Lord Floria's Anthology

In her preparation to ascend the throne, Princess Zelda’s father introduces her to the concept of looking for a companion with the intelligence, resolve, and aptitude to rule at her side.
Meanwhile, the Marquis of Faron’s little sister steals his private poetry and sends them to Princess Zelda after she hears she’s looking for a man.
Link begins to sweat.

Notes:

Inspired by [Restricted Work] by linksthoughtbrambles (Log in to access.)

Thanks for picking up this work! If you decide half-way through reading that it’s ultimately not for you, no hard feelings! Check out my bookmarks for alternative reading!
Please note that I took absolutely no care into what the duties of princess are, what divides a viscount from a duke, or general knowledge into systems of governance. Aficionados might not enjoy the blasé vantage I’ve taken to saying “Prince Blah-de-Blah visits the palace to negotiate trade agreements” or the like. Such things are only touched upon where they drive the plot forward.
Link’s desire to feed Zelda as a language of love, the concept of him being left-handed, and the name of his rambunctious little sister were stolen from the fic Link’s Thought Brambles. Highly recommend!

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

“Oh, I adore this. Look, look, look.”

Sir Link only moved his eyes. They were waiting for the doors to open. Beyond them was confetti, flower petals, and the din of King Bosphoramous addressing a crowd. Princess Zelda was nervous. She sought him out to ground herself. She opened a strip of parchment. Sir Link read:

Love knows no weakness

She knows no flaws

In fine she does not know the princess at all.

Sir Link did not like Princess Zelda: at that moment the doors opened and he was not allowed to smile.

It was not until three hours later that Princess Zelda was behind a changing screen and Sir Link seated by her vanity in order to argue: “He means to say—”

“She,” Princess Zelda corrected. “This comes from the Countess of Necluda.”

“I thought His Majesty was looking for suitors who could give you heirs.”

“Oh, she can. But what you were saying?”

Sir Link said, “I think what she means to say is that you are strong and flawless.”

“Oh yes I assumed as much, but the alternative interpretation is dramatically awful.” She cackled. “She said that I will never know love!”

“I doubt that’s what the countess meant.”

“Oh, this is a beautiful disaster. I should have this framed. Firly? Can you please have this framed for me?”

Sir Link frowned. “That’s mean.”

Her voice took on bite. “Sir Link: I am being hunted like I’m a defenceless slab of sirloin steak. I will at the very least take entertainment where I can get it.”

Sir Link thought aloud, “You’re not steak. You’re more like a silver lynel.”

Princess Zelda did not respond at once. Only her ladies in waiting shuffled. Sir Link sensed he had said something wrong.

“That, Sir Link,” she said as she walked around the folding screen, “might just be the nicest thing that anyone has ever said to me.”

Sir Link frowned. Princess Zelda looked pretty with her hair wavy under her goggles and her grease-stained dungarees. He fought down his grins, the ones besotted and amused both. “I called you a lynel.”

“Yes. You said I was scary. Competent. Capable of defending myself.” She pumped the air. “It’s very flattering.”

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going to the Royal Ancient Tech Lab, obviously.”

“But you have to attend the reception.”

She laughed. “No, I don’t.”

“Y-yes? You do? It’s in your honor.”

“Will you get into more or less trouble if you accompany me while I play hooky?”

Sir Link grumbled, “Let me change.”

“Why? You look stunning in your military dress.”

Sir Link paused. Princess Zelda batted her eyelashes overdramatically.

“You want to wear my cap don’t you.”

“Oh please? Pretty please? Please please please?”

A laundress prodded: “So? Princess Zelda looked stunning today, you outdid yourself.”

“Thank you. Took a while to get everything together.”

“Yes, it looked like a complicated coiffure.”

“That, and Her Highness wouldn’t stop tinkering with the new ancient core she imported from Deep Akkala. I heard that she’s seeking to reproduce and mass produce them for the public market! I’m so excited.”

The laundress’ eyes glazed over. “Mhm.”

Firly noticed. “Oh, um, and Sir Link looked handsome as well, yes?”

She brightened. “He did! So debonair: his eyes all but glowed in the shadow of his cap! Was the Princess as struck speechless as the chambermaids were?”

“She liked his cap too, begged him to wear it.”

“What?”

“Princess Zelda begged Sir Link to wear his cap. And she did. Clashed horribly with her dungarees but Her Highness was on the way to the garage so it can’t be helped.”

“Good gods, Firly, do you have any good gossip?”

Firly thought for a long moment. She thought about the fact that Sir Link had been in Her Highness’ bedroom while she was in a state of undress, but that wasn’t nearly as salacious as:

“I did make an interesting discovery yesterday.”

“Oh? Deets!”

“Her Highness is growing mushrooms out of used coffee grounds. She hides them under her bed! Isn’t it charming?”

The laundress ignored Firly for the rest of the evening.

“Oh snap! Look at you, Linky! Out to capture some hearts today?”

Sir Link had no idea what she was talking about.

“I’m talking about your military dress, Linky, you look hot.”

“Uhm. Thank you.”

“No, it wasn’t a compliment. Get out of my lab. You’re distracting Cherry.”

In the background, Cherry set Robbie’s coat on fire.

Sir Link pointed to Princess Zelda, sprawled on the floor, pieces of a memory unit meticulously placed around her. Engaged as she was in her work she wasn’t aware of the conversation happening at the doorway.

“Still working on how to extract data from the old tubs, eh? She’ll crack it.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “I just can’t deal with you.”

“I’m? Sorry?”

“That’s it. You have to change. I’ll rob Symin’s closet. Do you know how many people have passed by Her Highness’ workstation in the past fifteen minutes?”

“Forty-two, which is weird.”

“Ya don’t say?!”

Sir Link frowned when the people wandering past the lab did not decrease. “Your theory didn’t pan out, director.”

“Bastard, it’s not my fault you look good in everything.”

Sir Link fell to his knee in the middle of their conversation, and this was the only warning she had before she came face to face with her father. King Rhoam looked annoyed but unsurprised. His eyes flicked over her heavy-duty dirty gloves, her manly boots, her unflattering denim onesie. Her hair still had pearls in it. She was wearing Sir Link’s cap. Sir Link for some reason was dressed like a Sheikah.

King Rhoam did not know where to begin.

“Good evening, Your Majesty,” Princess Zelda said.

“You’re in a fine mood,” King Rhoam returned, “for someone who was absent from where they were supposed to be.”

“I had spent the evening making considerable progress in my attempts to deconstruct the Ancient Sheikah’s storage mechanisms. It took a long time to figure out how to moderate the wattage—”

King Rhoam sighed.

“I sense that you are disinterested.”

“My dear: the reception this evening was in your honor.”

“I attended the opening ceremony.”

“You were supposed to greet and mingle with the dignitaries who arrived after the ceremony.”

“Oh, but they’ll be here all week won’t they?”

“Zelda.”

Princess Zelda pouted. “I didn’t want to dance. The shoes I was given were very uncomfortable.”

“Sir Link, what are you wearing.”

“I had distracted Cherry, sire.”

King Rhoam decided that he didn’t want to know.

“Tomorrow you will be hosting a tea party,” King Rhoam told Princess Zelda. “I will tell you who to expect.”

“I know who to expect. I’m to expect every Tom, Dick and Harry who have been dabbling their toes in banal courting gestures.”

“I was not made aware that you disapproved of any of the suitors.”

“I’ve yet to find a suitable suitor. I’m better off talking to suits of armor. Hm. Hm-hm.” Her polite smile wobbled.

In King Rhoam’s scandalized silence, Sir Link struggled to swallow his grin.

“Tea party. Tomorrow at noon. It is on Sir Link’s head if you are not there.”

“As you say, sire,” Princess Zelda pouted, as it was common knowledge that she was fond of her Appointed Knight since the time she rewrote a law that allowed all soldiers more time off. King Rhoam’s idle threat, therefore, was a low blow.

“And you will wear garb becoming of your station.”

“Sire.”

“And you will not spend the evening speaking only in Ancient Sheikah.”

“Sire.”

“Nor will you invite the local keese.”

“That was one time, sire.”

“It was enough.” King Rhoam adjusted his coat and looked like he’d aged by three years. “Well then. I look forward to good news tomorrow.”

“I am sure all of the parties involved will be illuminated by the day’s events.”

King Rhoam did not like the sound of that at all.

The Countess of Necluda said from behind her fan, “I heard that he’s of Zonai descent.”

The Viscount of the Scablands leaned forward in interest. “Yeah? Never heard of an ethnic group wielding a title before. What’s the name?”

The Duke of Tabantha shook his head. “No name, just the title. I hear he’s either got no manor or has hardly visited it, since no-one’s seen hide or hair of him for the past six years.”

The Countess scoffed, “And with what credibility is he hoping to court Her Highness if he doesn’t even manage his lands?”

The Sheikah bard said, “The Zonai have a tradition where their youths must go into the world and make their fortune in order to come of age. Perhaps the Marquis of Faron, Lord Floria, is adhering to his heritage.”

The Countess, Duke, and Viscount looked scandalized. One could not tell if it was by what the Sheikah bard had said or if it was that he deigned speak at all.

Princess Zelda appeared then. The nobles broke apart from their gossiping with a lurch, because she was moving at a rapid clip. Her white dress was wet at the hem and her hair was coming undone at the temple. Behind her, her famous Appointed Knight looked like he was struggling not to laugh.

What was the story there?

“Greetings, all, greetings. Please,” and she gestured to the giant round table that had no food on it. “Grab a plate and a hand. Sir Link? Sit beside—ah, Caho! Good of you to make it, old friend.” And she kissed the Sheikah bard on the cheek, eliciting a great deal of esteem, envy, and curiosity from the bluebloods.

“Sit, sit sit,” Princess Zelda reiterated. She had not gone through one formal introduction. “Good to see you all, pardon me lateness, oh do be seated. Let’s treat this as a casual affair, hm?”

The Countess of Necluda arched a brow when Sir Link pulled out a chair for her and took the chair beside hers. The Sheikah bard, Caho, sat on Princess Zelda’s right, and immediately bowed his head to hear whatever she was rambling about. The Duke of Tabantha, at Sir Link’s left, looked put out. He had been angling for Sir Link’s seat.

To their shock, she pulled a deck of cards out of her sleeve. She shuffled with startling grace and acuity, and dealt out hands with speed and precision. She tucked her hair behind her ear and said, “I assume we all know to play poker? You’ll learn along the way if you don’t.”

Sir Link and Bard Caho picked up their hands before the others could protest. The Countess huffed and followed suite. “I had heard that you were eccentric, Your Highness. It is refreshing to find it to be the truth.”

“Do you like strangeness?”

“I am an avid collector of strange things.”

“Oh, yes, I had heard of your collection. Yiga Windcarvers. Gerudo scimitars. Zonai obsidian spears.”

Sir Link twitched.

“I am honored, Your Highness. Would you desire a tour?”

“No thanks.” Her brusqueness surprised the table. “I’m not a fan of cabinets of curiosities fed by a history of pillaging.”

The Countess of Necluda smiled stiffly. “I assure you my artifacts were ethically sourced.”

“Zonai obsidian spears are spiritually attached to the priests that wield them. In the event of the priest’s death, the spear is handed to their successor.” She tossed chips on the table and at last met the Countess’ eyes. “I would bet my beloved hat that there’s someone in Faron who wants that spear back.”

Sir Link stared at Princess Zelda. He tucked his hair behind his ear.

Bard Caho broke the awkward silence, “We missed you at the event yesterday, Your Highness.”

Princess Zelda’s smile bloomed such that everyone in attendance knew at once that it was genuine. “You flatter me, Caho. I think if I’d attended, I’d have bored everyone to tears. I know I bore poor Firly. She told me some of the chambermaids are ostracizing her because I don’t provide enough salacious gossip.”

Caho laughed. “Perhaps you ought to invent some so that Firly can return to their good graces.”

“I did, but she said they were all horrid. So I told her some true stories I thought might work to no avail.”

“Pray tell, Your Highness,” the Duke smiled, hungry to fill the void the Countess left behind.

“I told her that a good rumour would be that I’m never seen anywhere without Sir Link in tow. She said that was expected of me. I had thought it odd at the time that I visited his family on his week off, but apparently the standards of gossipmongers have raised lately.”

The Viscount of the Scablands choked on his shandy.

“You visit Sir Link’s home?” the Duke echoed critically.

Sir Link stared at Caho.

“Oh yes. Deya Village is beautiful in the summer. Lady Impa accompanied us during our last visit to the lake. The water stays warm, well into midnight, you hardly need insulation. And some of the fireflies glow pink!”

The Duke fell silent at the concept of the Crown Heir of the realm skinny dipping.

The table revealed their cards. Half an hour into the game later the Viscount asked, “Your Highness, are you counting?”

“Of course not. I don’t have the discipline for that, how dare you.”

“Oh. I—”

“Sir Link is.”

Three pairs of eyes turned to Sir Link in disbelief. Sir Link, who had been concentrating, looked up at the new bout of silence. He did not understand their staring. He looked behind him.

Bard Caho had to hold his breath. He’d have laughed otherwise.

“Please strike the Countess of Necluda, the Viscount of the Scablands, and the Duke of Tabantha from my list of suitors.”

“Posthaste, my dear,” replied King Rhoam, “though I would like to know why.”

“The Countess is either ignorant or proud of Hyrule’s shameful history of raping its neighbors during our ascent to our status as an empire.”

“Duly noted.”

“The Duke of Tabantha does not find me conservative enough, he and I will fight over how I carry myself in public.”

“Duly noted.”

“And the Viscount accused me of cheating at cards.”

“Weren’t you?”

“That’s not the point.”

Princess Zelda suddenly laughed.

One of her secretaries looked up. Sir Link, who inhabited the nebulous intersection of bodyguard and Princess Aide, was studiously bowed over the minutes Princess Zelda shuffled under his nose, but he looked up when she rose and stood behind his chair and pressed flat a letter on his workstation. He grunted in protest.

“Oh hush. Read this.”

The secretary watched them with amusement, but he grew concerned when Sir Link grew visibly upset. Princess Zelda, who only had a view of his hair and ears, was ignorant. She carried on, “Isn’t it the sweetest thing? It tells me so much about him as well as what he thinks about me. What do you think?”

Sir Link cleared his throat. “You like it?”

“I adore it. I want to have it framed.”

He sighed out a laugh. “That’s not saying much, you had the Countess of Necluda’s poem framed.”

“Yes, but this letter I’ll keep in my study. That way I can see it every day.”

The secretary did not understand why Sir Link blushed then.

The letter read:

~~I want to feed you seafood paella because~~ [put it at the end?]

You were racing on your horse and I was so annoyed because you weren’t doing it right. And then you reached the stable

I first ate seafood paella when I was six and she invited me to Lurelin where she was mediating the non-aggression pact between her salt-water cousins and the representatives at Lurelin and there was so much food

I want to feed you seafood paella because you fell off your horse

You did it so stupidly too your boot got caught in the stirrup and your socks were in the air and you laughed and laughed and laughed

There was so much food at Lurelin but I don’t remember anything like I remember that seafood paella because each bite was acidic tomato and the buttery flesh of conch and shrimp. I remember my best friend’s heartbeat under my ear and vaba laughing as she danced

When you fell of your horse you looked like you’d enjoy seafood paella

~~Oh god is she allergic~~

“Your Highness, I must beg a favour.”

Princess Zelda didn’t look up. “Anything, sir knight.”

Sir Link hesitated. “You shouldn’t make such promises carelessly.”

She laughed and adjusted her microscope. “Nor do I.”

He was glad she was distracted. It took a moment to wipe the grin off his face. He asked, “Can I make use of your peregrine?”

“My messenger hawk,” she looked up at last. Her eyes were bloodshot.

Sir Link frowned. “Have you been up all night?”

“No. Why do you need her?”

“I have an urgent letter to send to Gerudo Town.” He hesitated. “To my sister.”

“Good heavens, is everything alright?”

“Yes.” He shuffled. “Well, no.”

“May I have your permission to stick my nose in your business?”

He hesitated, but took a folded paper from his coat. She unfolded it and grinned. It read: CHEE WHAT THE FUCK.

She laughed, “This hardly seems pressing, Sir Link.”

“It is to me,” he cleared his throat and corrected his posture. “She’ll know what it means.”

“Very well. I’ll send it off this afternoon the latest. Was there anything else?”

“Yes. Did you sleep last night?”

“Sir, I’d like to see you get any sleep when you discover brackish diatom fossils in Eldin rock samples.”

“I am picking you up and taking you to bed.”

“You will do no such—Sir Link! Sir Link, unhand me at once!”

Lady Impa asked, “Where is Her Highness?”

“Sleeping. What is that?”

“Correspondence from the visiting embassy from Hebra. It’s for Her Highness’ eyes only—hey!”

Sir Link scanned the letter before Lady Impa could recover it. “Alright, Desmona? Can you find the chamberlain and tell him the west facing guest wing needs to be prepared? And also send the head librarian to Princess Zelda’s receiving room, please. We need to talk about how we’re accommodating the visiting lord’s collection.”

“Yes, sir.”

Lady Impa stared at him.

Sir Link didn’t like it. He frowned. “What?”

Lady Impa asked Princess Zelda, “Had you ever noticed that Sir Link does the work of a Prince Consort?”

“SHHHH!” Princess Zelda looked horrified. “Don’t let him hear you!”

Lady Impa was ecstatic at the love story unraveling before her eyes.

“If he knows that he’s been working above his paygrade he’s going to ask for a raise!”

Lady Impa was less ecstatic.

When Princess Zelda asked for permission to read the responding letter from his sister, Sir Link politely glared. She pouted, but she was content to dote on her little messenger hawk until Sir Link was ready to paraphrase.

Lychee’s response said:

Totally not my idea.

(Yes it was.)

Princess Zelda is looking for a husband and if all the lovesick poetry you hide under your bed when you visit mom and dad every year is any indication you’ve got it bad for her.

(Why did she know this. How long has she known this.)

I looked up the qualifications and you’ve got it—the land, the title, the job of considerable esteem.

(How long have you been planning this, Chee?!)

Also King Rhoam loves you. If it doesn’t work out with the Princess of Hyrule vaba says the Princess of the Zora is pretty sweet too.

(PLEASE LEAVE MIPHA OUT OF THIS.)

Dad thinks it’s a good idea to send her something nice with the next letter. What do you recommend?

(Seeds of ground lilies native to the banks Lake Floria would be a good—no! That’s not the point!)

Sir Link could walk all the way to Gerudo Town he was so angry.

“Sir Link?” Princess Zelda whispered. “Is everything alright?”

Sir Link couldn’t look her in the eye. He said to her peregrine, “Can I get two days off to visit my parents?”

She looked stricken.

“They’re fine,” he said quickly. He grumbled, “Or they will be until I get my hands on them.”

“Can I visit?”

“What? No, why would you—please don’t look at me like that—don’t cry—alright, yes, you can come to Deya with me.”

Princess Zelda looked very pleased with her manipulation. Sir Link desperately wanted to feed her.

King Rhoam asked, “You’re going to visit Sir Link’s family right as we’re expecting one of your suitors from Hebra? Don’t you care at all how this looks?”

Princess Zelda snapped, “If my husband presumptive has an issue with me having male friends then he’s not my husband presumptive.”

King Rhoam pointed at the door. “Go away.”

Link’s father was short and friendly and stocky and handsome. It was from him that Sir Link inherited his passion for eating and talent for cooking. Link’s mother was broad and strong and a little feral. It was from her that Link inherited his talent with a blade and predatory quiet. Lychee’s mother was sweet-faced and boisterous. It was from her that Lychee inherited her wit and talent for meddling with the affairs of others.

Sir Link called them pop, mommy, and vaba respectively, therefore Princess Zelda did too.

“Beloved daughter,” Vaba cried and swept Princess Zelda off her horse.

Sir Link was in the middle of dismounting when the thought struck him: his parents did not refer to her as a surrogate daughter. They were referring to her as a daughter-in-law. He toppled.

Sir Link asked his mother, “Is Lychee home?”

Her dark eyes were warm with amusement. “You’re not allowed to throttle your sister.”

“So she is home. I’ll be right back.”

“Before giving your mother a kiss?”

Sir Link paused. He politely shelved his bloodlust, hugged and kissed his mother’s cheek, and then ran into the house. Lychee’s screams sounded after.

“Sav’otta, Vaba,” Princess Zelda returned generously. “Each time I see you you grow more beautiful. And you, Mommy! You glow! Are you expecting?”

Mommy clicked her tongue the same time Pop replied, “Not for a lack of trying.” He grinned as his wife smacked him.

Princess Zelda leaned against Vaba with a small lovelorn sigh. Sir Link’s family was beautiful, cheerful, and warm. Their friendship had deepened such that she did not feel uncomfortable inviting herself along whenever he had a week off, and there was more often than not a place at the dinner table waiting for her.

Sir Link and Lychee were wrestling in the writing room. They were a mess of limbs and exertion. Yesteryear Princess Zelda would have feared true sororicide (or fratricide, for Lychee could be ruthless), but now she jumped over them and admired Vaba’s loom as she said, “Hi, Chee.”

“Hey, Zel. Oof! Elbow! Foul!”

Princess Zelda said, “Mommy, your collection has grown! Is this a Frost Spear? Those cost thousands of rupees!”

Mommy entered the room and did not spare her brawling children a second glance. “Then it’s a good thing it was free.” And she grinned, for Princess Zelda turned with a gasp and was hungry for the story.

Pop called, “Link has a good nose for time. Food’s ready.”

“I’ll help serve,” Princess Zelda said at once.

Mommy said, “Link. Lychee. Wash up.”

Lychee had Sir Link in a magnificent chokehold. “Two seconds mommy?”

“You’re not going to knock out your brother that way. Your hold’s too loose.”

Sir Link ticked her. Lychee danced away. “Not fair!”

“Clean up,” Mommy said again, quietly, and Sir Link and Lychee moved to obey.

Sir Link did not recognize that Mommy was giving Lychee leave to say her piece until she said: “I’m sorry.”

Sir Link pulled his hair tighter and stared at her.

Lychee huffed. She was younger than him by five years, but she was taller and broader than him already. From her letters she was struggling in Gerudo Town and she preferred wandering the streets of Faron, where bi-cultural kids were commonplace.

She continued, “I thought I was helping.”

“This could end up as a diplomatic incident.”

She snapped, “How? You like her, don’t you?”

“Sh!” He listened for a moment, but Princess Zelda’s laughter was far away.

“She’s practically our family in all but name and blood,” Lychee continued when he was satisfied.

“Chee, c’mon: you’re big enough to know it’s not that simple.”

She was embarrassed but persisted, “But it’s not like you’re some random commoner—vaba’s grandad’s wife’s childless firstborn bequeathed you a nation, practically! You’re a noble! And she likes you, and you’re the Hero of Hyrule: I mean, just one of those things should be enough, shouldn’t it?”

“The point is that you had no right going behind my back and sending her my private letters, Chee.”

“I’m sorry.”

Sir Link huffed and washed his face.

“Did she like it?”

He glared at her.

“I’m young but I’m not stupid—you wouldn’t be making this big a fuss over it if she didn’t make a big fuss over it. She liked it, didn’t she!”

“No. She thought it was stupid. And uncultured.”

“Yeah right. Princess Zelda gets pretty prose every day.”

That was true.

“She’s probably grossed out by it by now.”

That was also true.

“She probably appreciates sincerity.”

Sir Link flashed his wet hands at her. “Chee, you suck at apologizing.”

“I thought I was helping!”

“You’re making this complicated.”

Lychee frowned. “I don’t get it.”

Sir Link lowered his voice even more. “I’m not really a nobleman. It’s just a title.”

“Yeah, but you do all the taxes and stuff.”

“Well, yes—”

“And you read all the reports and made the relevant changes.”

“I, yes, but—”

“And you fixed that issue between the Coastal Zonai and the Sheikah research party that could’ve been a real diplomatic incident.”

“What’s your point, Chee?”

“My point is that you are Lord Floria, Marquis of Faron. It doesn’t matter that you weren’t born with the title.”

Sir Link pulled his lips taut and he stared at her.

“And Zelly likes you, I don’t see what the issue is.”

Sir Link snapped his head away from her. The movement loosened his hair of the tie. It was just in time too: he was flushing. She took joy in embarrassing him. “Don’t joke about that kind of thing, Chee.”

“I’m not? I mean, why else would she come here all the time?”

“She likes leaving the Castle.”

“Yeah. And she could go anywhere else on your day off. But she comes to spend time with us. You’d think she’d be sick of your face all the time.”

Sir Link stared at her.

“Or maybe it’s just that she likes me.” She gasped, “Maybe I could marry the princess!”

Mommy went outside to find Sir Link trying to drown his sister.

Sir Link said after dinner, “At least you won’t send her anymore of my stuff, right?”

Lychee didn’t answer.

Sir Link turned on his heel. He was half fury half panic. “Chee.”

“I didn’t know you’d react like this!” She protested.

“Chee what did you do?!”

“I may have sent two…or twenty…before getting your letter—”

“Twenty?!”

“Don’t look at me like that—you’re the one who wrote them!”

Pop asked Princess Zelda to play the harp, as he always asked her to do, and like he always did, Sir Link had to close his eyes while he listened otherwise Vaba or Mommy would throw him a knowing look because he was staring at her. They didn’t understand that she didn’t play the harp very often at the castle. Sir Link wasn’t sure if she liked it or not. She liked that Sir Link’s family appreciated it, at least.

“You’ll give me a big head,” she protested at their applause. “I’m feeling nicely warmed up, you don’t mind if I familiarize myself with her a little longer, do you?”

Pop said, “I begged you to play, didn’t I?”

Princess Zelda laughed and played a new song, one he recognized from Zora Domain. Sir Link left for the cooking house.

“Alright, love?” Mommy asked. He’d have jumped, except she trained the bad reflexes out of him by the time he was seven.

“Why did you let Chee embarrass me like that?”

“I told her she was wrong when I heard.”

“She said that you were asking what we could send with the letters for next time.”

“And I had said that she really ought not do that without her brother’s consent. It was only after the fact I heard she already sent off thirty.”

Sir Link looked horrified.

“My love, there were so many letters under the mattress it was as though you wanted us to find it.”

“I thought my parents would at least keep it private.”

“Forgive me. I forget how devious your sister is.” She patted his hair. “Does Her Highness know?”

“That it’s my stupid rambling she’s reading? No. But I’ll never be able to show my face as Lord Floria for the rest of my life.”

“I hear that maidens vying for Lord Floria’s hand are enraptured by the secrecy.”

“Ugh.”

Her dark eyes glittered with amusement. “What happens next?”

“I’ll sneak into her room and burn them all.”

“That sounds like a surefire path to the lockup.”

“It would be a mercy.”

“Don’t be embarrassed, love. Your words came from the heart. Anyone would be flattered.”

He looked stricken. “Some of them aren’t…hm.”

“Appropriate?”

Sir Link blushed terribly. “Not for Chee.” He startled, “But they’re respectful! I promise.”

“What a young man hides under his mattress is not his mother’s business. Unless it’s drugs. But no, you’re old enough to do drugs.”

“I don’t like drugs.”

“Does that mean you’ve tried it?” She smacked his arm.

“Didn’t you just say I’m old enough to try it if I want?!”

She huffed. In the silence they could hear Princess Zelda playing, playing, playing. Someone was washing the dishes. There was a sound of Vaba’s loom clicking.

“Why does Princess Zelda visit our home so often?”

“I…should I ask her to stop?”

“No, we love her. I was just wondering. Is her home not safe?”

“She’s…I protect her the majority of each day, Mommy.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

“Then…”

“No, never mind. Are you finished sulking? Then run down to the general store for me. Thank you dear.”

Sir Link held out his hand.

“What?”

“The money?”

“Boy, don’t you work at the castle?” Her eyes twinkled. “Don’t look at me like that.”

Lady Impa sent a letter:

By chance, three years ago, did you get a gift from your mother-in-law’s grandfather’s first wife’s first born son?

Sir Link replied:

No.

Sir Link wanted to visit Faron, actually, but he would be tempting fate if Princess Zelda was still sitting on his coattails. Maybe he could ask Lady Impa to pick her up? But no, Lady Impa held him by the gohundas at the moment. He didn’t want to know the price of her silence while he was still on vacation.

He decided to spend the day wailing on Chee, cooking beside his father, going through drills with his mother, and gossiping with his vaba. He spent little time with Princess Zelda despite that they were in the same house. He only saw evidence of her coming or going based on how hard his parents or sister were laughing or grinning.

“Sir Link!”

Sir Link turned. He was at a public well. Princess Zelda was wearing a bright blue headscarf that looked like vaba’s. She was wearing a dress that might have been his mother’s, except his mother didn’t wear dresses. Did his father wear dresses?

“Why are you outside, Your Highness?”

“While we are incognito you must call me Zelda.”

He stared at her.

“It’s the third most common name for girls across Hyrule, my goodness, it’s not like anyone would profile me if you said my name.”

He huffed and adjusted her headscarf. “You look good, Zelda.”

She beamed. “I’d look even handsomer in your cap, eh?”

“When are you giving it back, by the way?”

“No.”

He grinned suddenly and so broadly that it reached his eyeteeth.

“Oooh, your canines are long.”

He huffed miserably and Princess Zelda giggled.

“Are you not often complimented for the beauty of your teeth?”

“Mm.”

“How odd. I’ve heard soldiers rhapsodize about your prettiness before.”

Sir Link was horrified.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that, the gentlemen were respectful!”

“I’m sure.”

“It’s true! They were praising your acuity in battle!”

Sir Link was not fooled. Soldiers were gross.

“I vividly remember. Something about the way you wrapped your hands around the handle of a claymore…”

There it was. “Goddess preserve me.”

Princess Zelda grinned. “They had lamented what a shame it was that you were straight.”

Sir Link laughed despite himself.

“What? Why are you laughing?”

“I’m not straight.”

“Oh! Can I set you up with the lieutenant from Fort Kolomo? He’s been pining for ages!”

“I—what—why do you know this?”

“Firly is a terrible gossip but Mia is exceptional at it.”

Sir Link raked his fingers through his bangs. “Please do not set me up with random men.”

“Lieutenant Sanders is far from random! Nor is Private Beckson.”

“There’s another one??”

“You’re so high in demand it’s a wonder that you’re not married already.”

He laughed. “As if I have the time.”

Princess Zelda was quiet for long enough that Sir Link turned away from the well to gauge her expression. She was unfortunately a good liar. He couldn’t read her. “What is it?”

She sighed and the façade fell. “I’ve been told I have an exceptional poker face. Why are you always able to discern what I’m feeling?”

Sir Link gave it considerable thought. It had just been a feeling. But there was a reason: “You breathe different.”

She barked out a laugh. “I breathe differently.”

He nodded. “When you’re content you take longer breaths.”

“Huh. Remind me to never play you in poker.”

“So, what’s wrong?”

“Do you not have the time to court because you’re busy protecting me?”

Sir Link arched a brow.

“Would you like to be released from service?”

He smiled. “Are you getting rid of me?”

“I just…if I’m holding you back…”

“Princess Zelda: I have a promising military career. I’m leader of the Princess Guard at twenty-two years old. I get to work every day with my best friend. I am happy.”

She blushed. “But you’re not…there’s more to life than just…what I mean to say is…”

“Your Highness, I’m not going to be any happier if I’m married and have children.”

She pouted at him. “You can’t say that now when you don’t have that option!”

“Your Highness, if you fire me, I will literally cry.”

Princess Zelda barked out a long round of laughter. She threw her head back so roughly that the headscarf was coming undone. Her hiccups were inelegant. Her eyes were scrunched up so much her lashes almost disappeared. He blurted, “Are you hungry?”

She giggled. “Hm, I could eat.”

“Do you like—” seafood paella. “What do you think about pumpkin beef stew?”

Her eyes lit up. Sir Link was embarrassed: he was probably smiling like a sap.

As Princess Zelda sipped the delicious meal that Sir Link prepared for her, she couldn’t shake the feeling that somewhere in the span of that conversation with Sir Link she missed out on a significant opportunity.

There was a lot of correspondence waiting for her when she returned to her office. Sir Link’s heart skipped a beat.

“Goddess help me,” Princess Zelda despaired.

“I’ll help you,” he volunteered quickly. “How do you want it organized? By region or by urgency?”

She stared at him for a moment. She did not know when, but someone had gotten Sir Link his own chair and table beside hers. Her memory could not tell her a moment when Sir Link wasn’t sitting beside her.

He looked up at her. “Your Highness?”

“Pardon me.” She shook herself. “What was the ques—”

“If you want me to—”

“Oh, by region—”

“Descending order by date?”

“Thank you.”

Princess Zelda’s eavesdropping secretaries smiled at their work.

Sir Link, of course, had ulterior motives. He took half the pile and, within minutes, found ten of the twenty—or thirty??—private letters that Lychee, in a moment that she was possessed by the trickster god Din, had sent from Faron thru’ Gerudo Town.

For the love of Hylia, Chee, might as well have mailed her my beating heart while you were at it.

Princess Zelda had stopped moving in his peripheral vision for a while. Her breath had shortened. He looked up with dread and looked down with dread.

Princess Zelda discovered one of the letters!

“Sir Li—” her voice broke.

Even the secretaries looked up at that.

She cleared her throat. “Sir Link—please place all correspondence from Lord Floria in a pile.”

Shit.

“Lord Floria?” One of the secretaries echoed. “The man is a recluse! And he’s written to you, Your Highness?”

The other secretary frowned, “I suppose the hand of a princess appeals to eccentrics as well. Please take care, princess.”

Princess Zelda waved them off. “He’s been nothing but respectful.”

The secretaries looked at each other dubiously.

Sir Link rubbed the back of his neck. “All the same, Your Highness, I think you should let me scan them first.” He reached for the letter.

To his shock, Princess Zelda blushed and snapped it out of his range. “That won’t be necessary!” She cleared her throat again. “Lady Impa screens all of my correspondence. If she felt that the Marquis of Faron was a threat, she’d have left a note.”

Sir Link wondered if he should have said more in his return letter to Lady Impa.

“Sir Link?”

“Hm?”

“You have a pile on your desk.”

“Hm.”

“They look to be of the same stationary as this one.”

Shit! “No, they’re not.”

The secretaries looked back and forth.

“Sir Link.”

“Your Royal Highness.”

Her breath hitched, “Give them to me.”

He did not look at her. “They might be inappropriate. Please, let me screen them first.”

“Sir Link, the first letter he sent to me was about how much he wanted to cook me a meal. I doubt he’d jump to suggestive fruit arrangements within a week of writing.”

But that’s just it. It was not a week of writing. It was weeks of writing. It was months of writing. It was years of—oh Hylia preserve him, he was pathetic.

“What are you so afraid of, Sir Link?”

Sir Link made the mistake of looking at her. She was concerned. If he did not do as she asked, he would be marked suspicious. He handed them over with a sigh and admitted, “I was concerned that you might come across something…uhm. Lewd.”

Princess Zelda grinned. “Oh, had we been dealing with anyone else, I would not have found your concern unfounded, old friend.”

That did not placate him. “But…you’re not concerned…with Lord Floria?”

“No.” She opened another letter with a hunger she hadn’t paid to the other envelopes.

“…why?”

But Princess Zelda wasn’t listening. She was reading. She was smiling.

Sir Link spent the rest of the day terrified that one of the twenty—thirty??—letters would out him.

It was forty-nine letters in all.

Damn it, Chee.

I’m never going to tell you this

And why would you listen?

You hear it every day:

From the wicker of your horse;

From the jibes of your friends;

From the extra portion of cashews at breakfast;

How much you are loved.

Princess Zelda met with little Prince Lo from Hebra three days after he arrived at Hyrule Castle. Two days before she had been galivanting in Sir Link’s hometown, and the third day she had spent galivanting in Sir Link’s thoughts.

(Sir Link, standing in his corner, was little more than an exposed nerve at this point.)

“I beg your pardon, Prince Lo,” Princess Zelda greeted warmly as she entered the gallery. “It was most indecorous of me not to have been on the premises to receive you. I thank you for coming. It is an honor to meet you in person at last.”

Prince Lo had bowed, but he lifted his head and Sir Link was struck by his beauty. His skin was impossibly flawless and his features impossibly fine. He smiled daintily as if to smile any wider would shatter him. “The honor is mine, Your Royal Highness. Thank you for receiving me. Your staff has been warm and welcoming—and I greatly appreciate you preparing in advance a space in the library to store the collection I had brought with me.”

Princess Zelda’s eyes flashed to Sir Link’s. Sir Link inclined his head. She smiled at Prince Lo. “It was no trouble at all. I am something of an avid reader myself.”

Prince Lo did not react to the conversation between princess and knight but Prince Lo’s stewardess, a tall brutal looking woman with dark skin and dark hair—an antithesis to the little prince—stared at Sir Link for a critical moment.

Prince Lo said, “I know, princess. And I believe I’ve heard that one of your interests is in archaeology. Tell me: have you ever visited the Zonai ruins in the Northern Hebra Snowfields?”

“Have you?” her eyes widened. “Each time I launched an inquiry the pass was guarded by a herd of lynels!”

“The lynels were passing through. The men of the east tower had been keeping an eye on their movements for the past eight months.” He joked: “Their observations might be enough to write an article of lynel behavioral patterns.”

“We have a local scholar by the name of Kilton who would kill to have his hands on research like that. Erm. Metaphorically, speaking.”

Little Prince Lo laughed. “You are charming, Your Highness. I’ll request for the records to be sent to Hyrule Castle posthaste.”

“I thank you, Prince Lo,” she smiled genuinely. “The pass is free for travel, then?”

“Oh, yes, it has been for two months now. I had gone to the ruins as soon as I could…if only so that I could have at least one riveting conversation piece with Her Highness.” He was blushing.

Princess Zelda smiled wider and Sir Link drew three tally lines beside Prince Lo’s name on his mental chalkboard of Princess Zelda’s suitors. Within ten minutes he demonstrated his generosity, his cleverness, and his attentiveness. The other suitors were outclassed.

Maybe even Lord Floria was in trouble.

I was walking in the Faron Grasslands

I think you’d like it there

In the gravel was a cactus, stubborn and standoffish, putrid red, nothing at all virtuous about it.

And then a spider called it home.

Princess Zelda’s aide—her true aide—stepped out of the shadow.

Sir Link kept walking.

“Hey.”

She was taller than him and caught up to him in three long strides. She ducked her head and fired, “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

“I’ve been avoiding you everywhere.”

“What is the stunt you’re pulling? Do you think this is some sort of masquerade? You’re lying to her, Sir Link!”

Sir Link halted. She halted. They waited, sensed they were alone, and Sir Link whispered, “It was an accident.”

“An accident?” she hissed. “How do you accidentally seduce the Crown Princess?”

“I didn’t—huh? Seduce? She likes it?”

“Of course she likes it,” Lady Impa poked his forehead. “Don’t you dare go getting a big head about it! I’m still mad at you, and so will she be when she finds out that you’ve been talking to her from behind your title!”

Dubiously, curiously: “Could I really court her as a knight?”

“Is the Hero of Hyrule seriously asking me if he has the right to court the Crown Heir?!”

“You sound like my sister.”

“Do not endear me to you, mister, your sister is a blessing.”

“It was a mistake,” Sir Link admitted at last. He looked from side to side, sure they were alone and horrified and embarrassed anyway. He was grateful when the eye painted on Lady Impa’s forehead uncrinkled. He whispered, “I have…writings for Her Highness. They were supposed to be private.”

Lady Impa blinked, recoiled shortly, her lips in a tight “O”.

Sir Link refused to fidget. “My sister thought it was a good joke to send a few since Her Highness is looking for suitors.”

“Sir Link…forty-nine is a little more than a few.”

Sir Link, finally, blushed. “I didn’t beat Chee up half as much as she deserves.”

“Does Miss Lychee usually handle all correspondence from Lord Floria?”

Sir Link nodded. “She is my head secretary. I didn’t want to be recognized as a marquis at the castle—it’s too distracting—so she helps me keep a low profile. That’s why all the stamps, seals and signatures match.”

“Why did you give a seventeen-year-old that much power?”

“I was hoping a job would keep her out of trouble.”

Lady Impa arched her brows tellingly.

Sir Link winced. “Good point.”

Lady Impa placed her hands on each of Sir Link’s shoulders. He reluctantly met her eyes and she said, “I am sorry. I did not recognize that this was all…unintentional. It can’t be a good feeling to have your heart bared before you were ready.”

“I wasn’t planning on ever telling her.”

“Because you don’t want to marry her?”

He pressed his lips together.

“I won’t think less of you for it. The court is a different kind of battlefield, one that uses the pen instead of the sword.”

That, and: “I’m not confident in my ability to rule beside her.”

“Well, that’s bullshit.”

Sir Link startled.

“You’re already governing an entire region—”

“It’s mostly uncharted jungle—”

“On top of that you lead the most sophisticated security detail in history—”

“Well, that’s hardly—”

“Never mind that you do the work of a Prince Consort already anyway.”

“I—what?”

“You make decisions on Her Highness’ behalf all the time.” She smiled a little. “Had you never noticed?”

“That’s just…I thought I was like you. Her aide. A second set of eyes and hands.”

“Sir Link: as aide, I act according to her instructions. I do not act in her stead.”

“I…neither do I?”

“Do you remember when you told the head librarian to clear a section for Prince Lo’s books?”

“Where else was he going to put his books?”

“Why didn’t you wait for Princess Zelda to tell you what to do for his collection?”

“Where else would the princess tell me to have him store his books?”

She shrugged. “His rooms?”

He balked a bit. “He’s not going to stay in his room, he’s come to Central Hyrule, he’s going to want to be seen by courtiers and network and—why are you smiling at me like that?”

“You think like a Prince Consort, Sir Link,” she laughed. She glared. “Or should I say Lord Floria?”

“Please don’t.”

“Why did your distant uncle give you the title anyway?”

“I heard that he pinned a letter to a dart board and threw knives at it to guess who should succeed him after he got diagnosed.”

“And he threw a knife at your name?”

“No, the knife hit the word “connect”.”

“What does that have to do with—”

“Link?”

Lady Impa sighed in frustration.

“I thought it was funny.”

“With your sense of humour you would.”

~~My vaba says the isolated lakes have fishes that don’t exist anywhere else in Faron~~

~~You should have seen her face when I asked if they were edible.~~

no she wont like that

Mia huffed as she threaded beads into Princess Zelda’s braids, “I said it to Firly and I’ll say it to you, Your Highness: a man who hides behind his letters is no man that you should be engaging with! What’s he have to hide?”

“Perhaps he has disfiguring scars from hunting the jungles with his Zonai kin,” Firly chimed. “That’s romantic, eh?”

Mia’s grimace begged to differ.

“Zonai do not use the traditional weapons you’d find in public collections to hunt, Firly,” Princess Zelda informed quietly. “Nor do most Zonai societies partake in the hunter-gatherer lifestyle from thousands of years prior anymore than other Hylians do. Husbandry was the cornerstone of what lent their ancient cities so much clout to expand across most of the Faron region.”

Firly cooed, “That’s fascinating!”

Mia blurted, “Are we really going to gloss over the fact that the man hasn’t been seen in public for years?!”

“His secrecy is off-putting I will not lie,” Princess Zelda pouted at the letters in her hands. “However, if disfigurement is all he’s afraid of, I’d like to write him back and tell him he has no need to hear that from me. Then again, the members of the court aren’t likely to be delicate about such matters. Perhaps that’s why he’s staying away.”

Firly asked, “Why don’t you write him back, Your Highness?”

Mia gasped, “Why should she?! I bet the man’s already married with a child on the way, or he’s just knocked up some poor scullery maid and he’s hoping to beat the scandal…”

Princess Zelda frowned at Mia’s unflattering theories. Wild as they were, they proved that Lord Floria’s reasons for secrecy could be anything at all. All that could be said for his goodness was that he was attentive to the needs of his realm, was prompt with taxes, and was quick to enforce policies that dissuaded racial tensions when Gerudo, Goron, and Zora began establishing diasporas in his lands.

“Lady Impa has assured me that Lord Floria is a man of great esteem, strength of character, courtesy and generosity. I trust her opinion. I think I will write him back. Especially after he’s written me so much, goodness. I still blush when I see it all. And I admit to my vanity: what woman wouldn’t be pleased to know that a man others hold in high regard is thinking of her so ardently?”

Mia sighed, “All I ask is you be careful. Don’t put your eggs in one basket. See, that Prince from Hebra? He’s pretty on the eyes. And he’s smart too, ain’t he?”

Firly admitted, “Many people in the castle like him. He’s polite to everyone, and makes friends with the respectable sort. He has a good nose for character.”

Mia whispered, “But I worry, y’know? Sweet little thing like that—a country bumpkin prince, no matter how courtly his manners, I’ve heard him be called. I’m frightened some countess or another will chew him up and spit him back out.”

Princess Zelda reopened one of the folded letters. “You speak as though there isn’t a society in Hebra, Mia.”

“But Your Highness—oh, please don’t move—Your Highness, the Hylian courtiers that far north aren’t half as vicious as the ones here. Here is a seat of power. And everyone’s clamoring for it, now more than ever now that your hand’s in the winning pot.”

Firly frowned, “A touch objectifying, Mia.”

“I beg your pardon, Highness.”

“It’s apt. You’ve a talent for storytelling, Mia.”

Mia beamed.

Firly lowered her voice to chat and Mia followed suit, as again Princess Zelda read the Lord Floria’s words:

One word from you and I can fly

One word from you can kill me

Of all the tongues;

Golden or young;

Deadliest is deign you know me.

Princess Zelda sighed. It was juvenile, but the attempt paired with his handsomer, rawer works gave her joy in revisiting it. Here was a man who agonized over what to tell her and, in the end, sent her all his works, with the edits, the corrections, the smeared thumbprints and brutal self-admonishments in the margins.

I am a disaster, he seemed to say. May I court you anyway?

And there was this little poem, an attempt at scansion and pattern, neatly penned on unblemished paper, as if this was the only thing he had ever considered truly sending her.

Ironically, if he had sent her only this, she might not have paid him the time of day.

Lady Impa asked, “Why doesn’t she recognize your handwriting?”

Sir Link stared at her, but she did not go away, and he was shackled to his vigil over Her Highness’ study. “My handwriting depends on which hand I’m using.”

She blinked. “You’re ambidextrous?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I learned a lot of Hylians take lefties for bad omens.”

“You mean to tell me you sign off on all the princess’ legal documents with your non-dominant hand?”

Sir Link stared at her. “Is that illegal?”

“Only if you’re signing a marriage contract.”

“Oh.”

Lady Impa smiled.

He stiffened. “That was not necessary for me to know.”

“My goddess it is fun teasing you.”

“Wait, are you telling me you rose to notoriety wielding the Master Sword with your non-dominant hand?”

Sir Link’s lips parted in recognition.

“You never noticed?!”

Spongey fruitcake of hearty durian and hydromelon topped with lemon icing;

Bitter cool safflina infused in sweetened egg pudding;

Apple pie dusted in warm cinnamon and;

Cheesecake of the farthest wildberries;

I’d sooner sample your unbroken gaze.

Prince Lo smiled when he saw Princess Zelda had recognized him and approached him. As always, her dutiful appointed knight was within their line of sight.

Prince Lo’s stewardess thought his friendship with the Crown Princess inappropriate, but Prince Lo was lonely and could empathize. He could not fathom surviving Central Hyrule’s court without making true friends.

If he were to become Prince Consort, Sir Link would be a constant presence in his life. He would be his wife’s shadow, protector, and friend. It would not behoove to make an enemy of him. He therefore said when the princess asked to join him, “If your friend would like to sit with us, I wouldn’t mind.”

Princess Zelda looked over her shoulder. She was bemused. “Pray tell, who do you mean, Your Highness?”

Prince Lo blinked. “I was under the assumption that the Hero of Hyrule was your friend.”

“Oh.” She blinked. “Did you want to meet him?”

“I…would not say no to being introduced, but I mean if you wanted him to join us in an informal capacity.” He could feel his stewardess glaring at him. Later he would tell her that Princess Zelda was unconventional. He had to be too.

Princess Zelda became unreadable. She smiled. “Sir Link is on duty. I would happily introduce him, but I cannot take him away from his post today.”

Prince Lo heard rumours that Princess Zelda was familiar with her knight, but it was obvious she went to great lengths to act professionally in public. He appreciated her discretion.

Sir Link came forward. Neither prince nor stewardess had seen the princess bid him approach.

“Sir Link,” she made to stand, and Sir Link instantly pulled back the chair for her. “Thank you. Sir Link, may I introduce you to Prince Lo, Crown Heir to the nation of Hebra. Prince Lo, this is Sir Link of Deya, the famous Hero of Hyrule, Captain of the Imperial Guard, and my Appointed Knight.”

Prince Lo shook his hand. “A pleasure, Sir Link.” He noticed Sir Link matched the strength of his shake.

“Your Highness,” Sir Link said, bowing his chin. His eyes were piercing, but not unfriendly.

Sir Link helped Princess Zelda return to her seat and removed himself to the corner again.

“Are you a fan?”

Prince Lo smiled. Princess Zelda could be a child sometimes. He did not dislike it. “No, I was curious is all. I had heard rumours about him.”

She frowned.

“I will look shallow for saying so, but I expected him to be taller.”

Princess Zelda smiled. It seems on matters of her Knight Attendant she was an open book. “His stature is a boon on the battlefield, believe it or not. That paired with his strength, dexterity, and training that feeds his muscle memory, and most combatants find him untouchable.”

“You speak highly of him.”

“He is my friend,” she admitted shamelessly. “And I do not suffer the unexceptional.”

“Then you give me a target to strive for, My Lady.”

Princess Zelda had forgotten she was speaking to a suitor. She smiled, and it was a little fixed. Prince Lo took note. He did not want to make her uncomfortable.

“I understand he is one of five hand-picked Champions. Please tell me about the others.”

“Certainly. The Chief of the Gerudo, Lady Urbosa, is not only a master of the blade and in control of incredible elemental power, but she has been a family friend since before my birth. It was a narrow competition between her and her sister, Rima, who is also Captain of her Guard…”

Later, Prince Lo asked his stewardess: “I desire to know everything about everyone Princess Zelda praised in our conversation.”

“My lord,” she pressed her hand to her chest. “Do you intend to approach them?”

“That would be too obvious. But if I cross their paths, I do not want to be surprised.”

“My lord.”

And your thumb on my mouth

Neither one of us knows what we’re doing

(I certainly don’t)

My lips part and your thumb rests on the bed of my tongue

And I lick it

And I like it

Slowly so that each bump rolls on each warp of your thumbprint

I do it slowly

No, slower than what you’re thinking

Slower , princess.

ill be locked up for writing this

Sir Link knocked on Princess Zelda’s door, “Your High—”

“Yes?!”

Sir Link paused. He scanned the room. Her table was cluttered, her hanging plants were verdant, the seedling in the window was still being eaten by a cricket that refused to move out despite their prodding. He ducked a little to look under her desk.

She huffed, “Sir Link, there is no security breach in my study!”

He recognized the paper in her hand. “What are you reading.”

She blushed: “Nothing!”

“Let me see it.”

“No!” She stood and hid it behind her.

“It’s from Lord Floria isn’t it.”

“Sir Link!” Princess Zelda pulled herself against her desk on his advance. “This is highly irregular!”

And she laughed as she said it, but he hadn’t been focused on the propriety of their position. He was not touching her, nor could he loom over her, but he very obviously pinned her against the desk with his body.

“I—”

Her eyes dropped from his eyes to his lips at his first word.

Sir Link flinched backwards. “Pardon me, Your Highness.” He dropped to his knee. “That was inappropriate.”

Princess Zelda winced. “Rise, please, Sir Link. Think nothing of it.”

He rose hesitantly. He frowned at her tone. “Why are you sad?”

“I’m not sad.” She pressed the paper into one of her journals. She knew Sir Link wouldn’t take it from there.

(She overestimated his character.)

“Yes, you are sad.”

She made a face at him. He replied stoically. She complained, “You are no fun.”

“Why are you sad?”

“I don’t have any friends who are my equal,” she smiled. “Just the act of…you being close to me, can be misconstrued. You can be punished for it. And all we were doing were playing.”

He shrugged. “Some say we’re too old to play anyway.”

“Says the man who wrestled his sister into the floor not five days ago.”

“Chee doesn’t count.”

“Because Chee is still young?”

“Because Chee isn’t a person. She’s an exclamation mark in a bipedal body.”

Patrolling soldiers looked up and grinned when they heard loud and inelegant chortling from the princess’ tower.

Bard Caho’s crush on Princess Zelda was blatant, but he never let it interfere with the genuine rapport he had with her, and for that she was eternally grateful.

At the same time, she did her best not to encourage his affections, for she liked him too much to pull him into the world of back-stabbing courtiers and intrigue. It leant their friendship a stilted quality. The more time they spent together however, the smoother they engaged.

Today, he was keeping her up to speed with the court gossip. He said, “Your ladies in waiting are excellent at defending your privacy, my lady.” He was allowed to call her that, not because they were close in status, but because she gave him permission. “They are gifted at speaking about you at length and saying absolutely nothing.”

Princess Zelda laughed. “I will have to thank them, then, though I suspect it is more intentional on Mia’s part than it is on Firly’s. Lady Firly is genuinely interested in the things I talk to her about, may Hylia bless her. Mia tells me that’s the only thing that she repeats to gossip mongers, and they don’t find it very lucrative in the rumour mill business.”

Caho laughed. “What a clever expression, Your Highness! I will be stealing it for my next composition.”

“Remember to credit me.”

“Absolutely not.”

Sir Link smiled a bit. He liked Caho.

“Speaking of the rumour mill, your suitors are ever a hot topic.”

“Oh?” She sipped her tea. “Tell me.”

Lady Impa appeared then. She whispered to Sir Link, “Report came back about that shipwreck at Hateno Bay. Save it for the princess or give it to you?”

Sir Link held out his hand. She handed it over with a smile that he ignored.

Caho said, “Prince Lo is the Castle’s favourite contender. That’s a double-edged sword. He’s grown popular because he’s integrated with a lot of the local well-to-do, but his new friends are squarely in the left bracket, if you catch my gist.”

“The younger, more open-minded, change-oriented crowd, you mean?”

“Just so.”

“That speaks to Prince Lo’s character, I suppose.”

Sir Link broke away from Lady Impa, bowed to Bard Caho—who lifted his teacup in greeting—and bowed to whisper to Princess Zelda, who didn’t react to his voice suddenly in her ear.

“That sounds excellent. I leave it to you, Sir Link, thank you.”

Sir Link bowed and returned to Lady Impa. He ignored her knowing smile and relayed his ideas on how to move forward with the tragedy. “Thank Hylia all the missing crew were finally found. How soon can we have the supplies and extra hands sent to Hateno Village? And the missing crew’s family members?”

“A day, with the right permits.”

“I’ll get them to you.”

“Don’t you need Her Highness’ seal for that?”

“Oh. Uh.”

“Did she give you her seal?”

“Please don’t look at me like that.”

She cackled. “How else am I supposed to look at the third most powerful person in Hyrule?”

“Please don’t say that.”

There were times when you suffered

On the nights you could not hear the goddess

I suffered

I was fool enough to think

“it’ll be appropriate if I worship her instead”

I would walk into your water

And prostrate at your feet

And say:

“I hear you”

I would kiss your instep

Cold as stone

And say:

“I feel you”

It would not be blasphemy

It would not be incorrect

It would be the reason why Hylia walked among Man in the first place.

Princess Zelda asked, “Sir Link?”

“Mm?”

“Have you ever had a physical reaction to literature?”

“I fall asleep on Chancellor Cole’s transcripts sometimes.”

“Good heavens yes, the man can prattle on.”

Sir Link looked up. He was going over his personal correspondence, and Princess Zelda could not see what it was from the corner of her eye, but a glimpse betrayed it was in a foreign language. When he caught her looking, he surreptitiously placed the bowl of nuts right in the center of it and pretended that the move was unintentional by asking, “What is this about?”

“Hm? Oh. I received a poem recently.”

“Did you vomit?”

“I—no. Sir Link. Why.”

Sir Link lifted his hands in a universal I don’t know I can’t read minds gesture without his face moving as much as a millimeter.

“I received poetry that…excited me.”

Sir Link hesitated. He swallowed the nuts. He knew he was going to regret asking. “Was it from a suitor?”

“Yes,” Princess Zelda blushed. “I think he enjoys teasing me.”

Sir Link, stunned by his best friend’s sensual smile, promptly drank a glass of water.

Caho is not wrong

But if he had been there when you bypassed the problem with the adapters for the stalkers’ motherboard

Then he’d know what real beauty looks like

The little prince from Hebra called out to Sir Link. Sir Link, curious, slowed.

Sir Link never engaged directly with any of the suitors roaming the halls unless Princess Zelda arranged it so. He suspected that it was because he was beneath them, or that they found his title or regard intimidating, though Lychee would likely say it was because they viewed him as the competition.

(Ridiculous.)

The little prince was small bodied, feminine and gaunt, with pale skin and pale eyes and pale hair. Sir Link heard him laugh with Princess Zelda the other day in the library. Sir Link liked the little prince.

“Thank you for stopping, Sir Link.”

“Of course, Your Highness,” Sir Link inclined his head. “How can I be of service?”

“I have a question for you. Will you walk with me for a bit?”

Sir Link was immediately on guard. He said “of course” and the little prince led the way into one of the Castle’s gardens.

“I know you are a man who values his time, so I will be succinct. Is that alright?”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“You are Princess Zelda’s best friend. What does she like?”

Fruitcake. The colour blue. Plants that attract spiders. Archaeology periodicals. Silent Princess flowers. Seeds she doesn’t recognize. Tinkering with ancient technology. Discussing the advent of the industrial revolution. Seafood paella (hopefully). But Sir Link was getting ahead of himself.

“Could you be more specific, Your Highness?”

The little prince blushed. “My intentions are obvious, I think. While I came here to appease my uncle, who is interested in maintaining the throne, I find myself genuinely captivated by Princess Zelda. If she chooses me to be her husband, I will be very happy. But I have dozens of others to content with.”

He’s making allies as though he’s in a war, Sir Link realized. Good grief the court is treacherous.

And the little prince is more cunning that his looks would betray.

Sir Link wasn’t sure if his esteem fell or increased upon discovering the little prince’s conniving side. He replied, “Of all the suitors, you appeal to her intellect the most. She’s a cerebral person. You’re on the right track.”

He blushed again. “That is heartening to hear.”

He reminded Sir Link of Mipha. She too was so soft-spoken that one forgets she has three rows of serrated teeth.

“Is there anything in particular that I can do or gift her that will make her remember me fondly?”

Cook for her. Sneak her out of the castle. Sit with her and say nothing for three hours. Tell her bad jokes in succession until she snorts. Juggle badly until she snorts. Feed her. Pray with her. Take her into Castle Town to play football in the streets again. But Sir Link was getting ahead of himself.

“She wanted a wrench set.”

The little prince recoiled a little. “A wrench set?”

Did the little prince not know? “Yes, Your Highness. One of Princess Zelda’s hobbies is dismantling ancient machines.”

“Oh. I had thought that was just a rumour.”

Sir Link shook his head politely.

“Then is it also true that you are familiar with a certain Lord Floria?”

Sir Link was struck mute. He would have believed his expression gave nothing away, but the little prince’s smile sweetened.

“At ease, Hero. I respect that you want to keep it a secret. We are allies, are we not?”

Sir Link said nothing. The little prince bowed and wandered off in the direction of the library.

Sir Link did not like the little prince.

Chee had encrypted the letter as follows:

Dear Lord Floria,

I am not a fool. Either it is that you have spies in my court—for which I can have you locked away—or it is that you know me personally. I know it is the latter.

One would think that because I am relatively isolated to my duties that I would be able to identify you right away. But I see dozens of hundreds of staff. My rotating guard, my father’s rotating guard, the castle’s rotating guard make up a good hundred nobility and gentry who know my daily routine. And then there are the servants, third or fourth sons and daughters of barons. And then there are the visiting diplomats. The in-house scholars. The mages on retainer. The ambassadors’ children. The researchers from the local university. The Sheikah.

Who are you?

Do not tell me. I can understand your attachment to your anonymity. Politics is overwhelming in the best of times. The fact remains however, that I am curious as to your reasons why, and look forward to the day that you tell me in person.

In the interim, know that I enjoy this game, and that I very much enjoyed your letters.

Write me again. Spare nothing.

With interest,

Lady Zelda.

Sir Link burned the letter.

He appreciated Lychee’s foresight in transcribing the letter so that anyone who happened upon it before it got to him wouldn’t immediately recognize the favored scent and penmanship of the Crown Princess but by Hylia’s mercy why was his little sister the middle man of his love letters?

It was perfect.

If the Marquis of Faron never replied to Princess Zelda’s letter, then she would be hurt and angry, dismiss the marquis from future consideration, and Sir Link would be safe again to return to his pastime of admiring the swish of her skirts in his peripheral vision. Their friendship would remain intact.

However.

If Princess Zelda’s letter was a reflection of her true feelings, that meant that the Marquis of Faron was in the running to be her suitor. Sir Link, bumpkin of Deya, was on the scoreboard as a serious contender! Secrecy, which Lady Impa had argued worked against him, intrigued her. She wanted more.

(Which is disturbing to consider, because he could be anyone. He could be a fifty-year old with six children and, yeah, have a nice personality, but also be creepily pining away after a girl half his age. Did he need to talk to the princess about safety?)

Sir Link paced his room. A blank piece of paper and inkwell were on his writing desk. They taunted him. Oh, he was an idiot. Oh, he was an idiot.

He sat down.

Someone knocked on the door.

He got up so fast his chair clattered.

“Sir Link? Are you alright?”

Sir Link’s eyes widened. Why was Princess Zelda here?!

He opened the door and frowned up at her.

“Don’t glare at me.”

He glared then. Just because.

“I know it’s your day off and you’re tired of seeing my face, but I need your advice.”

Sir Link nodded and dressed back. To his shock, Princess Zelda closed the door. Oh, that was terrible. The knights under his command didn’t dislike him, in fact he liked to think that they respected him and his leadership, but they still gossiped harder than washerwomen on laundry day. By afternoon, everyone would know that Princess Zelda was explicitly alone with her Appointed Knight. That did not bode well for him in a castle full of people vying for her hand! Shouldn’t she know that?!

“Sir Link?”

“Yes, Your Highness?”

“May I sit on your bed? Or would that be too much already?”

Oh. So she did know that.

Sir Link shrugged. The damage was done. He turned his own chair to face her and she sat in the middle of his bed and flattened her skirts.

“I’m not tired of seeing your face.”

She had been winding up to speak, and she was now distracted. “Beg pardon?”

He let himself smile. “You’re my friend, Zelda. I’m not tired of seeing your face.”

Princess Zelda ducked her head and smiled. “Thank you. I…I admit that it is an insecurity of mine.”

“I know,” he said softly. “Are you okay?”

She frowned. “I asked Lady Impa her opinion on the people interested in marrying me. I wanted to ask your opinion too.”

“Alright. I don’t like—”

“I sense that the list will be shorter if you tell me who you do like, old friend.”

Sir Link shut his mouth, said nothing, and Princess Zelda laughed uproariously.

He smiled. “There’s my opinion.”

“You’re so harsh! Not even Prince Lo? I thought I sensed you had a soft spot for him.”

Sir Link’s smile fell.

Alarmed, she asked, “What did he do to you?”

“Nothing,” he lied, and hoped that she wouldn’t immediately catch on that he had avoiding looking in her eyes as he said so. “But I am aware that he’s navigating the court with ease. He’s as pretty as a flower, but he has thorns.”

She smiled. “You think he’s pretty? Do I have to worry that you two will elope?”

“He has eyes for you only.” I can relate.

“Hm.”

“Not flattered?”

Princess Zelda held her elbows. It was a self-comforting gesture. Sir Link pulled a knee under his chin as she began, “I wish I was flattered. But his attentions, stimulating as they can be, have a sense of rehearsal to them.”

Sir Link shrugged when she looked at him for a response. “Don’t tell him I told you this, but Caho practices what to say to you before you meet with him sometimes.”

She smiled small and warm. “I know. He, at least, is sincere. He is not as controlled.”

“You’re controlled.”

“Am I?”

“You’re unreadable to most.”

“Except you.”

“And Lady Urbosa, Lady Impa, Caho sometimes, Director Purah, Revali, Daruk and Mipha.”

“My friends, then.”

He nodded. “Prince Lo is…he is devious, but he has to be to be a politician. Right?”

“Well, he must be intelligent certainly. Tactful, sociable, knowledgeable, and it helps if he can say ‘no’ decisively and kindly while leaving avenues of conversation open. But I also want generosity in a partner. A heart that is capable of empathy and selflessness. I’ve yet to sense that from Prince Lo.”

Sir Link shrugged.

“Have you sensed that too?”

“In his defense, there hasn’t been much opportunity to show off being nice.”

“I suppose not.” She watched him. She looked like just a girl sitting on his bed, if with a scary wisdom to her eyes. “Why don’t you like him?”

Sir Link debated how much to tell her. She could be overprotective, ironically, and downright intimidating when cross. He scratched the back of his head.

“Sir Link, do not make me pull rank on you.”

He smiled at her. He managed, “I think that’s a thing between me and him.”

“Oh honestly, Sir Link, of all the people to be caught up in masculine cock-measuring rituals—"

“I will come crying if I get bullied, Zelda. Promise.”

Her lips wobbled. “Alright.”

“Thank you.”

Sir Link was not expecting her next line of questioning to strike like Lady Urbosa’s Fury: “And what about Lord Floria?”

Sir Link hid his shock behind a grimace.

“Oh, come now, what have you dredged up about him that makes you so wary?”

“Nothing,” he replied honestly. “He could be fifty-years old with a big belly for all I know.”

Princess Zelda laughed. “Well, if that’s all…”

He was alarmed. “You would be fine with that? Just what was in those letters?”

(No. Really. What was in those letters??)

“Enough to convince me that perhaps I like older men.” Her eyes narrowed in a new way. It looked mature, and Sir Link did not dislike it, but he dare not think that he like it either. The word he was looking for was beguiling. He didn’t move.

Sir Link kept his eyes off her mouth. “With big white hair.”

“And soulful deep eyes.”

“A laugh that rattles like Death Mountain.”

“You could not be more obvious in trying to make him out to be Lord Daruk.”

“What if it is Lord Daruk?”

“Oh hush.”

Sir Link laughed and the tension broke.

“Were you about to write a letter to your parents?”

Sir Link’s heart thudded again until he remembered he hadn’t written anything on the paper. “Oh. No. Well, maybe. I’m not sure.” Help.

“Or a composition? I know you like fairy tales.”

He blushed a bit.

“Do you like writing?”

He eyed her warily. “Why?”

She smiled. She stood. She handed him a piece of paper. He recognized the stationary. He stared up at her.

“Read it, please,” she smiled. “I don’t mind.”

Sir Link read it. He swallowed. Was he caught? “It’s a recipe.”

“Yes,” she laughed. “Lord Floria is so weird! He keeps making allusions to food and talking about feeding me. Had he been courting you I’m sure you’d already be wed.”

Sir Link preferred people he could feed than people who could cook for him. He ignored that line of thought.

“Sir Link, I know it’s your day off—”

“You’re my friend.”

She smiled. “Would you like to cook this recipe with me?”

He smiled. “With you or for you?”

“I’m going to hit you with your pillow now.”

“Huh—wait wait wait—WHUMF!”

Outside Sir Link’s room, one of the guards remarked, “I’d like to say that this is scintillating gossip, but they’re obviously just having a pillow fight.”

“Remember back in the days when we had real conspiracies and scandals?”

“Remember that episode with the mage and the blue diamond and the baron’s wife?”

“Artistry.”

“I miss those days.”

“I mean, personally, I could do without the murder.”

“Yeah. I meant apart from that.” He paused. “Good for her, though.”

“By Hylia’s grace, Karl.”

After a fight with her father three years ago, Princess Zelda was so depressed that she wasn’t eating. She lost too much weight, couldn’t concentrate on anything, and fell asleep during her prayers and studies. Rumours had started that she was trying to return to Hylia.

Sir Link was annoyed. He acted.

He lied to King Rhoam and stole permission to escort her to Rito Village. Revali’s acerbic humour did wonders. He convinced her to dine with his family every evening, had her laughing by teaching her to read the wind, and they gossiped nastily about all their mutual acquaintances. He’d mostly ignored Sir Link, but that was alright. What was important was that she was cheerful and eating again.

Sir Link wrote down the recipe of a meal that she remarked as “easy to put away”. As to why Lord Floria chose that recipe for her…he was working on that.

“This is harder than I thought it would be.”

Sir Link adjusted her hands again. “Use your heel, not your fingers. You’ll tire faster.”

“But the dough keeps sticking to me!”

“Add more flour.”

“Again?”

“Your Royal Highness.”

Princess Zelda startled and looked up. Sir Link’s expression was dry, but his eyes were laughing. He said, “Add more flour.”

Princess Zelda grumbled and added more flour.

Three minutes later, Princess Zelda complained, “Oh now this is ridiculous!”

“For the love of the goddess—get out of the kitchen. Out. Out out out out.”

The kitchen erupted into laughter.

Lady Impa found Sir Link and Princess Zelda where the guards said they would be, eating pot pies that they made themselves in one of the kitchen’s dinky breakfast tables.

“It tastes different than I was expecting,” Lady Impa overheard Princess Zelda bemoan.

“That’s because we had to substitute Tabantha Wheat for the flour from Lanayru.”

“It makes so great a difference?”

“It’s a different ingredient, so yes.”

“But it’s still flour.”

Sir Link was appalled enough to stop chewing and stare.

“Please don’t look at me like that.”

Lady Impa laughed in her collar.

“Impa,” Princess Zelda smiled. “Welcome back!”

Sir Link bobbed his head in greeting: his mouth was full.

Lady Impa smiled. “May I join you?”

“Of course. There’s more than enough to go around, the cooks were generous in accommodating us.”

Sir Link remarked, “You gave them a show, kneading with your fingers like that.”

“You be quiet.”

Lady Impa took the first bite. “Oh! It’s good!”

Princess Zelda huffed. “Are you surprised?”

Sir Link remarked, “I put my foot in it.”

Princess Zelda snapped. “That was a miserable turn of phrase. Never use it again.”

Sir Link continued to eat but his shoulders shook as though he were laughing.

Lady Impa said, “My grandmother sends her greetings, princess. She was wondering if she could extend an informal invitation for you to attend one of our festivals.”

Princess Zelda sucked her fingers. “Ah, yes, Cuho mentioned that he was practicing some traditional pieces. He said that he would be part of a drum choir for the summer equinox festival.”

“Yes. It’s the day that we say the goddess of power breathed warmth onto the surface for the first time, making it ripe for life.” She added. “You could even invite one of your favourite suitors. You’re allowed to go on dates with them, yes?”

“Yes. Hunting for suitors is the one event where it is not only expected but required for a princess to be slutty.”

Sir Link choked.

Lady Impa smiled, “I wouldn’t have phrased it quite like that…who might you take?”

“Prince Lo,” Sir Link proposed.

“Hm. I thought you said you didn’t like him, Sir Link?”

Sir Link watched her and ate. He ignored Lady Impa’s sidelong wink.

Lady Impa said, “Or what of the young man who’s the youngest head of that merchants’ guild? What’s his name?”

“Lord Beedle,” Princess Zelda said, “son of the owner and founder of Applean Co., currently the leader of the Traveling Scarab Merchants Guild. He’s sweet, enthusiastic, and personable, but it’s obvious that he’d rather be hawking wares than courting princesses.”

“I like him.”

“Be quiet, Sir Link.”

Lady Impa volunteered the son set to inherit Epona Co.

“Lord Myzra? No, he’s only here because I’m launching an investigation.”

Lady Impa startled. “Why is this the first I’m hearing of it?”

“Pardon me, old friend, I thought I told you. It was brought to my attention that there might be a scheme afoot spanning all of Hyrule. Travelers pretend to be stranded and offer to buy horses, and then they turn around and sell or rent them from Epona stables for three times as much. I invited Lord Myzra to the Castle to keep a closer eye on him, as evidence points to him being the mastermind of the operation.”

“Do you need any assistance with the case?”

“No thank you, between myself and the men and women Sir Link assigned I believe its handled. You have much on your plate already, do you not?”

“Well, yes, but I am your aide.” She glared at Sir Link. “Your actual aide.”

Sir Link ignored her.

Princess Zelda giggled, “Don’t be jealous, Sir Link could never replace you.”

“Hmph.”

“I was thinking of formally assigning you the role, Sir Link, as Princess Aide. I could never have too many, and you’re doing all the work besides. What do you think?”

His look was miserable. “Another title?”

“It comes with a raise.”

“Done.”

Lady Impa balked. “Sir Link!”

Princess Zelda laughed. “There are three things Sir Link is weak for: food, horses, and money.”

“I mean, there is a fourth thing—”

Sir Link kicked her under the table.

Princess Zelda gasped, “Impa! Are you alright?”

“Yes, princess. Pardon me. Wind pain.”

“That’s terrible! Excuse me, Lola? Sorry to bother you but can you get warm milk for Lady Impa posthaste, please? Thank you.”

Sir Link was nervous for the rest of the day, expecting retribution.

Retribution came in the form of paperwork.

~~I hope you would like:~~

~~My lips on your clavicle.~~

~~My tongue on your throat.~~

~~My mouth on your lace.~~

~~I hope you would give:~~

~~Your consent in my ear.~~

no don’t write that she’s going to think im asking to eat her

Sir Link finally glared at her, because she had been staring for ten minutes. With that as permission she whispered, “I need your help.”

He put down his pen.

“Read this.”

Sir Link nearly threw it into the fire. CHEE!!

“I just,” Princess Zelda rubbed her red cheeks. “I need help.”

Sir Link swallowed. He turned the little paper back and front and pretended he didn’t recognize it. “With what? He’s been pretty clear.”

“Sir Link,” she whined.

Sir Link stretched his mouth into a taut flat line. He decided that Princess Zelda was not allowed to whine at him while erotic poetry was fresh in his mind. She shouldn’t be allowed to whine at him in general.

“You are a young man, are you not?”

He stared at her.

“No, I’m not being rude, I’m being awkward.”

He faced her.

“I…I read this, and I was disgusted, at first.”

Sir Link swallowed.

“But then I read the others. Lord Floria’s anthology—” Sir Link despaired that she gave his private diary a name—“is written as though it was never supposed to see the light of day. And I thought it was a charming artistic style at first but now I genuinely believe that what he has sent me is weeks, perhaps even months, of him struggling to put his feelings into words.”

Sir Link let himself stare attentively.

“None of it is dated. All of it is written in different types of inks. He’s…he’s sent me his heart.” She huffed and took the piece of paper he’d been trying to hide. “Stop that. I know what you’re thinking, that he’s gross and lustful—”

“Is that not lustful?”

“It is, but he has also proven attentive. He uses the correct jargon when he makes reference to my work at the ancient labs, and he speaks as though he knows how heavy the burden of the role of priestess is on me, and he,” she giggled, “and he talks so often about the things he’s seen in his domain that he thinks that I would like, like the bird eating spiders.”

Sir Link swallowed. “How romantic,” he said dryly.

“It is! I am fascinated! I would love to test the tensile strength of a web that is capable of catching a bird mid-flight! And what does its carcass look like after it has been eaten?”

Sir Link stared at her.

“See? Even you find it weird. But Sir Floria thought that I would enjoy knowing about them.”

Sir Link whispered, “I don’t think you’re weird, princess.”

She smiled at him but it was fleeting. She looked sad.

He cleared his throat. “What did you want to ask me?”

“I wanted to…understand…how a man feels…attraction.”

He frowned. “Just like anyone else.”

“I was led to believe that it’s different for men. Society tells them to seek power before they seek love, whereas women are only supposed to seek power through love. Love is therefore and foremost for women, and is trivial for men.”

He frowned. “That’s not true.”

“I know it’s not. But I am asking what the truth is.”

Sir Link fretted. How much could he get away with telling her? “There’s no-one else you trust to ask?”

She scoffed. “Like who? My guard? My father?”

Sir Link winced.

Princess Zelda returned to her work. “Pardon me, Sir Link. I’ve obviously made you uncomfortable. Forget I asked.”

“No,” Sir Link was frightened. He wanted to be her confidant. She met his eye and he hesitated, and he sighed. “I…It varies for everyone. The guys when I lived at the garrison used to say they were happy if a girl looked good and acted nice.”

Princess Zelda frowned. “That’s it?”

Sir Link shrugged.

Princess Zelda balked, “But that…that’s nothing. What are their preferences? Their likes? The vices that they are willing to work through? The foundation to a partnership?”

“Attraction is simple.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Do you not find Lady Impa to be attractive?”

Princess Zelda frowned. “She is my friend and my aide and I refer to her with respect.”

Sir Link frowned. “I don’t think you’re using the word attraction the way I’m using the word attraction.”

“How do you define it?”

“In a short span of time that I interact with someone a little voice in the back of my head lights up in interest.”

Princess Zelda’s face unfurled. “You’re referring to surface attraction.”

Sir Link shrugged.

She thought on it. “Yes, Lady Impa is attractive, she’s tall and pretty and resourceful and loyal, but I do not think I’ve ever been attracted to her.”

“There’s a difference?”

“Isn’t there?” She arched a brow and smiled. “If you were attracted to everyone you found attractive, you would feel compelled to win the regard of each of them, and not be content to simply think ‘they’re pretty’ and move on.”

“That makes sense.”

“And then there’s sexual attraction, which I have been led to believe is instantaneous.”

“It doesn’t have to be.” Sir Link hedged, “It’s not for you?”

“Not at all. I cannot form romantic or sexual attraction for anyone until I know something about their mind.”

“You can’t look at someone and think they’re sexy?”

“That they’re sexually viable?”

“No,” he almost laughed, “not that they’re waist-to-hip ratio is mathematically correct,” and he smiled when she pouted at him, “but that you would like to talk to them with the intention of getting them alone to flirt and kiss.”

She looked at the ceiling thoughtfully. The move emphasized the length and shape of her neck. She eventually replied, “The vessel may be beautiful, but I will not use it if it contains water when I desire wine.”

Sir Link’s hindbrain whimpered, I want her to write me poetry. He told it to shut up.

“I must know what I am imbibing in before I drink,” she clarified, ignorant of Sir Link committing her turns of phrase to memory. She met his eye. “Are men capable of looking at strangers and wishing right away to bed them?”

“Princess, it depends on the person. Men aren’t some alien race. I’m sure there are women who feel that way.”

“Really?”

“Have you spoken to anyone else about this kind of stuff?”

She shook her head. “Lady Impa, briefly.”

“Not Lady Urbosa?”

She blushed. “She knows me too well. You’re the first I’ve asked explicitly.”

He was honoured.

“Before you, I was reading books and the forgotten journals of courtiers of the past.”

“And what did you learn from their diaries?”

“That…sometimes sex is a chore, sometimes it is a delight, sometimes love is wonderful, sometimes it is mistaken for loathing, and often attraction is a horrible measure of someone’s character.”

Sir Link smiled.

“I sense, however, that it is universal that love comes later. It cannot be rushed. It must be cultivated.”

Sir Link hummed attentively.

“In Lord Floria’s case, then,” she began, and Sir Link braced himself. “He’s demonstrated he is attracted to me sexually. But he has also demonstrated a desire to know me as a person, and has shown that in some respect he already does. It is flattering that he desires both the body and the mind.”

Sir Link hummed.

“But he has yet to respond to my letter,” she said nervously. “And I don’t know what to make of his silence when he was initially so prolific.”

Sir Link avoided her eyes. This was his opportunity. “Maybe he’s had his fun.”

Princess Zelda turned to him and blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Maybe that’s all this was to him,” Sir Link said to his writing desk. “Just a fun flirtation with the princess, send her a lot of pretty words and get her interested for bragging rights.”

She was breathing shallowly. Sir Link looked up. He startled.

Princess Zelda was crying.

“Zel—”

“Please go away.”

“Zel—Your Highness. I’m sorry.”

“At the moment I do not care. Do not speak to me in a friendly capacity for three days or unless I approach you first. Do you understand, Sir Link?”

Sir Link’s heart broke. “Yes, Your Highness.” He did not apologize again. He stood outside the door and fixed his face and ignored the curious looks of the other guards on duty.

There is a way that you walk that begs me to be silent

Your skirts go sweep. Sweep. Sweep. They’re chatty.

And then you turn and I understand why the old scholars said

That circles were the most perfect shape in the universe.

~~Wait not~~

Parabolas in her hair and regalia when she swings

~~Wait no~~

Is the right word an ellipse?

[very bad mathematics]

Kilton turned around and shrieked. When he was calm he said, “If it isn’t my favourite customer! You have an enticing aroma about you today. Is it, hinox marrow? No, it’s too metallic. Lynel hooves?”

Sir Link said, “I have a commission for you.”

Kilton was still sniffing at the air. “Name it.”

“It has to be your best work.”

“What is the worth of my best work?”

“What is the worth of the livers of six silver moblins and the brains of two silver lynels?”

Kilton’s eyes shone.

When King Rhoam heard that Sir Link was dismissed from his current shift, therefore inverting the princess guard’s schedule and disorienting a good third of the Castle staff, he summoned Princess Zelda to his office to tell her to stop acting on whims.

He paused when he saw her. Princess Zelda was pale, ruddy eyed, and held herself tight.

King Rhoam stood, “Zelda, what’s happened?”

“All is well, Your Majesty,” she jut her chin in the air. “Would you like a report of the investigation I had mentioned when we last spoke?”

“Put aside duty for a moment, Zelda, you are crying.”

She sulked.

“Please talk to me. I am your father.”

Princess Zelda still held herself too tight, but she let out a shaky sigh. “It is nothing. It’s been fixed.”

He hesitated. “Are you referring to you switching Sir Link to night duty?”

Princess Zelda said nothing.

“That took a bit of shuffling. No-one else can keep up with you like he does, and his skills are such that two to three soldiers minimum will be required to escort you off the premises.”

“I am aware.”

“You cannot inconvenience others just because of a quarrel, Zelda.”

Princess Zelda stared at him. Her eyes were hard but her shoulders shook. “Are you going to reassign him to me?”

He narrowed his eyes: “Did he hurt you?”

“No!” She was offended. “Never!”

He relaxed. He was glad for their friendship, for Princess Zelda had so few true friends and their genuine rapport meant that Sir Link was personally invested in his daughter’s safety.

Yet he worried that they were so obviously each other’s weaknesses. If anyone desired to unsettle the princess, they need only attack Sir Link. If anyone desired to rattle Sir Link, they need only start a rumour about the princess.

“I have another question, then. You put in a request to designate Sir Link as your aide.”

“…yes.”

“Sir Link is already Captain of the Princess Guard, your Appointed Knight, and does the ceremonial duties required of the Hero of Hyrule. You ask him to be your eyes, ears and hands as well?”

“He already is, father. He might as well get paid for it.”

King Rhoam laughed. “So the rumour that you gave him your seal to sign off on documents is true?”

She blushed a little. “It expedites the process.”

“Stop making the poor boy do your work.”

“Father, he literally takes the work out of my hands.”

He stopped arguing. “How will he be your aide if he’s on night duty?”

“I don’t know, ask him!”

“Beg pardon?”

“I’m not the one who assigned him to night duty!”

“Then who else has the authority—”

“Who else in the castle as the authority to upend the schedules of the Princess Guard?”

King Rhoam was bemused.

Princess Zelda folded her arms. “And I don’t care. I don’t want to see him either!”

“Mm.”

She glared at her father’s disbelieving tone.

It’s not gross I think

The koroks say its normal anyway

Well, koroks are weird though

And they grow mushrooms out of their heads

So they’re gross actually

But they said its totally normal

To look at an aphid and give it your name.

I shouldn’t take their advice.

Princess Zelda’s workload increased and the request to designate Sir Link as Princess Aide stalled. Their sudden falling out was the talk of the castle.

Princess Zelda told a new lie whenever someone asked her what had happened. “He squashed my favourite pet cricket,” she said yesterday. “He asked me to return his favourite cap,” she said today. Three minutes ago, she told a brave librarian that Sir Link had the audacity to say “Hylia bless you” when she coughed, rather than when she sneezed.

Sir Link, of course, was silent.

Some of the suitors saw this as a good thing. Despite that Sir Link didn’t believe it, many of them did view him as competition or were otherwise jealous of his friendliness with her. They were eager to fill the void Sir Link left behind.

Unfortunately, Princess Zelda was in a poor mood, and she gave three overeager suitors such a tongue lashing that in one afternoon they’d packed up and left.

King Rhoam asked her over dinner, “I can find another aide for you.”

“I’m sure we could find another sun and moon if we looked hard enough.”

King Rhoam said nothing more over dinner.

Sir Link, according to the Princess Guard, seemed indifferent to the sudden distance between himself and the princess. This was their opinion until training. Sir Link had left a crater in the training yard’s wall.

Then Prince Lo came.

Prince Lo came during the change of the guard and Sir Link was not feeling optimistic enough to believe that it was a coincidence. He stopped when the little prince hailed him.

Prince Lo barely swallowed his smile. “Oh my. What have I done to merit that glare?”

Sir Link kept walking. “It’s midnight, Your Highness. You should be resting.”

“I dare not. I’m too busy spending all night dreaming up machinations to take over the world.”

“I believe it.” He did not slow.

“I see I’m no longer in your good graces.”

“Threatening people tends to do that, Your Highness.”

“You may refer to me as lord or Lo. I do not mind.”

“I am not interested in being you friend.”

Prince Lo touched his elbow. “Please slow.”

Sir Link sighed and did. Prince Lo was breathing deeply and a little flushed. Sir Link waited to feel guilty over it. He did not.

“I did not mean to threaten you. I meant to say your secret was safe with me.”

“It doesn’t matter if it is.”

“I will not use it as leverage.”

“What’s the worth of your word?”

Prince Lo smiled. “You’re being impolite. I will forgive you this once.”

Sir Link intentionally took the path that had more stairs.

“Sir Link: I am being honest. I need your help.”

“There is no need for pleasantries, my lord. I know when I’m being blackmailed.”

Prince Lo frowned at last. “Are you often so sceptical?”

“Of people who are good at politicking? Yes.”

“Sir Link, I am a prince. I must be sociable, likeable, and capable of delivering to others what they want.”

“You’re good at it.”

“I sense that wasn’t a compliment but I thank you anyway. I mean to say that while I am in the process of mastering manipulation, that doesn’t make me a bad person, anymore than you are evil because you wield a sword that can kill.”

Sir Link met his eyes impatiently.

Prince Lo told him what he wanted: “I underestimated the extent to which Princess Zelda values your friendship.”

Sir Link stared.

“Surely you’ve heard: she’s going through her work at rabid speed, barely slows down for pleasantries, and I’ve heard her ladies-in-waiting have been furtively asking for food that is portable and easy to keep.”

Sir Link closed his eyes. “She’s not eating.”

“My thoughts as well.”

His eyes flew open. “I’m not working with you.”

“I said it before and I say it again: I want you as an ally. If I end up lucky enough to be called Prince Consort one day, you will be a daily fixture in my life and it would be irresponsible to not at least be civil with you. If I do not become consort, then it would be a boon to be on good terms with the Marquis of Faron and its wealth of lumber, gold, and produce.”

“If you want to establish trade with Faron—”

“I seek to be friends with Faron.”

Sir Link stared at him.

“Let me prove to you that I am not the villain you make me out to be. Help me help Princess Zelda.”

“…she might snap out of her funk on her own.”

Prince Lo’s eyebrows rose. “She’s done this before?”

“A few times.” He did not feel comfortable telling Prince Lo of her habits, episodes, and frequent low moods. She once overheard someone call her bipolar and the stigma haunted her for weeks. “Lady Impa could help you.”

“Lady Impa does not like me.”

“I don’t like you.”

“Well, no, but frankly you’re less scary.”

Sir Link couldn’t help the small smile.

“Far be it for me to make myself into your confidant, but I could at least ask: what is the nature of your spectacular falling out?”

Sir Link sighed. He answered hesitantly, “I mentioned that the Marquis of Faron might not be half as interested in her as she is in him.”

“But…you’re…the marquis?”

“She doesn’t know that.”

Prince Lo shook his head, “She doesn’t?!”

Sir Link was startled. “I thought you knew that that was what you were holding over me.”

“I am not threatening you with this knowledge, Sir Link!” He seemed impatient. “What’s more I thought it was the court at large you didn’t want to know about your title!”

“Them too.”

“Because of the attention it would gather, hm? The politicking that you so detest.”

Sir Link narrowed his eyes.

“You are too kind to do it, I understand. Removing yourself entirely was a bold move—you made yourself into a conversation piece.”

“So long as the conversation isn’t with me, I don’t mind.”

Prince Lo laughed. “I think I’m growing fond of you.”

The feeling was mutual but Sir Link dare not admit it.

“But I don’t understand. Why would you attempt to dissuade Princess Zelda’s attentions? And why was she so upset with you?”

“I don’t want to marry her.”

Prince Lo blinked.

“I don’t want to be Prince Consort,” he specified.

“But you’re practically her consort in all but name.”

“No, I’m no—”

“That is the reason the rest of us detest you so. We’re miserable that we’ve been called to the castle to jump about posturing for the princess when by all appearances the choice has already been made.”

“Princess Zelda doesn’t see me like that.”

“Sir Link,” he pinched the bridge of his nose, “you just said that she was interested in the marquis.”

“Yes. The marquis. The stranger who writes her awkward poetry. She’s never shown interest in me.”

Prince Lo frowned and folded his arms. “I suppose I can understand your point. What a show. A woman is in love with parts of you but not the whole. It puts in perspective your decision to remain anonymous and to throw her off the marquis.”

“Mm.”

“And your intolerance for court and poor socialization skills explains your aversion to add Prince Consort to your list of titles.”

Sir Link glared.

“This despite that you’re handling half of her work on top of the work of running one sixth of all of Hyrule.”

“It’s mostly jungle.”

“Your humility is starting to annoy me. Shut up.”

Sir Link decided that he liked Prince Lo after all.

He shook his head. “What a mess. And then—perhaps the princess is not in love with Sir Link, but she certainly holds him in high regard, for they’ve had a spat and for the past week and a half they’ve both been in a blustering mood.”

“I’m not in a mood.”

Incredulously—with the most emotion anyone had ever seen of him—be rebuked, “The training yard had to be repaired!”

Sir Link avoided his eyes.

“Sir Link?”

“My lord.”

Prince Lo smiled, and Sir Link could tell that despite that it was the same shape as his cold ones, this smile was genuine. He said, “I want to help.”

“So that I’ll be in your debt?”

“I look forward to the day when I will find your inelegant quips amusing.”

Sir Link liked that he was able to annoy him. “What do you want?”

“Where does she go to cool down? What does she like to do that’s soothing? What does she like to eat that’s portable and keeps well?”

“Her study or her station at the tech lab. Riding her horse or conducting surveys, usually where there are no people. She likes salted roasted chicaloo tree nuts, dried honeyed fruits, jerky, lemonade, chocolate covered peanuts, and picking her own fruits while traveling.”

“You are a wellspring of knowledge.”

“I’ve traveled two paces behind her every day for six years.”

“It’s no wonder then that you won her over with just forty-nine bits of poetry.”

“Why do you know this.”

“Do you really want to know?”

Sir Link stared at him.

“I like your little glares,” Prince Lo leaned down and pecked his cheek. “I find them flattering.”

Movement caused them both to turn. Princess Zelda had just rounded the corner. Her skin was soft from sleep, her hair was bound beneath a satin tie, and her gown was long and white. She looked pretty. She had a candle in her left hand and—to Prince Lo’s great amusement—a bowl of honeyed fruits in the other.

“Pardon my interruption, gentlemen,” and she turned on her heel and walked away.

Sir Link felt terribly embarrassed.

Prince Lo said, “I believe we have just complicated an already complex situation.”

“Mhm.”

Princess Zelda attended the festival at Kakariko Village and issued invitations to three suitors to accompany her. In Sir Link’s place were three seasoned guards who weren’t half as friendly and stared at her fearfully if she asked for their opinion on her hair.

(Sir Link would have laughed. Sir Link would have said “you look like Hebra Mountain”, and then Princess Zelda would be forced to smother him with a pillow. She did not miss him.)

Kakariko Village was beautiful, and Lady Impa’s arm was a happy weight tangled with hers. Despite her naked heartbreak, they laughed and ate and bought masks and grinned at the performers and poor drunk Cado perched on a roof crowing for his wife to come back home.

“It’s deceptive,” Princess Zelda said of the wine in her hands. “It’s sweet and doesn’t burn.”

“Yes, it hits you slowly.” Lady Impa offered her fried dumplings. “Eat, let the food absorb the alcohol.”

Princess Zelda ate.

“Prince Lo and Lord Mabe haven’t gotten more than ten minutes each with you.”

“Prince Lo is networking.”

“It’s true. I’d never have expected it of a bookworm.”

“He’s good.”

“He’d make a fine king?”

“A fine businessman at least.”

“What about life partner?”

“Too soon to tell. Oh, what are those things? Sweet or savory?”

“Savory. Good night, Rola! May I have three each please? Is it chicken?”

Rola, Cado’s wife, grinned predatorily. “It’s cucco.”

Princess Zelda and Lady Impa were polite enough not to laugh until they were out of earshot. The kebabs were delicious.

Lady Impa took her to watch the koi and asked, “And Lord Mabe?”

“He seems lost.”

“Well, you invited him out of a blue to a festival that he has to share with other suitors and you’ve given neither of them the time of day.”

“Am I cruel?”

“A little, princess.”

She drained her cup of alcohol.

“Tonight feels as though you’re taking your frustration from one place and dumping it on another. Sound familiar?”

“No.”

“It reminds me of a story of a princess who used to drag her knight through the wringer because she was upset with everything but him.”

“You read too many stories.” And Princess Zelda led Lady Impa to find a vat with more alcohol.

“Moderation, Your Highness.”

“That’s why you’re here.”

Lady Impa smiled and sighed and waved off the cup that was offered her. She took the princess to buy masks and paper fans. Princess Zelda drank a little more and ate a little more and avoided Lord Mabe a little more.

And then she stopped in her tracks.

Lady Impa oofed when her shoulder pulled. She followed the princess’ line of sight, but could only see more tacky tourists in mismatched masks. “Your Highness?”

“He came.”

“Who?”

She pointed.

“I don’t…”

“The Marquis of Faron. He came.”

“What?!” But all Lady Impa could see were people.

“I invited him to spite Sir Link. I didn’t expect him to appear, especially after he never answered my letter.” She seemed less star-struck now, more guarded.

“How can you tell him apart from the others?”

“The mask he’s wearing is not of Kakariko make. It has two tusks on either side of his face, and the part over his eyes looks like the top half of a skull, and the red mane covering his hair and ears and go over his shoulders are made of true hair instead of straw.”

Lady Impa saw him. Now that she knew what to look for, the Marquis of Faron stood out like a sore thumb. His clothes were the overpriced Kakariko robes that were sold out of the tourist shop. His nose and mouth were painted. He looked like a lynel.

“But how are you so sure it’s him—woah!”

“Lady Impa,” Princess Zelda suddenly turned around. “I have a favor to ask.”

“I’m not going to like it.”

“Lord Floria is a private man. I want to speak with him privately.”

“You want my help to ditch your guards.”

“No—they’re far less attentive than Sir Link, I can escape them. I am please asking to ditch you.”

Lady Impa smiled. “How can I say no if you ask so politely?”

Princess Zelda kissed her cheek. “Thank you for trusting me.”

“Of course, Your Highness.” And she let her go.

Princess Zelda disappeared to change her clothes. She purchased an overpriced summer robe and stuffed her hair beneath a straw hat and reapplied the mask that covered the top half of her face. She walked past the ignorant Lord Mabe.

She touched the marquis’ shoulder—he turned only his head—and she smiled. He was eating. He would get along with Sir Link.

(She did not miss him.)

“Lord Floria?”

His jaw stopped working.

“I’m beyond pleased you accepted my invitation.”

His mask blacked out his eyes. If they hadn’t, she was sure she’d have seen them widen in recognition. He swallowed and covered his mouth with the back of his hand when he coughed. Princess Zelda passed him her water bottle.

“Thank you,” he said as he returned it. He spoke Zora Sign.

Princess Zelda paused.

She knew sign. But the fact that the man who had pursued her so sweetly spoke with his hands endeared her to him. She was learning about him at last! She could not help her grin. She answered with her hands, “You’re welcome.”

His grin looked helpless too.

His lips looked pretty painted. She remembered one of his letters. She looked away and didn’t know what to say next.

“Thank you for inviting me,” he said shyly, and the movement recaptured her attention. His hands were painted too, concentric circles around his fingers and as though he dipped the very tips in ink. What colour was it? Vermillion? Burgundy? Firelight was unreliable. Did the patterns disappear beneath his robes—?

Mind out of the gutter, Zelda.

“Thank you for coming. I was afraid you would not.”

“I had to think about it.”

“Had you changed your mind about me?”

His hands rose and fell in hesitation. “When I received your letter…”

“Wait,” and she slipped her arm through his elbow and pressed forward.

He fell into step with her as though he’d done so a thousand times before. Their shoulders were at the same height, and he matched her gait to keep them touching. Through the thin material of their ostensibly priced and cheaply made robes she could tell he ran hot. The mane of his mask licked her cheek and it was stiff and itchy. She resisted the urge to dip her nose in it and smell.

Princess Zelda led Lord Floria up the dark road to the shrine that overlooked the village. It a popular necking spot for couples. Lord Flora’s pace did not slow, but he was growing distractible.

Princess Zelda pulled the Sheikah Slate from its hiding place and touched it to the pedestal. Lord Floria did not startle half as much as she thought he might as it bid them entry.

“The Hero of Hyrule was instrumental in discovering how to activate the system of towers and shrines across Hyrule. He was, for lack of a better word, the key; the Ancient Sheikah somehow created a sensor that could recognize the spirit—or, as I suspect, the nueral signature—of the hero. After activating the shrines and visiting most of them, they opened thereafter for anyone who possessed the Sheikah slate.” She smiled at him as they descended. “No one will disturb us here.”

In the blue light of the shrine, she saw more details: the patterns on the mask, the braids in the mane, and the sandals that added to his height. His hands moved roughly, “You shouldn’t be so ready to be alone with strangers.”

“Do you intend to hurt me?”

He gasped. “No!”

“Then your warning is unnecessary. And I have means of protecting myself, worry you not.”

In the distance, a little guardian hopped back and forth.

“You can ignore it. I reprogrammed it, so it is incapable of recognizing combatants. Will you sit with me please?”

He sat. She watched him. He did not carry himself like a man born into wealth or status. With his hands on his thighs her attention was drawn to it. The swell of his muscle implied unusual strength. She sat across from him and removed her mask.

He moved uncomfortably.

“You may keep your mask on, Lord Floria,” she said quickly. “You went to great lengths to maintain your privacy all these years. I will not ask you to bare yourself to me simply because I have your favour.”

His throat bobbed—Princess Zelda’s eyes trained on it. She checked herself again. She was fascinated with her own unbidden reactions.

He said, “What is this?”

“This being…?” she smiled.

“You made sure that we were alone.”

“Indeed.”

Lord Floria swallowed and rubbed his thighs.

Princess Zelda frowned. “I beg your pardon if I was too forward. I wanted to lend you privacy so that you can speak with me comfortably. You do not look comfortable.”

“I…am not.”

“Was it something I did?”

“I am afraid of how you will react.”

“React to what?”

“I did not send you those letters intentionally.”

Princess Zelda became unreadable.

Lord Floria continued, “My sister—I love her but I’m locking her up and throwing away the key—my sister sent you those letters without my knowledge. No-one was supposed to read them. Least of all you.”

Princess Zelda nodded. “I see.”

“I’m sorry I hurt you.” She needed to understand that. “I never meant to hurt you.”

“Not at all,” she smiled. “You have been honest with me and forthright.”

“I’m wearing a mask.”

“And whatever your reasons for doing so, I will respect them.”

“You trust me too easily.”

“Oh?”

“I could be a Yiga spy.”

“That’s unlikely.”

He stared at her in abject horror. How could she be so sure?!

“You’ve yet made one comment about bananas.”

Lord Floria stifled a laugh in his elbow. Princess Zelda laughed outright. She held herself at her elbows and Lord Floria internally winced: she was feeling insecure.

“The letter that I sent to you is embarrassing in retrospect.”

“Not half as embarrassing as what was sent to you. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I spoke the truth when I said I enjoyed them.” She gathered some courage, “And you are uninterested in being considered as a suitor?”

Lord Floria shifted. “You…want me still?”

She blushed. “You’ve exhibited an awareness of my person that is most flattering.”

“Most would find forty-nine love letters repulsive.”

“Fifty, actually.”

Lord Floria groaned in pain.

She giggled. “My opinion might have been different if the things that you said weren’t so obviously concerned with my person, rather than your desires.”

“I don’t understand.”

“For example, you spoke about visiting Goron City and discovering a rock that tastes like a cross between cinnamon, turmeric, and seared lamb. You said that you have yet to brown onions on it, but on the day that you do you wish to share that experience with me.”

Lord Floria’s mask was fearsome. He was gifted at looking bashful and pleased while wearing it.

“Everything that you wrote are things you wrote in the hope that it would make me happy.”

“What else would I have written about?”

“Well, others would talk at length about how I make them feel.”

He blushed harder. “There was plenty of that…!”

“Yes.” She smiled shyly. “In the context of your greater work, I found those flattering too.”

Lord Floria lifted his hand—to speak? To rub his neck?—he dropped it to his lap again and rubbed his palms on his thighs. Princess Zelda again grew aware of his pretty shapes. She looked away.

She asked, “You spoke so little of yourself. Can we talk about you?”

His mouth moved in a flat line. “Why?”

She quailed at his defensiveness. She had expected this going differently. While, yes, he explained that the letters were sent to her on accident, he had confirmed that they were his, and she had confirmed that she welcomed them. Yet he was still uncomfortable with her interest?

“Lord Floria…by chance do you feel that I hold you captive here?”

To her horror, he nodded shallowly.

“I am sorry.” She stood. “I will return you to the surface posthaste. My intention was to make you feel safe, not to see me as a threat.”

“No! I do not. I—yes, it’s not easy for me to walk away, but I don’t want to. Pardon me, I am saying all the wrong things…”

Princess Zelda tried not to smile. He was the embodiment of his letters.

“I’m just…wary.”

She kneeled. “What can I do to make you feel less wary?”

His hands fell unsurely. His mouth worked—the green pain emphasized the red of his mouth and tongue and mind out of the gutter, Zelda!—he signed, “Why do you trust me?”

“My aides investigated you. They do not perceive you as a threat.”

He radiated doubt. “I was under the impression that Sir Link did not like me.”

“Sir Link doesn’t like any of my suitors,” she scoffed.

“Maybe because he—"

“We’re not talking about him.”

He nodded.

“I trust you because in fifty letters you told me that you liked me, and you did it in a raw, unfiltered, observant way. You see me. And you like what you see that others would find strange or off-putting. I want to know the shape of the mind of the man who likes me and figure out if I like him too.”

Lord Floria nodded. “I do not want to be your suitor.”

She smiled sadly. “Okay.”

“But I would like to talk a little more, please.”

She smiled brightly. “I would like that too.”

He smiled broadly enough to show off the edges of his eyeteeth and Princess Zelda thought: O Hylia preserve me.

Princess Zelda returned to the surface with her hand at the small of Lord Floria’s back. She could not tell in the dark light, but she hoped he was pleased with her willingness to touch him. At least, he did not shift away.

“If I ever make you uncomfortable you must tell me.”

Lord Floria bobbed his head and did not shift away.

Lady Impa recognized her from afar. The soldiers looked restless having lost sight of their charge, but whatever Lady Impa relayed must have placated them. Lord Mabe had taken up with a handsome and stout woman in a dark corner of someone’s pumpkin patch. Princess Zelda had hurried them away because she could not trust herself not to giggle at their moaning.

Prince Lo was still chatting up the locals, food on his arm and his glowering attendant at his back. He didn’t appear to miss the princess at all.

Lord Floria pointed and offered his elbow. Whatever caught his attention, she followed. She laughed when he handed her a bowl of steaming, seasoned noodles.

“I expected nothing less.”

They sat on the bridge overlooking the goddess statue, swung their feet over the water, pulled at the noodles with chopsticks. Lord Floria was an expert at it. He wordlessly grinned and adjusted her failing fingers.

His touch lanced interest through her, and she ducked her head. The move hid her eyes from him, but not her grin.

“Thank you.”

“Yeah.” And he polished off his meal.

People walked behind them. They were moving into place to watch the stage set up in front of the tribe leader’s home. On the stage young, strapping shirtless men were moving drums half their size into place.

“There’s Caho!” Princess Zelda pointed in delight. “He is the castle’s bard. He has incredible range—the history of any song, the needs of any instrument, he knows it. He told me he trained among the Rito for years. Have you ever heard him sing?”

Lord Floria nodded. “He sings beautifully.”

“So you have been to the castle.”

Sir Floria flinched.

“At ease,” she touched his shoulder. It was hard and round and filled out the cup of her hand. “That’s too little for me to identify you with.”

“The little things add up.”

Princess Zelda stirred her noodles. “I will curb my curiosity. The last thing I want to do is scare my new friend off.”

His mask tilted—it was interesting how so much of him was concealed and how expressive he still managed to be. “Can you curb your curiosity?”

She laughed because she was delighted with his teasing. “I can try!”

He grinned. “I don’t think you can put down a puzzle once you find it.”

“Who are you to know me so accurately?”

“I’m L-I-N-K of Deya.”

Princess Zelda laughed so hard she upset her noodles on the goddess’ head.

After they ran away, they ran into the conundrum of finding a good place to watch the drum choir. Almost all the men and women, thick and handsome, were in place already. Lord Floria suddenly took her hand. He pointed.

O Hylia, Princess Zelda protested, why did you fashion me this way? She felt like her very skin was purring at his touch.

He gestured at the helmet roof of the clothes shop. He looked very proud of himself.

“My lord, you can’t expect me to climb a sheer surface, do you?”

He showed her handholds between the fibres.

“I…well.”

“I will be below you and catch you if you fall,” he promised. “Give me your shoes.”

“My shoes?”

“You need your toes to climb.”

It was in this unbecoming fashion that Princess Zelda began to climb a stranger’s roof for the first time in her life. The summer robes stretched around her legs as she found purpose, and her fingers burned as they learned how to keep purchase, but the exertion was not unwelcome, and the juvenile nature of it all summoned unrepentant grinning and giggling.

She looked down to gauge Lord Floria’s progress. He was beneath her, a little to the side, and much less winded than her. Even in the dark she could see his reassuring smile. The drums began.

“Ah! They’re starting! They’re starting!” She climbed with new energy.

The drums were so loud that they pounded in her blood and drowned out the wind that had knocked her hat back to hang around her neck. She crested the rooftop and saw the lights, the bright orange drums, and Caho’s fixed determined expression—“Oooh!”—and her toe slipped.

Before she could yelp, Lord Floria’s hand caught her around her waist and pinned her to the slope of the roof. He exhaled shortly. Princess Zelda smiled sheepishly.

“Oops.”

He pointed with his chin and she climbed and settled on the top of the roof. “Lord Floria!” She gasped. “There’s a cucco up here! Look! There’s a cucco!”

Lord Floria waved the cucco away, and the cucco wouldn’t bless him with as much as a side-eye.

Oh, but the view was unparalleled! The stage was bright with light reflected with giant mirrors. The drums seemed to glow with it, as did the performers’ skins, already sweaty between the heat and the exertion. She danced her shoulders to the beat.

Lord Floria settled behind her. He straddled the roof. This meant that his legs were on either side of her. She turned her head to watch him in question.

“In case you fall again.”

She laughed, but they could barely hear it. Her hands were languid, “I think I did pretty well for my first time climbing!”

He did not move yet he radiated doubt. She smacked his shoulder affectionately and he grinned.

Princess Zelda kept herself still and her back straight. She genuinely enjoyed the music, the power of it, the ease with which she could get lost in its polytechnic rhythms, but she was equally as engaged with the concept that the man who found her desirable was sitting behind her. Maybe he was even watching her.

She scratched the back of her neck where the coarse, cheap, expensive summer robe rubbed awkwardly. Her braids were coming undone too. With her eyes still trained on Caho, she released her hair from its severe bun. She pulled the weight of it—free from beads at last—over one shoulder in a move she hoped was both innocent and sensual. She absently checked the end of each long plait.

Lord Floria shifted behind her. She took pride in that.

“Hat,” he said in her peripheral vision.

“Thank you, will you untie it for me?” And she straightened her back and lengthened her neck. She felt no shame. Lord Floria did not protest her flirting so far.

His fingers moved slowly and he took care not to touch her. The rope for the hat fell away first, then the rope of the mask, then his forefinger burned a line in her skin…

She turned sharply. He retreated, and she turned more to catch his eye. She could see his shoulders move with each breath. They were narrow shoulders, strong shoulders.

He leaned back, and she supposed that was that, until he timidly asked: “Is it okay to touch you a little?” His hands jerked as if they were yanking on the reins of a runaway horse.

She smiled. “You intend to take liberties and you won’t seriously court me?”

He shrunk.

“I’m teasing,” she pressed a hand to his knee. The robe had ridden up such that some of his thigh was exposed. His beautiful legs were painted in a parody of a lyenl’s striped skin. It disappeared beneath the hem of his robe. She kept her hand on his knee. Squarely on his knee. “But I will allow you to touch only one place.”

His mask tilted in question.

Princess Zelda turned her back to him again, took a bracing breath, and pointed to her nape.

He did nothing. Princess Zelda felt the first prickles of shame. Should she tough it out and stay? Should she cut her losses and descend? The cucco before her had no opinion.

And then she felt the first graze of fingers beneath the curtain of her hair. She inhaled. He moved so slow that each snag of his dry skin on hers sent sparks down her back. Now the drum choir’s song matched her heartbeat precisely.

Lord Floria’s right hand cupped the right side of her neck, pushing more of her hair away by the knuckles, and exposing more skin for the fingers of his left hand to draw ineffectual designs. She closed her eyes and tried to visualise what he was drawing. They were only curves and strokes. She imagined soft fireworks. She imagined popping seed pods. She imagined snowflakes being drawn with a calligraphy brush.

Soft, warm, damp pressure was to follow.

Princess Zelda feared to move lest she frighten him off. Lord Floria pressed a second kiss just above the first, just below her hairline. He moved so slowly that she could not predict him. He kissed her again. He kissed her again. His exhales buffeted the backs of her sensitive ears.

Parts of her were alight. She knew that if he were to touch her at these places, she would part like a flower bud.

Lord Floria’s thumb pressed lightly on the base of her skull. She obediently tilted her head forward. His mouth descended on new paths of skin. His fingers massaged her hairline. She shuffled. She very much wanted to sit on him.

He retreated, and Princess Zelda turned. If she had the means to see herself, her dazed eyes, her sadness, she’d have been embarrassed. She asked, “Why did you stop?”

Lord Floria seemed about to speak before he caught himself. He said, “It’s not fair to you.”

“I enjoyed it.”

“So did I. Very much.”

Princess Zelda kept her eyes on his face. She did not look down. She did not look down.

“I asked you not to consider me a suitor. I should not have asked to touch you. I am sorry.”

“I understand you seek no permanence. I’m mature enough to enjoy a noncommittal dalliance. I want you to touch me.”

The drumming finally stopped.

Lord Floria seemed to be in great pain. Princess Zelda would have liked to tip his hand: to crawl in his lap, to finally feel the flex of his thighs beneath her own, and to taste the paint on his lips and chin. She forced herself to sit still and look patient.

“Please pardon me, Your Highness. I’ve been indecisive and contrary. I am–you are–you are…”

She warmed in pleasure when his lips moved as he struggled to explain. “I think I understand. I likewise find you tempting.”

He exhaled a voiceless sound of amusement, agreement, and pain. “Yes. Tempting is the word. I apologise. I should have controlled myself.”

“I am no better, Lord Floria. I hoped to attract you.”

She saw his throat bob. He rubbed his mouth with his knuckles. It was a nervous tell. “You don’t need to hope.”

She shivered. His movements slowed: he saw it.

She asked, “May I ask, if it does not give too much away, why you are uninterested in vying for the position of Prince Consort?”

“And torture myself with believing you are within reach only to have you yanked away?”

“That is unlikely to happen if you are in the running.”

Lord Floria swallowed again. Princess Zelda wondered, was she flirting? Was she drawing these reactions out of him with words alone?

“I am uncomfortable with the concept of helping you rule Hyrule. If I fail–”

“Don’t you oversee the fourth largest region on the continent?”

“It’s mostly jungle.”

Princess Zelda laughed. “And he’s humble! A man after my own heart.”

“I cannot be Prince Consort,” he said definitively. “I have duties that don’t allow it.”

Powerfully disappointed, Princess Zelda smiled and nodded. “Very well. But goodness, my lord, you are gifted at keeping a woman wanting.”

Lord Floria blushed and looked everything like a delighted schoolboy. Princess Zelda laughed.

She convinced him to use the cucco to fly down. She shrieked the whole way.

I think all pleasures taste better on the beach.

The eyes find bright colours;

The ears find the crash of waves;

The tongue finds pleasure.

Princess Zelda threw her bedroom doors open at midnight.

Sir Link startled terribly.

It had been sixteen days since they had last spoke. That is: it had been sixteen days since Sir Link had spoken to Princess Zelda. It had been two days since he replied to her letter on palynology reports from two Zonai archaeological dig sites as Lord Floria.

“Sir Link.”

The entire guard flinched.

“Attend. Now.”

“Uh—”

“Now.”

Sir Link skipped forward. To his relief, Princess Zelda did not close the doors behind her. She did, however, drag him well out of earshot, up the staircase, to the open corridor that approached her study. It was a nippy evening. Her glower was colder.

“You have been avoiding me.”

Sir Link ducked his head. “Your High—”

“Look at me.”

He startled.

“Why have you been avoiding me?”

Sir Link could not tell her the truth.

“Yes, I was upset at you over something trivial, but how does that warrant you keeping your distance for three weeks?”

“I…”

She waited.

Sir Link scratched the back of his head. “Why were you so upset?”

Princess Zelda frowned. She looked ready to yell at him. She folded her arms and replied quietly, “I was upset because Lord Floria wrote poetry that touched my heart, and you succinctly told me that it likely meant nothing.”

“I—I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I know. I had overreacted. You had a valid point.”

“Well, yes. But I could have said it kinder.”

“I hold nothing against you, dear friend.”

“Mm. Well. You asked for time to process.”

“Yes.”

“I overreacted.”

She giggled and he smiled reflexively. “You did a little. Inverting nearly everyone’s schedule just over a spat.”

“My best friend didn’t want to see me. I was depressed.”

“Aw. Sir Link. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry. About what I said.”

“You had a point. And it was sobering.” She smiled at him. “I invited him to Kakariko to spite you.”

Sir Link’s gut clenched.

She went on, “If you were right, then I was going to find you and bully you into returning to your original shifts.”

“And if I was wrong?”

“Oh, I’d still bully you.” She grinned. “You were wrong, by the way.”

He smiled a little. “Lord Floria was genuine?”

“Yes. Oh, he was darling. Cute, sensitive, adventurous and shy—and with quite the appetite, you would like him. Or maybe not. You’d compete for food.”

Sir Link shrugged.

“And he…and he…he wants nothing to do with me.”

Sir Link startled. He lifted his hands, but she was not crying. “I’m…sorry.”

“Sir Link: please revert to your previous rotation.”

“Right away, Your Highness.”

“Also I want you to be my aide.”

“I would be honoured, Your Highness.”

“Can I get a hug, please?”

Sir Link froze.

Sir Link could count on one hand how many times he had embraced Princess Zelda.

The first was their second trip to the Spring of Power. She stepped out of the water so cold that she was weeping. She clutched his tunic and wouldn’t let go for love or money. He liked to think that it was after that that their friendship really kicked off.

The second was when she figured out a workaround for the adapters on the Guardian Stalkers and she hugged him so hard she lifted him clean off his feet.

The third was when they were returning from Rito Village. She tackled him into a snowbank.

The fourth time wasn’t really a hug. He’d been lying on Chee and Princess Zelda said they looked cosy, so Chee invited her to lie with them, and in order to accommodate three mostly grown people in the straining hammock, her arm had been thrown over his waist.

He lifted his arms and Princess Zelda stepped into them. She hugged tight. She likes hugs, he remembered. She doesn’t get enough of them. He held her politely.

“Thank you, Sir Link.”

Sir Link gave up on propriety and squeezed her back. “Thank you, princess.”

Prince Lo said, “So wait—why didn’t you take the princess up on her offer?”

Prince Lo’s stewardess stood behind the plush chair that seated her diminutive and raptured lord. Between them and Sir Link was a round table stocked with three types of teas, lukewarm water, coffee, biscuits, cookies, porridges, bacon, blood pudding, waffles, fish finger sandwiches, and two fruit salads. Sir Link had been kidnapped.

He helped himself to bacon.

“Who in their right mind is propositioned by one of the most powerful, desireable people in the empire and says no?!” He gasped. “You couldn’t get it up?”

He twitched. “I don’t need to get it up to—” he cut himself off too late.

Prince Lo laughed. “A man unashamed of what he can do with his mouth and fingers! Isn’t he a riot, Shelly?”

“An absolute upheaval, my lord,” Stewardess Shelly agreed coldly.

Sir Link ate a flaky pastry.

Prince Lo smiled more conservatively, apologetically almost. “You’re very noble, Mister Hero. You’ve the heart of the woman of your dreams in your lap and you won’t take it.”

“I’m not being noble,” he said with full cheeks.

“Then why did you reject her?”

“I was annoyed.”

“Oh?” He was very animated. Was this how he was around the people he liked and trusted? It was so different from the soft-spoken creature he presented to the public.

“She liked Lord Floria but she doesn’t like me.”

“This is amazing. You’re referring to yourself as two people. Isn’t he darling, Shelly?”

“As a plump partridge, my lord.”

Sir Link’s chewing slowed and he wondered if she wanted to eat him.

Prince Lo stated the obvious: “How could she know you? You asked her not to find out.”

“I know.”

“All she had to go on was the elements of yourself that bled into the poems you gave her, but hey, she was attracted to that.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“No?”

“She’s going to marry you or someone else, and I will be a knight.”

“Well. Her knight.”

Sir Link stared.

“As well as Marquis of Faron, the one man who managed to steal her heart while the rest of us were playing catch-up.”

“You said I’m too nice to be Prince Consort.”

“Nothing training can’t fix. You already have a glorious stone face and sharp tongue. It helps that you’re pretty too.”

“It’s that simple?”

“It’s nuanced.” Prince Lo brightened. “Would you like to learn?”

“I don’t intend to become Prince Consort.”

“No, but as Princess Aide, you will deal with stuck-up well-to-do’s who think you’re better than you.”

“I already deal with people like that in the guard.” He ate a bun.

“Nobles in the guard can respect a man by his merits, but where the pen is mightier than the sword, you can’t clock people and expect them to like you.”

Sir Link stared at him.

“You can’t glower then into submission either.”

“Why are you befriending me?”

“Because I like you,” Prince Lo brightened. “You’re also rude to me which is the funniest thing. Isn’t it, Shelly?”

“Worth a standing ovation, my lord.”

Sir Link finally realised that the stewardess was fond of him.

Sir Link got another encrypted letter from Lychee:

For the love of the goddess Link, eight letters in twelve days??

Dear Lord Floria,

Thank you for your introduction with Doctor Calip. Controversial as his theories are, I look forward to discussing with him at length his theories of why the ancient Zonai controlled an empire as broad as ours today. I’m penning my first letter to him as we speak.

When we last parted, you had made clear the nature of how and why I came into possession of your letters. We had not discussed the matter of their ownership. It is perhaps best we meet to discuss in person.

No, that’s too transparent a lie.

In one month, Central Hyrule’s high society will be throwing a banquet and series of parties and balls for the public to celebrate the goddess Farore. By my discretion, many of these events will be masquerades.

Whatever the manner of how we came into acquaintance, it would be lovely to attend these parties on the arm of a friend.

Please see enclosed all of your private musings returned to you.

Your friend,

Princess Zelda.

“Are you afraid she’s going to jump you in a dark alleyway?” Prince Lo asked.

Sir Link didn’t fix his face fast enough.

“Oh, you’d like that, huh.”

“Are you enjoying your salary, Sir Link?”

Sir Link glared at her as they crossed Digdogg Suspension Bridge.

“Is that a no?”

“More work.”

“Well, the work has to match the figures, doesn’t it?”

Princess Zelda was not a strong rider. She still overcompensated. She reminded Sir Link of the night she sat in front of him and postured. It had been a transparent tactic. It had been an effective tactic.

It was the reason he avoided her for three weeks.

He never knew that Princess Zelda was a flirt. In fine, she’d never demonstrated that she was sexually attracted to anyone before now, though he recalled she had a fleeting crush on Princess Mipha. He wondered if that might come to the fore again when the Zora Emissary visited next week.

As it was, Sir Link had to pray and barter with the goddess that he didn’t tip his hand during their five-day excursion.

Do not look at her apart from her back or her face, he reminded himself. Do not touch her unless you must or unless she asks. If she asks, keep your hands faaaar away from her neck. And for the love of Hylia do not cook her seafood paella.

If she was patient, he could make her risotto out of the sunshrooms they were sure to pass on their way to the quarry. Seared game and roasted tubers would be filling for the road. When they reached Gerudo Stable he could make something more complex.

“Sir Link? What are you thinking about?”

“Feeding you.”

“Ha! Food. I should have guessed.”

How had she not yet figured him out?

“Oh, look! Wild highland peregrines!”

Sir Link looked.

“They’re bigger than the domesticated line at the castle,” Princess Zelda said. “The previous Chief of the Gerudo gifted to my grandmother a pair as a wedding gift, so that my grandmother and grandfather could have their own private courier system to ferry their love letters when they were separated by their duties.”

Sir Link’s mind made a comparison between them and Chee’s middleman efforts. He imagined Chee as a bird. He figured she ought to be renamed Cheep. He grinned out of proportion to Princess Zelda’s lecture.

“Over the years the peregrines, which are used exclusively by Hylian kings, queens, and princesses, were bred for strength and longevity, hence why they are smaller and more muscular than the wild variant. What are you smiling at?”

Sir Link followed the bird until it disappeared around the lip of a bluff. “The bird.”

“What, you’ve plans for a pilaf?”

Sir Link’s eyes lit up. That was an idea.

She snorted. “Did you wish to visit Gerudo Town, Sir Link? Lychee is there is time of year, yes?”

He frowned at her. “We don’t—” She was bouncing in her saddle. “Your Highness, move with your horse.”

“Why?”

“Your horse doesn’t like it.”

“Does it matter? He’s still moving.”

Sir Link stared at her.

“Goodness me, if looks could kill. Very well, show me. Is it my posture?”

Sir Link lifted his elbows a little bit to show her how he rolled his body with his mare’s movements. After a beat of her staring he remarked, “You’re not doing it.”

“What?” she startled.

“What were you thinking about?”

She lied, “Your boots look more comfortable than mine.”

Sir Link frowned. “Do you want to trade? We’re roughly the same size.”

She giggled. “Why do you know that?”

He hesitated. “Don’t laugh.”

“I promise not to laugh aloud.”

He huffed and she grinned. He said, “Before I was assigned to you, the guys would rib me about my looks. Said I could act as a princess decoy if there was ever need for it. I was curious so I looked up your shoe size to figure out if it was feasible.”

Princess Zelda frowned. “That is…insulting, isn’t it?”

He shrugged. “I’m short and girly-looking.”

“That excuses nothing. And while yes you exhibit feminine qualities with a confidence that I’m sure other men envy—sometimes I envy it—you are very much a handsome man by manly measure! It was rude of them to misgender you!”

Sir Link stared at her.

“What?”

“You think I’m good-looking?”

“Does…doesn’t everyone?”

“The princess thinks I’m pretty.”

“Stop that.”

“The princess thinks I’m pretty!”

“Stop shouting!”

It was a small conundrum.

When the miners found an ancient relic buried within the stone, they sent runners to the castle in the hopes of getting a reward. What they received instead was a troupe of anxious Sheikah cordoning off the site and driving the mines’ books into the red within three days.

“All we’ve asked, Your Highness,” said the foreman, a handsome Gerudo woman, “is that they extract the machine and analyse it somewhere else.”

“And as I’ve said,” Director Purah fired back, “we can’t simply yank it out of the ground! The area must be locked down to preserve what’s left of the provenance of the site!”

“You’re asking us to sacrifice our livelihoods, Director.”

“You’re asking me to sacrifice valuable information that might save lives!”

“Save lives?”

“We don’t know what we’ll find!”

“And that justifies your request?”

Princess Zelda lifted her hand. “I understand the situation. Director Purah, as you were.”

The foreman tensed.

“You will have three weeks to collect everything that you can from this site.”

Director Purah, who had a smug smile a moment before, gaped and rallied, “Princess! That’s not nearly enough time and you know it! What about future archaeological pursuits?!”

“Time spent arguing with me is time you could spend working, Director.”

Director Purah frowned and turned out of the tent.

“Foreman Caliban,” Princess Zelda sighed, “I apologise for the inconvenience. The crown will accommodate your losses.”

Caliban inclined her head. “And the quarry will be under our control again after three weeks?”

“I cannot say so definitively,” she pinched her chin. “Director Purah raises a prudent point. Breakthroughs in archaeological techniques and technologies tomorrow could uncover the secrets of the past of sites discovered today.”

She stiffened again. “Then we are back at square one.”

“I am here to solve this issue, Foreman. I promise you. For now, please show me the records.”

Sir Link read everything over her shoulder. Later, he was stirring the rice while she dozed under a blanket beside him. He volunteered, “I thought the answer was simple.”

“Hm?”

“Kick out the miners and let Purah go wild.”

She chuckled. “I was tempted. The scholar in me despairs at doing anything less. But this quarry directly feeds the construction and repair work in Gerudo’s settlements. The next closest one is an extra day away and over DigDogg Bridge, translating into greater transportation costs.”

He understood.

“Digdogg Bridge is also the only point of egress between the Gerudo Region and Central Hyrule. Short of blasting a tunnel through the mountains, we can make no other roads. Increased traffic on the suspension bridge will cause wear and tear. And if the bridge is out…”

“The Gerudo Region is cut off.”

“Yes.”

“I like the concept of digging a road through the mountains.”

Princess Zelda snorted and sat up to readjust the blanket over her shoulders. She was resting her back and shoulders on the block Sir Link was sitting on. She said, “It would be a massive construction venture. Never mind that it doesn’t rescue us from our current predicament.”

“How long would a project like that take? Three years?”

“You’re idealistic, Sir Link.”

“Four?”

She laughed. “Ten years, and that is me being optimistic. We’re talking about blasting through solid bedrock, not including whatever complications will doubtless crop up.”

“Like more archaeological dig sites.”

She laughed.

“A pity we don’t have giant drills.”

Princess Zelda tilted her head back and closed her eyes.

Sir Link looked at her once and looked away. The blanket crossed over her chest, but she had unlaced the top of her tunic to reveal her neck and clavicle. They lifted when she breathed.

He again recalled again how she sat in front of him. Her shoulders straight, her back taut, her neck long, and she was framed by his knees. Memory faded for fantasy: she led his hands to the front of her robes. She allowed one hand to slip into the warmth beneath her collar, the other to peel the material away from her shoulder shiny with distant lights. Her lips would part, her eyes would flick up, and she’d smile in permission. He put his mouth on her—

“Towers!”

Sir Link startled terribly.

“Oh, I beg your pardon old friend,” and she grasped his knee, “it’s just—the towers! They’re self-excavating! When you activated them, they popped out of the ground of their own power after ten thousand years of dormancy in a matter of minutes! Perhaps they can be repurposed! Reverse engineered!”

Sir Link stared at her.

Princess Zelda slapped his knee. She did not see him. She yelled, “Imagine it, Sir Link, imagine it! Imagine a tower, but it’s sideways. The mechanism that allowed it to breach through the earth is applied to its exterior: its point and sides. We point it at a foot of a mountain, turn it on, and whoosh! Instant tunnel! Of course, we’ll have to be careful about reinforcing the cavity…can that be done instantaneously? I suppose it must. Who can I talk to about this…?”

Her hand was still on his knee. Sir Link did not react. Her eyes were shining. He said, “Dinner is done.”

“Already? Goddess, Sir Link, you are a marvel, thank you.” She hugged him, grabbed a bowl, and helped herself to sunshroom risotto.

Sir Link took a moment before he stood.

I made the mistake of hearing you sing once

You are tone deaf.

And you’ve more heart in a word than a choir in a verse.

“Your Highness?” Sir Link asked again. “May I come in?”

He heard a sleepy mumble and apologetically took it as permission.

The Sheikah had set up a separate tent for the princess’ use. She was surprised to see it, completely prepared to rough it in her bedroll beside Sir Link while she taught him constellations he already knew, but the nervous Sheikah insisted.

She had a tent ten feet in diameter furnished with a handful of cushions and a low table with a pitcher and bowl and half open satchel of nuts. Princess Zelda was still tangled in sleep.

“Your Highness,” Sir Link kneeled beside her. “You asked me to wake you up at dawn.”

“Five…more minutes.”

“Do I have permission to drag you out of bed in five minutes?”

She snored.

He sighed and looked around the tent. She made short work of making a mess of it. He couldn’t leave it. He gathered her things one by one to pack them away. The open journal was last, because he assumed she’d like easy access to it to continue her field notes.

He smiled: it was open to a drawing of a sideways Sheikah tower with dozens of notations attached. There was a small “Link’s idea” in a corner that made him grin. His eyes glanced over the opposite page. He blanched.

Princess Zelda had copied his poetry!

He remembered that one. He remembered that one. He remembered that one! Oh goddess save him.

He felt his face fall in horror the same time he felt eyes fall on him. Princess Zelda’s eyes were on him. He closed the book, fell into a royal kneel, and bowed his head as low as it would go.

“You may rise, Sir Link.” She was quiet. She was angry?

“I apologise, Your Highness. I invaded your privacy.”

“Rise, Sir Link.” She poked his bicep with a toe.

Oh, she was wearing no socks.

His eyes snagged on her toenails first, the lines of tendons, the curve of her heel, the angle of her ankle bones, the swell of her calf—his eyes snapped to her face. Her eyes were narrowed.

“Sorry.”

She pulled the satin headwrap and her braids tumbled everywhere. She kind of looked, for a moment, like one of her drooping hanging plants. “You’ve often exhibited interest in Lord Floria’s poetry. Why?”

“It…I didn’t understand why you liked it so much from the beginning. Some of it is…is…”

She arched a brow. “Is?”

“Rude,” he decided.

She finally grinned. “Rude.” She lazily lifted her book, yawned, and the natural sleepy smell of her wafted over him. He blinked. She said, “I couldn’t remember all of them. I only penned down perhaps a dozen.”

She wrote them out of her memory?!

“I think I told you already.”

“Yes, you were flattered by the rough drafts of someone trying to come up with the right way to phrase how he wants to—”

Her smile widened a bit.

His mouth twisted and fell. “If this were coming from anyone else you wouldn’t be half as interested.”

“You’re right. But it didn’t come from anyone else.”

“Why do you like him so much?”

“Are you jealous?”

Sir Link shut his mouth.

Her smile fell. Her eyes widened. “S-Sir Link?”

He stood. “We should get moving.”

She shuffled forward. “I think we have a few minutes to talk about this.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“There isn’t?”

“No. There is not.”

She said nothing. Then, “Did you want time to visit Lychee?”

“No, thank you. I’ll visit her on my days off next month.”

In a small voice: “Can I come?”

He had to face her. He softened. “Of course you can, Your Highness.”

The emissary from the Zora Domain arrived shortly after Princess Zelda returned to the castle, so she was there to receive Princess Mipha.

Sir Link was in the chamber the moment they met, grasped each other’s hands and laughed and giggled, and he smiled helplessly at them openly enjoying each other’s company. Princess Mipha noticed him and waved, and he bobbed his head in greeting.

He was able to greet her more warmly later when he was off duty. “You’re taller.”

She giggled. “Are you teasing me?”

“You’re almost as tall as me.”

“Ah, you are teasing me.”

Sir Link didn’t smile, but he felt it reach his eyes. Princess Mipha, familiar with him, saw it, and her smile sweetened. “How are you, Link?”

“Princess Zelda made me her aide.”

“Oh! Congratulations!”

“It’s too much work.”

She giggled. “It’ll keep you out of trouble.”

“I don’t get in trouble.”

“I distinctly remember a young soldier who travelled all over Hyrule and made a name for himself destroying the monsters that plagued the major cities.”

He was bashful. “Mipha…”

She giggled. “The frost talus near Rito Village, the igneo talus near Goron City, the lynel of Shatterback Peak—”

“The Zora Domain was the only one to reward me.”

“I was under the impression you didn’t do what you did hoping to be rewarded.”

“It would have been nice.”

She giggled. “I can’t imagine the helm serves you well here.”

“If I know I’m going somewhere with water deep enough to host octorocks I do.”

“I see. Then I’m happy it serves you.”

“Thank you, Mipha.”

She smiled. “As for the Domain—”

A voice around the corner cut her off, “Then why the fuck are we here?!”

Sir Link came to a sharp halt and Princess Mipha echoed him. He did not put an arm in front of her as he would have for Princess Zelda. Spear or no spear, Princess Mipha was deadly.

Murmuring preceded the angry voice which replied, “No, it’s a farce. It’s a farce—I bet King Rhoam got all of us together hoping one of us can fuck his frigid lesbo daughter and cure her hard-on for fish!”

Princess Mipha, to her credit, did not flinch.

Sir Link rounded the corner.

“Link—” she whispered, but the offensive stranger was already yelping in pain.

She rushed forward to find a man in handsome clothes kneeling, Sir Link above and behind him and twisting his arm. His expression was cool and his strength did not waver despite that the wealthy stranger obviously had a foot and few stone on him. She tried to meet his eyes to get him to stop.

“Princess Mipha, Hyrule Castle’s esteemed guest whom you slandered, is standing in front of you. Apologise to her.”

Princess Mipha did not undermine Sir Link’s authority by telling him that it was unnecessary.

The wealthy stranger—one of Princess Zelda’s irate suitors, by all appearances—snarled, “Release me! Are you mad?! Do you know who I am?!”

“Apologise to Princess Mipha.”

The suitor yelped at whatever change in pressure Sir Link applied. “I’m sorry! I apologise, Princess Mipha. I spoke out of turn.”

Sir Link’s nose wrinkled. That’s not how he would have put it.

“It is…not alright, precisely, but your apology is accepted. Sir Link—”

But Sir Link was not done. He kicked the wealthy suitor to his feet and manhandled him down the corridor.

“What? Where are you taking me! Release me at once! What is the meaning of this?!”

“Princess Mipha,” Sir Link said casually, “would you like to accompany us to Her Highness or be escorted to your room?”

Princess Mipha decided to follow. At the very least, she could heal the man if he goaded Sir Link into ripping his arm clean off.

They were preceded. Shouting who do you think I am repeatedly worked wonders for the offender in that respect. Princess Zelda had already been informed by someone somewhere along the way. She was just exiting the occupied conference room.

She stiffened when she saw Sir Link marching the stranger towards her. All the guards in the corridor stared. They flinched when the suitor yelped in pain because Sir Link forced him to his knees again.

“Your Highness,” Sir Link bowed his head. “This is Lord Regencia, Baron of Giant County.”

The baron flinched. So Sir Link did know who he was!

“He has something to tell you most urgently.”

Princess Zelda glanced at Princess Mipha, who looked as taut as she felt. They both knew that Sir Link was not one to take drastic action without cause. “I see. I am listening.”

Lord Regencia, humiliated and in pain, did not speak at once. Sir Link’s arm flexed and so he screeched: “I’m sorry, princess! I insulted you. I am sorry.”

“I…see. Apology accepted. Let him rise, Sir Link.”

Sir Link’s jaw worked for a moment. He let him go.

Lord Regencia stumbled away from him. “You have no right! I will be launching a complaint!”

Sir Link said nothing. His eyes did not waver.

“Your Highness, your knight—"

“That is quite enough,” Princess Zelda lifted her hand sharply. “Sir Ingrid? Sir Elmo? Please see to it that Lord Regencia makes it to the infirmary, to his quarters, and off the grounds in that order.”

One of the women Sir Link trusted with his life and a new addition to the royal guard whom Sir Link was growing to like stepped forward as one. They bracketed Lord Regencia. When he began bleating protests, they gently and firmly took him by each shoulder and led him away.

Princess Zelda did not move her face as she growled, “Sir Link—!”

Sir Link fell into a perfect kneel.

“Do you have any idea how serious the ramifications of your actions are?”

Sir Link offered no excuse, no defence, no apology.

“Your Highness,” Princess Mipha stepped forward. “It may not have been Sir Link’s place, but it was a grievous slight Lord Regencia made against your honour, and mine.”

“What had he said?”

“He said—”

“He said enough,” Sir Link spoke over Princess Mipha. He was still facing the floor.

Princess Zelda frowned. “Mipha, tell me what he said.”

“He said enough, Your Highness.” She bowed her head.

“Sir Link has been suspended?!”

Caho shared tea with the Crown Princess of Hyrule, Princess Mipha of the Zora Domain, and Lady Impa, slated to be the future leader of the people of Kakariko. They were all equally distressed.

Princess Mipha sipped her drink. “I am relieved Link did not strike him. I assume the punishment would have been worse in that case, yes?”

“Indeed,” Princess Zelda said. “He might have been stripped of most of his titles.”

Lady Impa shook her head, “I can’t believe it. Sir Link is one of the most level-headed people I know. What could one person say in an instant that shattered his cool like that?”

Princess Zelda looked at Princess Mipha accusingly.

Princess Mipha met the glare without a flinch. “I apologise. Sir Link promised me to secrecy.” Her smile fell. “Simply know that it was indecorous.”

Lady Impa looked unsatisfied but let it rest.

Princess Zelda quipped: “I’m impressed he made you promise all that without as much as a side-eye.”

“It was in what he did not say,” Princess Mipha replied kindly. “He seeks to protect you.”

Princess Zelda scowled. “Protect me. Now who’s going to protect him? And once again I’m without an aide!”

Lady Impa laughed a bit.

Caho said, “If you truly need a hand…”

“You are sweet, Caho, but it is fine. I’m just complaining.”

Caho nodded and wondered in what other way he could spend more time with her.

“And this the week before the masquerade,” Lady Impa huffed. “I’m sure your guards would’ve felt a lot better about your detail if Sir Link were there.”

“It can’t be helped. Lord Regencia is a minor lord, and he was out of bounds, but he was still treated abominably in a place where he was promised hospitality. Sir Link had to be punished. I think my father was comparatively lenient.”

“Doesn’t he also have to do some manual labour?”

“Link would go stir crazy under house arrest,” Princess Mipha giggled. “Tasking him with repairing walls in the satellite towns and cities would be a relief in contrast.”

Caho smiled, “A touch of good news: the story made the way through the guard. Most think he handled the situation handsomely and view him with respect.”

Princess Zelda protested, “He paraded an injured man through the castle!”

Princess Mipha did not smile. “What that man said was reprehensible, Your Highness.”

“The punishment did not match the crime!”

“Indeed,” Princess Mipha nodded. “Sir Link was merciful.”

Princess Zelda stared at her. “I thought you looked down on his behaviour yesterday.”

“I was surprised.” She sipped her drink. “I have never seen him so angry.”

“What did he say, Mipha?”

Princess Mipha smiled. “He said enough.”

Lychee wrote:

Bro what the hell someone told me that you got suspended for two weeks because you bashed out some guy’s knees?! I mean good for you, but also HUH?

Link wrote:

Hi Chee. Nice to hear from you, Chee. Yes, I’m doing well, Chee.

Thanks for sending those reports: keep up the good work. If there are more lizalfos sightings, then we either want to do something about the jungle bordering the main roads or get more guards. I think the former would make more sense long term, what do you think? I’ll hunt them down in the meanwhile.

And yes, I was suspended. Got assigned patching roads in Faron, so ha, convenient. A minor lord spoke rudely—like REALLY rudely—about the Princesses Zelda and Mipha, and I persuaded him to apologise. Rumours blew it out of proportion. I did not bash anyone’s knees.

Kinda wanted to.

Don’t tell mom.

Link later wrote:

You told mom.

Prince Lo wrote:

Hello Sir Link,

I finally got the full story. Had I been in your position I would have played the long game, but I admire your immediate course of action. Bravo.

I helped to get the right series of events circled around the ton. Suffice to say, Lord Regencia is the ridicule of society and the bane of his family name. His mother is sending him out of town—and decent company—to cool his head. May the door hit him on the way out.

Princess Zelda will not admit it, but she misses you. She’s also ignorant of exactly what Lord Regencia said of her, and is driving everyone to frustration as she tries to find out. She can be as subtle as you in a sensitive situation.

(I’ll leave it to you to tell her. Won’t that be fun?)

Preparations for venerating Farore are underway without a hitch. Well, save for Caho breaking one of his instruments on a man who copped a feel. Bravo. Central Hyrule is just full of fun scandals and stories: I’m in half of a mind to stay.

Have Lord Floria write me if he desires any help making an appearance at the parties Her Highness will be attending.

Your friend,

Prince Lo.

Princess Zelda wrote:

My father wouldn’t tell me where you’ve been assigned. I think he thinks I’d ride a horse halfway across Hyrule just to chew you out.

He’s not wrong.

You leave without so much as saying goodbye? Just a little letter you slipped under my bedroom door! Is it that you’re ashamed to face me after defending my honour?! HYPOCRITE!

Mipha says hi.

I have to send my letters through Prince Lo. He has…turned into a stalwart friend these last few weeks. I sense that he has no designs on the crown, and as he warms up to me and I to him. I’ve followed your lead and accepted his olive branch of friendship.

~~Sir Link~~

Link, thank you for being my friend. I do not think I could have survived the way I have without your companionship.

That is to say I’m drowning in paperwork. Hurry back.

--Zel.

Princess Zelda wrote:

Dear Lord Floria,

Thank you for responding to my previous letter. I will treasure the samples that you sent. The seeds in particular were most welcome. I’ve little to offer in reply, but I bullied a friend of mine to give me the secrets of her decadent fruitcake. The recipe is enclosed.

As you are aware, we are coming upon the season where we venerate the goddess of courage, Farore. Most if not all activities require a mask, or at least a mask would not be out of place. The schedule, venues, and dress codes are on the pamphlet attached. You will also see enclosed two formal invitations to exclusive events.

I have arranged for a translator to accompany you, should you so choose to use her. I trust Lady Impa with my life and I know she will treat you well.

I would sooner see you than receive your reply. I look forward to making your better acquaintance.

Sincerely,

Princess Zelda.

Lady Impa wrote:

Link did you get suspended on purpose WOW that was clever

Sir Link replied:

No.

“Is the reason why you don’t want to be Prince Consort because of the nature of the work?”

Lord Floria continued chewing on hydromelon cubes.

Lady Impa’s utilitarian dress and mask identified her as a woman on duty, but eyes would have glanced over her anyway what with the man wearing such a conspicuous mask beside her. Her hands were not very fluid, but her command of Zora Sign was serviceable enough for her act as translator to prove feasible.

“I sense that it is for a similar reason why you hesitated to accept the role of Princess Aide.”

Lord Floria piled up his plate.

“You have an aversion to titles. This despite that you’ve proven to be very good at the duties that each require.”

Lord Floria offered Lady Impa a slice of chilled fruitcake.

“Oh, thank you. I—is all of this for me?! Sir—my lord, I cannot eat this much!”

Lord Floria found dumplings stuffed with crab meat and made an appreciative sound when he ate one.

Lady Impa whispered, “Lord Floria: far be it for me to convince you, but you are the best qualified for the role of Prince Consort. If you simply do not want it, then my point is moot. However, hearing you say that you are not fit for it, or that you can’t because of other duties…I must speak up: it’s simply not true.”

Lord Floria offered her a cracker.

“No, thank you. For example: you can name a successor to become the next marquis. I understand that your mother and sister handle day-to-day concerns in your stead, and that you have reliable and loyal secretaries.”

“Hero,” he signed shortly.

“Oh, well, it’s true that you are likely to be asked to do the ceremonial duties of the Hero of Legend for a long time to come, but that would hardly interfere with your duties as Prince Consort any more than it does with your duties as Captain of the Princess Guard.”

“Captain.”

“Yes,” she nodded, “I noticed you are attached to your responsibility as captain. Prince Consort offers a wealth of opportunities and clout to do more, however. In fact, like King Rhoam, you can be general of, well, everything. Your influence over the structure that protects Her Highness can only broaden.”

Lord Floria chewed on a stick of candy.

“It also affords you more freedom to spend with Princess Zelda. You can…you can be beside her just because, not because you are her guard.”

At last, Lord Floria looked away.

“You and I are not close, Sir—my lord. But you are a friend. I respect your decision. It’s just that I seek to understand. Why, when everything and everyone seems to welcome it, do you not choose this path?”

Lord Floria said the impossible. “Fear.”

She thought she misunderstood him. She blinked. Lord Floria stared at her expectantly. “You’re afraid?”

Lord Floria ate a wildberry.

“But you—you’re the scion of courage! You—you fight lynels! For leisure!”

“Lynels aren’t scary.”

“Only you could say that! That then begs the question: what on earth does the Hero of Legend fear?”

“Z-E-L-D-A.”

“You’re afraid of the princess? Oh—” she scrambled, because suddenly he gave her his empty plate, and she had no free hands. “My lord—my lord—where are you—”

Lord Floria had spied Princess Zelda. She was dressed in antithesis to herself, in black and silver, with her arms exposed, and her hair utterly untamed. It fell around her head and shoulders like the Lost Forest’s mist, like a summer’s white cloud…

He touched his palm to her scapula. She jerked, her brow quirked at the informality, and it melted away for such wanton joy that Lord Floria could not help the way his lips twitched in response. She said nothing. Her eyes glinted with mischief. She folded her arm against his and led the way forward. He stepped into line with her as he always did.

She felt lovely against him. In part, yes, because she was the woman he loved, but mostly because she radiated friendliness.

She led him away from pretty gowns and vigilant soldiers. She led him away from the dark gardens, where couples had taken refuge. Lord Floria sent her curious looks. Princess Zelda ignored them. She triumphantly opened nondescript heavy wooden doors. The planes of her back flexed under the exertion—

Lord Floria realized that her back was not a safe place to look at after all.

“Here we are!”

Lord Floria looked around in blank appreciation. It was of modest size, obviously not built to be manned by a large staff, and it looked scrubbed clean as though no-one was supposed to use it for the rest of the night.

“It’s a kitchen!” She looked juvenile and happy with her arms splayed out like that.

Lord Floria smiled. “I can see that.”

“I rented it under a moniker.”

“You rented one of the castle’s kitchens. During a party.”

“I did!”

Lord Floria struggled not to smile. “Why?”

“So that we can cook together!”

And there went his heart.

Princess Zelda brushed past him—her unbound hair smelled lovely—and closed the doors. She pushed up her mask such that it sat like a tiara against her hairline. She wore no makeup. She peeled off her velvet gloves. “I bullied my friend into cooking with me once. I was terrible at it, but I enjoyed it thoroughly. Sir Link was patient with my incompetence, though he was annoyed that I measured and sifted things so precisely.”

“Cooking is not a science.”

“That’s what he said! Ooh, you two would get along splendidly.” She soured suddenly. “I’m so upset that he got suspended.”

Lord Floria’s surprise was an afterthought. “What happened?” He followed her to the main counter, where already ingredients had been set aside.

Princess Zelda washed her hands. “What happened! I’d love to find out! I’m in the middle of a meeting—I’m learning the trade from my father by eavesdropping on council meetings—when one of the secretaries whispers to me that my Knight Attendant—who, like my ladies in waiting, represents me—is kicking up a fabulous fuss.”

Lord Floria winced.

“I excuse myself from the table to step outside to see Sir Link in his formal dress, beret and all, not a strand of hair out of place, marching a nobleman in my direction like a common prisoner set for the gallows, Princess Mipha half a step behind him.”

She looked at him to gauge his reaction. He didn’t need to pretend: he was already grimacing.

Princess Zelda dried her hands. “Now, Sir Link is stalwart companion. He’s brilliant, forgiving, and level-headed, though sometimes his silence is interpreted as being slow, he’s quick to think and quick to react. I trust him implicitly. That was the only reason I didn’t shout at him right away to release the man—some baron from somewhere or another…”

Lord Floria suppressed his grin. He was happy she did not recall his name.

“He makes the nobleman kneel and apologize to me. The entire scenario feels like some sort of corrupted, inverted blessing ceremony. I can read from Sir Link’s glares—and what a brutal glare he has—and Princess Mipha’s silence that the baron was truly offensive, and so I had him escorted from the premises at once.”

Lord Floria asked, “You didn’t wait to hear both sides of the story?”

Princess Zelda frowned at him. “My lord: Sir Link has my trust implicitly.”

Lord Floria blinked. “That’s it?”

“Of course that’s it! He’s loyal, he’s fair, he’s focused, he’s observant! There’s a reason why I raised his wages. I’d do anything to keep a man like him at my side.”

“I’d thought he was your friend.”

She scoffed. “If I could reliably pitch to the treasury that Sir Link deserves a raise because he is my friend, Lord Floria, I’d have done that years ago.”

He warmed. He also desperately wanted to ask if the reason why she started thrusting papers under his nose and asking for his opinion since she was eighteen was her subtle method of training him for the role of Princess Aide. If so: she was devious. She was scary. She was patient. He longed to kiss her hand.

“Anyway,” she said sharply, irate in her gossiping, “after Baron So-and-So was out of earshot, I’m ready to lay into him. He had the audacity to kneel. He was apologizing to me, but not for what he did, you see. He was apologizing for causing a scene.”

Lord Floria nodded, pleased she’d gathered the nuance.

“I hate when he kneels at me.”

“Why?”

“Here, mix these together—why? Because he is my friend! I hate being reminded that he is subservient to me.”

He could only nod. He dare not stop mixing. He wanted to get her kneading as soon as possible. That would work out some of her frustration.

“I know that he is no less for it, but—never mind.” He wanted her to continue that train of thought. “Anyway, I ask Sir Link what could Mister Baron have said—” he liked that the baron’s name kept changing—“that was so detrimental, so insulting that he had to rectify it in the most embarrassing, scandalous way imaginable.”

Lord Floria fretted.

“Neither he nor Princess Mipha would tell me.”

He furtively exhaled.

“Nor would anyone else in this miserable castle!”

Really? That was a surprise.

“And it’s so—I am the Crown Heir of the Realm! And yet Sir Link, little country bumpkin from Deya—"

Uncalled for.

“—has everyone so wrapped around his little finger that it has become a mark of honor not to betray his confidence to me: from the smallest child in the kitchens to my own father!”

Lord Floria, with great relief, handed the dough to Princess Zelda to knead. He winced when she slapped it to the table. She made quite the vision in her evening best. Her biceps flexed and—

And Lord Floria looked away.

She ranted, “And then he left without having the decency to look me in the face! Ooh, I know why he stole away in the night. He was afraid I’d clock him right in the nose!”

She could try.

“I’d have given him a proper dressing down. There’s no need to defend my honor! But then what would that solve? He would have acted the same in the stead of anyone else. He was acting as much in my stead as he was in Princess Mipha’s.” She sighed and threw the dough with a satisfying thwak! “I cannot ask him to go against his nature: Sir Link is noble by definition.”

Lord Floria was touched to hear her say so.

Princess Zelda looked at him and laughed at herself. “Pardon me, my lord. I miss him.”

Lord Floria swallowed. “You do?”

“Yes.” She looked at her work. “I believe we can let this rest now, don’t you?”

“You never told me what we are making.”

She grinned. “Bread!”

He stared at her.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

He ducked his head and smiled in the amused, unrestrained way that sent her heart off course. His breath of laughter was a surprise. There was no voice to it, but it rang true with familiarity nonetheless. She went to wash her hands and gather her wits and peek at Lord Floria who analyzed the various butters, marmalades and jams that they could pair with their bread.

In his side-profile she could see his Adam’s apple. She never noticed that before. What a pretty and delicate facet to his masculinity.

Lord Floria looked up. She flinched. He tilted his head in question.

“Nothing, my lord,” she grinned and wandered over. “Have you made your selection, then?”

Of the two jars in his hands, he put down one and struggled to open the other. Princess Zelda’s eyes snagged on the angular properties of his hands. Hylia preserve me, she closed her eyes. Why am I like this.

With a little pop! the lid came free. She leaned forward but didn’t catch the smell. “What is it?”

The way Lord Floria dipped two fingers into the jam and swiveled was abrupt and unsanitary and sinful. His bottom lip and chin were again painted, again emphasizing the pink of his tongue and cheeks. Head bowed, he popped the fingers in his mouth and sucked. It was good! He dragged one finger down his tongue and then the other. He forgot that he was supposed to be a sophisticated lord. “W-I-L-D-B-E-R-R-Y,” he told her dutifully. He did a double take at her expression.

Princess Zelda’s eyes were big and her lips were parted. She looked away when she was caught. “Right. Yes. That sounds delicious—uh, to eat. With the bread.”

Lord Floria took a breath and ignored her attraction. He wiggled the jar at her.

“Oh, to taste? I, well—alright. Yes. Hm,” she ran her index finger on the rim and giggled. “I feel naughty, like we’re little kids sure to get reprimanded for sticking our hands in the jar by an irate parent.”

Lord Floria grinned the approving, unrestrained, eyetooth-showing way. It twitched out of place when she sucked her finger.

“Oh! It’s good!”

This was perhaps a terrible idea.

Princess Zelda, true to form when she was embarrassed, rambled at length: “You know, my friend Sir Link, he has an incredible palette. Whenever I desire to travel across Hyrule, he escorts me and is the better cook between us by far, you see. He can find anything in the wild and make it into a meal. Once: he took Staminoka trout, dressed it with salt and crushed chickaloo tree nut, and roasted it while it was covered in honey. Madness! Yet it was one of the most filling meals I’ve ever had.”

He smiled at her. “You liked it?”

“Oh, yes! I thought it was bizarre, but I ate every bit.”

“I’ll have to make it for you then.” He paused. Did he out himself?

“Oh, don’t go out of your way. Sir Link would appreciate it, however. I sense you two would get along well.”

He responded slowly, “You’ve said that already.”

Her eyes shifted. “Had I?”

Lord Floria was growing nervous. Had she caught him? She kept talking about Sir Link Sir Link Sir Link. Was she implying she was onto him? Yet why was she the one looking shifty? “What is it?”

“What is what?”

“You’re nervous.”

She was silent for a beat. She gathered her courage and firmed her shoulders. “Lord Floria.”

He smiled at warm attention.

“I am putting in a good word on behalf of Sir Link.”

His smile fixed in place. His bemusement was palpable, for Princess Zelda needed no prompt to continue:

“I have reason to believe that Sir Link has designs on you. He has not told me, in fact he ran away from the conversation altogether, perhaps wary of making us enemies since we had both fallen for the same man.”

What.

“He has exhibited a deep appreciation and interest in the letters and poetry that you sent me. I’ve caught him trying to pinch two or three. He often seemed distressed with me reading the raunchier ones. In hindsight, I think it was that he was enamored with them.”

What.

“I love Sir Link dearly,” she continued with her flagging resolve, “and therefore I yearn for his happiness. I would do anything to see him happy, even…even step aside.”

“What?”

Princess Zelda froze. It was only a whisper, but Lord Floria spoke! She gasped. Lord Floria clapped his hand over his mouth.

“I thought you mute.”

He looked at her guardedly.

“I see I’ve dealt a great shock if you’ve broken your code of silence.” She paused. “Should I apologize?”

He shook his head.

She swallowed. “I see. And…and on the matter of Sir Link? Would you be receptive to him, should he approach you?”

Lord Floria did not know how to begin to answer that question. He wanted to laugh. This was the smartest person he knew. This was the smartest person he knew! The following counterpoint sobered him: Princess Zelda trusted Sir Link implicitly.

Slowly, his fingers moved before the thought was complete. “I can tell that you’ve abided by your promise not to figure out who I am.”

She tilted her head, failing to follow his train of thought. “Yes. Of course.”

“You think Sir Link is interested in me.”

“I have noticed a pattern,” she hedged, “but I must reiterate that he refuses to speak to me about it explicitly. I had hoped to help him with my initiative.”

Lord Floria shook his head. “I am not interested in Sir Link.”

She blushed in humiliation. “Why not?”

“I—”

“He’s loyal and smart and passionate and determined and knows a thing or two about organizing events and rallying people!”

“He—”

“Put side the fact that he’s won numerous accolades, he is good at learning! Give him a task and he’ll be an expert in a week!”

Lord Floria did not stop her.

“Why, had circumstances been different, Sir Link could very well run the country and no-one would complain!”

Lord Floria did not stop her. Yet, there was something in his posture that must have tipped her off, for she stopped her tirade, her gesturing hands fell, and she blinked in astonishment. She blurted: “That’s not what I meant!”

“You think Sir Link would make a fine king.”

“What I said was that he’d make a fine leader!”

Lord Floria took a tense step forward. Princess Zelda straightened. She was not intimidated, but she was alert and abruptly very, very conscious of being alone with him. She did not stop him when he took one hand in his. Her shoulders and clavicle lifted when he pressed his lips to her knuckles.

“Princess,” he whispered, careful to keep his voice out of it, “do you believe Sir Link would make a good Prince Consort?”

Her eyes were riveted on his mouth since he spoke. She ducked her head and whispered too. “That is not what this conversation is about—” she cut off because he ran his thumb over her skin.

He requested, “Humour me.”

“He…he would…not be terrible at it—but I daren’t stand between you—”

“There is no love lost between Sir Link and I.”

“Oh.” He kissed just above the web of skin between her forefingers. His lips lifted with a polite and scandalous sound. Princess Zelda felt her skin ripple with gooseflesh. “The two of you have, ah, met before?”

He kissed the space between two knuckles. “I only have eyes for you.”

“My lord,” she lifted his head from her hand with a finger under his chin. Like so, she stole all the power in the room. “I am deeply flattered, but you are confusing me. You told me definitively that you have no interest in being Prince Consort.”

“I’ve changed my mind.”

“Why?”

“Because now I know you’ve considered Sir Link of Deya.”

“I…well, yes, when my father first proposed the concept of marriage, he volunteered Sir Link right away.”

That was news to him. “His Majesty did?”

“Yes, it’s no secret that he’s absolutely enamored with the Hero.”

“But you rejected the idea.”

“Why does it matter to you?”

He tilted his head so that his cheek was cupped in her palm. “Humour me.” Her other hand he held in both of his. He stroked the back of her hand absently.

“I rejected it because Sir Link sacrificed his life to be good at what he does.” She was unhappy. “I wouldn’t dare ask him to sacrifice more.”

Lord Floria couldn’t help the stupid, wild, amused grin that nearly unsettled his mask. Princess Zelda blinked rapidly in the face of it. He said, “But have you asked him?”

“Wh-what?”

“Have you asked him if he wants to be your consort?”

Princess Zelda looked away. “My lord, you’re asking me about other men. This is highly irregular.”

“Yes. It is.”

She huffed and pulled on his cheek. He grinned harder, making it difficult for her to find purchase. She huffed. “No. I did not ask him to marry me.”

“Why?”

“I was afraid he would say no.” She glared at him. “Why are you grinning like that?”

“Princess—I would like to be considered as your suitor.”

“Ha! That boat has sailed! I reject you!”

“Then let go of my hand.”

“No!”

Lord Floria could see her pretending not to smile. He continued, “You once said that if I were in the running to be your suitor, then no-one else would have a chance.”

“Had I known you had an ego I’d have kept the thought to myself!”

“Is it still true?”

She met his eyes bravely. “Yes!”

“Then please consider me a suitor. And please do one thing for me.”

Her eyes narrowed, but she was attentive.

“Please find me.”

“What?”

“You tried not to figure out who I am at my request. Now I am requesting that you do.”

“You’d rather not tell me?”

“I’m a bit of a coward.”

She laughed and pulled on his cheek again. “You’re making this harder than it needs to be.”

“I’m trying to keep you interested.”

“You’re annoying me.”

His smile fell. “Am I?”

“I am annoyed.” She wrinkled her nose. “But I accept your terms.”

He smiled. He signed, “Thank you.”

Her eyes fell on his lips again and Lord Floria realized what he had done. What was stopping them from closing the distance between them? He pulled away.

“Lord Floria?”

“Let’s check on your bread.”

She glared. “I’d rather slide my tongue against yours if you wouldn’t mind.”

His grin and flush were fabulous. He skipped away from her. “Food first.”

“Good heavens.” And she braced against the table he’d positioned between them. “Get back here.”

“No.”

“I beg your—your princess demands it!”

He grinned.

“What! What are you afraid of!?”

“That you’ll jump me.”

“Are you complaining?!”

He laughed, “No, I—” but his eyes widened, because Princess Zelda, in a move of impeccable balance and might, vaulted over the table.

Prince Lo eyed the Lord Floria. Lord Floria did not appreciate it, what with his costume in telling disarray.

With a suppressed smile, Prince Lo stepped aside.

Stewardess Shelly, unreadable as ever, prepared them both tea. For Lord Floria, a nondescript tin of salve for the obvious bruises. He was touched by her thoughtfulness and thanked her with a bow of his head.

Prince Lo looked tired but clean. He had not slept since the party ran into dawn. Instead of tea, he reached for spirits. His stewardess’ brow twitched in disagreement. He lowered the bottle slowly, distracted by the vision of Lord Floria removing his mask and headdress and shaking out his hair.

“That,” Prince Lo supplied with a sip of his drink, “is a fantastic hickey.”

Sir Link touched his throat self-consciously. “The princess jumped me.”

Half seriously he asked, “Did you enjoy it?”

Sir Link didn’t fix his face fast enough.

“Hm. You really enjoyed it.”

He helped himself to Prince Lo’s breakfast, who was amused that Sir Link liked him enough to continue being improper. Stewardess Shelly, once again proactive and kind, rolled the breakfast tray forward and within Sir Link’s range.

“Thank you, Lady Shelly,” Sir Link signed because his mouth was full.

She hesitated.

“He said thank you,” Prince Lo translated, and to Sir Link’s shock, she smiled at him.

“So tell me,” Prince Lo folded his legs beneath him. “How much time do I have before Her Highness kicks all her suitors out of the castle?”

Sir Link offered him a flat look.

“She’s all but decided, hasn’t she?”

Sir Link signed.

Prince Lo’s face fell. “What do you mean she doesn’t know who you are?”

Sir Link signed.

“A game?! Why didn’t you come clean?”

Sir Link signed.

Prince Lo threw a cushion at him. Sir Link ducked, so the attack glanced off his shoulder, and with his cheeks fat with custard he glared. Prince Lo pointed angrily: “Don’t give me that look! You know Princess Zelda adores you—both sides of you—and you’re still afraid she will reject you?”

Sir Link signed.

Prince Lo settled. “Yes, it’s true reality is different from theory. And I suppose this does give her the space to warm up to your identity at her pace rather than exclusively at your discretion.” He huffed a little. “You’re learning to play the long game, Sir Hero.”

Sir Link shrugged.

“We’ll make a politician out of you yet.”

Sir Link signed.

“It’s mostly a matter of paying attention and practice. Worry not, I am more than happy to mentor you. I’m looking for reasons to stick around, you see. I adore Castle Town and all its squabbles and scandals. And my uncle would be more than happy to continue ruling Hebra for another few years, and if not, I have a competent older sister.”

Sir Link signed.

“Do you? I’d love to meet her. Anyone related to you must be a riot.”

Sir Link signed.

“She’s the one who sent the letters in the first place?!”

Sir Link nodded and Prince Lo threw his head back and laughed. “When you become Prince Consort, you simply must give your sister a duchy. What? Don’t look at me like that. If not for her, none of us would be here right now!”

Sir Link rolled his eyes.

“Oh, speaking of which, a letter for Lord Floria.”

Sir Link stared at him.

“Who do you think it’s from?” But Prince Lo’s grin told Sir Link more about the contents of the letter than the stationary did.

Humour like sunlight

Menacing as rain

Warm as ocean spray

In these I find you.

“Sir Link?! What in the world are you doing here?”

Sir Link turned on his heel in shock. He was dressed as a Sheikah. His cap and goggles disguised his distinctive eyes and tellingly not-shock-white hair. He glanced down at himself. Was he wearing the Master Sword and didn’t notice?

Princess Zelda stomped up to him and punched him in the bicep. He could have avoided it, but he hadn’t expected such strength. He flinched away from her, staring wide-eyed.

She huffed, “Remove those goggles, please, Sir Link. I wish to see your eyes as I criticize you.”

Sir Link obeyed. She punched him again. He yelped.

“Oh hush, you’ve experienced worse than that!”

He rubbed his arm and angled himself away from her and let his frightened expression speak for him.

She glowered, “How dare you leave without seeing me first! And then you wander around the Royal Tech Lab assuming you would go unnoticed? The gall! The disrespect!”

Sir Link realized it was much harder to keep his eyes off her mouth if he knew what they felt like.

“Why are you here? Don’t you have manual labour to be doing in some God-forbidden corner of Hyrule?”

He almost signed. “I finished clearing out lizalfos on the road to Faron.”

She jerked. “You were assigned to Faron?”

He rubbed his bicep and nodded. She slapped his hand away. He stared at her.

“Stop being a baby.”

He stared at her.

Princess Zelda embraced him. With her height she hooked her arms around his shoulders, and to find his balance he had to hold her waist and back. She squeezed too tightly to be comfortable.

“You are too noble, Sir Link,” she thanked him.

Sir Link let himself hug her back. It was very, very comforting. She pulled away too soon; he ducked his head before she could catch his expression. Her scent and proximity were arousing memories.

Princess Zelda in her unflattering dungarees and ugly gloves frowned with her arms akimbo. “You keep avoiding my eyes.” She narrowed hers. “You’re not supposed to be here. Why are you here?”

He was here trying to figure out why the heck Princess Zelda was sending love poetry to Lord Floria through Prince Lo of all people.

“You’re suspended for three more days.”

He met her eyes sharply. “You’ve been counting?”

She scoffed. “Have I been counting the days until I can give you half my paperwork and reading again? Of course!”

He teased, “You missed me.”

She deflected, “I missed what you could do for me!”

Sir Link squashed his expression into neutrality and prayed she would make little of his new complexion. He knew precisely what he could do for her.

“Why are you here, old friend?” she folded her eyes and was now concerned. “You’ll get in trouble if you’re caught.”

“I won’t get caught.”

“I believe you, but you’d be defying the spirit of your punishment.”

He lied, “I was worried about your security.”

Her eyebrows rose. “I assure you, your deputies and the guard have my protection well under control.”

Sir Link would agree, save he knew for a fact that Princess Zelda all too easily spirited away from a well-defended party and managed to get herself alone with (as far as she knew) a virtual stranger. And for several hours at that.

Several loud hours.

Perhaps Lady Impa had interfered? Told them to be at ease when Lord Floria was around? Did any of the Princess Guard suspect?

“It was as though you never left.”

His heart skipped a beat. “What?”

She looked away from whatever rendering on the wall she’d been absently revising. “What?”

“What did you just say?”

“I said that the Princess Guard is so efficient that one does not immediately feel your absence. Are you alright, Sir Link? You’re as white as a sheet.”

Sir Link yanked his goggles down when a pair of arguing mechanics trudged past, their hips jingling with tools, their gestures sharp and jargon witty. Princess Zelda touched his shoulder when they passed and he flinched, because the welts from where she clawed his back yesterday had yet to heal.

“You’re jumpy. How can I help?”

“I just wanted to see you.”

She grinned and let him misdirect her. “You missed me? I’m honored.”

He nodded, and she embraced him again. He held her again, because he was no fool, but his hindbrain was enjoying the smell of her hair and rise of her back a bit too much.

Forget his face giving the game away, the rest of him would go first.

I spied

A vase handsome in breath and spout

Its blush beguiling, its glaze impeccable

It was excellent

I carried home the unglazed bowl molded by your hands.

Come the second party, Princess Zelda knew no shame. She spied Lord Floria as soon as he stepped through the doors, grabbed his elbow, and shunted him into the nearest niche covered by a tapestry. His hands were beneath her petticoats and hers beneath his belt before she had the wherewithal to politely gasp between wet kisses, “I assume I have your consent?”

He nodded and she kneeled.

The finest drink I’ve ever had

Was river water sipped from the flask

I shared with you.

Sir Link returned to duty. When his deputy smiled at his reaction to Princess Zelda’s welcoming grin, he figured she knew one of his secrets.

Sir Link could not help jumping when Princess Zelda’s eyes alighted on him. She was sending him poetry! She was sending him poetry! And she looked so happy recently, grinning and energetic, and he was not humble enough to think he had nothing to do with it.

He was also jumpy because every so often she would say something like:

“Sir Link! What’s your favourite food from the southern coast?”

“Seafoo—” he stopped himself.

She smiled at him. “Hm? What? I didn’t catch that.”

He shifted. “Why do you want to know, Your Highness?”

“I was thinking the next time you have time off, we can ferry your family to the beach. It’ll be fun, I think, and wholesome to eat beside the crash of the waves and the sound of the sea breeze in the trees. It makes everything taste brighter, don’t you think?”

She knew it was him.

Sir Link fretted, because perhaps she didn’t know. Perhaps she was just making arbitrary references to Lord Floria’s poetry to tide her over until she could see him again. Perhaps she didn’t know that the language from his poor attempts at literature were leaking into her daily jargon.

Her smiles were duplicitous. He couldn’t read them.

She licked her thumb when an attendant brought her a bowl of fruit. Hylia help him.

Bard Caho, who was chatting Princess Zelda up over midday tea, also stumbled over his story at the appearance of Her Highness’ tongue.

Hylia help them all.

In the tread of your gait

In the rise of your shoulders

In the swing of your hips

Thrives your grace.

Thrives my lust.

“Why is Princess Zelda sending Lord Floria poetry through you?”

Prince Lo responded in sign too. “Even if I knew I wouldn’t tell you.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m having too much fun.”

Stewardess Shelly politely thwarted Sir Link’s assassination attempt.

“Is it just me, or has our lady been giving Sir Link the eye lately?”

Mia frowned. “What are you on about, Firly? That’s nothing new.”

Firly was shocked. “It’s not?”

After delivering Princess Zelda a report she casually asked, “And how goes the husband hunting, my lady?”

Sir Link, to his credit, didn’t as much as twitch where he was bowed over a dry book on agricultural yields from fifty years ago.

Princess Zelda, delighted for the short distraction, grinned sleepily. “Husband hunting?”

“Aren’t you in pursuit of Lord Floria’s identity?”

“Oh,” she rubbed her eye. “I clean forgot.”

“What? The poor man! Here he is waiting for your reply and you forgot?”

Princess Zelda’s eavesdropping secretaries looked equally as pitying of the enigmatic lord. Sir Link turned a page.

“Hm. Hm-hm. It’s the funniest thing, Impa.”

“What is?”

“I feel as though…he’s never left my side.”

Sir Link muttered, “Security breach.”

Princess Zelda blindly smacked his arm.

I never knew the meaning of love

Until you noticed the nondescript sabre in the armoury

And grinned.

She knew it was him.

Last year, Princess Zelda invited him to see the private collection of arms used by kings and princesses over the ages. Sir Link had always been excited to go. Princess Zelda apparently wanted to use replicas of some of the famous weapons of old in a show when they traveled to Rito Village. It would be a demonstration of Central Hyrule’s military history, which the Rito, who prided themselves in the arts and nobility of a warrior, were sure to appreciate.

Sir Link walked two steps behind Princess Zelda as she hung on the words of the keeper of the collection. He recommended three that had a rich history, and Princess Zelda had asked Sir Link’s opinion when faced with them. His eyes fell last on the “nondescript sabre” and it was true to say it was love at first sight. At the keeper’s allowance he held it on one gloved finger and marveled at its balance, its weight, its shape.

He did not know what his expression was at the time, but clearly she did, and this was a poem she sent to Lord Floria.

She knew it was him.

It was very disorienting.

It was disorienting because she spoke to him as though nothing were amiss, joked with him as though nothing had changed, and stole his caps from off his head as though he had never touched her bare back when she smiled like that. It was not torture, perse, but it was made of the stuff of it.

Prince Lo reveled in his frustration. “Absolutely nothing is stopping you now, Hero,” he tucked a sponge cake under Sir Link’s nose. “You have the title, you have the skill, and you have her love. Now you can finally admit that there is only one thing holding you back.”

“Pray tell,” Sir Link sourly signed.

Prince Lo smiled kindly. “Fear.”

Sir Link chewed the cake and stared.

“That is what has been holding you back this entire time. Fear. Fear of what? Change, probably. Or the fear that the moment you instigate a relationship, a thousand things go wrong.” His warm smile deepened. “Sir Link, my good friend: courage is not to act in the absence of fear, but to act in spite of it.”

Sir Link frowned. “I know that.”

“There is no shame in moving forward cautiously.”

That, actually, was quite the relief.

Princess Zelda however seemed to have thrown caution to the wind.

“Sir Link, the nape of my dress is undone, do it up for me, will you?”

“Sir Link, hold my hand! These cobblestone streets are unkind to heels…”

“Sir Link, which neckline better flatters my throat? This one or this one?”

Their captain’s disgruntled blush was the latest entertainment of the princess guard. One would say, “Are you alright there, Captain?” And Sir Link would glare, and the other soldiers straightened their backs and swallowed their smiles.

Chee wrote:

Am I an auntie yet?

Sir Link did not reply.

Vaba wrote:

Am I a grandmother yet?

Sir Link replied:

Please do not act as a proxy for your daughter.

His father wrote:

What is the colour palette of the wedding? Your mother doesn’t want to clash.

Sir Link did not reply.

The Guidance Stone looms

Orange and absolute

But it respects the weeks of time and toil and effort

And washes your eyes blue.

When Sir Link sent his fifty-first letter to Princess Zelda through the perpetually smirking Prince Lo, he was not expecting her to recite it to his face over tea. He nearly spat out his pastry.

“It’s beautiful, Your Highness,” Bard Caho said politely. “One of your suitors wrote it for you?”

Princess Zelda sighed at the little paper pinched between her thumb and forefinger. “A secret admirer,” she replied softly.

Bard Caho smiled in defeat. “May I take a spin at interpreting it?”

“Oh, certainly! I’m ever keen to hear an artist dissect another’s work.”

Bard Caho said, “Well. Clearly when he says the Guidance Stone looms, he says that you are cast in shadow by someone else’s wisdom. He’s calling you foolish. And the bit about washing your eyes blue clearly indicates that he doesn’t know the colour of your eyes—”

Sir Link glared.

Princess Zelda threw her head back in laughter. “You’re so catty, Caho!”

Bard Caho chuckled. It was an awkward sound. “It seems this secret admirer knows you well, my lady, and that you are endeared by him in turn.”

Princess Zelda sighed. “I’ve been cruel to you, Caho. I’ve only just noticed.”

He jumped: “No! Your Highness, I speak from the depths of my heart when I say that your friendship means everything to me. Let me be the last man in Hyrule who dares question the path your heart chooses to take. I only wish you happiness.”

Sir Link ate a little more quietly to give Caho’s declaration the aplomb it deserved.

Princess Zelda grasped his hand. “You are dear to me.”

“And that is more than I deserve.”

Sir Link wanted to throw up. They noticed.

“Oh, I’m sorry, is reaffirming my friendship boring you, Sir Link?”

Sir Link didn’t respond to Princess Zelda’s dig.

Bard Caho laughed, “Clearly our declarations have made him jealous.”

“Jealous! How vain of you, sir!”

Sir Link ducked his head and ate a slice of pie to hide his smile.

He later joined her as a friend instead of as a guard to walk off her meal on the battlements. The day was humid and the breeze scented with petrichor, and the sky in the east was black.

Sir Link toyed with the daydream of them getting caught in the rain and being forced to run into one of the belltowers. Soaked through and forced into close proximity, her lips would find his and he’d be helpless to do anything but respond, and in this fashion she would recognize him and whisper, “It’s you,” and grin and lead him to touch her like he did the third time.

“Are you alright, Sir Link?”

He turned to her attentively.

“You shivered. You couldn’t possibly be cold.”

He shook his head, feeling embarrassed and caught, but her hand was already on his brow.

“Actually, I don’t know what to look for. I’ve never looked after others who are sick.”

Sir Link didn’t squash his grin in time.

“Don’t laugh at me!”

“A person with fever might feel like the outside of a ceramic cup just as you’ve put boiling water in it.”

“Fascinating. When you next get a fever, you must allow me to touch your forehead.”

Sir Link let himself grin recklessly. “Yes, Your Highness.”

She paused. He paused with her, and watched the east with her, but nothing changed for a long moment. He basked in the quiet with her. In the distant he thought he heard tinkling and a cheerful “ya ha ha!” It was probably just the wind.

“I’d thought the rain would catch up to us by now.”

He looked at her curiously.

Princess Zelda bounced her shoulder against his and laughed. “When the rain came down we’d run into one of the belltowers soaking wet.”

Sir Link’s throat ran dry. “And then what?”

“And then what?” she was jovial. “Wait for the rain to end, probably. Play hand games and regret not walking with a parasol.”

Sir Link looked away from her quickly.

“Why? Did you have something else in mind?”

“No. No, Your Highness.”

Princess Zelda unexpectedly stomped in front of him and grabbed his shoulders. He blinked at her, attentive and bedraggled, and couldn’t quite look her in the face without knowing what it felt like beneath his fingers and lips.

“Please kiss me, Sir Link.”

His incredulous expression jumped to her eyes.

“We are in a blind spot of the watchtowers. The guards beneath the wall cannot see. Anyone within the library would have to be looking for us to see us.”

“I…I…”

“You’re hesitating?”

Mercy! “Your Highness…”

She arched an inquisitive brow. It was an imperious brow. It demanded, and he surrendered.

“I was concerned that if I started, I would not stop.”

Her smile was predatory. In the next moment she kissed him as she’d down a dozen times before. The familiarity of it impassioned him. His mind was blank but his muscle memory was keen, and he was aware of that when she moaned in response to his hands on her back and the back of her neck and his tongue on her lips.

She kissed his lips where his snaggle tooth would be. That felt very much like a courtesy for both Lord Floria and Sir Link. He swallowed and searched for his voice, but ultimately whispered. “Your Highness?”

“My lord?”

Their noses were touching. Her breath was his breath. The day was humid and he shivered.

“Yes, my lord?” she rubbed their noses when he stared at her for too long.

“How did you know?”

“Know? Know what?”

“That I’m Lord Floria.”

She pulled away from him. “You’re Lord Floria?!”

Sir Link blanched and hiccupped and groped at the empty air where she’d been. His heartbeat was still hurting him when she burst into laughter.

“Forgive me, forgive me. You should have seen your face!”

Sir Link stomped away.

“No! No, no, no, come back!”

He slowed, sulking, and bent his elbow when she threaded their arms together. She rubbed her forehead on his shoulder and neck affectionately. “Forgive me. I could not resist. You’ve given my heart so many palpitations the past few weeks that I needed to avenge myself.”

He faced straight ahead, ever the dignified soldier, even with a giggling, blushing, punch-drunk princess on his shoulder. Soldiers on vigil who noticed them smiled.

Sir Link sulked, “Why would you need to avenge yourself?”

“Surely you jest?” She jabbed him in the ribs suddenly, startling him into staring at her. “You made me fall in love with you, then planted in my head that you were toying with my feelings, then told me outright you were uninterested in being my suitor, then gave me the first physical pleasure of my life. Of course I resent you!”

Sir Link blushed and huffed and muttered, “Sorry.”

She squeezed his arm lovingly and kicked his ankle. He pretended to stumble to placate her.

“How long have you known?”

“I wanted it to be you.”

Shocked, he looked at her again. However, it seemed her courage was spent, and she did not face his eyes. She whispered, “I wanted it to be you the entire time. I didn’t care what the hints were or my suspicions. I wanted you to be Lord Floria.”

“But…you tried to set me up with myself.”

She groaned. “It was a moment of madness! I just thought: no, it’s too good to be true! These hints are misleading me, they couldn’t be the same person, they’re just a match made in heaven!”

“I told you myself who I was.”

“You did! I was too distracted by your painted lips and beautiful thighs!”

“You think I’m pretty?”

She glared at him.

Sir Link convulsed with laughter despite that not a sound left him.

“You be quiet!”

He squeezed the hand on the inside of his elbow. “Did you enjoy looking for me?”

“It was exciting, to suspect and not definitively know.”

“Is it less exciting now that you know?”

“Not just yet, but I’m sure we can find other ways to keep things engaging.” She bobbed her eyebrows. “For example, your mask was exquisite. I look forward to seeing it again.”

He was nervous and excited and shifting. He blinked and shivered when her finger trailed his jaw and to his ear. She didn’t seem to care that they were no longer loitering in a blind spot.

“I just realized I never asked.”

“Mph?” He had been falling into a stupor. “Asked what?”

“Will you marry me?”

He laughed. “No.”

Her jaw dropped. “Excuse me?!”

“You’ll kill me.” He gestured between them.

“And you’re complaining?!”

When Princess Zelda walked into her father’s office he said, “Yes, yes, yes, just tell me the date.”

Princess Zelda stared.

King Rhoam put a page aside and added, “And while you’re at it you can pen me an essay titled: Why My Father is Right. Two thousand words. No less than five quotes.”

Princess Zelda walked out of her father’s office.

Someone commented quietly, “By Hylia’s grace! Did you see the wounds on Sir Link’s back this morning?! What do you think he went up against, a lizalfos?”

His senior huffed, “Lizalfos don’t have five nails, kid.”

The young soldier was confused. “What else could possibly get the jump on Sir Link then?”

His senior was amused now. “Relax. It’s just Princess Zelda.”

“Princess Zelda is abusing Sir Link—”

“What? No!”

“Oh my god, we have to tell somebody!”

“Just how young are you?!”

Prince Consort Presumptive Link of Deya called one of the courtiers an idiot as he threw aside her bribe, and Prince Lo, the Prince Consort Presumptives royal aide, was highly aggrieved.

“That was not at all subtle, Your Highness.”

Prince Consort Presumptive Link agreed.

“You threw the bolt of silk in her face, Your Highness!”

“It’s not my fault she can’t catch.”

“Listen here you little shit.”

Lady Impa asked, “Your Highness?”

Princess Zelda looked up from her work. Prince Consort Presumptive Link, who often forgot that he was no longer Captain of the Princess Guard, did not.

“What is it, Impa? I’m listening.”

“I was asked how best to refer to Sir Link.”

Prince Consort Presumptive Link looked up at last.

Princess Zelda put down her pen. “You find His Highness inadequate?”

“Less than inadequate, it’s untrue. He’s yet a part of the royal family.”

“That’s true,” she pinched her chin. “Link, what do you think?”

Prince Consort Presumptive Link signed.

“If anyone else calls you that but me I will neuter them.”

Prince Consort Presumptive Link blushed.

Lady Impa politely backed away. “I’ll give you two a moment.”

Chee wrote:

Easy with the kinks. I’m hearing rumours of the bite mark on your butt all the way from Lake Floria.

Link wrote:

Only one bite mark?

Chee wrote:

GROSS LINK.

It was common knowledge that Princess Zelda and Lord Link were each other’s foils. One need only attack Lord Link to disquiet Princess Zelda, and one need only start a rumour about Princess Zelda to unnerve Lord Link.

Therefore, it was exciting but not a surprise when Count Eldin received a black eye for his indecorous comment.

Prince Aide Lo was beleaguered. “How many times must I tell you? You can’t solve all your issues with violence!”

Lord Link scratched his chin. “I haven’t hit anyone for three days.”

“What? If it wasn’t you then—wait. Who did you hit three days ago?”

Lord Link was unreadable. “No-one.”

“My lord!”

Lord Link pretended he wasn’t enjoying Aide Lo’s agitation. “Who are you accusing me of hitting?”

“Count Eldin,” Aide Lo folded his arms. “He’s well known for not thinking before he opens his mouth, and he had a few opinions on you and your upbringing.”

“Everyone does.”

“Perhaps, but not everyone voices it. And for the most part your humble background and blood is either considered a boon or nullified by the spirit of the Hero.”

Lord Link bit into a pear.

“Your unflappable charm is darling. Never change. Anyway: when I heard the news, I had assumed he’d said something about Her Highness and that’s what inspired you to talk with your hands.”

Lord Link said with his hands, “I always talk with my hands.”

“Do not use puns to endear me to you, sir, I’m trying to be very cross.”

“But it wasn’t me!”

Lady Impa appeared just then. “Lord Lo, it’s true.”

“Where did you come from?”

“I was born in the limestone valley of Kakariko on a windswept morning—”

Was the entire royal office staffed with ironic know-it-alls?! “You be quiet.”

Lady Impa’s shoulders bounced in amusement. “Count Eldin was badmouthing Lord Link when he was laid flat.”

Lord Link arched a curious brow. “What had he said?”

“Nothing of importance,” Princess Zelda walked into the room, nonchalant and imposing. She smiled at her friends and vassals. “Count Eldin has been escorted from the premises, so the altercation is a non-issue. My Lord, I’m glad to find you. You had ideas I wished to implement for the upcoming ceremony—Link?!”

Lord Link swiped his fiancé’s hand. Beneath his kiss, beneath her gloves, her knuckles were hot and swollen. Only lifting his lashes, he whispered, “Thank you for defending my honour.”

Princess Zelda’s expression inspired Aide Lo and Lady Impa to run out of the chambers and soundly lock the door behind them.

Notes:

The Sheikah bard Caho is named after a mountain range just south of Rito Village.
Calamity Ganon is not a pressing threat in this story for obvious reasons, but this story very much takes place in a pre-Calamity Hyrule.
Link was hesitant to initiate a relationship with Princess Zelda because he was frightened that he would lose her one way or another, but was confident that he could stay at her side if they were friends. Prince Lo had hit the nail on the head.
Thanks for reading! If you read it to the end, I’d appreciate a kudos! If a part made you laugh, I’d love you to tell me in the comments! Check out my bookmarks for other Legend of Zelda works I highly recommend! Happy reading!

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