-watchful of him."

"I cannot leave him," Zelda said quietly. "He needs me here by his side."

"That may be," said Purah, in her most understanding tone; "but there are several affairs of the kingdom needing your attention. I have received word King Sidon of the Zora, and Tulin of the Rito are making a progress across Hyrule. They will be here within a fortnight. Link would not want you to forgo your official duties because of his condition, would he?"

Zelda understood her words, knew she had only her best interest at heart. But as she turned to look upon Link—to see his most dire state as he lay unconscious upon the bed with the Master Sword cradled in his arms—something finally snapped inside her. Her heart thudded like a mallet against her breast. She turned to Purah then, surprisingly, with an expression of great wrath on her normally gentle face.

"Purah," the princess said in her stately voice. "Go and fetch for Symin. Have him summon Serjeant Gralens of the Monster-Control Crew and Captain Hoz to these quarters at once."

The Sheikah woman, never one to disobey such orders, nodded her head respectfully.

"It will be done, your highness," she said, and then turned to go.

Zelda did not speak further. She watched Purah vanish down the staircase and out of view, then turned her attention back to that of Link. She stepped toward him and bowed her head deeply in sorrow, wiping the young tears threatening to fall from her eyes. Her gaze moved back to Link, seeing his now lidded eyes, his more even breath. He was still seriously ill; she could see that plainly from the beads of sweat forming near his temple, and his discoloured complexion.

Zelda bore the damp rag from the table next to her and wiped him with it. Afterwards, she drew her lips near his ear, whispered, "I love you," and then leaned forward, kissing him upon the forehead. "I will return, I promise," she added afterwards.

And then her eyes traced the long form of the blade cradled in his arms.

"Forgive me," she then uttered.

With great care, Zelda slipped her fingers around the scabbard of the Master Sword. It was loose in his hand; he had not the strength to grip it. She tried hard to lift it without stirring him. It was far heavier than one would think, as she struggled to take hold of it. Hefting it in her hands now, she slid it out from his grasp. She would need it for what she was about to do. The princess then bowed her head once more and departed.

On her way back down the staircase, deep in her thoughts, she saw Robbie waiting for her near the doorway. She had been expecting to see him soon. The old Sheikah man looked her over inquisitively through his visor. He no doubt took in account of her morose, disturbed state.

"Your Highness," Robbie greeted, nodding his head in respect.

"Have you brought my crown?" Zelda asked quickly.

"Yes, it is here," he replied.

From his satchel, he withdrew a crown of gold and silver, encrusted by bright jewels of many colours. With an outstretched arm he handed it to her, and Zelda took it from him, placing it firmly on the top of her golden-coloured head. "Please, let Galbert know his presence is required," she then said evenly, clutching the Master Sword in her arms. "There must be a physician at his bedside at all times while I am away."

"I will do that," he said, adjusting his visor with his right hand; "but why do you bear the sword which seals the darkness?"

"Only for the moment," she said calmly. "I will require use of it for the coming ceremony."

"Ceremony?" Robbie asked incredulously.

"Yes," she said affirmingly. "The first knighting ceremony in Hyrule for nearly a century."

Robbie's expression was vague, walking alongside her and out of the house. "I see then, very well," he muttered quietly. He then took note of Galbert and his retinue of medical assistants; began waving his hand to beckon them over.

Drawing a breath to gather and hold her thoughts, Zelda looked out into the skies ahead. Behind her, she heard Robbie give the doctors an earful, before sending them on their way back into the house. But she knew they were at the limits of their profession. For now, they could only make Link comfortable, either in recovery, or further deterioration. And here, she realized, looking out into the grey distance to view the plains and snow-capped mountaintops above that, it was now up to her to face this new threat to her kingdom . . . to Link, even.

She had not been paying close attention to the rest of the village today. She could not, as her focus had been on Link alone. She wondered then about the school, about how class had been unexpectedly cancelled. No doubt the children were worried sick about her, and Link too. They were much too young to understand, to comprehend what was transpiring, she thought; and her heart told her that was a good thing. She never wished to expose this place to the harsh realities of the world. Zelda suddenly wondered, for the first time, if she was mistaken in her abject belief, of her desire to unite the land in a unifying peace. If this place, of all places, could not be a safe haven for the young—a place of learning, of growth—then what else could she do? She had not the answer to such a question. Just now she was remembering Purah's last comment to her near the bed of her dying knight. She thought then of her duty, of her role in the kingdom, as the Princess of Hyrule. She had never suffered such self-doubt before concerning her abilities to rule, and she was not sure why her thoughts were turning that way. Perhaps, she realized, as she was faced with the realities; the hardships of rule, she further understood her father, and how he had struggled in the face of the impending Calamity's grave adversities. Indeed, it was with such a thought she finally realized how she had misjudged him all this time.

Her grip on the Master Sword tightened; she saw tufts of white hair, Purah and Symin approaching with two men following them. Zelda appeared calm on the outside, but inside, her mind twisted with fury. She had prayed all morning, knees sore from prostrating herself on the ground beneath the statue of the Goddess. Her prayers went unanswered.

She had asked not for victory, but only to shelter the one whom she loved.

"Serjeant Gralens, Captain Hoz," she beckoned beneath a gem-encrusted, golden crown, unsheathing the Master Sword slowly from its scabbard. "Step forward and kneel."

Robbie approached to take the sheath away. In front of her the sun beamed through a crevice in the thick, swathing sheet of grey clouds. It shone on the length of the legendary sword, glimmering, reflecting off its magical steel in a brilliant flash of light. The two summoned stepped forward, and then knelt before her on both knees. They were suitably garbed in padded doublets and ring mail.

A crowd of other guardsmen began to gather nearby, observing the spectacle. So did several villagers.

Zelda, swallowing hard, looked down at them, and then raised the Master Sword—observing her own reflection on it when it was vertically in front of her—touching it to both their shoulders on either side with the flat of the blade, saying, "In the name of our Goddess Hylia; my father, King Rhoam Bosphoramus Hyrule; and the peoples of the land, I grant you the right to bear arms and the power to mete justice. Be without fear, be brave, and upright in the face of mortal danger. Speak the truth, always, even if it may lead to your death. Safeguard the helpless and do no wrong." She drew the sword away then, saying, "This is your oath."

"That duty, I will solemnly obey," said Sir Gralens then, adamantly so.

"And I too," echoed Sir Hoz, "unto my last breath."

Zelda, smiling briefly, bade them their first command. "Both of you, rise now a Knight of Hyrule, and Defender of Hylia."

Before they did, Symin and Purah approached and set two blades in their outstretched hands. And afterwards, they stood one by one, born anew.

Perhaps she should not have been so surprised by how well the two handled the unexpected ceremony. They had been eager to prove themselves—did so numerous times in battle even—and that is why they would mark the second coming of the vaunted Knights of Hyrule.

Robbie stepped forward again, and with outstretched arms canted the sheath in such a way to receive the blade. Zelda slowly, meticulously even, eased the magical weapon back into it, until it clicked.

With the Master Sword's shining blade encased to slumber once more, she turned back to her freshly anointed knights. "Sirs," she called out to them in her measured voice. "Your first duty is a most important one. I shall charge you, Sir Gralens, and Sir Hoz, with the detection, and apprehension of Master Kohga of the Yiga Clan. He has been branded an enemy of Hyrule, a traitor to the realm . . . and a lowly assassin."

Symin stood by, wordless as he watched the show unfold. Purah and Robbie seemed perturbed.

Her knights, however, were eager. "We will bring him to justice for his crimes," said Sir Gralens firmly. "He will pay for his cowardly treachery."

Zelda, smiling still, nodded firmly. "You shall both have the command and a host of one-hundred men. If ever he is to show resistance, under the guise of my justice, I grant you the power to sentence him to death. This ruling applies to any and all of his followers; his clansmen who wish to avoid capture. Your command post shall be the settlement of Lookout Landing, and you will make use of the chasm to the south as an entry point. Provisions, equipment, and technology will be made available to you as needed. Is this order wholly understood?"

"It is, your highness," both of them replied simultaneously.

"Very good," Princess Zelda added.

The expression on both of them spoke determination. She could see that in Sir Gralens' narrowed brow and sharp, verdant eyes. And Sir Hoz was no less fierce. "We shall set out before nightfall," Sir Gralens then said.

Zelda, grasping the Master Sword hard, said, "You are hereby dismissed, sirs."

After watching them depart, her stately smile faded quickly. With little warning, she spun on her heel back toward the house. There, Zelda could hear the muffled sound of footsteps following her. She turned her head somewhat to see Symin behind her.

"We are not altogether sure if Leader Kohga was behind this plot," he accused evenly; "but you know this, am I correct?"

"I am certain this is of his doing," she said quietly. "For the time being, I will assign Purah and Robbie to investigate this matter to the fullest extent. Even so, no longer can I allow Master Kohga to travel these lands unchecked, perpetrating his evil doings."

"But Princess Zelda—"

"I will speak no more of this," she cut him off harshly.

And then turned her gaze away, entering into the house.

It smelt of blood. Old blood. Like decaying flesh almost. Zelda shook her head, pushing the memories of last night away, and then looked toward her subjects who observed Link so diligently. Outside, she could hear several voices arguing amongst each other. She ignored that, focusing her attention on that of her most precious knight.

Zelda walked past the physicians, the doctors. She ignored them, as she looked upon Link with tired, lamenting eyes. They would not bother her in this moment.

With the Master Sword returned, she held his hand then. For the remaining hours of the day, even, and further into the night. She embraced him as he suffered, convulsed in agony, and writhed through a deathly fever. Even as hours passed, never was he able to utter a word to her, but when she occasionally felt him—in all his feebleness—squeeze her hand in return, she knew he was aware of her presence. Eventually, feeling the throes of exhaustion overtake her, Zelda fell asleep next to the bed, with Link's cold, motionless fingers laced with her own.