Chapter Six
Keeping busy became more difficult for Princess Zelda as the morning stretched into the afternoon.
She stayed at Link's bedside, monitoring his breaths and checking his vitals while he slept. His wounds were already healing – the slit on his lip scabbing, the bruise on his face fading out, cuts on his neck and chest thinning, and judging how he curled into his right side, his broken arm must be mending. Hopefully, the gash in his side would follow suit after all the potions they had doused over him.
Zelda tried not to stare, but the intensity of their recent reunion tempted her fragile judgment. A candid Link was lying helplessly in the sheets – free from the kingdomly cage of stoicism. Brows unburdened. Limbs loose. Cheek squished against the soft pillow. Relieved from horrific memories - the same from which she tried to distract herself.
Shuddering, she readjusted her posture in her seat, accidentally kicking Link's pack at the foot of his bed. It plopped onto its side pathetically, releasing a spill of rolling bottles. She fumbled after them, catching one and two before uprighting the sack. She paused, however, looking inside sheepishly — the Sheikah Slate caught her eye. She snagged it, tapping it twice for some sort of distraction. Unresponsive. She tapped again. Nothing — as it had been the moment they ended the Calamity.
The Calamity - the destruction of her people. Zelda panicked, suppressing an awful thought, turning to Link's pack. Was it indecent for a young lady to organize a young man's things? - especially if the young man made her heart swirl and tangle and knot? She eyed Link, begging his sleepy forgiveness as she preyed upon his inventory for something to keep her mind busy.
Organizing his inventory was the solution. She emptied the bag on the floor and sat criss-cross, manically grouping together his things. Utilities — she gathered a tool ring, neatly bound rope, and another beefy pocket knife. Next, she coupled a water sack with his cooking pot and ladle, wrapping both with spare tunics. Medical equipment? Of course, she found the two empty potion bottles and stuffed spare gauze inside to maximize space. Last was a leather-bound journal, which she would not read no matter how much she wanted to.
A ripped tunic caught her eye instead. Poking a finger through its shoulder, she decided to darn it.
"Bored?" She heard – Lawdon. He held half a dozen mugs of barley tea on a tray – steam teeming up, dampening his beard. He handed her a cup.
She took it blindly, "Do you have a darning kit?"
"Doubt you should be sewing, lassy."
She ignored him, "And red string?"
"Needles?" He sighed.
"And a patch – if you have one."
"Anything else, Princess?"
Zelda froze. Princess? He knew. She gawked, plotting out a daring escape for her and Link, but it all fell short to a chastising grin.
"A please will do." He said, clarifying.
"O-Oh." Zelda breathed, cutting her plans - he didn't know. They were safe. She recovered, "W-Where are my manners? Please and thank you, Mister Lawdon."
"Just Lawdon is fine – one sec." He gestured to her mug, but Zelda ignored it, soberly watching the man as he retrieved his wife's sewing basket from behind the front desk. It was a shabby thing – wicker and broken but nevertheless equipped with a variety of patches and string, "Think this will do?"
Zelda reached for it, but the stable master withheld the basket with a cheeky glare.
She reddened, "Thank you, Lawdon."
He smirked, looking satisfied with himself, and handed over the basket.
"Leekah won't say no to help if you need something to do. Just holler at us, yeah?"
Zelda nodded, watching him leave. Lawdon was a smart man - as perceptive as he was kind, and his investment in her and Link would surely spoil the riddle they had imposed on this impoverished stable. She prayed for more time, suppressing thoughts of doom as she pieced through the clutter of the sewing basket. Sitting on top was a burlap sack. Zelda opened it, finding a dozen patches inside. She plucked out an appalling crimson square three shades brighter than Link's maroon tunic but nevertheless it was the best match. She began, hoping Link would understand her desperate desire to stay busy, and spent the rest of the hour flexing her limp fingers to finagle the string through the eye. Once through, she dawned a genuine smile and straightened the string on her knee, knotting its ends proudly.
Darning the garment was a simple job, however – only taking twenty minutes to complete. It took thirty seconds to cut the string. Another thirty seconds to roll up the tunic and reorganize Link's inventory into his pack. And after stuffing and emptying his poor pack three times, she finally pulled herself away for a new task.
She met Leekah's eyes in a desperate turn — the woman had been waiting. On cue, she smiled, holding up a giant basket of clothes, which Zelda spent darning for the rest of the evening. Dinner came and went, but she paid it no mind, not having an appetite.
She emptied her busy basket well after midnight – a clean swipe at nothing had her panicking like a child waking up in a dark room. Having nothing left to do, she frantically plopped up from the rocking chair and searched the room for a new task. A broom caught her eye, triggering a new idea. Cleaning. Sweeping. She could sweep these dusty floors, couldn't she?
She plopped up, snatching the broom like a highlander hawk after it's prey and began hacking away at the grime — despite her incompetency, having had servants most her life. Still, she pushed through. Her arms feeling noodly; her stance awkward, she swept the floor of the main dormitory until Link woke a few hours later – probably to the smell of sizzling pork. Breakfast. It was morning again.
Zelda had peered up in time to catch a barefoot breaking from the sheet. A blanket falling from the mattress. Next came a hand, reaching weakly for the mug of water at his end-table. He fumbled the cup, spilling it onto the floor. Zelda hustled over, "Link! You're up! How are you feel—?"
Lord Jabu – she froze, beholding a god lying in the sheets. Long hair like a golden waterfall. Cerulean eyes, blinking groggily, as he pushed himself up onto his elbows. Curse the thin sheet - it slid from his toned back, revealing muscular arms and a lean waist contoured with hot streaks from pillow seams.
"Y-Y-Your Highness?" She heard, "The S-Sheikah?"
She blushed.
He peered up.
"Oh, sorry, Link," she recovered, pinning her eyes to his and nowhere else, "I'm just... surprised at how quickly the potions are working. W-What was your question?"
"T-The Sheikah?"
"Oh, no, not yet, Link. It could be the rain slowing them down. It hasn't stopped."
A look of disbelief dawned on his brows – it was strange, wasn't it? One word should have summoned their whole congregation if they were still out there - rain or shine.
"I'd tell you if they came," she reminded him.
He narrowed his eyes suspiciously – so he didn't believe her? Zelda blushed, finding it… cute.
He reached for his blade with his good arm, but she caught his hand,
"Its going to be fine, Link," she assured him. A temptation to kiss his knuckle plagued her - chaste, kind, and motherly, much like a mother figure she used to know, "You've just defeated a century-old beast. Please afford yourself some rest."
Urbosa – Zelda blinked, suddenly feeling exhausted. She had sounded like Urbosa just then.
He must have noticed – not the tone, but the tears in her eyes, "Y-Y-Your Highness?"
She shrank to her chair – Urbosa. She was dead. The Champions were dead. Everyone was dead.
"P-Princess Zelda?"
"Yes?" She was gripping his hand, nails digging into his palm. "Oh, sorry. I didn't mean to - "
"A-Are you -
"Okay? I'm okay, Link. Just keeping busy."
He looked spooked, seeing something on her face that she couldn't comprehend among the flashing memories -whirring machinery, toppled granite walls, flying debris.
"How about some breakfast?" She peeped, hustling to the tray on the front desk to get away from the thoughts. A large group had gathered to check in for the day, but Zelda pushed past them for the spare bowl of pork and grits and brought it back dutifully, "Here."
Link nodded, taking it gratefully - and like an animal at a trough, he wolfed down the bowl before his strength failed him. He fell back into his pillow but struggled in the next moment, trying to get back up. Eyes were watching them- men and women looking curiously from the dining area.
"No need, Link. Please rest. Please." She said, as if trying to convince herself.
He collapsed back down into his pillow at her words. Pained blue eyes caught her gaze. She tried to assure him, "I'm fine, Link. I'm alright."
He nodded, warily, fearfully.
"Just rest."
He closed his eyes dutifully, and within the next minute, he was asleep again.
She settled into her own bed, watching him. What a pleasure to have forgotten the world before. Just how much he had forgotten? The champions? The King? His mother? His Father? His sister? How he would write her weekly?
Another wave of exhaustion fell over the Princess of Hyrule. A terrible yawn. Heavy lids. She feared stillness, but the weight of sleep had her sinking into her pillow. She tried to fight it, fantasizing the next task to assign herself but it all fell to blackness.
A dream seized her – darkness shaded into a red, autumn afternoon. Malevolent sunshine cast grim shadows over a campsite where the champions waited for the Goddess Incarnate to return with good news. Dismal shakes of the head triggered earthquakes! Up reared the blood-splattering Divines - possessed and hungry. Revali slaughtered; Daruk crushed; Mipha squashed. Urbosa's proud smile vanquished after years of friendship poured out over tea and cardamom cookies. Out flooded the darkness, sweeping up the Princess in its evil tide.
Zelda jumped awake!
The rain faded into sound – next came the soft roll of thunder.
She cupped her mouth, quieting her breath. Hands clean, she checked them three times for blood before gagging into them, dry-heaving. Tearing her body from her bed.
She couldn't do this.
Not now.
Not here.
Like a prey needing shelter, she lunged for a pair of socks that Leekah had dropped in her busy basket earlier that morning and fumbled for the needle – its point pricking her finger. She yelped, instinctively pressing the crimson bubble to her lips as memories seized her – she and Mipha small-talking beneath the Lanayru waterfalls. Daruk pointing out rare specimens on the cliffs of the Goron mines. Revali – snow-peppered and cocky – dedicating his next bullseye to the royal family. And Urbosa - oh dear Urbosa – going out of her way to visit Castletown, appearing in the Princess's doorway, sharp elbow jutting against the frame, "Well, look who we have here," she'd say. Oh – moped Zelda, wiping her eyes in self-hate – she craved the woman's love like a royal breakfast. Never again would she see her.
Zelda sobbed into her sleeve, reliving the nightmare and there swirling thoughts she had been suppressing for two days.
What would it feel like to hold them now? Carry Mipha out into this downpour? Spitting up rain while the water-goddess healed?
Zelda wiped her eyes, imagining them all lying in all the vacant beds around her. Revali - not hunted like measly game, but instead tucked into the warm bed beside Link and dressed in bandages? A broken wing fixed?
Could the battered Princess of Hyrule push two of these dormitory beds together for Daruk?
Could she brew up some medicine and make Urbosa drink? Counter the warrior's pride with sass? Help her walk about the room, dodging the leak buckets that littered the dormitory floor?
"Y-You alright?" Came an intruder.
Zelda turned – a tall redhead stood as spokeswoman to a group of six girls behind her, all varying in age. Despite her tough exterior, she looked nervous – as nervous as one would be when addressing a crying stranger.
Zelda sat up slowly, bouncing between everyone's gaze - there were so many of them. She wiped the tears from her eyes and nodded. "I-I'm sorry."
"We're just needin' another card player." Spouted off the redhead – a statement intended to be kind but had come out too aggressive. "Uh — wanna play?"
Zelda stared between the seven girls. What a surprise - they were the girls who had just checked in, weren't they?
She ought to turn them down, but a crippling need for anything else egged her on, "Ah, that – that would be nice, thank you."
"C'mon over then. We don't bite."
Zelda nodded, letting herself be led to the dining tables where people were playing cards.
Author's Note: Hot boyfriend (check), new skills to put on a resume (check), and now seven new friends? (check)