Chapter Four
Link woke to the Princess of Hyrule hovering over him – a timeless emerald gaze, zapping him as he fell in and out of consciousness.
A burn. A tear. He'd shriek, yanked from a drunken stupor as stitches pierced his stomach back together. Lunging forward, he'd meet her eyes, see them shimmer, feel a spark before collapsing back on the bench – was she really here? That Voice in the Wind? His Unyielding Guide? The Goddess of Light? He'd gape over, studying those tear-streaked cheeks from the bench, the knitting of her thick brows, the pursing of pale lips before sliding down the cream of her neck. Like Hateno milk. Golden hair like wheat fields. He'd swoon drunkenly, tasting the color of a bright farmland as it coaxed him into a dream.
Shimmering hillsides appeared. Goats and chickens happily meandered among the misty mountain air - a village alive and ringing with cowbells. Hateno Village - Link sighed as a dream took him deeper into the town, where hazy rows of apple trees led to a cobble-stoned pathway up to the main square. A lively market bustled – vendors yelling, loaves of bread on platters steaming, children waving. Stucco homes with long frothing chimneys lined the street, coupling with pointed-dome churches to encircle the village courtyard. Within, a wooden inn sat beside the town river and its water-wheels. Its shaded patio comfortably overlooked an auction - just as it had the day Link had bought the Firly Manor, a run-down cottage scheduled for demolition in the Nucleda foothills.
Its meadow opened up – the tall green grass receding to reveal a humble wooden bridge crossing the Firly Pond. Bass splashed below – darners zipped, cat tails swayed in the Spring breeze as rain clouds descended from the peaks of Lanayru. Gentle thunder moaned. Link checked his cloak pockets. Out came a brass key – the promise of shelter.
A smoky kitchen waited inside - a mother kept busy at the windowsill, humming a painfully familiar tune. She layers a cake while a storm's breeze wafted in, coaxing Link inside with notes of caramel. He closed the door behind him, as if knowing the woman would ask him to do so in the next moment. A click. Her humming came to a comfortable pause — only then did she turn, "Link? Honey, is that you?"
It was daybreak when Link woke - unable to remember the tune.
Splattering bacon coaxed him into reality. Hissing grease. Crackling fire. Savor billowed through the dormitory, sweetening the stench of horse manure with breakfast magic. Tongue watering, he stirred – eyeing the high beams of the inn in a daze. Where was he? What time was it?
Dizzy, hot as fire, he tried to push away what felt like scratchy wool and linens but yelped in searing pain – his side seizing! Strikes of agony manifesting the Calamity, the rescue, and — the Princess of Hyrule! He panicked, patting frantically for his blade. What happened? Where was she?
"Link?" He heard. Sheets shufflings, footfalls scampering, a face dawned at his bedside – Her Highness! Surprised, he scampered back, jolting his side, and yelped!
"A-Are you alright? Oh, goddesses, did I frighten you?" She desperately reached for his cheek – his heart skidding, cheeks blazing, sweat beading. She must have noticed, retracting her hand, stammering, "I'm sorry. I-I'm just so relieved to see you awake."
He huffed, averting his eyes – she was stunning.
"How are you feeling?" She asked.
Painfully stunning.
Snores stole the warrior's attention - other people, triggering an urgency. He popped up.
"No, stay down, Link!"
Pain rioted his side. He pushed through dutifully, clutching it to shield the Princess from the early morning shadows. They set into vision. No yellow eyes. No monsters – just a dozen beds occupied by sleeping guests. No cackling – just birds warbling comfortably from the rafters above while a busy cook hummed over a pan of eggs in a kitchen corner. Firelight from the burner skirted across the scuffed floors, taking his leer to the hay-baled tables and the leak buckets where rainwater dripped and dripped.
Huffing, he attempted to get out of bed, but another roll of pain took him –collapsing back into his sheets, finding himself shirtless and bandaged with his right arm in a sling.
"S-Sorry," he heard – the Princess blushing.
He blushed. Being indecent. In front of his regent.
She grabbed a folded shirt from the edge of his bed, "I didn't know how to help you into it when you were asleep." She stood up from a cluttered pile of bottle herbs and liquids – its deep muster contending with the odor of horsehair and wet hay – and helped him into the shirt, "But, we're safe, Link – in a stable past Mabe Village, and it's almost morning. You were in surgery for the whole night, kept intoxicated for the sake of the pain, so I imagine you're feeling disoriented, but all is well." She blushed once more, "C-Can I help you sit up?"
He nodded, feeling shy as the Princess helped him forward, "It seems like we've maintained secrecy for the time being and the storms shrouded out the castle and fields, so no one knows what's happened yet." A timid touch on his back. Another around his left shoulder, easing him forward while a loose tunic came over his head and shoulders. "Can you push your arm through the sleeve on your own?"
He nodded, doing so, leaving his broken arm inside the shirt, trying not to feel the warmth of the Princess's careful hands helping him back down into his sheets — or stare when she inspected the cuts on his face.
"Oh, Link," she whimpered, "You're face."
He brushed his eye, wincing at the touch – a black eye. He must have looked horrible. Blushing, he peered up, basking in the surreal nearness of the Princess, The cosmic voice - incarnate after one hundred years worth of conversations, two of which he had been awake enough to hear - following her through darkened caverns, hell-holes, and ruined wastelands.
Words, however mysterious and hyperreal, were lifelines in this impossible task – he had found solace, trusting an transcendent power to see him through this unbearable quest for salvation, and here she was.
"All the potions went to your side, and we still had to cauterize it and stitch it up." She started, and with a sigh, she wiped her eyes on her sleeve. "Oh, I was so scared, Link. They were telling me you might pass, and I couldn't —"
A sudden sob. She cried profusely into her sleeve, triggering a primal urgency in the knight to help. Link scanned for a handkerchief, finding only a rag on the uneven bedside table. He reached for it weakly.
"Oh – thank you." She took it shyly from his hand and wiped her face, "I'm nothing but a stranger in your eyes, yet I'm sobbing! But, please understand my disposition – from another world, having failed to protect you and your family and your – " she broke, sobbing once more into the handkerchief. Some people woke. Some stared. Thunder rolled. Uncaring, she drew up her posture with the strength of the storm, "I'm sorry. I'm coming too strongly, but I must be aptly forward and thank you."
He watched her helplessly, "Thank you for everything, Link. You have done your duty, entrusted to you by the Cursed Divine. You carried a horrible burden. And thus, executed it with sincere courage and loyalty at the price of your livelihood, your comforts, and your future. And so, you do not need to worry about destiny or duty anymore. Do you understand?"
He nodded — warm hands grabbing his hand. A touch, surprising him, goosebumps spreading up his arm. Heart accelerating.
"Please," she bowed into their palms. "Please survive. Survive and rest for as long as you need to! – knowing you've done everything asked of you. I will bend my life on repaying the debt I owe you and the Champions, so please understand that you have a friend in me, ready to help in any way possible. Do you understand?"
He nodded feverishly, looking between her eyes and they're hands, having everything to say to the Princess of Hyrule but having little strength and no way of saying it. How to explain the last two years? Abiding by a divine duty. Being wrapped up in a cosmic destiny. Relying on her guidance. Admitting to the raw comfort of her voice – even now as she spoke. How to admit to that urgency to save her? To save the kingdom? Expressing his utter shock to see her now? – not as a transcendent deity but as a person. A girl - one who was small and young and imploring. Pretty. Very pretty. Her hands — clean, soft, and strong.
"A-Are you hungry?" She asked.
He tried to nod, but couldn't, looking between their hands — his had clammed up. He eyed them painstakingly.
She must have noticed, releasing him with a sappy smile, "H-How about some water?"
He shook his head.
"Is there anything I can get you?"
He stalled, wanting to say something.
"Well, let me at least grab you something from the kitchen. I think Lawdon's almost done with breakfast." She said, flagging the cook. He waved back.
Watching her stand, Link panicked, knowing he needed at least thirty seconds to muster up the courage to say something. Yet, urgency demanded him, watching her leave. It was now or never. "Y-Y-Your Highness?"
She spun clumsily, "Y-Yes?"
Shoot. She was very very pretty. Intimidation froze him up – eye to eye now as he lay pinned to his pillow. He pursed his lips in anxious trembling, "I-I'm… I'm sorry."
"S-Sorry? What's to be sorry for, Link?"
He stammered, fretfully scanning the inn around them. His eyes fell on his broken arm.
"Risking your arm and side to save me is nothing to apologize for!"
He shuddered, feeling the kindness in her voice. He attempted another sentence, "A-Are you - " he broke off.
She waited with wide eyes - hands on her heart.
"Are you…?"
She nodded him on.
"Are you okay?"
She stared, bouncing between his eyes for a moment as if he had just spoken a foreign language – perhaps it was improper of an underling to ask about her condition, especially in such a compromised situation. Yet, he went on in a sense of duty, "Not hurt or anything?"
A sad smile broke.
"I'm sorry."
"Oh, no, well, I – " she started, tears breaking, "Sorry, I've been crying since yesterday, haven't I?"
All he could do was stare.
She fell back into a seat, a haphazard chair with a missing leg, and scooted it forward to his bedside, "Well, I calculated that I might cry through my first week, but I didn't expect to be on my feet and walking around this early, but I am… fine." She gave a faint smile. "Fine motor skills are obviously functioning after a century of paralysis, and I was even seconds away from operating on you myself when they told me you may not make it, but regardless – I feel much better now. Seeing you awake. Getting to say hello!"
He blushed, "H-Hello."
"Hello, Link." She laughed, a tear free-falling. "It's so nice to see you."
Her words brightened him, tempting him to smile, but he suppressed it shyly - unsure of himself.
"But enough about me." She implored, "How are you feeling, Link?"
How was he feeling? He reddened, hearing his name spoken so lovingly by an ethereal stranger as if she had known him his whole life. Well, hadn't she?
She smiled, "Tired?"
He nodded. His stomach growled.
"Hungry?"
He was painfully hungry but frowned, reluctant to give up the conversation after two years of waiting. Yet, all he could offer was his nervousness, anxiously staring at his sheets while the pregnant silence gave way to the rain on the tent's roof. Distant thunder moaned – the Princess looked up, listening too.
"I – uh, went out in the rain." She offered, tears welling. "Goddesses! I'm like the rain itself!"
A huff escaped him - a sudden surprise before he bottled it back up, averting his eyes.
"I don't mind. You can laugh! I like to believe I'm funny."
He peered up – humored. She was nice. Nice to talk to. Maybe talking to her wouldn't be so hard, "Y-You – uh?"
"Hmm?"
"You went out in the rain?" He started – a failed attempt of small talk, but she didn't seem to mind.
"I did! – stood out in the downpour and let myself get drenched. I forgot what it felt like."
A shy smile escaped him. As did words, unplanned, "W-What did it feel like?"
"Thrilling, enveloping, yet burdensome."
"B-Burdensome." He repeated coyly.
"Burdensome. The rain kept hitting my eyes, and I kept wincing involuntarily, trying to see where I was going. A feeling I had forgotten after one hundred years!" And with a faint smile, she continued, whispering, "The Missus helped me wash up and lent me these clothes, which I think is an important touch in order to blend in with the other guests."
He nodded, noting the pink color and pattern until his eyes fell upon her neck, hands, and waist. He looked away respectfully.
She must not have noticed, drawing his gaze back to her shoulder, "See this pattern?" She pinched the hem, "I'd only see this kind of attire when my father would entertain ambassadors. It's traditional to the northern nations – coupled with pointed headdresses, fringes, and colors galore."
He nodded incredulously - he would have never known. "It's really nice."
She peered up, gaping as if he had said something profound.
"S-Sorry." He had been staring, hadn't he?
"Oh, I don't mean to - " she started, trailing off, "I'm just not used to you… speaking. Well, not used to you speaking at all, let alone you speaking your thoughts on things."
"Oh." He had been told this before - despite being very reserved and shy around others, there existed a previous version of himself who was more guarded and reticent. Still, he thought to apologize - perhaps he had spoken out of turn.
But she interrupted him first, drawing him out of his thoughts, "But you think it looks nice?"
He nodded again - unable to help himself.
She blushed, "I never thought I'd be wearing it myself. It certainly livens up the sleek, modern, monochromatic features of standard Hylian fashion. But what am I saying? Modern hylian fashion is all around us." She said, studying the guests around them. Some had gotten up for breakfast.
Link eyed them warily, but Princess Zelda didn't seemed to mind. She turned, smiling, "C-Careful, Link. You're just going to make me ramble some more. I've already informed you of Outerlander couture, so I'll spare you a history lesson regarding Hyrule and its relationship with outside territories."
Link paused - he would love nothing more. Fascinated, he tried to nod her on, but she turned away blushing. Blowing out her cheek, she gestured to the tent's center, where a pregnant woman haphazardly slept against the front desk, "Leekah is Lawdon's wife, the one who lent me these clothes. She showed me her parlor, and, Link, her study is covered with widgets that remind me of the castle study. Hours I'd spend in that place. I don't think you would remember, which might be good. It was always so messy in its later years – dark and dreary and – "
She stopped herself short, shaking her head, "I-I'm rambling now."
He opened his mouth, hoping to encourage her to go on, but no words came out. Instead, they both stared in amazement.
"My apologies, I haven't had a conversation in a - " She offered.
"I'm sorry, I - "
Another pause.
Link buckled his lip, bending beneath the weight of her delightful gaze. He gestured for her to go on.
"Oh, it's just that – well, I haven't had the pleasure of a conversation in a century."
He nodded feverishly, hoping she'd go on.
"Sorry, I interrupted. What were you going to say?"
"O-Oh, uh - " he said, stopping.
"What is it?"
"Just that I'm not…"
She waited kindly.
"I'm not good at… " he shuttered, faltering beneath the weight of her gaze.
Princess Zelda nodded, a hint of insecurity coloring her expression, "And I should know better – monopolizing on your time when you should be resting. Surely, a conversation can wait. I should let you sleep."
He tensed, not meaning to cut her short. "No – uh, it's not that."
"Oh."
"It's just that – "
She nodded him on.
He blushed, "P-Please keep…"
"Keep what?"
"Please keep going… Your Highness."
She pressed her lips together, cheeks ablaze. They matched the color of her frock.
He looked away shyly, words coming undone, "P-Please keep going… talking. I like listening. I — uh, have been trying to listen for years." He swallowed hard, blushing as he corrected himself with a weary nod, "Your Highness."
Another tear ran – she wiped it and let out a shy smile. His stomach turned – something like butterflies fluttering.
"Well, Link," she stood regally, "I'll talk your ear off anytime, but in exchange, you have to rest and recover. I'll be here waiting to help, so let me know if you need anything. Anything at all - oh! That reminds me!" She turned, hot on her heels, "You're probably starving. Let me get something for you!"
But she suddenly screamed!
Link jolted forward - visions of Yiga shooting through his mind as he grabbed his sword for a fat, black critter scurrying across the floor.
"I'm so sorry!" Zelda peeped, catching him. "It was just a rat."
Link huffed, awkwardly hanging at the edge of his bed. Side-splitting, he dropped his sword in anguish, letting it clatter before falling back into his bed altogether.
"I can handle a rat." She whimpered, helping him back down into his covers, "But, Goddesses! - that one was huge! A divine beast of a brute!"
He bit his cheek as the pain dissipated, yet his thoughts went to her hands on his shoulder and lingered there – comfortably, fearfully, longingly – until she withdrew herself.
She looked deeply into her palms, "What I'd give to be like Mipha – the Champion of the Zora. A friend to you. A hero to us all. She possessed a kind of magic that could heal. I'm sorry, Link – even after everything," she paused, turning away in a haste. "I have no magic."
Link watched her retreat to the kitchen corner where the stable master was ladling bowls of stew – thick, zesty, and peppered – and as the Princess neared, the man gave an earnest smile and dropped two sunny-side eggs into their bowls.
Link braced – not magical? Magic was watching her approach with a steaming bowl of breakfast.
Author's Note: Yeah, she's pretty magical, Link ;)