Chapter Text
Link probably would have made more of a conscious effort not to pull the sword if he had known right then exactly what it entailed. Sure, he was aware of most of the terms and conditions before ever even laying a hand on it, but the details had been left murky. Details that he would have liked to know earlier. Details that maybe would have stuck out in his mind, would have cleared his head, would have made him think twice. Or maybe even just think at all.
Not that he had done it for the glory. In all his nineteen years, he’d never done anything for the glory, as he quite disliked it, but glory always seemed to find him, anyway. This time, however, he really had no one to blame but himself. Perhaps he could blame the sword, a little bit, too.
In nearly every way (except the most notable), the Princess of Hyrule was the Goddess incarnate. Link had had the good fortune of laying his eyes on her twice before pulling the sword. The first was from a distance when he was fifteen, and though she was only fifteen as well, the intensity of her beauty knocked the air from his lungs. He couldn’t have spoken to her if he wanted to (and he did, deep down—she had what could only be described as a magnetic pull on him, so strong that he had to consciously counteract it). The second time he saw her, not two weeks before he pulled the sword, was when she knighted him. He figured that though she certainly would have become even more beautiful, there was no way her beauty could decommission him a second time, now that he knew what was coming. He was wrong, of course, because that time he was much closer, and if she was beautiful before, then there were no words for what she was now. He was grateful that the ceremony did not require him to speak, because he wouldn’t have been able to.
For that reason alone, it was a little ingenious for the King to offer up his daughter’s hand to whoever was able to pull the sword. Every able-bodied man in the land rushed to give it a try, and quite a few able-bodied women, too. It was a little brutish and old-fashioned, yes, but the King was obviously desperate to find Hylia’s Chosen Hero swiftly for the sake of the kingdom. The promise of a betrothal to Princess of Hyrule, known across the land for her beauty, certainly drew the crowd the King had desired.
Link hadn’t even been planning on trying to pull the sword. He understood the appeal, of course (having seen the Princess twice, he even felt some primal desire to—a desire he had experienced with a comorbid sense of shame at the barbarity of it all, because he once thought himself better than that, two weeks ago he had sworn to be better than that), but he certainly didn’t want all the attention that would come with it. The promise of one day being King? Prince Consort, more likely; it mattered not what sword he carried, he was still a lowly castle knight. Regardless, his stomach churned at the idea. Of his many talents, politics and leadership were not among them, he thought, and as beautiful as the Princess was, she was a Princess, and he was a nobody. It was a fantasy to even think about it.
So when he saw the sword, he planned to watch as his comrades pulled with all their might, perhaps even tease a few about how it was all for the better that the sword didn’t budge, because surely no Princess could ever love their ugly mugs, and then get into a good old-fashioned wrestling match with their bruised egos after one too many jokes. He didn’t plan to be so mesmerized by the sparkle of the hilt in the rays of sun that dropped down from the thick forest canopy. He didn’t plan to want—to need a closer look. He didn’t plan to approach, to feel something foreign and unwelcome and overwhelming in his core build slowly and subtly, and then quickly and angrily. He didn’t plan for his hands to wrap around the grip, to fit perfectly around the handle, as if the sword had been crafted for him. He didn’t plan to pull, to feel no resistance as he lifted it effortlessly, as if it had been freshly oiled just before he touched it. He didn’t plan to hold it stupidly in his hand after, to stare dumbly down at it, to think passively that it was well-balanced and that it felt right.
No, things hadn’t gone according to plan. Not even when he planned to stick the sword back in the pedestal when no one was looking and sneak away. He knew he could find some corner of Hyrule to hide out in, away from anyone who might come looking. His peers could return and tell the King a tale he wouldn’t believe or choose to forget, and Link could live in a snowbank somewhere in the Hebra Tundra, never to be found by anyone who dared to look for him. But the pedestal had closed up when he wasn’t looking, so it mattered not what his plan had been. Link’s plans be damned; the Goddess had already plucked him out of obscurity and set him along Her own path.
Link held no hopes for a warm welcome when he realized the weight of his actions. He had sealed both his own and the Princess’s destinies when his hand tightened around the grip of the Master Sword. As he resurrected the sword that seals the darkness, he foretold the impending darkness itself.
Though Link had made it back to the castle at nightfall the very same day he drew the sword, word had already seemed to spread to every inch of the kingdom before he arrived. He left the forest with his peers hooting and hollering, congratulating him, but by the time he set foot on the moat bridge, no one cheered anymore. Instead, everyone jumped out of his way or stared openly, silently. Fearfully. The trip back was short, but it hadn’t taken long for his comrades to realize the full implications of the event.
Link drew the sword. He would be engaged to the Princess. Calamity Ganon would return. Link and the Princess would either prevail, and he would be crowned King (Prince Consort), or they would perish, and the whole kingdom would fall.
Hardly a cause for celebration, no matter how beautiful the Princess was.
He didn’t even need to request a royal audience. He was promptly escorted directly to the throne room by one of the gate guards, Tulin, a man Link ran drills with most mornings. Tulin didn’t say anything to Link the entire walk, only nodding to him when they reached the throne room door with wide, fearful eyes that darted between Link’s and the sparkling hilt that peeked out from over his shoulder.
When Link walked into the throne room with the sword strapped to his back, he didn’t look up at either the King or the Princess. It would do him no good to watch their reactions. He really wasn’t worthy of looking at either of them too closely, anyway. How could he look at the Princess after what he had done? Had he not sworn to her to protect the kingdom under threat of death a mere fortnight prior? Not even a month into knighthood, and he had already started the doomsday countdown clock.
So he kept his eyes down as he walked to the center of the throne room, kneeling dutifully before pulling the sword out of his scabbard and presenting it to the King and the Princess. He didn’t flinch when it felt like it vibrated in his hands, when it rang in his ears as he held it up for them to observe. He felt it pulling on him, felt that overwhelming and foreign feeling in his chest again, but this time it was directed not at the sword in his hands, seemed to emanate from it in the direction of the Princess on the throne. He tried to swallow it down quickly, the feeling demanding and unyielding and somehow both belonging to him and outside of him. It was almost overpowering enough that Link couldn’t hold himself and the sword back. Almost.
The silence that followed seemed to last the entire evening. There was some shuffling from a throne room guard. The King stood up and approached him to examine the blade, seemingly oblivious to its ringing. The Princess stayed put on her throne. The King examined the blade in Link’s hands for some more time, before grunting, and then ambling back over to his throne.
“You may rise,” the King said, nodding as Link lifted his head to meet his gaze. He wondered if the King could see the fear in his eyes. “You pulled this sword from the pedestal in the Great Hyrule Forest?” the King asked.
Link nodded. He didn’t dare look at the Princess in case he needed to use his voice. He put the sword back in its scabbard, praying for the vibrating, the ringing, the beckoning, to cease. The feeling muted once it was fully sheathed, but he could still feel it beating, somewhere beneath his heart.
The King frowned. “What’s your name, boy?”
“Link,” he nearly choked out, the words fighting to stay in his throat. “Link of Necluda.”
“Do you have family, Link?” The King asked.
He shouldn’t have pulled the sword. He knew that the moment after he pulled the sword, but he knew it even more now. “Yes,” he said, wrestling with himself to speak. “My mother and my sister.”
“No father?”
Link swallowed the lump in his throat. “He’s dead, Your Majesty.” The words should have hurt more to say, but Link felt numb all over, save the lump in his throat that tried to trip him up over his own words. He should have said his father’s name, because the King would know it; hell, the Princess would know it, too, but he had to fight to get each word out and he was losing. He wasn’t ready to own up to his lineage.
The King’s eyebrows shot up, but he showed no other reaction to the news. “Your mother and sister, are they in Necluda?”
Link shook his head. “They’re just outside of Castle Town, Your Majesty,” he said, eyes falling to his shoes. His boots were muddy. He came into the throne room with the legendary sword to claim the Princess’s hand in marriage with muddy boots?
The King’s eyebrows stayed up, but he kept his composure. “I’ll have someone deliver them the news. Do you live with them?”
Link shook his head, his face warm. “I live in the barracks with the other knights, Your Majesty.”
The King’s eyebrows shot up even higher. “The other knights?”
Link tried to swallow the lump in his throat, but it stayed put.
“I don’t remember knighting you,” the King said.
“I do,” Princess Zelda said icily. Link’s eyes flashed to her at the sound of her voice, against his will, and then his breath was gone again. Her emerald green eyes were narrowed in suspicion. She glared sheer murder at him, nostrils flared and lips pursed. He choked on the lump in his throat at the sight of her, beautiful and furious. “It wasn’t even two whole weeks ago. Youngest we’ve ever had on the castle guard when he was appointed, and two weeks away from being the youngest in the Royal Guard, if Captain Rusl had his way.”
His heart stuttered in his chest at the vitriol in her tone. He hadn’t expected her to remember him, or to know about his impending position on the Royal Guard. His knighting had been very memorable for himself, of course, as he had to remind himself to breathe the entire time in her presence, but he had assumed it was routine for her. Even if he’d been very young for his appointment (and he had been), part of his rise in the ranks had been because his appearance made him easy to underestimate. She hadn’t sounded bored at his knighting, but… he wouldn’t have expected her to remember him, and not with so must distaste. Not that he had expected her to like him (he was not so conceited and foolish), but he had hoped they would at least get along alright. Were they not supposed to fight the Calamity together? Surely they could at least be polite to each other until then?
“Is that so, Sir Link?” King Rhoam said, his voice pitched upwards in pleasant surprise.
When Link turned his head back to look at the King, he realized just how wide his eyes were. He nodded, still unable to breathe (much less speak) after melting under the Princess’s beautiful hatred.
“Youngest on the Royal Guard… you can’t be older than twenty, can you?” The King frowned.
“Nineteen, Your Majesty,” Link choked out. Barely. Only by a week.
“And you wanted him on the Royal Guard?” King Rhoam turned his attention to the knight at his left. Link was intimately familiar with Captain Rusl, to the extent that he was no longer intimidated by the man, but that had taken many years after his father’s death. Rusl, having replaced his father as Captain of the Guard, had big shoes to fill, but he made it look easy. Nearly a foot taller than Link, strong and broad and looking like exactly who the King probably expected to pull the sword. Just as Link was easy to underestimate for looking too young and small, Rusl was easy to underestimate as all brawn. It was usually the last mistake his opponents in battle made.
“He’s the reason I asked you to remove the age requirement, Your Majesty,” Captain Rusl said, his eyes narrowed on Link.
King Rhoam raised his eyebrows once more. “That was three years ago,” he clarified.
Captain Rusl nodded, his gaze still steely. “That was when he was ready.”
That was when he’d returned from some stupid dare in the Faron Woods holding a golden lynel’s head by its mane. Link wasn’t sure if Sindo had known the golden lynel was there when he pitched the dare, but he supposed it didn’t matter. Link disagreed that he was ready for the Royal Guard then (he didn’t even think he was ready now, but Rusl was intent that Link be his successor). Rusl hadn’t stopped pressing the point.
The King looked almost impressed when he turned his gaze back to Link. “Very well. It is quite late, and I must regretfully save further discussion for our next meeting, as I must meet quickly with my advisors about this development, but you’ll join me tomorrow for breakfast.” King Rhoam said. “It appears you already know Captain Rusl, and Captain Rusl already knows you.
“Gather your things from the barracks, and Captain Rusl will escort you to your new chambers. I’ll have more details about tomorrow’s breakfast delivered there later this evening. I’ll also have your mother notified. Is that clear?”
Link nodded. He wondered if the King and the Princess could hear his heart pounding out of his chest.
“Very well, Sir Link of Necluda.” The King was frowning again, giving Link a look that he had to assume was disappointment. Link couldn’t blame him for that. “That’s all. Dismissed.”
With his dismissal, Link finally flashed his eyes over to look at the Princess of Hyrule for the fourth time. He could feel her hatred through her glare, angrier than he’d imagined such beautiful features would be capable of looking. He almost shrunk away under the intensity of her stare, but he was too captivated by her. He tried not to let his heart sink at how much she disliked him. Hadn’t he known she would not look upon him with joy anyway? Hadn’t that been why he didn’t want to pull the sword in the first place?
Captain Rusl walked two paces behind him the entire way to the barracks (which was quite far) and stood uncharacteristically quietly as Link packed up his few belongings. It took him less than five minutes, and he felt embarrassed at how little he had. When he turned back to look at Captain Rusl, the man’s face was twisted into a frown and his eyes were stuck firmly on the sword slung over Link’s back. He tried to wipe the expression from his face when Link turned back to face him, but Link caught it anyway.
“Are you ready?” Captain Rusl said flatly.
Link nodded, heart sinking yet again. He followed Captain Rusl all the way up to the hall that led to the Princess’s apartments, and almost all the way down them, stopping at the door just shy of hers.
“Here it is,” Captain Rusl said, opening the door for Link and then stepping back to let him enter. “Quite the promotion,” he added, and Link couldn’t bear to turn to face him, to look him in the eye. He knew Captain Rusl expected great things from him. He had told him as much. But perhaps this was too great.
“Thanks,” Link said, nodding, not sure if he should be thanking him, but Captain Rusl was looking at the sword again. He probably didn’t even hear what Link had said.
“You’ll want to speak with Impa,” the Captain said, finally meeting Link’s eyes. Link blinked in response. “She’s the Princess’s current personal guard. I imagine she’ll have a lot of tips for you.”
Link sighed and then stepped into his new room, after which Captain Rusl promptly closed the door behind him without any further fanfare.
The room was comically too large for him. It was larger than the size of his mother’s home, and exquisitely furnished. It was too lavish, and he felt both silly and ashamed of sullying the carpet with his muddy boots. There was a whole separate dressing room which his clothes left three quarters of the way empty. He had a private washroom, complete with a tub large enough to drown him, stocked with luxurious soaps, perfumes, and creams. As if he’d have any use for them.
It was horrendous, and he wanted to throw the sword under his massive (and entirely too soft) bed and flee the castle. How had he even ended up here anyway? He wasn’t supposed to pull the sword. He wasn’t supposed to even try it. He hadn’t wanted to, because he didn’t belong here.
He pulled it out of his scabbard again to examine it. It was beautifully crafted, with an intricate handle, and the blade gleamed as if it had been freshly polished instead of sitting in a pedestal in the lost woods for ten thousand years. It felt right in his hand, like it had been made just for him. Had it? Or had he been made for it?
He was unfamiliar with most of the legends of the blade. He hadn’t been particularly devout before he pulled it. But he couldn’t explain why he approached, why he grabbed, why he pulled. It felt too convenient to write off how well the sword suited him as simply luck. Had the blade not beckoned to him? He certainly had not pulled it of his own accord, he knew that. He hadn’t wanted to try it, but something outside himself had compelled him.
He did not feel the feeling in his chest again. He felt nothing at all, in fact, except frustration at its sudden silence. Was he supposed to hear it, to understand it?
The King had been right; it was rather late, and Link was very tired. The mystery of the sword would have to be solved another day. Without much fuss, Link stripped off his gear and his tunic and crawled into his new bed, slightly disgusted with how large and soft it was. The blanket drowned him, thirty pounds of fine linen stuffed with luxurious downy feathers. It would be a miracle if he slept at all, he thought, as he attempted to settle into his nest of blankets.
He thought it couldn’t have been a whole minute after closing his eyes that he was awoken by knocking at his door. It took him far too long to throw off the hefty blanket (which had somehow gotten quite tangled with his limbs) and amble across his enormous room to open his door to none other than Captain Rusl in full uniform.
“The Princess, is she in there with you?” He sounded almost bored.
Link would have laughed at the obvious joke were he not still waking up. He waited for Captain Rusl to say more, but the silence dragged on too long. “No, why would she be in here with me?” Link grumbled, rubbing his eyes.
“She’s not in her room.” It wasn’t his first time saying that line, Link knew.
Link blinked. From the way the Princess looked at him earlier, he figured that his room was perhaps one of the last places in the entire kingdom she would ever willingly enter, and that regardless of whether she was in her room, it would be entirely unnecessary to check his room for her. “Where is she?” Link asked. He glanced out one of the many windows in his new chambers, but it was still quite dark out. Sunrise probably wasn’t for at least a half hour, perhaps more.
“That’s just the problem, isn’t it, Prince Charming?” Captain Rusl said impatiently.
Link silently hoped that wasn’t going to become his new nickname. He wasn’t sure what the Captain expected him to do about the fact that the Princess was apparently missing, but Captain Rusl stared expectantly at him. “Do you need help finding her?” Link asked eventually.
“Yes,” Captain Rusl said, yawning. “She’s your responsibility now, too, I hope you know.”
“Let me get dressed,” Link said, closing his door in the Captain’s face and turning to face his bedroom. By the time he reemerged, Captain Rusl was speaking to two other guardsmen.
“… not in the library, kitchens, or any of the gardens,” one said breathlessly.
“You checked all the gardens?” Captain Rusl narrowed his eyes.
The out of breath guard nodded. “I drafted all the men who were running their morning drills, sir.”
Captain Rusl sighed, rubbing his forehead, before turning to Link. “Any ideas, Prince Charming?”
Link shrugged, really hoping Captain Rusl’s new nickname for him wouldn’t catch on now that there were witnesses. How was he to know where the Princess was? He’d barely ever even spoken to her.
“The new Hero of Hyrule is going to have to do better than that, boy,” Captain Rusl groused. He turned back to the guards. “Send two squadrons to Castle Town, and be sure to check all the bookstores there. You, get to it.” One of the guards ran off with his new command, but the other stood at attention. “Has anyone checked the stable for her horse?”
“Storm is still in the stables, sir,” the guard answered.
“Then she can’t be too far. Send two men to the Royal Tech Lab and two to the Royal Chapel. Take the remaining two thirds of the men and search the gardens on the other side of the moat. Did the gate guards see anything?” Captain Rusl asked.
The guard shuffled uncomfortably. “They fell asleep, sir.”
“You’re shitting me,” Captain Rusl hissed.
The guard shook his head.
“I guess I’ll have to wait until after the Princess is returned safely to dismiss them, but make sure you get me their names. Off to it, now,” Captain Rusl commanded, and the guard nodded and ran.
Link blinked dumbly at the captain, awaiting his own orders but unable to follow exactly everything that happened.
“What are you waiting for?” Captain Rusl asked him.
Link didn’t even open his mouth to respond, but Captain Rusl cut him off anyway.
“Breakfast is off until we find Her Royal Highness, so I recommend you make yourself useful,” Captain Rusl said before swiftly turning and running after his two guards.
Link rolled his shoulders to try to wake himself up, shifting the scabbard on his back. It hummed softly, and he turned his head over his shoulder to try to look at it. Should he know what the humming meant?
He’d learn on the job, he decided, taking off behind Captain Rusl toward the gate. It sounded like Princess Zelda wasn’t anywhere on the castle grounds, so he might as well take the excuse to get out for the morning. There was no way he’d get lucky enough to find her, that was for sure.
Except the closer he got to the gate, the louder the sword hummed. He dismissed it at first, because he would have to be crazy to listen to the humming of a legendary blade, but it got too intense to ignore as he made it off castle grounds. He intended to find a nice, private location to pull it out of its scabbard and give it a piece of his mind. He could hardly focus on finding the Princess with a buzzing drowning out his own thoughts.
As soon as he picked a direction to walk through the gate, the buzzing quieted. Not gone, but hardly noticeable. He took a step back, and as he moved, the buzzing returned. But once he stilled, the buzzing was muted again.
He froze for a moment, considering his options. The last time the sword pulled him in a direction, it was towards the Princess. Could it be doing the same thing now? He supposed he had nothing to lose by giving it a try, since without its help he’d probably have better luck finding a friendly lynel than the Princess of Hyrule. As he followed the ringing, he felt it in his chest, too, like a magnetic force, pulling him in her direction. When he finally spotted the blue of her blouse in the trees by a stream, he sighed audibly in relief, and the sword quieted on his back once more.
She heard, turning around to see who had snuck up on her. She met his eyes merely curiously before he saw the briefest flash of an emotion on her face that he couldn’t recognize, and then she began to glare at him again.
“Father really sent out his new favorite knight to watch me sit by a tree all morning?” She scoffed, turning her back on him to face the tree again.
He shuffled uncomfortably, not sure what to say (if he could even speak anyway; he still wasn’t sure he’d be able to get out a coherent sentence in front of her). He scanned the surroundings quickly, taking stock of how many places a monster could be hiding, but he had to give it to the Princess. There were no dangers around that he could see.
“I’m not even spitting distance from the castle wall,” she grumbled. It was clear she was speaking just loud enough for him to hear. “I can see three guards from here, which means they can see me. Your presence is entirely unneeded.”
Link knew the guards couldn’t see her, actually, because of the current all-hands manhunt for her, but thought better than to argue with her. Even if his presence was unnecessary (and perhaps he agreed that it was), he wasn’t about to disobey either the Captain of the Royal Guard or the King to leave the teenaged Princess alone out here.
She sighed dramatically, leaning closer to the small tree she was looking at. Link took a step closer. He wasn’t worried for her safety, exactly, but he wasn’t sure what she was doing.
“I’m not going to that breakfast he planned,” she said. “It won’t matter if I’m there or not; I know what he’s going to tell you, and what I have to say about it won’t change anything, so you might as well go back and tell him to get started without me.”
It seemed a callous assessment of the King, Link thought, that he would care so little for his daughter’s input, but he wouldn’t dare argue with her now (even if he’d been able to). He figured King Rhoam would not so easily accept her suggestion, even if she were right in how little he valued his own daughter’s opinion. And even if King Rhoam would acquiesce to her desire for absence, Link figured that only his own word on the matter would not be enough to convince him.
“Or how about this, you go wait… wherever it is you can kill some time, and then when I’m done here, we can return to the castle together, and I can tell my father you weren’t ten feet away from me the entire time I was outside the castle walls, and that we got along swimmingly, and there’s no reason for us to have to share a meal.”
It would have been a brilliant idea, if Rusl had not witnessed Link in the castle long after the Princess had escaped, and if the Princess wasn’t so obvious in her distaste for him. No one would believe they got along swimmingly unless she was able to pretend to at least tolerate his presence, and it would seem she wasn’t.
She turned her head as if to look at him, her eyes avoiding his, glaring at his forehead. “Do you have nothing to say to me?” She hissed, obviously exasperated at his silence.
An impossible question. He had everything to say to her, but nothing at all. He could hardly shrug in response to such a question, could he?
“Fine. The least you could do is stay quiet and out of my way, okay?”
He nodded, hoping she saw, but it was silly that he felt the need to confirm with her. Was he not staying quiet and out of her way already? He doubted he could get in her way if he wanted to at this point, and he’d certainly proven himself to be quiet.
She sighed dramatically, turning her head back to lean in closer to the small tree she was observing.
He wanted to take a step closer, to see what she saw. It was pathetic, he knew, to still be interested when she made it so clear she didn’t want him around, but there was something out here that she liked enough to have snuck out to come see it, and Link hadn’t seen her appear to like anything at all.
Before he could think better of it, he slowly approached her, swinging wide so that she could see him out of the corner of her eyes. Though she acted oblivious, he was certain she could feel and see his approach. Once he got closer, he was finally able to see what captivated the Princess so.
The tree itself had very few leaves; it looked like it had been half eaten alive by some aphids or another hungry insect, but on all its branches hung dozens of little cocoons. About a third were already empty, but the rest vibrated with energy, and he could immediately see three which had been broken open from the inside by the red winged creatures that were emerging.
Princess Zelda’s eyes flashed away from the tree to his face for just a moment, as if he hung from the tree like a chrysalis, too. For that moment, she didn’t look angry, only curious. “Despite their name, Summerwing Butterflies hatch in the spring,” she said quietly to him, her eyes turning back to the tree. His gaze flashed over to her at the sound of her voice. She didn’t look at him again, which meant it was okay if he was a little doe-eyed, looking at her this close. Her large green eyes were fixed on the tree, greener than its remaining leaves. A splash of freckles dotted her cheeks, faint enough that he wouldn’t be able to see them were he any farther. “Unlike every other butterfly species in Hyrule, Summerwings don’t migrate somewhere warmer in the winter. Each one actually incubates in its chrysalis for all of autumn and winter. Most don’t make it past that stage, with how long it leaves them vulnerable, unable to protect themselves. They’ll get eaten by birds or deer or knocked down by squirrels or bears.” Link stared at her as she spoke, hanging on every word. She had a beautiful voice, when she wasn’t angry, because of course she did. It fell melodically on his ear, soft and smooth. He almost didn’t understand how she could sound like this now and sound so shrill and whiny earlier. She frowned at one of the emerging butterflies, whose wings were still crumpled and small. “They crawl into their chrysalises at the beginning of every fall, knowing that the chance they will not re-emerge the following spring greatly outweighs the chance that they will. Those that do make it have to lay thousands of eggs by the end of the summer in order to account for the impending loss. And yet, despite that loss, every spring they emerge by the hundreds, reborn into new bodies with new abilities, ready to repeat the cycle.”
He wanted to say something to her. What, he had no idea, but that feeling the sword gave him, that feeling she gave him, was back, growing in his chest like a forest fire, burning up all his oxygen. It was overwhelming, paralyzing, but something felt wrong, like he should say something, like she wanted him to say something, which couldn’t possibly be right, but he couldn’t think straight because—
“Should I just bring the King out here for your breakfast then, Your Highness?” Captain Rusl deadpanned.
Link jumped back, because he shouldn’t have been that close to the Princess anyway, but Princess Zelda rolled her eyes, her posture unchanged. “You can’t actually think I was planning on attending, Captain Rusl,” she said.
Link stood awkwardly, unsure of where he should put his hands because they suddenly felt very awkward at his sides.
“Your Highness—” Captain Rusl began, his voice dull, but she interrupted him.
“You can tell him I am safe and that the Hero of Hyrule is supervising,” the Princess hissed.
“Your Highness, His Majesty has already announced the ceremony for this afternoon.”
“What ceremony?” She snapped, turning to look at Captain Rusl.
“Sir Link’s appointment as your knight attendant and your engagement.”
The Princess scowled, and Link looked at his shoes. For a moment, it had almost seemed like she didn’t hate him.
“Both at once?” She said blandly.
“The appointment will be in the afternoon, the engagement in the evening. The other Champions will be arriving shortly. Even on such short notice, both events are expected to be quite well attended.”
She chewed on her lip. Link stood silently, still frozen.
She sighed, mumbling something Link couldn’t hear. “You haven’t told me what he said my punishment will be if I don’t go.”
“He requested both I and Sir Link bring you back by any means necessary, Your Highness,” Captain Rusl said, and Link saw her finally meet his eyes only to shoot him a particularly dirty glare, “but should we fail to escort you to your chambers to get ready,” Rusl’s gentle verbiage betrayed the true threat in his words, which was that both he and Link are to drag the Princess back by force if necessary, “you will have all access to ancient technology revoked.”
She inhaled and exhaled slowly and loudly before standing up and dusting herself off. “One of these days, Captain Rusl, that line won’t work anymore, and he will have to come up with something new to hold over me,” she grumbled, taking one last longing look at the Summerwing unfolding its wings before turning on her heel and marching back towards the castle.
Rusl raised an eyebrow at Link, who quickly scurried after her, falling into step beside the Captain sheepishly, a good number of paces behind the Princess.
“You should get used to this,” Rusl said to Link, not quietly enough that the Princess wouldn’t hear. Link turned to look at the Captain, surprised at the brazenness of his comment. “Third time this week.” It was Wednesday.
Link wasn’t sure he would get used to it, but he didn’t want to argue with his captain. He didn’t want to say much at all, quite frankly, considering how saying anything would probably make him more enemies than friends, right now.
“Weren’t many men on the Royal Guard who were tempted to try the sword, I’ll tell you that,” Rusl sighed. Link felt his face flush at the implication, knowing the Princess would overhear. She gave no indication that she heard or understood the Captain’s insinuation, but it would have been impossible not to. “Had I gotten to add you to the crew when I’d wanted to, perhaps you could have avoided this fate.”
Link wanted him to stop talking, feeling the Master Sword starting on ring on his back again. Perhaps it had been ringing for a while now and it was only now loud enough that he couldn’t ignore it. He was shocked at how brazen the captain was in the way he talked of the Princess.
“I just hope for your sake, you can figure out a way to get her to like you.”
The ringing magnified. The only thing the Princess hadn’t seemed to hate that Link had witnessed was those butterflies. Before he could think better of it, he wondered if the Princess liked bugs, if maybe she had that in common with his sister. He made sure to tell himself it was a stupid thought to have.
“Maybe you can grow a circuit board,” Rusl said dryly.
Link didn’t know what a circuit board was. He didn’t ask. All he wanted was for the sword to be quiet.