Chapter 58: A Long Overdue Conversation

Zelda made her way to the Great Hall, while Sir Penrest rattled behind her. It took all her effort to ignore the clanking of his armor along with the fawning expressions of the flatterers and toadies she passed, and most of all, the itching of her palms. The wounds were healing slow, normal burns would be nothing but a memory and a scar by now. Sir Jora commented on it almost daily when he cleaned and redressed them. At least they no longer hurt unless she pressed into them. Though the constant nagging itch that replaced the pain proved little better. A sensation not relieved by the white gloves she was now forced to wear in public. She wanted nothing more than to tear them off and scratch at the scabs until they bled. But that would make them heal all the slower. And how would that look? For the princess to abandon decorum, bested by base discomforts? Intolerable.

Healing spells. Once I find a way to return to Rauru, that will be the first thing I'll have him teach me. Though, she did not know if she would ever have another lesson with the priest. If she tried, she might be able to convince Jora to take her to the temple, but to what avail? He would not leave her side, and if she practiced magic before him, he'd tell her father. The king banished Impa, one of the few people he considered a friend, what would he do to Rauru? A man he did not know.

Guards opened the doors to the hall, bowing as Zelda and her new protector entered. The room was filled with the regular crowd. The ambassadors and their guards, several lords and ladies who had become fixtures of her father's court. Many of them pompous fools who only stayed in the castle to try and win some favor from her father.

Some even tried to befriend Zelda over the years. It never took long to realize their interest began and ended with her being heir to the throne. Perhaps they thought being a child made her an easier mark than her father for their games. And their attempts were always so ridiculous. Even now, as she sat on her chair beside her father's throne, she could see an ocean of white gloves on every Hylian lady's hand. Not a week after she took to wearing them to hide her marred palms, they appeared. Now, even some of the Gerudo wore them, though they at least made theirs colorful, as befit the gemstones on their heads.

Such dull attempts to draw some connection with her. It almost made her appreciate Matron Ashdin and her Star Singers. They remained unchanged from their time in the capital. Even as the winter chill approached, they stubbornly dressed for the desert heat. The Matron stood as if she took pride in being uncomfortable with the weather. More pompous fools, just their own breed.

Zelda looked to her guardian at her shoulder. "And you heard nothing of why she is coming?"

"No, Your Highness."

"Strange, I thought you were close."

"We are, however, that woman does things her own way." He sounded wistful; his hand played with the pink wisp of cloth tied to the hilt of his sword.

Ugh, adults.

Whenever she felt herself growing comfortable with Jora ever at her heels, he reminded her that he was not truly her man. Sometimes she'd catch him updating her father on their activities, or happily chatting with Matron Bulira's servants. Those transgressions she could stomach, he served at the king's pleasure, and the matron fooled everyone into thinking her kind. But Commander Nabooru was another matter, second only to Ganondorf among the enemy, and known for a wild and violent temperament. A hero among the Gerudo people, and not even of nobility. Not truly. As far as Zelda understood the Gerudo's slapdash view of peerage, Nabooru was nothing but the daughter of a servant. True, her mother had risen to the position of a matron, but Nabooru was not even part of that tribe. She was part of no tribe.

And yet this great enemy- this no one- was treated with the same respect as the highest of nobility. The entire castle was set to greet her as though she'd been a duke or duchess. She had not even given forewarning of her arrival until the last possible moment. A message came the night before saying she would reach Castle Town this morning, abandoning her post in the army. How could anyone see that for anything but disrespect? For the crown, for the important work of ruling the kingdom. Disrespect for Zelda and her father. Yet despite everything, her guardian, the person Zelda was supposed to trust with her life, was giddy to see this enemy.

All the time she spent trying to protect these people, make friends, and earn their loyalty. All the effort to become the princess her subjects would love and respect. And yet she felt more alone now than ever before.

The door behind her squeaked open once more. Zelda recognized her father's heavy footsteps alongside the clanking of his guard. She, along with the entire hall, stood in respect for the crown, if not the man who wore it. King Liotidos moved to his throne, took a moment to appear kingly, then sat. With the slightest gesture, he allowed all within the hall to sit with him. Zelda took her seat, making certain her back was perfectly straight. Even if her father would not look or speak to her, she would not show him nor anyone else any weakness.

Once the king settled in his seat, the trumpets rang through the hall, and the marshal of the court stepped forward. "In honor of His Royal Majesty, King Regent Liotidos, by the Grace of Hylia and Blessings of the Three, Ruler of Hyrule and Death Mountain, Protector of Her Lands and Peoples, Lord of the Desert and Rivers, Uniter of Greater Hyrule, High Ruler of the Hylians, Gorons, Zora, Sheikah, and Gerudo I announce the arrival of Nabooru, daughter of Matron Bulira of the Boar-Heads, the Desert Wind, Commander of-"

Before he finished, the tall athletic woman stepped past him. "Yes, yes, I'm very impressive. Let's get this over with." She sauntered down the hall, to the audible gasps of the court. She stopped before the throne and folded her arms. "I'm here, what else needs doing before all this ends and we can get on with our day?"

Her father bristled and took a deep sucking breath to calm his anger before he spoke. "It is customary for people seeking the audience with the king to bow or kneel."

"Hylians and their ridiculous little rituals," the Gerudo muttered, but she went to her knee. "Oh, great king of Hyrule, and all those other things that voe just said. I - a humble warrior - do so beseech you to please, in your grand mercy grant me access to this big stone building so I can see my mother." She looked around the hall. "Where is Bulira anyway?"

Zelda nearly choked on her rage. "Is that how you speak to your king?"

"What?" Nabooru finally took notice of her, and from her expression, she did not seem impressed. "You'll have to excuse me; I spent all my life serving a different king. One who didn't want his subjects to grovel before him."

"If anyone else had entered our halls and spoken with such… such… impudence they would be-"

"Daughter," King Liotidos silenced her with a wave. "Commander Nabooru, I do not know where your mother is. When we were told of your ride to the castle in such haste, we assumed you bore with you a message of great importance."

"More fool you, then." Another gasp swept over the hall. "I never said that. I'm here for my mother. Can I stand up now? I think my leg is falling asleep."

"Your mother hasn't left her room," Matron Rijya said, while Matron Ashdin loudly guffawed beside her. Zelda tried not to sneer at the whole disrespectful lot of them. What could this possibly mean? Was Ganondorf trying to make some kind of play, by loading even more of his warriors into the castle? But what could one more warrior do that three matrons and their personal guard could not?

Her father took a deep breath, his hand clutching the arm of the throne. "You may rise, Commander. Sir Penrest."

"Your Majesty?" He stepped forward.

"This is the woman to whom you have given your affection?"

"Yes, I mean- Yes, Your Majesty."

"This is the second time I have questioned your judgment."

"Oy!"

Sir Jora's hand gave the slightest wave toward Nabooru to silence her. It worked, though it seemed the commander struggled to hold her tongue. "I admit, she is over-familiar. However-"

"Impudent is the word my daughter used, and I would agree," her father sighed. "Take her to see Matron Bulira. But Commander Nabooru, I will expect a full report from you on the movement of our armies at our next war council. And when you arrive you will treat me with the respect deserved of the throne. You will see her properly taught in the correct manners and etiquette, Sir Jora. I will not be so forgiving if I question your judgment a third time."

"Yes, Your Majesty." Sir Jora walked past Zelda, turned, and bowed before he went the rest of the way to the Gerudo commander. He held out his hand for her to take and together they walked down the hall toward the main entrance.

"Commander," Zelda said as the two neared the exit.

"Yes?"

"It is customary to bow or curtsy when you leave the presence of your liege."

The Gerudo fixed her a glare that was a finger's width away from treasonous, but she bowed and somehow turned the movement into a spin on the ball of her feet, straightened up, and walked out of the room. Sir Jora a step behind her.

Her father stood and gave a signal to end the display. The trumpets blared, and the masses filed out of the hall. Immediately, several of the lords came to her father's side. "Embarrassing." One said. "Reprehensible." Another added. "All these Gerudo, it is too much to take at times."

Her father agreed and spoke to each of them in turn. It did not take long for the courtiers to each try and draw his attention to one trivial matter or another. Vultures picking away at him, all trying to tear off their own bite of her kingdom.

At least they offered her a distraction. Zelda slipped out of her seat and made her way to the back doors. For the first time in weeks, without Sir Jora. Who knew how long he would be gone? And her father had not thought to place any guards as her chaperones. She was free, and she would not waste the gift. With any luck, she could make her way past the castle walls, find Rauru, and finally get her hands healed.

She might even have time to learn something or convince Father Rauru to gift her a book to read at night, locked away from prying eyes.

"Where do you think you're going?" Her father called as she reached the door.

"To my room."

"No."

"No?"

"You will attend me, today." He disengaged from the squabble of lords that surrounded him. "If you excuse me." They all bowed to him as he walked to Zelda's side, his guards formed around them, giving her nowhere to run.

"Fath- Your Majesty, I have other duties, some important work that I believe I should-"

"You will stay with me, or I will send Sir Wenton and Sir Bors to look after you."

Zelda set her jaw and affixed a scathing glare to the two knights he named. "Very well," she smiled. "As Your Majesty commands."

They left the great hall, weaved through the corridors, and did not stop until they reached his study. The one just below the passage where she once hid the Songs and Prophecies. How many days had she hidden above him practicing magic without him noticing? Now she could never hide from Jora long enough to return. And if she did, to what end? The Songs were with Rauru now.

The guards opened the doors for them and shut them in together once they'd entered. The knights waited outside, leaving her alone with the king. How long had it been since she'd visited this room? She remembered the desk, still cluttered with papers and scrolls stacked higher than her head, and the pile of torn parchment strewn at its side. It must have been years since she was allowed within, and little had changed.

"Sit," the king took his place behind his desk. A part of her wished to argue, to make some pointless futile effort against him. But what purpose would that serve? She would still need to obey. So, she took one of the chairs before his desk and sat.

Her father reached below him, there was a rifling of movement as he moved something away from his feet. He pulled up a lute, old and well-worn, with a few scratches around its sides. He laid it gently beside his desk, opposite the pile of torn notes, before he picked up one of the papers on his desk and began to work.

And that was it. He read it over, perhaps three times, jotting down slight notes in its margin. His brow furrowed and his eyes wandered away from the page as he worked out some solution or puzzled some meaning. When he finally figured an answer, he would take a clean parchment and scribble down his decree, before moving to the next in the pile. After four such letters, he found one he must have disliked, for he tore it in half and tossed it to the heap on the floor. All the while silent, except for a few mutterings under his breath. One she caught as "That idiot," another was "I did not tell her to do so" or an annoyed "Hylia's crown." That one came most of all. He worked through the mountain of parchment that never got noticeably smaller.

At times he would stop, and glance up in thought. He looked well over Zelda's head toward the door but refused to meet his daughter's eyes.

This is ridiculous. I could be doing anything else right now. Was he trying to bore her to tears? Was this some new punishment? Oh, that was exactly like him. Lock her away and bore her into submission. Well, she would not give him the satisfaction.

She waited until his head went back down into a scroll, then grabbed his lute. She had never played one before, though she'd watched minstrels strum them. It did not look particularly difficult. Her first attempt did not sound like any chord she had ever heard before. The second somehow sounded worse. As she pressed her thumb into the strings and tried to move her hand up and down, nothing that could remotely be called music came out. How did the performers get that plucky intonation just by swinging their hand about?

"What are you doing?" Her father had gotten out of his chair and around the desk before she could react. He yanked the lute from her hands, and before she could respond began fiddling with the strings and pegs at its neck.

"I do apologize, Your Majesty, did I do something wrong?"

"We're not at court, you do not need to call me 'Your Majesty.'"

"But then how will you know my utter devotion? I wouldn't want you to doubt my most sincere admiration."

He didn't listen, or if he did, he didn't care what she said. He grunted as he plucked a few notes. Once satisfied he played the lines of a melody -quite well Zelda was loath to admit – before setting it back down. This time well out of Zelda's reach. Returning to his seat, he took a pile of papers and pushed them closer to her. "Here then, if you wish to prove your 'utter devotion,' make yourself useful."

Zelda took one from the top of the pile. "Aren't these the affairs of the kingdom?"

"They are. I had thought to keep you from this busywork until you were at least thirteen, but perhaps it will be good for you to learn. Read each of them. Write down what you think the appropriate response of the crown should be."

"And you'll turn them into orders?"

"If I do not deem them harmful to the safety of the kingdom, yes."

"You don't trust me to spend one afternoon without someone watching me. Why would you trust me with this?"

"Think of it as a chance to prove your maturity." He opened a scroll and held it so he could no longer see her.

The paper in her own hands was thick with an ornate flowing script.

To His Royal Majesty, King Regent Liotidos I

She skipped past the titles to get to the meat of the letter. Lord Hastur of Barsello claimed his neighbor the Lady of Tabant Hill had dammed his river north of Hastur's lands. Without the water for irrigation, the peasants would lose their crops. He added other grievances against Lady Espara Tabant, most petty and unimportant. But the problem itself sounded interesting. Zelda closed her eyes and remembered the map of Hyrule. The river that flowed through both lands did technically belong to Lady Tabant. But Lord Hastur was not wrong either, his people needed that water.

How can I decide without first hearing Lady Tabant's side? The lord had portrayed the lady as diverting the river out of malice toward him. But there were a hundred reasons to build a dam. She would need to investigate. Thankfully she had some time to reach her conclusions, with winter approaching there would be little need for the additional water.

She wrote all of this into the margins and placed it back on the table before taking a scroll. This one marked with the seal of the Margrave of Hallenti, a lord she had never met but who held a fearsome reputation. His message did not begin with Hastur's list of the king's titles, but a brief "To King Regent Liotidos." Followed straight to the point. The attacks of the Moblins had spilled out past Duke Arlan and his forces. The Margrave led the defense of his territory along with two of his neighbors, but he warned that he could not hold out for long without support. And Duke Arlan had not sent his messenger any reinforcements when he requested.

The message was sent a month ago. They could be overrun by now.

"Father," Zelda said. "I think you need to read this one."

He put down his work and took hers. Grunting, he read through the letter, jotted some order down, and went to the door. He passed it to his guard before returning to his seat.

"What do you think happened to the margrave?"

"With any luck, he has been fighting," he said as he returned to his scroll.

"How can we help him?"

"I sent an order to the surrounding territories to muster whatever forces they have on hand and supply aid to each other. That is all we can do."

"That… how is that enough?"

"I cannot make armies appear from thin air."

"We are sending reinforcements to Duke Arlan before winter sets in, are we not? What if we split the force and send some to Hallenti?"

"The duke needs the entire army. You've sat at the war councils. Duke Arlan was given the most difficult lands to defend, and he has been performing admirably, but he is bleeding soldiers. And Ganondorf has not yet dealt with the Octoroks. If we split our reinforcements to Duke Arlan, we may lose Hateno. If we lose Hateno we lose the East, and it will not matter if the margrave holds or not."

"So, we are just letting them die?"

"This is the truth of kingship, Zelda. Every decision we make can mean letting people die. We must do our best to mitigate the damage. That is all."

"If we had known this was happening, we could have provided aid earlier." Zelda looked at the stack of papers, they had been in the room for over an hour, and they had not gotten far. "There has to be a faster way to get through all this."

"There was," the king muttered. "I used to have someone who could read through them twice as fast as I and always made the correct decision. But for a while, it has been me alone."

"What about the city guard?"

"What about them?"

"Could we send them? Along with some of the knights at court. Not a full army by any means, but they could help."

"We need the city guard to keep peace in the city. Winter months are rough, you know this. And should enemies once more appear inside these walls, we will need them."

There are already enemies in our walls. And the guard is doing nothing about them. "How can we call ourselves the Defenders of the Peoples of Hyrule if we do nothing to protect them? We must do something."

Her father sighed. "I'll think on it."

"There isn't time for you to think on it!"

"Zelda, I said what I have said. It is terrible that this war is happening, but we cannot be everywhere. Our best hope is to stop the war as efficiently as possible, and that means strengthening Hateno is our priority." He went to the next of his papers.

Zelda did the same, though the next few she picked up hardly seemed important. A lord claiming his peasants had not paid their taxes in full. Another from the guild of spicers, offering heaps of thanks to her father for some ruling he made on their behalf. All the while she kept thinking about the Margrave and his people. Was this truly all she could do?

She picked up another message from the pile, larger and more ornate than the others. Its seal was of the house of Larwyll one of the wealthiest and most prestigious families in the north. It began with a flowing introduction painstakingly listing out each of her father's titles along with several declarations of his victories in battles from before Zelda was even born. The rest of the letter was even stranger, the Duke of Larwyll seemed to avoid making his point, at first listing all the accomplishments of his house and the prosperity of his family.

"What?" Zelda said as she reached four paragraphs deep and the Duke made his purpose known.

"Hmm?" Her father looked up from writing a note.

"He wants me to marry his son," Zelda said. "I haven't even met his son. He's fifteen years older than me."

"I wondered when you would find one of those, here," he indicated the pile of torn papers dumped to the side of his desk. "Add it to the pile."

"Are all of those betrothals for me?"

"Oh, no. Some are for me. And a few are requests so pointless or vindictive it would be dishonorable to even respond to them."

"You tear them all up?"

"Of course."

"Father."

"Zelda, if you are thinking of pretending that learning lords wish to tie their families to the royal house is shocking. And that you need to leave to recuperate, I won't let you."

"No. I only thought- well. There have been other regents, haven't there?"

"Several."

"Some of them weren't particularly good to those they ruled for. Regent Alcimar-"

"May the Three spit on him."

"Yes, but he tried to wed Prince Stefan to his cousin's daughter to make certain he would always hold the power of the throne."

"And you wish to know what my plans are for you."

"Yes."

"Hmm," he put down his paper and looked Zelda in the eyes. "When you come of age, I will step down. And it will be on you to decide what becomes of me. If you are generous, you will give me a small holding to live and keep to myself. If you are not? Well, perhaps my cousin will have a place for me."

"You would do that? Just step down."

"What do you take me for? I am under no illusion that you have any love for me, Zelda. I have made my peace with that. I know you will not wish me at your court. But you are still my daughter, and I will not take away what is yours."

"Then why don't you listen to me? If I am to be queen, why do you keep sending me away?"

"I have never closed my door to you, Zelda. You are the one to choose to do… whatever it is you were doing."

"You locked me in my room. For days."

"That was for your own good."

"How can that possibly be for my own good?"

"You were attempting to destroy a peace and restart a war that had already lasted one hundred years. You purposefully antagonized perhaps the single most dangerous person in the kingdom. Yes, I locked you away. I would do so again provided I knew it would keep you safe."

"Not once. I was locked in my room for days and you did not once step foot inside, not once even trying to speak with me. Or tried to explain anything."

"I was trying to stop a war that had gone on since before I was born. I was trying to fix the mess you caused. Perhaps I should have visited, but do you think you would have heard anything I had to say if I did?"

"Yes!"

He gave her a look of deep disbelief. "I did try to speak with you if you remember. I came to you, I wished to spend time with my daughter. Do you remember what you told me?"

Zelda found it difficult to look at him. What could she say? She needed to be alone, to plan how to defeat his new ally with a fairy and a boy out of a haunted forest. How could she even phrase that in a way he would understand?

"Perhaps I should have tried, but I had- or I thought I had- people who kept me informed. Made certain you were not going mad or doing anything foolish. How wrong I was."

"You can say her name, father. Impa was my only friend. When I needed you, I had her. Now I have no one."

"You have an entire court at your beck and call."

"Servants, guards, people who see me and think they can manipulate me or use me to get what they want."

"That is what it means to be a ruler. I am sorry that being born the most powerful woman in the world is not to your liking. But that is life. Were it up to me, I would not be regent."

"That's not the same at all. You had a choice."

"You think I chose what happened to your mother? You think I want any of this?" His fist slammed onto the stack of papers. "Do you think I wished for my daughter to hate me? No. But I do my duty, and I tried to find someone that I could trust to help you when I could not. Another mistake to add to the pile."

"It wasn't. Trusting Impa was the only smart thing you've ever done. She understood what I was doing was important."

"You are a child. I can handle you reading your life away. I can live with your hatred. But practicing that nonsense? No. Magic is dangerous."

"As if you knew anything about it."

He took a deep angry breath before his eyes flicked once again over her head toward the wall behind her. "I know more than you think. I know it is dangerous, I know it twists like a snake and bites the hand that holds it. I know magic comes with a terrible cost."

"That isn't knowledge, that is fear."

His lip curled into a grimace. "Fearing a viper does not make one foolish. Fear can be gained through experience." He gestured toward her gloved hands. "How can a girl so smart not see what it has cost you already? What more will it take before you learn?"

Zelda looked down and she gently rubbed her thumb over her palm. It still caused the slightest ache, but it had been worth it. "Magic is a tool father. Nothing more."

"That it may be. But not one for you to use. I am not going to wake up one morning to find you've lit your bedchamber on fire, or watch you consumed over ridiculous prophecy."

"You won't, I have it controlled."

He once again glanced down at her hands.

"That needed to be done!"

"Not by a child."

"I am not a child!" Zelda stood up, stopping her foot.

He barely kept his chuckle to himself. "You still act like one."

Zelda's face went hot. "You have no idea what you're talking about. You don't know what I've been doing. You don't know what I am capable of." But the more she shouted at him, the less impressed he looked. She did not wish to see any more of him or to hear his condescension. She held out her hand and pulled the light around her. Bright and strong and so very easy. It hung in the air waiting for her command, eclipsing her father's face with its radiance.

"Zelda."

"I can control it," she raised her hands higher. "It is completely safe. I know what I'm doing."

"Zelda!" Large strong hands grasped her from across the table. "Zelda release it! End it!"

"I'm- ow-" Her father's hands were gripping her fingers tight. His thumb pressed into her palms. Zelda's eyes went wide. Pain flared across her hands and down her arms. She tried to pull away, but he only held on tighter.

"Stop this! At once!"

"You're hurting me! Let me go! You're hurting me!"

His grip went loose, and her hands pulled free. The spell dissipated, and she could see her father again. Rage and sorrow, guilt and worry played across his face until they settled into his usual scowl.

"Are you hurt?" he reached out.

"Don't touch me," she pulled her hands away from him.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I did not mean- why did you… I'm sorry." And again, his eyes drifted up and away from her.

What is he looking at? Zelda turned around to see a large painting over the door. Two grand figures stood watch over the study. One she had seen her entire life, though his hair did not yet have any of its grey, and his beard was trimmed short. Instead of a wide paunch, he looked every inch a knight. His eyes bore down, his brow furrowed, but instead of making him look a brute as she saw him now, he looked stern, imposing even. And yet his partner made his somber look ridiculous. Short and slim with blond hair, instead of glaring down at Zelda, the female figure was turned with one hand raised and playing with his whiskers. Her face baring a wide mischievous grin matched in delight only by the look of adoration in her eyes.

How had she forgotten that painting? She had looked upon it as a child. When she used to play in this room, while her father worked. Sometimes he would play her songs on his lute. Once she had even gotten on Uncle Darunia's shoulders as they danced together.

But with it came other memories. Ones filled with shouts and stomping feet, of a thousand pointless arguments. She could not even remember who started them, or what they had been about. Something completely inconsequential. But she had been the one to stomp off. She had been the one to slam the door behind her and never return to look upon her mother. Not in years.

"Zelda, you must understand. Your mother… she was like you. She was drawn to that… that curse. She filled her head with prophecies, and she hunted for more. Always more." He swallowed, fixing the quiver in his voice. Making it steady. Hard. Kingly. "You cannot practice magic. I forbid it."

She turned back to look at him, and she saw him. That man who had tried for so long to keep a kingdom that was not his running. The one who looked up to his wife for guidance with every difficult decision he made. She saw the sorrow hidden behind his eyes and the slight twitch of his lip as he struggled to make himself seem as sturdy as the castle stones.

"What if mother was right?"

"It does not matter. She got herself killed. I will not see you fall to the same fate. Until you are of age, I am the regent. While you are my child, I will do everything in my power to keep you safe. Even from yourself."

"I don't- I-" she took a breath to steady herself, but it did little good. "I beg your pardon, Your Majesty." Zelda stood up, trying to blink back tears. "I need to leave." He did not stop her as she ran to the door. She did her best to close it gently behind her this time, not to slam it, not to shut herself off from her father completely. She saw him look one last time up to that painting before he buried his head in his hands. The guards did not stop her as she strode past them. She tried to make her walk stately as if nothing in the world had happened. She was a princess, as perfect as the painting she had just seen. But with each step, she sniffed back tears, she had not even rounded the first corner when she could no longer hold them all in.

"No," she gave a shaking gasp as she tried to wipe them away. "No." But words cannot stop a river.

I can't let people see me like this. She ran, as best she could, through the mist of tears. Though not well, and she did not make it far. Stumbling over her own feet, she fell. When she tried to catch herself on the wall, her palm pressed against the harsh stones.

She yelped and gasped. Clutching her hand, she spilled to the floor and could not hold back her wailing any further. It wasn't fair. She had freed Navi. She had been protecting her kingdom. Why did everything keep getting worse? What more did she have to do?

"Princess?" came a tentative voice.

"Go away!" She snapped at whoever stood over her.

"It's only…. You're crying." Durrell. That was Durrell the halfwit, who stumbled just trying to read his uncle's letters. Taking twice as long as necessary to do a job anyone could do.

"Thank you," she managed to say through her tears, "for pointing that out. Any other brilliant observations?"

"I just-"

"Go away!"

She buried her head back into her hands. At least the boy didn't speak further. Maybe he did what she asked and left. By the Goddesses, why did it still hurt? Her hand. Her mother. Her father. And now she had insulted Durrell. It didn't even feel good. He hadn't deserved that. She was supposed to be kind, she was trying to make the people loyal to her, wasn't she? She couldn't even do that right.

How hard is it to just smile and curtsy? She didn't need to show her father her magic. She could have just lied. Why hadn't she lied? They were finally talking, and she ruined it already.

A shadow passed over her, and a hand rested on her shoulder.

"I said I wished to be alone."

But the shadow moved lower, and two arms wrapped around her.

"Did you not hear me?" She blinked and rubbed at her eyes, trying to clear them of her tears. A nun held her, dressed head to toe in brown, without a single hair visible from beneath her robes. A veil covered her face to protect her modesty, a style not uncommon among the nunneries. Zelda tried to push this strange woman off her. "Get off me."

"If that's what you wish, Zelda."

Zelda stopped struggling as she recognized the voice. She stared at the one part of the nun's face that was visible, those deep red Sheikah eyes. She pulled the woman close. "I thought- I thought you-"

"Hush now," she whispered. "I cannot stay long."

Then why was she here? She wouldn't risk having herself caught for no reason. "You want the Gerudo commander."

"Ever clever. But not only her. You truly think I would abandon you?"

"What are you going to do with her?"

"For now? Observe. We must learn why she fled the war and rode here so fast."

"I miss you."

The arms squeezed tight for a moment before letting go. It would look like a kind nun had given the princess comfort and held out her hand to help her up.

"Thank you, sister," Zelda watched as her only true friend walked away. She took a deep breath and wiped away the tears. Around the hall, servants and nobles alike all turned away. Returning to their business pretending as if they had not been staring. It did not matter. She still had work to do. And with Sir Jora gone, this provided her with at least a little opportunity. One she must not squander.

Zelda made it to her room, thankful that there were no guards yet stationed outside. She locked the door behind her and went to her chair. She shut her eyes and drew from that well of power inside her. It felt good. Strong. Ready to be used after weeks of lying dormant.

"I'm sorry father. Maybe someday I will get you to understand."

Her mind flew from the castle. Across the vast fields of Hyrule, over hills and rivers, searching for the one person she knew how to find. It did not take long. The fairy rested on a single blade of grass, holding onto a small flower that still held a dollop of magic from the Great Fairy they had defeated.

"Hello Lady Navi," she made her image visible.

"Princess," the blue light rose before her, bobbing in the air in something that approached a bow.

"You're moving with good speed. I am sorry, but I do not know how long we will have to speak or if I will be able to communicate with you after this. It is best if we coordinate what you are to do when you reunite with Link."