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When Link woke up in that damn hospital bed, he wasn’t sure what he was expecting. Flowers, maybe. A card. Yet another nurse to change the bandages on his chest. Really, anything but the Queen of Hyrule.
Then again, with her, you expected the unexpected. He’d learned that the hard way. If you expected a soft-spoken, gentle princess, you’d be met with a cunning, cutthroat vixen and businesswoman. Yet, if you expected a cold, heartless woman, you’d find a warm and passionate soul. If you expected a rule follower, you’d find a rebel. Yet if you expected someone with no sense of rules, you’d be surprised to find a fair and just ruler.
And if you expected a promotion, well...
“You’re fired.”
“What?”
Link grunted in pain as he struggled to sit up in the bed. His IV got caught on the arms of the hospital bed-with a wince, he yanked it out. Zelda frowned.
“Link, stop it. Lay back down.” Her tone was cold and detached, and she refused to meet his eyes.
He squeezed his eyes shut as a wave of dizziness hit him. He knew his heart rate had jumped-the machine next to him beeped loudly.
“I said, lay back down. You’re still recovering.”
You’re fired. You’re fired . The words circled his head time and time again, never really clicking.
“You-what? You can’t fire me! I’m your bodyguard!”
“I can, and I am. From this day henceforth, I release you from your servitude to me.”
It was funny. She wore the same low, black kitten heels she did last week when they snuck out of the castle for coffee. He was pretty sure that was the same lipstick she had on that night a few months ago, when after a long meeting, she fell asleep of sheer exhaustion with her face against his shirt on the airplane, staining the fabric a deep wine color. She wore the same perfume she had for all the years he knew her- honeysuckle, apricot, and vanilla. Sweet and fruity but sensual and chic. Everything about her screamed familiarity… so why was she distancing herself so much?
Usually their issue was not enough distance. Advisors complained far too often. They were sitting too close, they were talking too much, spending too much time together, being too friendly. The media is talking! They’d say.
He wondered what they’d say about this.
Link looked down at the stream of blood from where his IV was pulled out. Zelda looked, too-she sighed, taking a handkerchief from her purse.
“Link, that was stupid of you.”
“I know.”
She brought her chair next to the hospital bed and wiped the blood from his arm.
Link glared at her, yanking his arm away. He almost felt bad, seeing the hurt look on her face.
But that wasn’t enough for him.
“Stop trying to take care of me. Just… make this easy and leave.”
She stood up, huffing. Her fist wrapped around the bloodstained handkerchief, knuckles white. “You’re acting like a petulant child! Are you mad that I’ve been fine without you guarding me?”
“You’re only fine because I ordered security to be on high alert! You haven’t left the castle at all-this is the first time you’ve left. To fire me. You’ve stayed holed up there.” Avoiding me.
Another frustrated look. “You still get the security reports? Link, you got shot in the chest! Stop trying to do your job while you’re on death’s doorstep.”
“That’s the thing-I got shot in the chest. For you. I did my job.” I would have even if it weren’t my job . “So...why? Why are you firing me, Zelda?”
“Your highness,” she said tensely. “Call me Your Highness. Please. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be. The assassination attempt has already led to a media circus, and I don’t want things to get out of hand. Let me end this quietly.”
It hurt. It really fucking hurt. The idea that she wanted to end it… it made Link wish the bullet hadn’t missed his heart. Would nothingness be better than pain? He could only find one word.
“ Why ?”
She took a deep breath and looked up at the ceiling. “You’re-you were-my bodyguard. Your job was to be disposable to me. You’re supposed to die for me. You did your job well-I’m not denying that.” She paused, leaning her head back to rest against the wall. The cold, bleak, dark, dull wall of the cold, bleak, dark, dull hospital room. It made her look even more vibrant, electrifying, almost fluorescent in her contrasting beauty.
Her eyes bore into him. The silence was only punctuated by the steady, fast, beeping of his heart monitor- an indisputable window to his feelings. It gave a cold, mechanic voice to the rush of his heart.
“You aren’t disposable to me.”
Her voice was quiet, controlled. His juxtaposed hers-quiet, yes, but there was no control. He had no handle on his emotions. It was as evident as the blood had been the day it soaked through his shirt. The day she cried over him. The day she cradled him in her arms, running her hands through his hair.
He remembered it. He remembered the last feeling before he blacked out. It wasn’t pain, or fear. It was comfort. Comfort at the way she held his head against the crook of her neck, comfort at the way she rubbed her thumb across his face. He remembered her tears splashing against his face.
He almost thought there was a glimpse of a memory of her peppering kisses across his forehead, but he wasn’t sure. That was probably just a daydream in his delirium.
He much preferred that to the troubled, turmoiled queen sitting across from him.
“I had to fire you,” she continued. Her hands fiddled with the sleeves of her jacket. “I can’t-look, I need my bodyguards to be people I’m impartial to.”
Link mustered up a lopsided grin, despite himself. “You’re not impartial to me?”
A sad smile greeted him. “You know that. You’ve worked for me for years.”
“Ideally, I’d work for you for many more.”
“I can’t let you get hurt for me. I can’t keep putting you in danger, Link. I… care. I care too much to let you get hurt for me. We’ve been… friends for a long time now, and I can’t be friends with my bodyguard.”
Not being friends was fine with him.
Link laid back down, turning towards her on his side. “Maybe I can do something else, if you absolutely refuse to let me be a bodyguard. Do you need a scribe?”
“Please. Remember those nights you’d help with paperwork? You can forge signatures pretty damn well when I’m too tired to sign my own paperwork, but your handwriting is illegible.”
“Hmm. Need a bard? I can play the recorder.”
“This isn’t the 1800s! And I’ve heard you play recorder-you can’t.”
Maybe it was the blood loss. Maybe it was her bemused expression. Maybe it was just his own jackassery and insolence. But before he could stop himself, he asked: “Need a combine?”
She frowned. “What-? Like, a tractor…?” Oops.
Her face immediately went a vibrant crimson as she realized his intention. “Link, it’s concubine. And those are women.”
“Hey, I’m progressive. Males can be concubines.”
She raised an eyebrow. “You know what concubines do, right?”
“Care to show me?”
She rolled her eyes at him, though her cheeks were still the color of her lipstick. “Some way to talk to your queen.” She picked up her purse. “Look, we can talk later if you really want to come back with another job. But for now… visitation is almost over. Take care of yourself, okay?”
“Yeah, I’ll try. Please, be careful. I know you’ve got other guards, but… well, you know.”
You’re important to me.
She smiled.
“Oh, and-” she looked over her shoulder in the doorway- “If you want to go out with me, you don’t have to be a concubine. I’m sure we could work something else out.” With that beautiful, mischievous smirk he loved so much, she shut the door.
When the Queen of Hyrule walked into that damn hospital room, Link wasn’t sure what he was expecting. Flowers, maybe. A card. For her to bring in another nurse to change the bandages on his chest. Really, anything but plans for next Tuesday at their favorite cafe.