Chapter Text
As much as Zelda wanted nothing more than to crawl in a hole and never come back out again, time marched onward, with or without her. The silence of the forest could not compare to the silence that hovered over the group that retraced their steps, following the still-jovial Hestu as he danced through the woods. The somber atmosphere that permeated their steps had no bearing on the Korok who shimmied and shook his maracas without a care in the world, singing a nonsensical song about a fairy boy falling down a pit into another world. It was a morbid tale, whenever Zelda bothered to tune back in, but Hestu sang it with all the exuberance of a festival dance.
The Champions walked behind her. Impa and Link led the group. Only the little Guardian had any compassion for her, staying by her side as a dutiful guard. The Master Sword didn't fit in the sheath of his previous weapon, so Link carried it in the open, his hand fitting well around the green-wrapped violet hilt. Its ethereal glow faded, a blade of white leading their way through the fog. The hero and sword seemed to fit together; an extension of him, as if it was always meant to be his.
Her hands formed tight fists at her sides. The words of the Deku Tree echoed in her mind. Her cheeks still burned, the image of Link standing beside her, refusing to look at her, burned irreparably into her memory.
"The sword you hold is the key to defeating the Calamity - to sealing the darkness," the Deku Tree rumbled. Leaves rustled far overhead, punctuating each word.
His determined, stoic expression reflected back at him in the blade. In a moment, he was changed before her eyes. Gone was the knight who laughed at Impa's jokes and played with the little Guardian and held her hand in the darkness. The knight who stood beside her was a hardened mask, the image of what a hero ought to be. He kept his attention trained on the face of the Deku Tree who confirmed all the conclusions they came to as soon as he pulled the sword from the stone pedestal. "You have been chosen by the sword to wield its power and vanquish the Calamity."
Her heart squeezed. He was chosen. The sword didn't hesitate. They were barely in the woods for a moment, they hadn't defeated a single phantom, he hadn't even gotten close to the sword until the sorcerer's dark magic flung him into it. Yet, the sword didn't hesitate to choose him. Whatever it saw in him, whatever skills he displayed, was more than enough to convince it that he was a worthy warrior. He had done in less than a minute what she couldn't accomplish in nine years of diligent study and prayer.
The Deku Tree's words rang hollow, baseless assurances of absolutely nothing at all. "Do not lose hope. The path will open for you soon." Soon, soon, that's all it had to say? Soon might be well after the Calamity appeared and slaughtered them all. Soon might be when she was bleeding out and cut to pieces by monsters, every sword in Hyrule shattered and every soldier rent asunder. What good would 'soon' do for any of them?
Her palms stung, her fingers twitching to remove her nails from the dark red marks she's left in her skin. Even in the fog, the light of the divine blade shone. Maybe Father's prediction will come to fruition, she thought bitterly, maybe a single drop of his blessing will fall upon me. She'd grab the sword herself and wring its neck for answers, if she thought that would help. The gods probably wouldn't like her threatening their perfect counter to evil. But then, how much more cursed could she be?
A small sigh of relief escaped her as they exited the fog just as the sun began to dip below the horizon. While she doubted that they would come to ruin by the Lost Woods's curse with Hestu leading their way, she was very glad to leave the eerie forest behind.
Hestu bounced and waved, shaking his maracas. "Goodbye, friends! Thank you for clearing the forest!" His stubby legs bounded over to Zelda, a jiggling tree of childlike energy. No one came to block Hestu's approach, letting the tall Korok tower over her. "This is for you, Princess!" He held out a small, golden seed in his stubby hands, plopping it into hers. "If you ever need us, plant the seed, and we will come to aid you!"
Zelda wasn't sure what sort of aid the Koroks could possibly give, but she wasn't going to refuse the gift. She gave Hestu a polite bow in farewell. "Thank you very much, Hestu. We pray that your woods remains safe for your people."
The tall Korok giggled, dancing in place. "Thank you, thank you!" He jumped and turned, dancing his way back into the fog. "Tumbling down, down, down! Dekus and Zoras and Gorons! Tumbling down, down, down! Three days and the moon crashes down!"
When the fog had swallowed up the sound of the Korok and his strange song, the group continued their journey back to the Woodland Stable.
"What's a Deku Scrub?" Mipha asked softly, barely audible to Zelda just behind her. The other Champions only had vague shrugs to give in answer.
Being so close to Death Mountain, Woodland Stable boasted an impressive number of travelers to and from Goron City. While they had little difficulty securing rooms the previous day, a sudden influx of travelers on their way to the opening day of the Goron jewel markets left fewer open rooms for rent. A pond to soak in and a tree to roost on were more than sufficient for some of their party, but the rest had to weigh their options. There were only two beds left. Zelda chewed her thumbnail, staring at the ledger in the front of the stable.
"Have the hero and princess share a bed," Revali sneered, taking his pick of the broiled and fried fish from the dining area. He carried two bowls on his wing. "They're practically married anyway."
Zelda pointedly ignored him, trying to work out a plan that accommodated everyone. She had no problem sharing a bed with Impa - in fact, she occasionally found that she preferred it on colder nights. Urbosa would also be an acceptable choice, and she doubted the Gerudo chief would complain about an opportunity to coddle her little bird. But, that did leave Link. She wouldn't ask either of her female companions to share a space with him. Maybe it would be best if she and Link-
"I'll camp with Daruk," Link decided for her, speaking for the first time since they'd left the Deku Tree's presence. He quickly bowed and turned to leave through the heavy tent flaps.
"W-wait!" Zelda called, reaching out to him. Her fingertips brushed the metal of his bracer - cold and unyielding. "You don't have to," she said, trying to push down the rising blush in her cheeks. "We could-"
"Respectfully, Your Highness," Link cut her off, his gaze as hard as the armor he wore, "It's better to preserve appearances."
Your Highness. His address to her repeated over and over in her head, the echo growing more painful with every step he took away from her. Your Highness. Her name was no longer worthy of his voice.
A gentle hand on her shoulder drew her out of the spiral before it took root. "Hey, Zel," Impa's voice cut through Zelda's thoughts, "I'm, uh, really hungry all of a sudden! Why don't you come get some supper with me?"
The sourness in Zelda's stomach argued strongly against the idea of food, but given that she had little other alternative without appearing momumentally rude to her friends, she nodded and followed Impa's lead.
Plates and bowls of all manner of sharable dishes covered the tables. Even though several of their companions were not making use of the stable's beds, most of them had a taste for fish. As that was the one thing they could agree on, and was readily available at this stable by the river, a large portion was put on the Crown's tab. Still, Zelda poked at the flaky fish and soft rice, only eating small portions of what Impa scooped onto her plate. She recalled Hyrule bass tasting better than this. Even the wilted greens had little flavor. She nibbled on the tail of a fried fish, listening to Urbosa and Impa discuss sword curvature. As much as she tried to pick up bits of the conversation, as it was technical enough to garner her interest, her thoughts kept returning to the Woods.
The scent of malice lingered in her nose, metallic and sulfurous. It writhed and bubbled in her mind's eye, coating and burning the grass and bushes of Korok Forest. A parody of Sheikah constellations circled the sorcerer, forming a shield of illusions that lashed out. She frowned, pushing some rice around on her plate. The man wasn't a Sheikah. He wore no mask, so he couldn't be a Yiga. He wasn't a Gerudo either, though he wore the symbol on the back of his cloak. He was a Hylian, albeit a pale and gaunt one. If he hadn't been standing, she might have thought he was a corpse. She frowned at the grains of rice she pushed with the tines of her fork. Malice brought stals to life, reanimating a dead thing.
She only caught a glimpse of him, yet that laughter was unmistakable. Whatever he was, he was mad. Madness and malice did not bode well together. A person like that, able to summon dark magic, might very well be the first crack in Hyrule's defenses against the Calamity.
"Zelda," Impa's sharp voice cut through Zelda's thoughts again, causing her to look up.
"Hm? What? I'm sorry, what were you saying?" Zelda blinked rapidly, trying to play back the last few minutes of conversation in her head, but utterly failing.
A heavy sigh from Impa was her response. "I was asking if you wanted to turn in early. You didn't sleep the night before last, remember?"
Skies, that felt like a lifetime ago. The memory of Link's lips on hers sprang unbidden to her thoughts. It had all seemed so tragic and settled, two nights ago. They had their moment, as bittersweet as it was, and she'd wept all her tears over it. For a while, the attraction was overwhelming, consuming her thoughts day and night, until she finally got a taste of reciprocity. And now…She swallowed down a chunk of wilted herbs that stuck to the back of her throat. Now, he wanted nothing to do with her.
And why would he? Now that he had the favor of the gods, he had the perspective to see her for what she was. His success only highlighted her failures, repeated failures, to harness even a fraction of the power that should have been her birthright. Were it not for her father's decree, she doubted he'd ever speak to her again. But, then, he wasn't really obligated to speak to her, even if they were wed. Once the ceremony was over, he could abandon her without consequence, and the whole kingdom would mock her endlessly for her inability to gain the favor of the gods or her husband.
"Zelda," Impa repeated, sharper this time. "Come on, you're getting tired. I can see it in that faraway look in your eyes." She rose from the table and held out her hand. "You need to sleep."
"No, I-" Zelda's voice caught, her words failing as she stared at Impa's offered hand. "I'll join you in a minute. I- I need to pray."
Impa's brows shot up in surprise, but she didn't dissuade her princess from doing the one thing Zelda was tasked with.
Quietly, Zelda slipped out of the tent and wandered around to the back. Though not many travelers made use of the small idol of Hylia in the rain-shelter, every stable kept one for weary travelers to offer their prayers, often for safety or prosperity on their journeys. A slightly-larger idol of Malanya rested behind Hylia on the stone pedestal under the simple wooden structure, but Zelda didn't think she'd offend either god too much by choosing to pray here. A part of her wondered if offering her prayers to Malanya instead would yield any results. She doubted it, but the thought amused her. Hyrule will be damned, but perhaps I'll be reincarnated as a horse.
She knelt in front of Hylia, clasping her hands firmly together and lowering her head. She rattled off the typical doxology, rushing through the words and notes until she could get to the supplication. She took a breath and focused her thoughts. "I come seeking help, Your Grace," she began, "I feel the Calamity drawing nigh. Your hero has claimed the legendary sword. Signs of malice are appearing, manifesting in the form of a dark magician. My power remains dormant still. The Great Deku Tree has said that it will awaken soon but- but when?! My friends could have died today fighting the malice, those terrible, hollow versions of themselves. If your power in me could but offer the same dispeling effect as the Master Sword's awakening, I needn't worry for their safety. Please, Your Grace, time is running out."
She paused, holding her breath. She opened one eye, peeking at her clapsed hands, hoping to see a spark of light. Only darkness covered her, thick and heavy. She sighed, bowing lower. "Your Grace, what more do you ask of me? Will your chosen hero die for your hatred of me? He- he has already suffered enough from my mistakes." She clasped her hands tighter, squeezing her eyes shut. "If not for my failures, my father would not have pledged me to him, and he would be free to marry the woman he loves. He is a warrior of exceptional strength and ability, and he deserves more than a fate of being chained to me. He…in a mere day, he has proven himself to you, enough to win your favor. What has he done that I lack? What's wrong with me?!"
Warm droplets landed on her trembling hands - she didn't realize she'd been crying. She blinked away her tears, more drops falling one by one. And still, Hylia's form remained stone-silent. Even Malanya's mask of painted wood looked on her with disdain, glaring at her from over Hylia's shoulder. How many gods could she offend at once by begging for their help? If she could tear out the offensive piece of her, to stomp it into the ground and kill it and show them that she hated herself as much as they did, would they listen?
Her head bowed again, hiding her falling tears and short, gasping breaths behind her hands clapsed in prayer. "Please, Your Grace… Just tell me…"
Yet, it was not the goddess who answered her.
A gentle song hummed, the notes strange, but the whistling tones familiar. Zelda gasped and lifted her head, her water-blurred vision revealing the little Guardian. It swayed gently from side to side, the pistons in its body whistling a melody that scratched somewhere deep in Zelda's memory, the Sheikah blue gear within turning like a music box. It watched her patiently, singing softly and rocking from side to side, like a mother lulling her child to sleep.
Warmth and light surrounded her. Soft down conformed to her body. The crackling fire of her hearth sent flickering shadows across the stone walls of her bedroom. As her eyes grew heavy with sleep, she smiled at the singing, whistling little Guardian who rocked her to sleep.
Zelda gasped, stumbling back and staring at the Guardian in shock. The music abruptly stopped, the little Guardian tilting its body in confusion.
"You-!" Zelda's mouth opened and closed several times, trying to form words. "I remember you!"
Rose dyed the skies, dawn creeping slowly over the Eldin foothills. Pale light shone through the gap between tent curtains, the world not yet fallen to the Calamity. Another night, but the day was not promised.
The bed wasn't nearly as big as her own back in the Castle, but it was more than enough for her and Impa. Her friend slept soundly beside her, braids of white frizzed from sleep. Zelda curled up and closed her eyes again, willing herself back to sleep for just a little while longer. Blue nightshade and silent shrooms lingered on Impa like a perfume. But, just as Zelda had convinced herself to slip back into oblivion for a few more minutes, Impa shifted beside her, turning and stretching her arms over her head.
Alas, morning would come whether she liked it or not. She yawned behind her hand, her eyes heavy with a desperate desire to rest just a bit longer. "Good morning, Impa."
"Morning, Zellie," Impa groaned, sitting up to stretch as far as she could. For someone as agile and dynamic as Impa, staying in one position for a night of rest was an oddity for her muscles and joints. She pushed back the blankets to slide out of bed; the offensive cool air made Zelda shiver. "Want me to get us some breakfast?"
"Nngh," Zelda whined, grabbing Impa's pillow and flipping it over her head to block out the morning. "Sleep for breakfast."
"That's not how it works," Impa sighed, patting Zelda's shoulder. "I'll see if I can find something sweet enough for you." When Zelda still didn't stir, Impa jostled Zelda's shoulder a little more. "Come on, time's a-wasting. We need to report back to the Castle today."
An even more frustrated whining groan escaped Zelda, a miserable, muffled sound between thick pillows. She flipped herself fully onto her stomach. If the world wanted her awake, it would have to drag her out.
For a while, Zelda thought she had won. The relative silence of the morning that followed was almost enough to lull her back to sleep. That is, until she caught the faintest whiff of something sweet and hot. Curiously, she lifted the pillow from her head, daring to peek out at the waking world with one eye.
Her mouth watered, confirming what her nose suggested. A baked apple, dripping with butter and warm spices, sat on the small table. She wiggled out from under the covers and took the plate. Melted butter pooled beneath the cored fruit, still steaming. When she poked the tender skin with a fork, the inside of the fruit gave away immediately, revealing the core and the spices stuffed inside. Her stomach growled, demanding such a delicious indulgence immediately.
She was halfway through the apple when Impa returned again, pushing back the curtain that separated their bed from the rest of the stable. A knowing smirk on her face said more than enough. She turned toward the tiny mirror on the wall and began pinning up her hair. "You're welcome," she teased.
Pink dusted Zelda's apple-sticky cheeks. "Thank you, Impa." She tried to eat the apple with a little more decorum, but it was a difficult facade. If she could, she would smash the whole thing into her mouth at once. Maybe more than one. She swallowed another (appropriately-sized) bite. "Baked apples aren't typical breakfasts in Eldin. Did you special order it?"
"Noph," Impa mumbled around the pins in her mouth, sliding each into place one by one. "Link made them."
Zelda's eyes widened in shock, now staring at the voraciously-half-devoured apple on her lap. "…Link made this?" She repeated, the words not clicking together in a way that made sense. "Why?" And when did he have the time?
With the last of her pins in place, Impa gave a non-committal shrug. "Guess he just wanted to. He was out by the cooking pot with a dozen or so of them. He suggested I bring you one, since you like sweet things," she explained, then held her hand out to take the now-empty plate.
Though Zelda had a brief inclination to lick the plate clean, she handed it to Impa. The warm, buttery texture and caramelized flavors lingered on her tongue. "Will you…thank him for me?" Zelda asked, unsure of what else to say, but feeling as though his thoughtfulness ought to be reciprocated with basic cordiality. He was too good of a man, and too important of a figure, for her to idly disrespect him. Though she'd known him to be extremely fond of butter-baked apples, based on his near daily request for the fruit whenever they had supper at the Castle, she'd never expected him to actually cook them himself.
Impa nodded, pushing back the curtain. "Can do. Are you going to fall back asleep when I leave?"
Blushing, Zelda shook her head.
"Good," Impa laughed softly, letting the curtain fall back again as she walked away, giving Zelda some privacy to change into her day clothes. "We're ready to go as soon as you're dressed!"
As much as the Guardian complained when it was held by Impa or Link, it almost seemed to purr in Zelda's arms. She could have put it down after they crossed the damp marshes and the danger of it getting stuck in the mud had passed them, but she walked on toward the Castle with the Guardian held tightly to her chest. Her own kind of shield.
Almost immediately after crossing the final bridge and entering Castle Town, the atmosphere shifted. Without a sheath to hide the Master Sword, every eye turned toward the sacred blade; every tongue wagged with rumor and speculation. Stoically, Link stayed the course, leading the way back to the Castle. Whatever whispering followed them did not reach his ears.
She should, perhaps, have been more surprised to see her father waiting for them on the bridge. Zelda's stomach sank. Two iron doors swung open as they approached, revealing the King of Hyrule himself just behind. Gold and gems gleamed in the cool sunlight, giving King Rhoam an almost divine glow.
At once, the party halted. Link and Impa knelt before the king. The Champions dipped their heads in respect. And Zelda, only Zelda, dared to look him in the eye. Her grip on the little Guardian tightened, holding it closer at her chest. If he would hate her, she might as well give him a reason.
Yet, it wasn't her, or the Guardian, that caught his attention. Like everyone else, he was transfixed by the Sword that Seals the Darkness. He stroked his beard, his brows furrowing the longer he observed it in Link's hand. "So it's true, then. You really have been chosen by the sword."
Though Link didn't audibly answer, a quick nod was his confirmation. Chosen by the gods, and still subservient to a mortal man.
"Hm," King Rhoam hummed in thought, his gaze briefly traveling to Zelda, then back again to the hero. "Very well. Come with me, Sir Link."
Without waiting for any further answer, or giving any greeting at all to his daughter or the pilots, her father turned back toward the Castle. And Link, without looking back at her, followed.
Her cheeks burned with shame. Could her humiliation get any worse?
Evidently, it could.
Without word from her father or Link all day, her anxious energy demanded an outlet; walking in the gardens would have to do. Sweet nectar floated on the breeze. Blooming flowers and vibrant green surrounded her. Mud still stained her boots, each step crunching over loose stones in the otherwise well-kept garden. Metallic legs scuttled dutifully beside her; the little Guardian had not left her side since the Master Sword rose from its stone prison.
Blue-tinted images flickered across the Sheikah Slate's screen. Landmarks, plants, insects, animals, all manner of scientific and beautiful photographs filled her album. Memories of her research, preserved in time. Flowers never wilted when preserved in captured light.
"You were pretty amazing, too, Your Highness," Link's voice echoed in her ears. Fresh from the high of battle, his wounds wrapped by Sheikah medics, the miracle of his accomplishment hadn't yet dawned on him. His words of pride and wonder were not for himself. "I was terrified when you said you wanted to help in the fight, but you held your own. The way you used the Slate, I've never seen anything like it. You know those mechanics as well as I know a sword and shield."
She blinked rapidly, dismissing the unwanted memory. She didn't need this. She needed to throw herself into her research. What confidence she'd gained with the Slate was unrelated to his praise. She'd done this on her own. She was going to make something of herself, regardless of what the rest of the kingdom thought. She was capable.
"Nice work, Princess!" Link laughed, watching a Yiga blademaster crash into a summoned block of ice. His arms carried her, his hands firm on her legs and waist. "Think you can keep the Yiga at bay for me?" He hadn't meant it as a question. He trusted her. He couldn't fight while holding her - he trusted her to fight for them both.
She turned down another path, away from the center of the garden. Water splashed in the central fountain, bubbling up from the earth. She could smell the minerals mixing with floral perfume. The waters of Central Hyrule were not as sweet as those that flowed in Lanayru. Her palace did not boast as many fountains. Her stones were dull and gray. She preferred gold to silver.
"My apologies for not being Princess Mipha," she said bitterly, wrapping up the remainder of her gauze left over from tending to his wound. He'd fought her every step of the way when she tried to help him, claiming a lack of propriety.
And yet, he didn't return her bitterness with his own.
"I wouldn't want you to be her," he'd said. "You're you."
She gripped the Slate tighter, continuing to swipe through the photos. The little Guardian followed closely, a short whistle of concern letting her know that she needed to slow down. Its scuttling legs had less steadiness on the shifting pebbles of their path. She slowed her pace, taking a deep breath. She blinked away frustrated tears.
It hadn't been that long ago that she walked these pathways. She hadn't seen them in the daytime since…
"Clearing that forest is the beginning of the end for me," she lamented, her thoughts as dark as the night around them. Moonlight shone on his white glove, extended toward her.
"Then let's not spend your final moments here."
She should have gone back to her room and tried to sleep. Or, better yet, she should have frozen him in Stasis, as she'd planned, and run off to enjoy her final moments of freedom alone. Because, if she had spent that night alone, she could have pretended that she was marrying a friend - only a friend.
"Now you know?" She waited, holding her breath.
His eyes shimmered, a lake reflecting the rippling moon. "Now I know."
The taste of his lips lingered. She pressed her fingertips to her mouth, trying to recall every detail. It had been so much to take in, all at once. They were both so certain. It was tragic, and simple, and over and done. They would have gone their separate ways. He would have stayed with the princess he loved.
She could almost laugh at the absurd irony of their confession. They'd have a thousand chances, bound to each other by fate's cruel design. He might even say that he loved her, though she doubted that he did now. How could he? How could Hylia's chosen hero possibly love her most hated descendant? Divine luck had to snatch away the one fragile bloom she'd allowed to grow - its petals shattered in the frigidity of the Goddess's disdain.
She was about to turn back toward the palace doors when a new, present voice carried on the wind, barely heard over the bubbling fountain.
"Is there no way you can get out of the arrangement?"
Zelda's eyes widened, Mipha's words sending a shock of panic through her veins. She ducked down behind the flower bushes, daring to peek through the leaves and petals. Across the garden, Mipha walked toward the central fountain. The hero, his sword now protected by a proper sheath fit for the sacred blade, walked beside her.
"I've tried. The king is adamant that I marry his daughter," Link answered.
"But why?!" Mipha demanded, her voice tight with unshed tears. The water in the fountain bubbled up higher, threatening to spill over the edges.
Link winced. "He's convinced that it will help her unlock her sealing powers," he explained, though he sounded as unpersuaded as Mipha. Merely repeating her father's words, just as Zelda had done all her life. "I- I don't know if it will or not. But I understand his reasoning. The chances of Hyrule's survival are dismal until Zelda can wield her bloodline's magic."
The Zora princess sat on the side of the fountain, her clawed hands folded on her lap. Her headpiece clinked as she lowered her gaze toward her reflection in Hyrule's waters. "…It's about duty, then."
Link shook his head. "It's about you, Mipha." He moved to sit beside her at the fountain, but evidently thought better of it when Mipha shot him a sharp glare. His hands formed tight fists at his side. "If I can help Zelda, and she can protect Hyrule, you'll be safe. I don't know what will happen to you, or to any of us, if the Calamity returns unchecked."
While Zelda had never known the sweet Zora princess to be unkind to anyone, she supposed such circumstances might warrant a change in behavior. Mipha's fins trembled, tears rolling down her white cheeks. "That's a very roundabout way to say 'I love you, but…'"
"Mipha," Not deterred any longer, Link knelt in front of Mipha, taking her hands in his. When she finally looked at him again, his words, words she never should have heard, cracked Zelda's heart into crystalline shards. "I don't love Zelda like I love you."
A rush of air flew from Zelda's lungs, her vision distorted by rapidly forming tears, an overflowing fountain. She clutched the Slate tight to her chest, what was left of her heart beating against cold metal. Stones shifted beneath her as her knees hit the ground.
He didn't love her. She knew that. She'd known that for months. What kind of an idiot was she?! Why did she believe him?! He didn't love her. He was happy enough to kiss her for a night and then forget any of it ever happened. Skies, could she be any more foolish?! He never loved her! He only said what she wanted to hear.
Whrrrr-eep! A sharp whistle pulled her from her spiraling thoughts, drawing her back to reality. A reality in which they absolutely heard the little Guardian's whistle.
Cold panic flooded her. She quickly wiped her eyes and jumped to her feet, still trying to stay below the sightline of thick-leafed bushes. Quickened steps flew across the garden, furious shame burning to the tips of her ears.
She flung open the door, and would have slammed it shut again, if not for the little Guardian scuttling in behind her. It gave a grateful whistle at not being crushed or locked out, then chimed in greeting to someone down the hall.
Zelda whirled around, a smear of white in her tear-blurred vision.
"Zellie?" Impa ran, her broad hat bouncing against her back. "Are you alright?"
At least now the gossipmongers would have something worthwhile to talk about. Zelda shook her head, unable to choke out even a word of explanation. She only hugged her friend tightly, buried her face in Impa's shoulder, and tried to cry as silently as possible.