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Dusk was settling over Hyrule Castle as Link guided Epona and Storm into the stables. He stopped abruptly as he rounded the corner, and Zelda, close behind, walked right into his back with a startled "oof!"
Reflexively taking a knee, Link bowed his head toward the ground, as was proper in the King's presence.
But in doing so, he unintentionally exposed Zelda to her father. Rhoam locked on to her like a Guardian laser. "What is the meaning of that?" he fired, pointing at the sword in its scabbard on Storm's tack.
The King knows, and, unsurprisingly, disapproves of their new routine.
A quick breakfast, a brisk ride at dawn to the seclusion of the woods downstream of the Rebonae Bridge, and then drills and forms with Zelda's new ancient short sword. Or sparring after half-assing some morning prayers that are all but a formality by this point. Zelda no longer puts any faith into that line of effort anymore.
But Link is too blind to see that she has little more hope that swinging a sword will bring any more success than her devotionals have, and all of this is merely self-indulgent wishful thinking.
He remains convinced it will work, even if the fact that Zelda allows him into her proximity in a way he's only ever dreamed about is biasing him more than just a little bit—making minute corrections in her stance and form through little touches on the shoulder, thigh, knee, elbow, wrist…Hands. He lives for this now. This budding crush that feels dangerously like more.
And now it hangs by a thread as the father stares disapprovingly at the knight he appointed for his daughter's protection.
"The meaning of what, father?" Zelda tries innocently.
It doesn't work.
"So the reports are true, then. First, you shirk your duties to tinker with Sheikah technology, and now you're dallying by playing at the hero's role instead of your own?"
Link's head snapped up, locking eyes with the King.
There was no way, absolutely no way, he would allow Zelda to take these lashes. Not on his behalf. Not if he had anything to say about it. Not after how useless he'd felt the first time it happened.
Link rose, shifting to position himself more squarely between Zelda and Rhoam. The King's eyes narrowed at the not-so-subtle challenge.
"Link, don't-" Zelda gasped under her breath.
"No, Sire."
Rhoam's nostrils flared. No knight—Hero or otherwise—had ever addressed him without leave.
But then again, no King had ever accosted his daughter—prophesied avatar of the goddess or otherwise—in a stable before either.
"This was your idea, Sir Knight? You think you know what's best for her, do you?"
"Apologies Sire, I meant that is not her sword, it is one of my old spares. What may have been reported to you is a misunderstanding. I have been assisting and guiding her as she conducts prayers and meditations with the Master Sword. She has a powerful connection with it, and we think its divinity might be the key to helping her powers awaken."
There was a razor-thin line separating the plausible deniability of the courtly language of disagreement from outright disrespect. Link knew he was toying with the absolute limits of his title as Hero with the brazen lies that smelled like the horse shit in the nearby wheelbarrow.
"Then pray tell, Sir Knight, when did you suddenly become a connoisseur of Sheikah technology? Your usual eloquence led me to assume you're not the scholarly type."
Link ignored the insult, his stoic expression never wavering, but in that moment he regretted not having chosen something a little less 'Zelda' than an ancient Sheikah armament for her.
"On the Princess's recommendation, Sire. I've found the craftsmanship, strength, and potential power to be without equal, save for the Master Sword itself."
The King glared at Link, then shifted his eyes to his daughter, speaking over Link's head. "For a man of few words, you seem to have an answer for everything today," he huffed, emphasizing the word man in a way that implied he meant anything but.
It was a final warning.
Zelda's voice and body quivered as she seized on the opening, "With your leave, father, we have had a long day. May I retire to my chambers?"
A curt nod in the affirmative sent them scampering away. They didn't dare speak, much less breathe, until they had put several flights of stairs and hallways between themselves and the King.
"You think he bought that?" whispered Link conspiratorially, trying to cut the tension.
"Not a chance. He is merely letting us off the hook for now because you're the Hero," replied Zelda timidly. The awkward silence returned.
Link almost thought it comical how quickly he'd lost the King's 'Golden Child' status, especially now that it was evident the Hero was his daughter's co-conspirator. He would likely face Rhoam's fury later in the privacy of the King's study.
The thought didn't phase him; he'd probably just get chewed out, and he'd been chewed out before. Link was sworn to Zelda, not the King. Lately, every conversation with her father was laced with disappointment. Link had to endure watching her flinch and curl up defensivly at every jab and barb, but unlike the Gorons' overly conspicuous method of locomotion, all she wanted was to be able to roll away into a shadowy corner, never to be seen again.
Determined to reassure her of his loyalty, Link took a chance and placed a hand just above the small of her back; supportive, but not intimate. Zelda stiffened momentarily at the unbidden touch, but the effect lasted only a fraction of a moment before her posture crumpled again.
When they finally arrived at her chambers, Zelda walked straight to her chaise and crashed face-first onto the pillow with all the grace of a shot-down goose.
Link nervously shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "What can I do to help, Princess?"
After gathering herself for a moment, she sat up, anxiously wringing her hands in her lap.
"Princess?"
Her mouth opened and closed, fumbling for a response as her eyes began to well. Sensing the breakdown, Link approached and dropped to a knee, placing his eyes level with hers, as her breathing became quick and shallow.
He took another gamble.
"Zelda."
The sound of her name snapped her from her trance.
Just her name.
"Stay!" she begged, throwing her arms around his neck while her fingers echoed the plea, digging tightly into his tunic. "Just stay here with me, please."
For the first time since becoming her knight, Link was too stunned to react. The shock alone of her initiating contact to bandage his wounds nearly killed him a few months ago, to say nothing of the desperate embrace she held him in now.
Link hesitatingly wrapped his arms around her as though she were a frightened foal that might bolt at any instant. Her hold on him tightened as she descended into a mess of tears. He dared to go a little further, gently stroking her hair from the top of her neck to her shoulder blades. Zelda sobbed into his shoulder while he held her and hummed soothingly.
"It-It's ok, Zelda. I'm not going anywhere."
When she had finally exhausted herself, she took a shaky, hitching breath. "Thank you. For defending me. And lying for me. That goes above and beyond your duty to protect me."
"Princess, I am sworn to protect you, but my oath doesn't specify against who, what, or how," he said, and waited for her to catch the Hateno lilt he allowed to slip back into his voice. "So I've simply chosen to interpret that somewhat liberally."
Zelda's lip quirked upward as she pulled away to arm's length, leaving their hands on each other's shoulders. "That's the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me. But you can't be there all the time to protect me from him every time…" she trailed off, the smile disappearing as she cast her eyes back at her feet.
"Someone has to start standing up to him. I wasn't gonna stay silent, not after last time."
"But what good would it be if Father removes you from your position for your insolence? In any case he's probably right." She clutched fistfuls of hair as another mental spiral began. "The whole idea was pointless, and nearly led to disaster! I'm no closer to my power than I was before. We should abandon this line of effort, especially since I'm not going to be wielding a sword in the end, and if I am, the situation will have collapsed far enough that no one is going to be alive to remember my failure. You're a great teacher, but I'm afraid your efforts are wasted on a hopeless pupil. It's not your fault I can't learn to bring forth my powers."
Instead of acknowledging her panic, Link gently detached himself from her, the separation evoking a momentary expression of loss. He crossed the room and picked one of the three silent princesses from the vase on her writing desk.
"What are you doing?"
Link returned to kneel before her and began tucking the stem into the disheveled braid above her ear.
"What are you doing?" she asked again, her voice now barely a whisper, the intimacy dusting their cheeks pink.
"Can you teach me more about your flower?"
Zelda gave a dejected sigh. "Link, I appreciate what you're trying to do, but—"
He stopped her, gently placing a finger on her lips. "My duty is to protect you," he reiterated softly. "And right now, I'm protecting you from yourself. So humor me, since there isn't a training dummy at hand for you to hack to bits, and because I don't want to see you tear out any more of your beautiful hair— Teach me something new about your flower."
"W-well…it's not really my flower, per se, despite my affinity for them. It wasn't named by or because of me."
"Well, I think it's your flower," he said, tucking a loose strand of her hair behind the blossom. "Ever since you told me what they were called, I think of you every time I see one. They're my favorite now."
Zelda hesitated for a moment before nuzzling her cheek against his palm.
"Well, alright…" Zelda began, unfurling a little.
She opened up bit by bit as she gained momentum, giving increasingly detailed descriptions of experimental propagation strategies she'd like to test, until finally she was blooming as radiantly as the luminescent core of the flower in her hair.
"Just imagine! If we can cultivate enough of them, we could propagate them across all of Hyrule! We travel all over, so if we planted a few bulbs everywhere we stopped for the night, it would be like a record of every place we've been together."
For a brief moment, the light of the candles created a halo around her, leaving Link mesmerized and completely unaware of the starry-eyed expression on his usually impassive face.
"…Link? Link? Why are you looking at me like that?"
Link had a mild moment of panic, unable to give her an answer as he grappled with a sudden epiphany:
He'd fallen hopelessly in love with her, and he couldn't even remember when it'd happened.