Tell me, Urbosa, do you remember the castle?

When first you saw it I would swear you fell half faint.

It stands there still, a testament to our brilliance, our strength, our hubris, rising from the roots of our land like some ancient, ancestral oak.

You were there, time after time, giving strength, counsel, love, hope.

But I am getting ahead of myself.

There is another moment I wish for you to recall. Do the images unfold before you?

Here. I can help.

You shiver in the streets of Castle Town at the hardening age of fourteen. Summer comes far too late to these lands, you think, and lasts far too little. But then, Urbosa, it is still early spring. Only just, have the snows retreated high enough to allow passage along the outskirts of Mount Hylia, the infant buds just stirring from their long winter slumber. Indeed, the streets of Central Hyrule are still stitched together with ice and the inns all still have creaking floors.

Your mother has brought you to this place for diplomatic purposes, the kind that typically runs your heart as ragged as your traveling boots. All the discomfort of politics, the sting of simulated smiles, the fatigue of showing the proper deference or dissent, all at the proper time. And then there are the odd distrustful glares crossing your steps, which you have grown old and wary enough to notice. Were it not for the sweet anticipation lying in your bosom, as warm as the hearths of home, you would likely have protested to this journey as much as the elders did.

Ah, but now forget the clamor chasing your approach, like the sea forgets the trailing winds! Forget the soldiers' falling stares, like pines forget the snows that fall from their branches! Forget the bawdy music splashing from a tavern, soon muted and mopped by a closing door. For there stands Minerva, waiting for you at the castle's painted iron gates.

With a shout of joy you leap off your horse into her awaiting arms. So many tales you have to tell, to hear, to share!

But your mother clears her throat. Intimate companions you may be, but you remain dignitaries of ancient and storied nations. The forms must be followed, even in the face of friendship.

Such a groan echoes in your soul, but does not cross your lips. How you hate this forced propriety! But well you know your mother will not be denied. So, Urbosa, step back and bow your back to the one-day-Queen of Hyrule, as she teases you with her giggles. Oh, if only you could both forget your stations and be but two vai, exploring the untamed wilds side by side… But alas.

"Minerva, Princess of Hyrule. I, Urbosa of the Gerudo, thank you for welcoming us to Hyrule Castle. Chieftain Namia of the Gerudo and I are honored by your presence," you stiffly recite.

Goddesses save you, Urbosa, for your fractious feelings are written on your face as plainly as if they were in your diary. Minerva, may the Seven bless her spirit, properly responds.

"Chieftain Namia and Lady Urbosa, welcome. On behalf of King Daphnes Labrynnus and Queen Sofia Hyrule, I, Minerva, princess of Hyrule, welcome you to Hyrule Castle."

Will this suffice? Your mother's snort brims with sarcasm…but nevertheless she nods.

Yes! You rush to Minerva, joining her embrace, marrying her laughter with yours…

But you are not yet free. Minerva is but a princess after all, not yet more, and decorum demands that you and your mother must be presented before the King and Queen themselves before you are given full freedom of the castle. Thus, in the sanctum, soon, you kneel, hand on heart, eyes closed before the golden thrones of yore. You will show no disobedience in this sacred place, no defiance, no disrespect. Even your mother knows this.

Sofia, Queen of Hyrule steps down from the crowned pinnacle and clasps her hands with your mother's, accepting your arrival as only those who bear her legendary bloodline can. The gallery explodes with thunderous applause, and you catch your mother's eyes and smile.

You do not see the cracks in the tiles. No one does, for they are but spiderwebs in the stone.

The rest of your day is crowded with ritual, rite and routine, and you are pulled from Minerva into the mixing noble crowd. How you fidget like a finch through each introduction, each bowing and shaking of hands! So restless! So anxious! But there is so much you have to say to your friend.

Ah, have patience, Urbosa! Soon, you and Minerva shall have the time together you so deeply desire. Soon you shall sit on pillows of soft goose-down, eating honeyed Tabanthan sweets, laughing like the Koroks who are said to play in the hollowed stumps of trees. Do not worry, Urbosa. For wisdom shall soon hear your plea.

"I do not understand it, Minerva," you complain, when, at last, you are allowed your time alone, "My friends and I used to play and laugh and joke, but now all they are interested in is voe!"

"And you are not."

You sadly peer into the dusk encroaching on the slowly setting sun, "And I am not. Not yet, anyway. Am I broken? Is there something wrong with me?"

Alas, it is true, Urbosa. I regret to say you have found no appetite for voe. Though you have grown taller with every winter, no voe has yet earned your eyes, and though your limbs have grown long and inconvenient, no attraction has yet reared its fair head. Such a gap, this has wedged between you and your peers, widened by the duties that envelop all your days.

"The Tribes are still skeptical of my family's continued reign anyway," you sigh, "I suppose it does not matter what my friends care about, when all my days are spent trying to convince the elders I still deserve the Scimitars of the Seven."

Minerva grimaces, "They are still upset that men are coming to the desert, then? Do the old traditions really mean that much?"

"Traditions mean everything to the Gerudo!" you grumble, like the grinding of stones in a gale, "Which means I hardly see anyone but my mother and the guards, and all I do is duel, study the forms, and practice with the Thunder Helm."

"How is that going, by the way?" She asks.

"Well..." you frown, "I can do this now..."

You tense your core, and summon the vibrations to rumble through your spine and up into your shoulders. When it reaches its apex you narrow your eyes and snap your fingers… But only a solitary spark leaps through the air, fizzing out on a decorative shield hanging above the mantle. Frustrated by your failure you huff, "That is about the best I have been able to do."

Minerva leans back against a chair of purple velvet, soft as tufts of moss by the sea, "If it makes you feel any better there are few who power should come naturally to. For those who do not know the danger of power will quickly be ruled by it."

She shrugs, "At least, that is what the Great Deku Tree said. It seems too much like an old maid's tale to me, but who really knows."

"You finally went to the Great Forest, then?"

Minerva nods, slow and pondering, "My mother took me about a month ago. It was strange, you know. She just sat there, completely unmoving, while the Deku Tree did not make a sound. But then, when she opened her eyes, they acted like they had been speaking for hours."

"You think they were speaking in the Spirit Realm?" All in Hyrule know that the spirits have few secrets before Queen Sofia. Often she unsettles the court with knowledge no earthly being should possess.

"I think so," Minerva says, "When the Deku Tree finally spoke, he said he was glad to meet me, and asked if I could grow some flowers at his base." Her eyebrows wrinkle, "That was the only thing I could understand, honestly. Everything else was riddles I am still trying to figure out."

You pout, "See this is what I mean! You get to do things! All I do is practice and study, study and practice. And then smile and nod while my classmates prattle on about voe. It is so boring!"

Minerva purses her lips, tugging them to the side, "Have you even left Gerudo Town recently?"

"Besides now?" You shake your head, "Barely. And even then, just to practice my sand seal riding. As if I were not better than the entire palace guard three years ago."

Ah, how Minerva looks at you, face stamped with an impish smile growing up her cheeks like a river swells after a storm. Oh, Urbosa, you have come to know that smile well.

It means trouble is soon to follow.

"You know what I think?" She says, "I think what you need is an adventure. Come on!" With a start Minerva stands. She lights a candle to the left of her bed and the wall slides back, revealing one of the many murky passages strewn beneath the castle. Hundreds, if not thousands, are rumored to carve through the rock and stone below the barricades.

Bursting with laughter, she grabs your hand and pulls you into the tunnel. Why does her hand feel so warm, Urbosa, palm pressed against palm? You notice neither the damp nor the cold grasping from the depths like deathly phantoms still clinging to shreds of life.

Down, over and around she takes you; beneath the hardened stone of the castle walls, beside a waterfall's crashing spray, and over a forest of knotted pine. The torch light dances shadows along the wall like fairies in some devilish bacchanal, calling you to cast off your duty and join them in their fête. But again, alas. You grumble to Minerva about the prison of your station, and with a tilt of her eyebrows she asks if you still want to be chieftain.

"I think I do," you frown, "I want to help my people, along with all of Hyrule, but..."

You sigh, "I feel like I have to be everything a Chieftain's Daughter is supposed to be or else I am letting everyone down. Sometimes, I wish I could just be…me."

"Can you not?" Minerva asks, "Certainly my parents have never had to be anyone but themselves."

"Sure, but they are the King and the Queen of Hyrule," you lament, "And you are the Princess. You do not have to convince your people you deserve the throne when the time comes."

"No, we just have to convince the Goddess."

You freeze, face pale as ash, "I did not mean-"

"I am the only daughter of the Royal Family," Minerva simply states, "And, ultimately, I have two duties that must be fulfilled. Produce an heir to the Goddess' bloodline and use Her holy power if evil arises. And if I fail at either then the kingdom collapses, my people die, and the whole world ends." She sarcastically snorts, "So, you know, no pressure or anything."

Ah, Urbosa, how your eyes turn apologetically to the floor. Has not such looseness in your lips caused problems for you before? Chastised, you sigh, "I guess you are right. I am sorry. I spoke too much, too harshly, too soon."

"It is not all bad, though, I have to admit," Minerva smirks, letting your transgression pass unmentioned. She, you know, takes no offense when you let your heart speak instead of your head, "At least if evil arises I can look forward to having a handsome, muscular hero coming to sweep me off my feet."

She winks salaciously, "You know, if I have to continue the Goddess' bloodline and all…"

A yawning pit forms in your stomach, and solidifies into stone in your chest. Ah, but with a giggle and a grin from Minerva it is gone, its origin swept from your mind like sand off your skirt. "Here we go," she smiles, and opens a wooden door to a bridge of freshly mined stone. Its span leads to an unfinished tower sluggishly snaking into the sky, masonry mounting upon masonry.

"The Shiekah always felt this was not a useful passageway for us," Minerva explains, darting across the bridge like a dancer, "It is one of the escape routes the Royal Family is supposed to use if the castle comes under attack, but there is nowhere usable it actually escapes to. So, we are building an observation tower here instead."

She stands on tiptoes at the half-done walls, peering over the palisades as if the future and the past lay beyond their pillars, "I come here whenever I can. You can see the castle, the fields of Tabantha, the mountains of Hebra, the mesas of the highlands-"

You interrupt her with a doubtful exhale, stepping to her side, "It is beautiful, Minerva. Truly it is. I just…I wish I loved it like you do."

Dejected, you lay your chin on your hands. This is the truth of it, is it not? Has all the guidance you have ever been given seemed like questions about your capacity to lead? Has all the advice poured into your ear driven anxiety through your gut like the sharpened tip of a spear? And is Minerva's unbridled abandon not exactly what you wish you could be instead?

"My mother says that my duty as chieftain is to love every grain of sand like family," you sadly relate, "That the dunes should be like my cousins across the seven tribes. But in truth…"

Slowly you sigh, "Whenever I look out the palace walls, all I see is dirt."

"You do love it like I do, Urbosa," she pulls your hand to her like a prayer, holding your spirit close to her heart, "I know you do. I did not bring you out here because the view is pretty. That is not why I come here, either." She shakes her head, "No, whenever I look across the land I know, somewhere off in the distance there are villages, towns and cities, filled with people who all have lives and loves, hopes and dreams."

Deep, you look in her eyes, your breath stuck to the back of your throat. In her irises, green as the first spring leaf, breathes all the compassion that your dear friend has to offer, rushing forth from her soul with the warmth of fire perfumed with the sweetness of citrus and cedar.

"That is what really matters, you know," She says, "Not the land itself, but the people who give it life. Coming out here reminds me who my family rules for."

I see a sensitive smile bloom on Minerva's lips. She grips your hand, "Urbosa, you are not going to be a good chieftain because of your sense of duty. You are going to be a great chieftain because in all my life I have never met anyone so kind as you. You listen to people, and you help them, however they need you to. You care, so deeply for all your people, and for your home, and for all the people of Hyrule."

How her smile sweetly shines, like the morning sun sails across the sea…

"I knew that from the moment I met you. I knew that you would accept me for who I am. That you would always make sure I am safe to be myself, just as you do for everyone you meet."

Minerva tenderly places her other hand on yours, and a tingle in your skin rises like the static of the Thunder Helm. Then she leans her head on your shoulder and the tingle rushes up your spine like your mothers sparks storm up her swords. Has she, your spirit, calmed? Is all your anxious fear assuaged? Minerva whispers quietly to you, a soft smile upon her face.

"That is why you are my best friend. Do not ever forget that. Promise you will never forget that?"

What is this? This pricking at the corner of your eye like the sting of a bee? This swelling in your throat like the cheeks of a smiling baby? Say not that Minerva compels you to cry, Urbosa! Ah, but be not embarrassed, Champion. Was it not you who once said that in our tears lies love? Then hinder no more their flood. Let your cheeks be moistened by your eyes, like rain clouds soothe the sweltering summer skies.

Heart full, you lie your head on Minerva's, letting her take the weight off your shoulders like you would take the weight of the world off her back. She squeezes your hand in response.

"Sarqso, Minerva," you struggle from your stricken throat, "I do not know what I would do without you."

She laughs, "Urbosa, you didn't promise!" Her arm girdles yours, pulling in tight and close, "But do not worry, I feel the same way about you. And I promise I always will."

For a time you stand there, quiet as the slumbering stars above, and close as the evening tides lapping on their darling shore. But her head soon lifts from your shoulder and you feel a rush of heat in her hand. What is this? What has inflamed Minerva's interest?

Questioning, you look at her. Her gaze tilts southward with a scheming smile, "Actually, there is one more thing I like about coming here..."

You furrow your brow, and follow her eyes to an iron beaded window in the guard's quarters below. There a straw haired knight with a beard of tanned leather removes his shirt, revealing rippling muscles. Behind you Minerva oohs and you gasp, slapping her arm in playful disgust, "You wench! Is this why we are really here? So you can gawk at some voe?"

She erupts into a fit of laughter and you teasingly glower, "I knew it! You are just as bad as all the other vai in Gerudo Town!"

Oh, how Minerva whirls with mirth. How she shamelessly speaks, "Whatever you think the vai in Gerudo Town are, the ladies of the castle are far, far worse. In fact, look..."

Like the bark of the birch peels from its trunk the knight's door opens, and in warily walks one of the ladies of whom Minerva speaks. A maid. Possibly one of Minerva's but you have neglected to mark their faces for recall. The fair knight slyly smiles and turns.

"Ever since he won the Picori Tournament, all the ladies of the court, from maids to noblewomen, have been obsessed," Minerva explains, "They say the army hasn't seen a fighter like him in years. He's a clear favorite to join the Royal Guard."

She winks, "Which is very, very good news for me, if you know what I mean."

With the knight's back turned, your eyes are drawn to the maid and her suggestive smirk. Her hair is the red of fired clay, and she wears a dress of evening ocean blue. How slowly she steps into the knight's chambers! How deliberately she nears his sculpted sinews! Why, then, rises this warmth in your abdomen? From where does it approach? What brings the maid to-

She pulls a string on her bodice and her dress drops, unveiling the nakedness beneath.

You and Minerva drop behind the wall, erupting into a fit of giggles. Amid the stomach shaking snickers you shake your head, "I do not understand it. Why are they so interested in him?"

"Not your type?"

"I guess not," you huff, "He is just another voe to me. No better or worse than all the rest."

Minerva, glances behind her, towards the knight and the maid, "Well… have you never had a crush before?"

A crush? You thought you knew all the slang of the many tongues of Hyrule, but this one is unfamiliar. Minerva's brow furrows when you tell her so, and she places her hand on the unfinished earthen walls of the tower. Deep she dives into her thoughts, absentmindedly urging elegant Silent Princesses to flower from the sodden soil.

"Let me see. A crush is the feeling when you see someone and your heart seems to explode. Your world stops and you have to fight just to breathe. You cannot take your eyes off of them." She looks at you, certain that she has found the words she seeks, "I guess the best way to explain it is that if you have a crush on someone, you feel as if you would do anything to make them happy, for just being with them would make you the happiest person in the world."

Softly she smiles, eyes brightened by the blue of the flowers that now flourish nearby.

"Haven't you ever felt like that about anyone?"

Ah, Urbosa, of course you have, you know! Whenever Minerva…

Oh.

OH.

Oh...

No words line the quiet of the night. At last Minerva stands and walks back towards the dusky darkness of the passage, while your breath hangs hauntingly in your stiffened throat.

"Well, if you have not felt that for anyone yet, I do not think it is anything to worry about," she says, "Just like when you become chieftain, you will know it is right when you feel it. And I would bet whoever is lucky enough to earn your affection will undoubtedly return it."

Hands on the passage wall she grins, and your awakened heart can do naught but follow, pulled as it is by such a forceful tow. How you shiver, tense and bow!

Oh no.

Oh no, oh no, oh no...

"Come on," she says, caring, compassionate, and true, "My family is hosting a feast for you and your mother, and all of the Hylian nobility will be in attendance. We would not want to miss it and cause a 'diplomatic incident.'"

Into the covert dark of the passage she briefly goes, before emerging, warm, tender and kind, once again. Soft as the touch of silken sheets she speaks…

"Urbosa? I am really, really glad you're my friend."

She vanishes into the murky gloom beneath the castle, while echoes of her smile spin in loops through your mind. How your thoughts, so frantically, unwind! What, now, you see where once you were blind! How your stomach twists like snakes upon the shifting desert sands!

Urbosa, oh my poor Urbosa…

You might just have a problem on your hands.