Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Link sat down heavily upon his bed, rubbing his aching arms and sighing. Training had been difficult today, as it was every day, involving a veritable menagerie of exercises and courses, drills, discipline, and other such activities that left even the most hardened soldier sore and wishing he had chosen some other career to pursue. At the same time, it had been incredibly rewarding, with a grim sense of pride at the tangible improvement that the régime had made to his body in just seventeen months. When he had arrived at Royal Hyrule Military Academy, he could barely follow his instructor’s commands for half an hour before collapsing, panting with exhaustion and dread at the reprimand he knew was about to befall him. It had been the same way with every new recruit. Now, however, even though his body was battered and bruised beyond what he once would have believed possible, he felt a distinct sense of satisfaction that he had made it through the entire morning without a single complaint or cry of pain. 

Having stretched, he glanced around his empty quarters, checking to see whether anyone had decided to join him. To his knowledge, everyone in his platoon, as was their custom, had decided to grab a bite to eat before retiring for the middle of the day. Link, however, as was his custom, had chosen to quietly slip away, while there was no-one around to watch. Though he knew that everyone had varying degrees of knowledge about this habit of his, he didn’t want to raise any more questions than he had to, or open himself up to the curious stares of his comrades.  

The bottom drawer of the cabinet beside his bunk slid open rather squeakily. Reaching inside, he would withdraw from it a letter, carefully re-folded, and with a small, elegant signature traced out with great care upon its front. Slowly, Link unfolded it, and, his heart warming, read for the second time the words traced upon it in silver ink. 

Link,  

It has been a rather busy week at the Domain. I suppose that it is busy all the time nowadays, with everything that is going on, but, even by those high standards, this week's calendar was noticeably full. Of course, it has all full with very important affairs, but... well, I quite hoped there would be a point where someone would realise just how busy everything had gotten, and call a respite, but it seems that no-one has, and things have just gotten busier!  

Many of the events that occurred would not be of much interest to you, I am afraid. I hardly managed to understand most of them myself! More Sheikah have been performing experiments on Ruta, who still remains an enigma to us. (Well, to me more than most, but nobody fully understands him.) They have isolated what they believe to be a method of attack for the Beast, and have had me attempting to harness that power all week, with limited success. Sometimes I did feel rather impatient with the lack of progress, wishing I could be doing other things, but I had to remind myself that it was working towards something important in the long term. It is not easy, but, Hylia grant me patience, I shall endure it.  

Sidon, naturally, has not spent even an hour this week concentrating on anything remotely important, so I suppose there is no change there. His antics, as of that with the Brigade, have frustrated Muzu greatly, and he constantly assures me that I am a far better student that my aggravating brother. Though I have to agree (with humility, of course), I do feel that he takes Sidon’s behaviour too seriously. If only he were to calm himself, he may see the humour when the Brigade takes it upon themselves to paint his desk bright yellow, or shuffles the books of his library so that they are in order of least to most interesting! I have heard that last joke took rather a lot of debate, as there were many contenders for the top spot.  

There are many more things I would love to write to you, but I suppose that you would not wish to read an essay of my week, and, for that, I cannot blame you; I would not wish to read it, either. Still, I hope you know that I am still thinking about you, and hope, one day, to see you again. Sadly, I cannot imagine this occurring in the near future, though, Hylia willing, it will happen. I can assure you of that, even if I have to walk to Hyrule Castle Town myself!  

May the goddess smile upon you.  

I write these words in my own hand,  

Mipha  

Daughter of King Dorephan, Princess of the Domain  

A smile broke out upon Link’s face as he read the familiar name at the end of the letter, leaning towards the parchment as if it could somehow make him closer to her. His fingers traced each familiar letter; the looping cursive that defined every document she wrote with penmanship incomparable to all else that Link had ever seen. She had taught him handwriting, so his script was unusually graceful for a person of his position, but the best work he could produce could never be worthy of comparison to even her hastiest extract. He smiled as he remembered the time, in his childhood, that he had been determined to best her, and how she had smiled and cuddled him when he had showed her his efforts. They hadn’t been very good, but she had delighted in them anyway. Never had he met anyone else who supported other people in such a way, and he doubted he ever would. 

She was his oldest and dearest friend, and by far his most steadfast. It caused an ache that he had not seen her for six long months, and that his only news from the Domain had been the few letters that she sent him. He had written her a number of letters as well; though he had little to tell her, he still wanted to keep in contact, and to show that he was thinking of her, too. 

But, despite the concern and consideration she obviously put into each letter, they always made Link feel a little disheartened. No matter how many letters he sent, and how many times he replied to the things that she had told them, she never referenced his letters in any of her correspondences, or in any way gave acknowledgement that she had received them. Indeed, it quite appeared to Link that she had ignored them completely. This confused and hurt him greatly, as he could not understand why Mipha, eager to speak with him, had disregarded every word he had sent in over half a year. What had happened? Why had she not responded? 

There was a loud bang from across the room as the door flew open, and the sound of heavy boots on the constantly-dirty floor as a group of men swaggered into Link’s quarters. Without looking up, Link knew who it was. No-one else could move with such haughtiness. He closed his eyes and sighed internally as a harsh, grating voice called across the room. 

“Hey! Lieutenant! Colonel Gaebora wants to see you! Says he’s got something he needs doing, and your men are-” 

The voice stopped abruptly, and there was a brief silence, then a rather loud scoff of derision that was clearly meant to be overhead, and then subsequently denied. After another second, Link glanced up. 

Link had long supposed that anyone’s immediate impression of the men before him would probably be ‘scruffy’, closely followed by ‘not particularly handsome’. Personally, Link had long since come to the conclusion that the best words to describe them were probably ‘uncouth and highly obnoxious’, though he welcomed anyone else’s opinion as to how best to express their unpleasantness. They were an odd assortment – some tall, some short, some bulky, some wiry – but they all shared the common objective of being as utterly repulsive as possible. They gawped at him down on the bed; or, more specifically, at the open letter still held in his hands. A few had sniggering grins on their faces. 

“You're not thinking about your fish girlfriend again, are you, Lieutenant?” one of them called in a shrill voice. “Don’t you know that all the fish think they’re better than you? Or have you somehow got one of the dissolute ones?” 

Their leader, a large man with a crop of red hair he had attempted to comb into something resembling fashion, sneered. “Hey, don’t be rude, Cawlin! The Lieutenant can think about whoever he wants, can’t he? Even if it is his fish girlfriend.” 

There was a renewed outbreak of giggles. The soldier who had made the remark bowed in ironic regret to his commander. “Sorry, Groose! It won’t happen again!” 

As another round of chuckling went around, Link found himself reflecting, rather scornfully, upon their own lack of understanding. There was no such thing as a ‘girlfriend’ or ‘boyfriend’ in Zora culture. Their assumptions about who exactly the Zora was from whom he was receiving letters were clearly based upon their ignorance, and the animosity towards Zora expressed by most Hylian working classes. They didn’t understand what they were saying, and they clearly couldn’t be bothered to learn, even if Link had attempted to explain that Mipha wasn’t his girlfriend. He wasn’t romantically involved with Mipha in any way, and neither of them wanted it to be that way. She was simply a friend; a good friend, and a much better person than any supposed of them could hope to aspire to. But he doubted that they would understand the subtleties of the situation.  

Many a time, he had wanted to discipline them for their insolence, and for their disrespect for Mipha especially. But, if his time at Royal Hyrule taught him anything, it was that it was unwise to pick a fight with Lt Groose. Even if you won, the bureaucracy that followed would be immense, and he would just pick right back up where he had left off after all the dust had settled. It was best to tolerate it, and rest soundly in the knowledge that everyone else disliked them as much as he did, and understood his plight. 

Abruptly, he shoved the letter back into the draw, and pushing it back in, stood. The snickers died immediately as he faced Groose, staring him directly in the eyes to show his complete lack of embarrassment and intimidation. “You were saying something about Colonel Gaebora, Lieutenant Groose?” 

Groose looked slightly taken aback at the suddenness of the question, but recovered his innate superciliousness immediately. “Yeah, Lieutenant. Colonel needs you in his office, fast as you can get there. He’s got a task that he needs doing, and your squad’s the one who going to be doing the doing. Sounds like it’s going to be lots of fun,” he added with mock helpfulness. 

Link didn’t wait to her anything more, but, bending down, took from his belt a key and locked the drawer so that Groose et al. couldn't root around inside of it when he was gone. Then, standing erect again, he walked swiftly out of the room and into the fresh midday sunlight which illuminated the crowd of buildings around him. Squinting briefly against the glare of the sun, he identified the direction of the Colonel’s office and began a swift trot through the clusters of barracks to get there, acknowledging several greetings from soldiers who were lounging about, off-duty for their lunch break. 

The Colonel’s office was situated near the other end of the parade ground, about a ten minutes' walk away. Link had plenty of time to wonder what exactly he was being summoned for before he opened the carved wooden door and stepped inside the sparsely-furnished but neat little room. Groose had made it out to be some kind of assignment, but Link wasn’t really sure what kind of assignment it could possibly be. Did the Colonel need someone to run an errand for him? But surely he would not need an entire platoon just do perform a simple chore? Did something need setting up? Perhaps for the younger trainees, and he needed a more experienced squad in order to assist in instructing them? But surely there were still more experienced squads that his that would be far better suited for the purpose. Link pondered this question as he stood to attention before a desk crowded with paper, behind which the Colonel could be seen scribbling on a piece of paper muttering to himself. Suddenly, he glanced up and noticed Link. 

“Ah, Lieutenant. Perfect timing.” Colonel Gaebora smiled genially at him from under thick, bushy eyebrows. He was a rather large man – a little rotund, but extremely able for his age. His critical fault was his inability to deal harshly with people, which he had to leave up to his inferiors. “I assume you’ve been told I have use of your platoon?” 

“Yes, sir.” Link waited expectantly for what this assignment was to be. 

“Good. Well, it’s not the most glamorous, I’m afraid, but it’s sure to give you a break from all your hard training, as well as grant you a chance to put all your ceremonial knowledge into action,” he said, reaching for a document lying underneath a stack of parchment that looked to be from the Castle. Smoothing it out, he glanced at it. “You’ve been assigned to escort duty. Some foreign negotiators have come to discuss matters with the king, and will be staying in an inn outside the Castle on their first night here. You and your men are going to need to be there to greet them, escort them to their residence, guard them overnight, and then take them to the Castle in the morning. I’ll find another platoon to relieve you from there. Understood?” 

Link felt a vague sense of anti-climax with a fair amount of frustration mixed in. Escort duty with little risk of actual action was never any soldier’s favourite task. “They’re not bringing troops of their own, sir?” 

“Apparently, they have, but are leaving them outside Castle Town. I forgot the reason.” He smiled sympathetically at Link’s annoyance, though he had been careful not to let it show on his face. “I know it’s not the more exciting job. But you were specifically requested, and, regardless, someone has to do it. You understand that.” 

Link nodded, feeling his irritation drain away. Gaebora was right, of course. The ambassadors, whoever they may be, needed to know that Hyrule was willing and able to protect its allies, and a military escort would hopefully provide them with the sense of security they all needed to counteract the pervasive fear that gripped many of the academics surrounding the impending Calamity. “Yes, sir. Anything else?” 

“Of course,” Gaebora nodded. “You’re needed at the Castle Gate at seven o’clock, so you still have time. Best set out about an hour and a half before then. You’ll meet the Duke of Necluda there; he’ll be formally greeting the foreigners, and you’ll be under his command until I tell you otherwise. Try to get there in an orderly fashion. If everything goes according to plan, you should be back here tomorrow just in time to have missed morning training.” 

“Yes, sir. With your permission, I’ll alert my men.” 

“Do so,” the Colonel replied. “As for me, I have work to finish.” He gestured to the stacks of documents on his desk and sighed with good-natured fatigue. “Often, I believe you field officers get the much better deal in this whole system.” 

With a small smile, Link turned on his heel and strode towards the door, opening it carefully and stepping out into the bright sunlight once again. The grounds were full of activity now that most people had finished lunch, and were retiring to their quarters before the afternoon began. Link’s platoon would be heading back there now, with a good meal in their stomachs and a joyful relief that they had managed to get through the morning’s gruelling tasks. 

Many of them, Link knew, would not be happy with the news he had to deliver. 

Sighing, Link began his trip back around the parade ground. No, they wouldn’t be particularly happy about this. But they were soldiers, and Link had instructed them well, and so they would perform the task admirably; he was sure of it. Even something as uninteresting as escort duty for foreign diplomats. 

Link frowned, slowing to a halt as a thought occurred to him. The foreigners that he was supposed to escort. The foreign representatives, with diplomatic ties to the Kingdom of Hyrule. That could mean Zora, could it? And Mipha was the Zora’s principal ambassador. Could that possibly mean that Mipha would... 

He shook the thought off, sudden hope dispelling like a light being extinguished. It was a wonderful thought, but such a thing Mipha would have mentioned as a matter of critical importance. Her most recent letter, the one he had read earlier, had mentioned nothing of it nor of anything like it. Indeed, had it not stated that Mipha was not expecting to see him in the near future? Likely the diplomats were from some other race else entirely, and he was going to spend the entire time guarding a contingent of Gorons. He grimaced. It had been a wonderful idea for a second. 

He continued around the parade ground, following the crowds of soldiers who were all moving in the same direction; back to their beds. But now, he found himself dwelling on Mipha. Mipha, and her epistles, and why she never replied to his. 

. . . 

The bright sun of the day had nearly fled by the time Link finally stood to rigid attention outside of the Castle Gate, and the cool breeze of the evening was beginning to creep up on him. Beside him, in a neat row, stood half of his platoon, all of whom were standing in silence as he was. On the other side of the gate stood the other half of his platoon, and in the middle stood the Duke of Necluda and his delegation, who were conversing amongst themselves in low voices as they waited for the foreigners to arrive. The duke was a rather portly, balding man – one who had certainly seen more than his fair share of feasts, and had been exempt from his fair share of physical exertion - but he had a good sense of humour and was always happy to talk with people, no matter their position, and so he was looked favourably upon by most. Link idly supposed that, really, if there was anyone to give a good first impression to visiting dignitaries, if was probably the duke and his friendly and accommodating disposition. His thoughts did not linger long upon the intricacies of diplomacy, and soon he found his mind turning once again to Mipha. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Link noticed that someone from the duke’s retinue – a tall young man wearing the blue frock of an administrator – was turning from his conversation with the duke, nodding to himself. Then, catching Link’s eye, he beckoned him forward. Link swiftly broke from his position in the line and marched forward, stopping just before the servant, who bent down and began to speak in a voice so soft Link had to strain to hear every word. 

“You are the lieutenant of this platoon, correct?” The man peered down at Link from underneath his carefully-trimmed brown hair before sending a quick glance around him as though frightened of being overheard. 

“Yes,” Link replied, following the servant’s lead and keeping his voice low, for whatever reason that may be. 

“Good.” The servant leaned in closer and dropped the volume of his voice even further. “The ambassadors will be staying at the Southpost Inn , which is about a ten-minute walk to the west of here; you know of it?” 

“I do.” 

“Take a few of your men and go there. Make sure the innkeeper is prepared for their arrival, and that everything is in order to receive them, then come back here. Understood?” 

Link glanced out the Castle Gate. The visitors were already visible on the horizon as a small ensemble of dark shapes, and about a minute before them was a lone figure; clearly a herald of some description. Link, mentally measuring the distance, could tell that he would get to the gate sooner than twenty minutes from now. “Aren’t you concerned that we’ll miss the ambassadors’ entrance?” 

The administrator waved the issue off. “It’ll be quite all right. The reception will take long enough for you to get back here, and we need someone to check on the innkeeper, or else we may have a crisis on our hands when they get to the inn.” 

“Of course.” Link glanced down the west road, where pedestrians could be seen going about their afternoon business. “I’ll leave immediately.” 

“Thank you, Lieutenant,” the servant said with something that might have been an attempt at an appreciative smile before he turned to one of his fellows, obviously intent on ironing out all the details of the official visit before the delegation arrived. Turning, Link would walk quickly back to the line, and, gesturing to two soldiers to follow him, would start down the west road with two of his platoon in tow. 

The men he had chosen to accompany him were those under his command with whom he was best acquainted – Colin and Pipit. Both had joined the army at the same time he had, both had trained with him from then until now, and both had been recruited into his platoon when he had received his promotion. More importantly, however, both were men he trusted, and liked, and knew well. They were the only two men at Royal Hyrule in whom Link had openly confided the identity of the woman who sent him letters, and the only two who were utterly convinced that Mipha was most certainly not his girlfriend – that, indeed, she was the Princess of the Domain, and one of his oldest companions, but that she was not romantically involved with him in any way. Link was incredibly thankful that they had been his comrades for the entirety of his military career. Were it not for them, he couldn’t imagine how much more difficult his training would have been. 

There was silence for a while as they strode through the crowds, citizens quickly clearing the path for them as they walked the streets, recognising the look of soldiers who were on official business. The sound of chatter and occasional laughter faded slightly as Link took his men on a right turn, down a deserted alley which he knew would cut out of their trip a large courtyard, one which would doubtless be full at this time of day; just because Link could make common non-military personnel move aside for him didn’t mean he wanted to do so any more than he had to. 

After a few seconds away from the crowds, Colin was the first to speak. “So, who do you reckon the visitors are going to be?” 

“Could be anyone, really,” Link replied, steering from their deserted alley into an equally deserted but slightly larger street. “It has to be someone important to be meeting the king and having the duke come out to meet them.” 

“You received another letter from the princess, right?” Pipit asked after a few more seconds of silence, striding along on Link’s left, looking intently down at him. When Link nodded, he asked “What did it say?” 

“The usual,” Link said in response, eyes lingering on the passing street names as he calculated when he needed to turn again. Neither Colin nor Pipit had actually seen Mipha, but Link had described her to them both, and told them a few things about their history together. “Things continue. The Divine Beast continues to absorb most of her time. Sidon doesn’t listen to a word his tutors tell him, and gets into trouble. We need to turn down here.” 

He angled to the south, where another crowd could be seen milling around in the wide road ahead, many of them watching a street performer, who appeared to be juggling burning rods and receiving donations for her efforts. She reminded Link of another performer Link had once seen, who had come to the Domain when he was about nine for the entertainment of the Zora. Mipha had come with him, and they had both been amazed and a little frightened at the exhibit as tongues of fire flew around in the air, both of them worried that the trouper would fumble the catch and set himself on fire; though he had later admitted to her that it would have been quite amusing. The thought made him smile. 

“Wait a second!” Colin exclaimed with great excitement as the sounds of cheering grew louder. “You don’t think- “ he dropped his voice dramatically, “you don’t think it could be Mipha who’s coming to Castle Town with that delegation, do you?” 

Link shook his head a little sadly. “No, I don’t, though I had hoped when I first heard. That letter made it quite clear that she doesn’t expect to see me in the near future. If she’d known about such a thing, she would have told me about it as a matter of first priority.” 

Colin looked mightily disappointed. Pipit grimaces sympathetically – knowing how long it had been since Link had seen her – and leaned close. “You're sure that letter’s recent- “ 

“Yes,” Link cut him off. “And be quiet. We’re about to mingle with the commoners.” All three of them fell into silence as they walked out into the road, crossing through the river of people to reach a large building on the other side, over which a hand-painted sign bearing a picture of a flag above the legend ‘The Southpost Inn: All races welcome!’ crouched, smoke happily curling from one of its chimneys. Pipit moved quickly forward to grasp the doorhandle, and opened it to let Link and Colin in with a tinkle of a shop bell. 

The innkeeper was a friendly sort of man, stocky and ruddy, with twinkling eyes and a staff of young serving women (including a pair of Rito), all of whom seemed very eager to please the representatives of their well-connected patrons. The conversation was brief – the landlord was well aware of the arrival of visitors, assured Link that he had taken every possible precaution, and that his staff were all well aware of their responsibilities. The whole affair took a much shorter amount of time than Link had been expecting, and he felt rather satisfied with the whole situation as he finally left the inn, waving politely to the innkeeper as he did so, Colin and Pipit close behind him; Pipit had seemed rather interested in some of the serving girls, but the look Link had given him had swiftly convinced him not to do anything stupid. Walking down the short path through the garden that led to the road, he started off again down the alleyway, retracing his steps back to the Castle Gate, where the visitors were doubtless already being greeted. 

Their conversation resumed as they strode down the streets, and meandered around with them as they talked about things that had been occurring at Royal Hyrule, and some of the stories that they had been told, and some of the things that they had heard about preparations for the Calamity. Only when they were nearly at the Castle Gate did the subject of the foreign visitors was brought up again, and they got no further in deciding who it could be than they had before. 

“Could be anyone, really,” Pipit said, echoing Link’s words from before. “Maybe the Akkalans; that Citadel of theirs is pretty important, and the king would probably be interested in what’s going on up there.” 

“But the inn seemed to have a really big emphasis on non-Hylians,” Colin pressed. “Wouldn’t it make more sense for non-Hylians to be coming?” 

“Rito, maybe?” Link suggested, as the next corner to round came within view. “There were Rito women being employed there, after all.” 

“Beautiful Rito women,” Pipit muttered under his breath; whether he intended for Link to hear or not, it was hard to tell. “Well, I suppose we’re about to find out. We should probably shut up now. Don’t want anyone to think their soldiers can actually talk.” 

The babble of conversation from the reception at the gate was becoming louder. Link stood erect, the movement matched by Colin and Pipit on either side of him. His mind was once again back on Mipha, longing to see her, wishing that it could have been her who had come... 

And then he turned the corner, and saw Mipha. 

She was just standing there, talking amiably to the duke, who was laughing one of his famous, uproarious laughs at an unheard joke that had obviously just been passed between them, looking utterly as though she belonged there; like it was not strange in any way for her to suddenly just show up out of the blue and arrive at Castle Town. Around her the Zora entourage mingled with the Hylians, some in a friendly or jovial manner, others with greater seriousness, comparing bits of parchment and muttering in low voices. Still others merely stood around awkwardly, eyeing the other side with a measure of distrust. And Mipha, despite being in the middle of the throng, and shorter by far than everyone else, stood out to Link like a fireworks display against a starry night. 

Link stopped dead halfway through a step, stumbling slightly at the abrupt motion, feeling a strange sensation overtaking him; an odd mixture between unreality, shock, and, despite the longing to see her which had only seconds previously been piteously burning at his insides, an uncomfortable squirming of fear. Half of him wanted to run towards her, a broad smile on his face – half of him wanted to flee, and not to have to deal with any consequences that might arise – and so, struck simultaneously by both desires, he compromised by turning stock-still, his eyes wide and locked on her, his breathing cut off with a small, disbelieving choking noise. It was only in the very deep recesses of his mind – the only parts that hadn’t immediately shut down, and the only parts still capable of rational thought – that he wondered what she was doing here, and why she hadn’t mentioned this in any of her letters. 

Colin and Pipit first noticed his jerk to a stop, and then caught sight of the delegation, and then both came to a halt as well. Colin’s eyes were wide, and glanced up at Link eagerly, as though expecting some form of confirmation. Pipit squinted down the street, taking in the scene that had so effectively paralysed Link. 

“Looks like it was the Zora after all,” he commented helpfully after a second of silence. “Well, Link, I guess you can’t be right about everything.” 

“Is that her?” Colin asked excitedly. “The one talking to the duke? Is that your princess, Link?” 

Link made a strangled sound, which could either have been confirmation, a reprimand not to refer to Mipha in such a way, or simply an expression of his great confusion; he couldn’t tell. He found himself unable to take his eyes off her, gazing dumbly across the length of the street as she smiled cordially at one of the duke’s ever-frequent jokes. Without meaning to, his eyes traced the curves of her lithe body, noting the beauty of her white-and-crimson scales, and admiring the kind, gentle attractiveness of her face; the way she hid her mouth behind her hand daintily as she giggled. Her head turned as she glanced around, still smiling, and caught sight of Link staring at her. 

Her own face went rigid. For a moment, their eyes locked, inexpressible emotions in both of them. All other sounds and sights seemed to diminish, and they were left standing at opposite ends of a vast, dark tunnel, with an endless chasm between them. Then the duke, following Mipha’s gaze, looked over, and gesturing to Link, Colin, and Pipit, would make some boisterous comment, and the moment would be broken. Mipha broke Link’s gaze, turning to the duke and nodding, smiling affably as though nothing was out-of-place. Sound and sight returned to Link, though he remained frozen. 

Pipit leaned around so that he was in Link’s unseeing line of sight. “Uh, Lieutenant? Don’t mean to be rude, but you’ve got your mouth hanging open.” 

Abruptly, and with a jerk, Link came to his senses. He snapped his mouth shut, and, despite his best efforts to stop it, felt his cheeks grow warm at his foolish behaviour. Of course, he wasn’t romantically interested in Mipha in any way, shape, or form. He had merely... gotten carried away. A minor lapse, easily corrected, not to be repeated again. Really, she was a good friend, and he had just been surprised to see her, that was all. That he had made such a scene over what was really just a pleasant surprise was quite childish, but nothing to look too deeply into. Perhaps seeing Mipha had caused a resurgence of that childish part of his mind – yes that would be it. It was just like he had become a child again, seeing her for the first time, as he had been caught off-guard. It had to be that. Because, of course, he was not romantically interested in Mipha in any way, shape, or form. 

“Thank you, Pipit,” he said shortly, before swiftly breaking into a trot, forcing his companions to hurry to catch up with him, doing his best to dispel the lingering redness of his face. He had mostly recovered by the time he reached the double line of his men still standing to attention, and moved past them to stop at a respectful distance beside the administrator from earlier, who was currently engaged in a discussion with a Zora ambassador Link vaguely recognised. The administrator finished his conversation and turned to Link. 

His face was blank for a second as he sorted Link’s face through the vast index of faces in his mind, before his expression suddenly cleared. “Ah, yes. What is the report, Lieutenant.” 

“The landlord is fully prepared to receive guests,” Link replied shortly, perhaps more stiffly and formally than he typically would. 

“Good!” The servant spoke in the same overly quiet voice as before. He glanced briefly around at the interspecies conversation circles around him, analysing them with a shrewd eye. “Well, I suppose I should suggest to His Grace that he prepare to depart. He is escorting the dignitaries on a brief tour of Castle Town before we depart. You’ll accompany him, of course, and will guard the inn during the night.” 

Link felt a shiver run up his spine at the thought of spending so much time near Mipha, but resolutely forced it down. He nodded and, turning, marched back into position, feeling the gazes of Colin and Pipit firmly upon him. He ignored both, and he especially ignored Mipha, choosing instead to stare wherever she was not. Inside of him, emotions bubbled and swirled like broth; confusion, joy, anxiety, and just a very strong hint of anger that she had never acknowledged him. 

True to the administrator’s word, the duke soon suggested to Mipha that they commence their tour of the Town, and Mipha would graciously accept (Link couldn’t help but overhear her). There were a couple of raised voices, and soon everyone began to ponderously move, still chatting away to each other about matters superficial or solemn. At Link’s signal, the guard of honour on either side turned and began to slowly march with them, and together they drifted down the Great Street. 

Behind Link, Pipit, out of the earshot of everyone but his lieutenant, gave a little chuckle. “So that’s your Zora girlfriend.” 

Link did not have the capacity to reprimand him. 

. . . 

“And here, I do believe, we have your room!” the Duke of Necluda concluded as he opened the carved wooden door with a flourish, bowing her in with equal flair. “I have heard that it will be suitable?” 

Mipha edged her way around Necluda’s protruding belly and peered into the chamber. It was certainly the most opulent the inn would have to offer; a large bed dominated the equally spacious room, which was ringed with furnishings of no little cost, including a wardrobe, three chests of drawers, a bookcase full of well-respected publications, a basin for holding a substantial quantity of water, and a solid-looking desk already outfitted with parchment, quills, ink, and a gas lamp with fuel. Paintings and illustrations decorated the walls, their subjects ranging from a picturesque seascape to a detailed charcoal sketch of several Rito having a meal in the mountains of Hebra. To one side, a door led to what was presumably an en suite – quite the luxury, Mipha thought to herself. It was clear that the landlord wished to impress his official guests, perhaps in the hopes of further royal patronage. 

She certainly couldn’t say his efforts were in vain, either. “Yes, thank you – this will be wonderful,” she replied, slipping past Necluda and entering the room. “I thank you most sincerely; and our host, of course.” 

“Oh, yes, he’s done a marvellous job, hasn’t he?” Necluda chuckled. He paused briefly, and the smile faltered. “Though, before I leave, I’d like to make sure you feel comfortable sleeping in a bed? I had initially arranged for you to be lodged in a room with more a traditional Zora sleeping arrangement, but I had been assured that you would insist upon this.” 

“And I, in my turn, can assure you that whoever first assured you was correct,” she said gently, turning back to face him. “I have become quite preferential to this arrangement, though I do thank you for your thoughtfulness.” 

“Ah, wonderful!” he exclaimed, the smile returning in full force. “And you’re certain there’s nothing else I can get for you?” 

“No, there is not,” Mipha replied. “I am certain I shall be quite all right.” 

“Good, good!” Necluda said happily. “Well, in that case, I must retire myself. I shall see you in the morning, Princess.” 

“Indeed, Necluda. I look forward to it.” 

Still smiling, Necluda backed his girth out of Mipha’s new bedroom and carefully shut the door with a snap. 

And only then did Mipha finally allow herself to collapse, falling heavily onto the bed and staring blankly at the opposite wall as she let the emotions of the last hour seep slowly out of her. 

Six months. It had been six months since she had last seen Link, six months of thinking of him, of dreaming of him – of fantasising of him, even – and so seeing him now, all of a sudden, though she had been expecting it, was overwhelming. Either she had forgotten just how good he looked, or he had grown so much more handsome in that time, but, whatever the cause, she had been unable to take her attention away from him. She could, if she stretched herself, recall perhaps one or two things that Necluda had told her about Hyrule Castle Town, but she could easily remember every detail about Link’s physical appearance, from the exact shaping of the musculature of his arms to the gait with which he had marched beside her. Her heart yearned for him – yearned for him so forcefully it felt as though it would heave itself from her chest and run off to find him. 

But it shouldn’t, for it would only be disappointed. After all, surely if he in any way reciprocated his feelings, he would have replied to her letters.

Sighing softly to herself, she knelt and reached into the bag containing her possessions that a maid had evidentially brought up to the room in advance, shifting aside several less-consequential items until she came to a folded package wrapped carefully in brown paper. Taking it from amidst the depths of her personal items, she placed it on the bed, unwrapping it slowly until its contents – a blue tunic adorned with silver armour – was clearly visible. She placed her hand on it and felt the tiny white scale that was sewn in just above the breast, reminiscing over the many, many opportunities that she had so far had to gift it to Link. Her nerve had failed her every time, and so she was left still longing for him, uncertain of their future together. 

She had brought it with her in hopes of presenting it to him on this diplomatic mission, but now, more than ever, she had her doubts that he would accept. He had not acknowledged any correspondence that she had sent him, despite increasingly overt pleas that he respond to her in desperate desire to hear from him again, and his shock at her presence indicated that he had not even bothered to read what she had sent him. That, and the guilty way he had avoided her gaze during the entire tour of Castle Town had bred in her the pernicious conviction that he was quietly hoping to sever their relationship, perhaps under pressure from his comrades to disassociate himself from the Zora as a whole. 

It was a horrible, horrible thought, especially for how much she loved him in return, and the armour that she had so painstakingly and affectionately crafted for the proclamation of that love. She knew that such an awful action should make her feel betrayed, hurt, and quite possibly angry at Link, for all that she had poured out to him. But though it was the only conclusion she could logically imagine, she couldn’t bring herself to consider him in such a way. The Link she knew would never do such a thing, no matter what pressure he was under; he was far too loyal, and determined, and kind. Surely it was an utter impossibility, shameful for her to even imagine. 

But, then again, it had been ages since she had known Link. 

Abruptly, she plucked up the armour and stuffed it with unnecessary force back into her bag, before throwing herself acrimoniously upon the bed. She knew she should be thinking of tomorrow, and the important conferences that were to occur, but she could not manage it. Turning over in the plush comfort of the mattress – a sensation, she remembered with a jolt, that she would never have experienced was it not for Link’s influence – she turned off the oil lamp by her bed, plunging the room into darkness as she turned towards the window, staring unseeingly at the Hylian soldier standing guard outside, alternately seething at and yearning for Link in equal measure. 

After two hours, she found herself unable to sleep, so full of emotion was she. A movement from out the window roused her from her ruminations, and she sat up slightly in bed as the garden was illuminated by the opening and closing of the inn’s front door. Walking swiftly from the source of this sudden, fleeting light came another soldier, who spoke briefly with the sentry on guard before relieving him. The first soldier tramped tiredly back towards the inn, and, in the second, brief flood of light, Mipha recognised that the second guard was Link. 

She gazed at him, feeling her hurt and confusion bleed away to be replaced by a strange sense of love and serenity. Falling back onto her pillows, she found herself suddenly becoming very tired, and began to drift off into a deep and peaceful slumber, her eyes still riveted upon his shadowed form. In her drowsy state, she probably imagined it, but could have sworn she saw him glance with unusual frequency up at her window before restful sleep finally overtook her, and she knew nothing more. 

Chapter Text

Mipha finished ornamenting herself, and stood back from the mirror to admire her handiwork. After a single glance at her own body, she found herself utterly satisfied – decades of practice had made her application of jewellery practically flawless, and she could find no fault in the work that she had done. Dressing herself well, she believed, was an important skill, especially for someone in her line of duty. How one dressed influenced how others perceived her, and, even with her relative youth in the diplomatic career, she knew just how important such impressions could be. They could sway otherwise-uncertain outcomes in her favour, or cause others to regard her as both trustworthy and a woman of integrity, both of which were valued assumptions for those people to make when negotiating with them. 

On this particular occasion, she knew its import would become evident as she became acquainted for the first time with a number of Hylian noblemen to discuss issues of trade and tariffs between the Kingdom of Hyrule and the Dominion. To many, she knew, such mundane affairs seemed uninteresting and unimportant, but her study of politics had given her a distinct appreciation for the legislation and parleying that went behind such decisions. Nations rose and fell on economics, and such an integral aspect of society could not be left neglected for any reason, even the threat of impending apocalyptic invasions by Malice and Evil. When Hyrule emerged from the ashes of the conflict, life would continue, and then Rupees would be as important as ever. 

So Mipha couldn’t find much cause for complain over her assigned duty. Indeed, it was work she rather enjoyed, having been brought up into it. The issue of Link, however, still rankled. 

Moving away from the mirror, she returned to her bed, and, after a brief hesitation, took from it a package carefully re-wrapped in brown paper and slipped it under her arm. Then, with a deep breath, and a vague sense of nervousness as she pondered what she was to do about Link, she strode over to the door and opened it. 

As she slipped through the opening into the hallway beyond, a Hylian soldier, who had obviously been standing sentry outside her door that morning, straightened to attention, his spear pointing rigidly up at the ceiling. Mipha glanced at him as she gently shut the door behind her. He was quite short, with a rather round face characterised chiefly by a pair of large blue eyes, which lent him the appearance of a slightly overgrown child. His hair was a similar colour to Link’s, though slightly darker, and his skin was just as pale, making her wonder whether he hailed for Hateno village as Link did. He seemed rather nervous in his heavy steel armour, and stood with an erectness that seemed unnatural even for military attention, as though he was determined not to incur her displeasure. 

“Your Highness!” he squeaked out, his slightly nervous tone reinforcing Mipha’s impression that she frightened him in some way. Noticing this, she declined to correct his form of address to ‘my lady’. “I am Private Colin, from here to be your escort, courtesy of His Grace the Duke of Necluda, who requests your presence in the dining hall for a meal before your departure for the Castle!” 

“Thank you, Private,” she said gently, gazing with some concern at the extreme effort he was obviously putting into making himself appear as respectful as possible. He caught her eye and quickly looked away; she smiled. “And may I ask that you are at ease. I am not here to judge your performance.” 

Pte Colin sagged visibly with relief where he stood, leaning upon his polearm. As if he had suddenly received permission to look at her, his eyes eagerly probed Mipha’s body, taking in her gills, brachial fins, and webbed fingers and toes, obviously unused to Zora anatomy. Mipha permitted it in silence, though it did make her feel rather uncomfortable – like an unusual specimen on display. Many Hylians, already prejudiced against Zora, often regarded her foreign form as they would some hideous, repellent monster. But she felt that Pte Colin’s inspection was different. He wasn’t regarding her with any sort of suspicion, disgust, or disdain, but instead with the simple, undisguised curiosity that befitted his childlike appearance. It felt almost as if he had been waiting to see her for a long time. 

Still, she tolerated his curiosity only for a few seconds before, gesturing, turning and beginning to walk down the corridor to where a flight of stairs began, leading to the inn’s ground floor and its communal facilities. There was a slightly belated clanking of heavy boots on wood as he hurried forwards to catch up with her, and then they descended the long, spiralling staircase in silence as Mipha found herself wondering where Link was. She hadn’t made any sort of plan for what she was to do with him in advance, and she certainly didn’t have even the beginnings of one now, but she did have the firm conviction that she would do something to resolve the question of Link on this trip, before she left again to be apart from him for another six months. Perhaps it was because she felt she had to do something to justify the armour wrapped underneath her arm, or perhaps it was simply because she needed to know whether he had actually decided to end their relationship, but it was something she intended to do at some time, somehow. What that would look like, she still had no idea. 

A sudden thought, begotten by Pte Colin’s strange curiosity, sprang into her mind. She turned her head to look behind her at Colin, who appeared to be concentrating hard on making absolutely certain he didn’t accidentally misplace a step and come crashing down onto her. 

“May I ask who your platoon commander is, Private?” she asked. Pte Colin looked slightly startled at her question and stumbled a bit, but recovered relatively quickly. 

“Uh... Lieutenant Link, Your Highness,” he replied apprehensively, taking the next step with extra care to prevent any further mishaps. 

“Where is Lieutenant Link now?” 

“I... I think he’s in a meeting with Major Horwell, Your Highness. I’m sorry, I- I don’t know what it’s about.” 

“Do you know Lieutenant Link well, Private?” she pressed, feeling excitement beginning to build up inside her. This was a prime opportunity to find out what Link had been doing in the six months they had been separated without actually confronting him herself; which she didn’t feel in any way prepared to do just yet. 

“Well, I...” Colin wiped his babyish face under his steel helmet, which had become damp with the beginnings of nervous sweat, as though he didn’t particularly enjoy this impromptu interrogation. “I... I suppose he’s my commanding officer, and we’re... kind of close in that way?” 

Mipha was silent as she stepped off the staircase, walking slowly down the corridor towards a great arched gateway, through which she could hear the murmur of conversation. She felt sorry for Pte Colin, but she felt she was happening upon something crucial. Colin’s nervousness, combined with her impression that he had been waiting to see her for a long time, seemed to perhaps indicate that he had known about her before she had arrived; more than just from rumours, but in a way that only someone that had actually known her could have spoken about. And if that person who knew her had spoken about her to his comrades, that meant that he certainly wasn’t attempting to sever ties with her.  

She had to know. With some hesitation, but an awareness that the archway was coming steadily nearer, she delicately asked, “Has... has Link ever spoken about me?” 

Pte Colin looked very flustered, and refused to meet her eye. He swallowed several times, as though planning on saying something, but nothing but a small squeak arose from him. Mipha waited with patience (and sympathy, for it didn’t look particularly pleasant), hoping for something on Link, but, when he spoke, sounding rather strained, it was to eventually splutter out, “This is w-where I have t-to leave you, Your H-Height-ness,” and promptly turn and flee, red in the face, his armour jangling away with him. Mipha watched his departure from her position framed in the doorway to the dining hall, before entering. 

Colin’s reaction, Mipha mused, seemed to indicate that Link had spoken about her with his comrades-in-arms. Surely, then, this meant he was not ashamed of his connection with the Zora – that he was not ashamed of his connection with Mipha especially. A guttering light flared up in her chest as she briefly entertained herself with romantic dreams of the care and affection with which he had spoken about her, but this flame was quickly extinguished as rational thought regained control. Though Pte Colin’s reaction did appear to demonstrate that Link had not forgotten or attempted to forget about her, it did not answer the all-consuming question of what he had done with her epistles. Surely, the evidence that would prove that he cared would be letters in reply, but she had none of those, and still no indication that he had even considered communicating with her. 

But the part of her that couldn’t believe he had abandoned her seized upon this hope and clung fast to it, doggedly arguing with her rational side so that, when she took a seat next to Jiahto in the clean, crowded dining hall, she had a rather bad headache. 

As soon as she sat down, Jiahto welcomed her. “My lady! I hope you had a restful night?” 

“Yes, of course, thank you, Jiahto.” Mipha turned to him to give him her full attention, eagerly jumping on the chance to distract herself with other matters. 

“Good!” Jiahto rubbed his hands together. “I’m thinking that we might want to discuss the day’s activities, just so my lady is confident with what exactly is occurring. Do you concur?” 

“I do,” Mipha confirmed. “Please continue.” 

And so Jiahto launched into his oration – the type of discourse that only a historian could present – and Mipha listened intently, and interjected at the appropriate moments, and placed her order with the serving maid who came to take her royal guest’s order, and subsequently ate the trout that was served to her, so that by the time she had finished her meal, she had all but forgotten about Link and her tangled emotions regarding him, and her mind was buzzing with thoughts pertaining to the day ahead. 

That was, until Link, clad in full uniform, slipped into the room. She faltered mid-sentence as she noticed him glancing over at her, before he just as quickly looked away. Jiahto noticed her temporary lapse, and prompted her to continue speaking, whereupon she jabbered away rapidly about what she believed she had been talking about before, her cheeks warm, attempting with limited success to push the incident from her mind, berating herself for her weakness. 

After a few more minutes of intense not-looking-at-Link-but-still-thinking-of-him, the Duke of Necluda, who had been conversing in his amicable manner with a group of Zora, glanced at a large timepiece near the wall, before, excusing himself with a smile, disentangling himself from the throng and hurrying hastily over to Mipha, who turned to receive him as he bent low to speak with her. 

“Princess, we’re expected at the Castle in half an hour,” he whispered. “Are you prepared to depart now?” 

“Yes,” Mipha murmured back. “That is, unless there is something you believe we have omitted?” 

“Oh, no. No, I just wanted to make sure you were ready.” Necluda tipped her a large wink as he stood and, taking a second to fill his substantial lungs, bellowed with such force that Mipha was certain that the Rito heard it from their perches in Tabantha: “Listen up, everyone! We’ll be leaving in five minutes, so get yourselves ready! Don’t forget to thank our wonderful host on the way out!” 

The moustachioed innkeeper, in discussion with one of his Rito, beamed cheerily as a sudden clamour broke out amongst the duke’s men and Hylian aristocrats, who all stood up in a near-simultaneous motion and began to move haphazardly towards the door. There was a brief hesitation amongst the Zora before Mipha stood as well, as the rest of her race dutifully followed her example, most pressing towards the congestion already forming at the door as men thanked the innkeeper and filed out, while a few retreated quickly down the corridor to fetch personal possessions or other artifacts they had taken with them. 

Acknowledging this suddenly reminded Mipha of one of her own such personal possessions. Bending down to pick up the folded brown package that she had laid carefully on the floor away from prying eyes, she fought her way through the tumult over to where Necluda stood, watching the confusion at the inn door with a humorous twinkle in his eyes, clearing choosing to wait and observe the chaos depart before he made any attempt to leave himself. He looked up and smiled jovially as Mipha approached, one hairy eyebrow raised in a silent question. 

“May I ask that you have one of your men carry this to my residence at the Castle?” she requested, holding out the parcel to him. She felt half a desire to ask another question – to commit – but the other half stiffly resisted it. “It is an item of personal nature that I do not wish to have on my person during the negotiations.” 

“Why, of course, Princess!” Necluda chuckled, taking the package from her and tucking it under one arm, as she had before. “I’m sure there’ll be volunteers in abundance to take this for you!” 

“Thank you,” Mipha smiled, before hesitating briefly. “Who is the commanding officer of my escort, Necluda?” 

Necluda looked slightly off-put by this abrupt change of topic, but recovered quickly and peered around him. After a few seconds, he pointed out Link to her, who was in conversation with several of his men, including Pte Colin from earlier. “That’s him, I believe, Princess. One Lieutenant Link. Good soldier, excellent swordsman – or so I’ve heard.” 

“And... and how long is he to escort me?” 

“Just to the Castle, I believe.” 

So, it was as she had suspected. If she wanted to get to the bottom of what was happening between her and Link, she would need to act to keep him near her. She hesitated briefly, and then came to a sudden and firm decision. She had to find out, because she couldn’t live for another six months not knowing. “May I request that his platoon be assigned to escort me for the duration of my sojourn here in Castle Town?” 

This time, Necluda was much less successful at hiding his surprise. His recovery was rather ungainly. “Well, I... I suppose such a thing could probably be arranged with Major Horwell, if that’s what you want. Is there any reason for such a specific request, Princess? Do you... know this Lieutenant?” 

“We have met before,” she said shortly, not wanting to say too much more around Necluda. Across the room, Link finished his conversation with his men and moved to join another conversation between the innkeeper and a tall man wearing the coat of the duke’s retinue. “I trust him.” 

Perhaps it was the abruptness of her speech which dissuaded the duke from asking any further questions, or perhaps he simply realised that there was something going on that he had no part in; either way, Necluda, nodding amiably as though it all made perfect sense to him, waddled over to a heavily-muscled man dressed in the uniform of a major and began a discourse with him in a low, rumbling voice. Mipha, shaking her head in an attempt to clear the ache, walked swiftly over to the inn door, which was now free of traffic as everyone had moved outside. As she did so, her path took her within a few yards from where Link stood, conversing with the administrator and innkeeper, and she shivered slightly as she passed him. It could have been her imagination, but it seemed to her that Link did much the same. 

Stepping in to the garden outside the inn, she was greeted by Jiahto, and escorted to her escort, which was already arranged in formation around the conferring delegators. And she promised herself that she was going to confront Link today. 

As with the tour of the Town, there was no fanfare on the journey to Hyrule Castle, as she knew there often was for the arrival of visiting noblemen. She wondered whether the organisers of the diplomatic mission on the Hylian side had been concerned what a few acrimonious words from anti-Zora bystanders could do to the disposition of the visiting dignitaries. Instead of a long processional through the grandest and most public speeches, with stagecoaches and horses and other pomp and circumstance, the Hylians had again opted for what really amounted to a carefully-planned evasion off all major public areas, marching on foot with relative inconspicuousness and attracting only a few curious townsmen who followed the company in silence, eying the Zora with an unreadable emotion. It was in this way that Mipha found herself on a surprisingly interesting unintended tour of the more undeveloped parts of Castle Town, where the less fortunate lived and breathed, before they finally reached the moat. Looping around for a few minutes, they came to the drawbridge. 

The crowd was much denser here, but the ambassadors were gone before they could draw much attention. With the monotonous stamping of heavy boots on wood, they crossed the drawbridge as, behind them, a few guards remained behind to disperse the few curious shadows they had acquired during their trek. Two Hyrule Royal Guards opened the large, ironclad doors that blocked entrance to the Castle with great ceremony, and Mipha walked in with the rest of the noblemen, Zora, and her escort, who now looked very out-of-place in their working uniforms amongst the plush velvet and gold highlights of the antechamber. 

In the centre of the antechamber, waiting for them patiently upon a lavish ruby carpet, stood a woman – a young woman, whom Mipha supposed would probably be quite pretty by Hylian standards – dressed in a long and elegant white, blue, and gold dress, with hanging sleeves that reached nearly to the floor. Her hair was long and luscious, and tucked carefully behind her pointed ears. Her hands were clasped nervously before her, and she wore a rather tense smile, as though she didn’t particularly enjoy the duty of officially welcoming guests. It had been quite a long time since Mipha had last seen her, but she recognised her immediately. 

“Princess Mipha,” Zelda greeted her as the guards and noblemen around them parted in silence to make room, so Mipha felt suddenly like they were standing alone in a sea full of statues. “I’m so glad to meet you again.” 

Mipha bowed slightly in return, knowing that some Zora would take offence at her show of deference to this foreigner, but wishing to do so all the same. “Princess Zelda. I assure you, the feeling is mutual.” 

“I’m pleased,” Zelda replied. The exchange ranked among some of the most mechanical Mipha had ever participated in during her entire career. “I’ve been asked to show you and those representatives you have brought to the negotiating chamber, where you will be received by my father and some of his foremost ministers.” She glanced over Mipha’s shoulder at Necluda, who was standing back quietly, watching the exchange. “You and your retinue may depart from us now, Necluda. Your usual apartments have been prepared.” 

Necluda inclined his head. “Thank you, Your Highness,” he rumbled, in a voice much more solemn than Mipha had heard him used before, and, turning, he walked softly from the room and through a door nestled in one corner, through which a staircase could be glimpsed. In perfect silence, his administrators turned and followed him – one of whom, Mipha noticed with a sudden rush, was carrying a folded brown package - along with a good number of noblemen. 

Zelda renewed her smile as she looked back to Mipha. “Come, if it pleases you,” she called, and, after waiting for Mipha to sidle up beside her, began to glide along, through a great stone arch that dominated the left-hand side of the room. Most of Link’s escort, including Link himself, began to disperse, filing through yet another door, presumably to a garrison somewhere in the Castle. However, along with Mipha’s own entourage, half a dozen of Link’s platoon followed her, looking even more dreary when next to the richly-dressed Royal Guards that hid in niches along the corridor and eyed the Zora as they walked past. However, they made no movements – it did not seem to Mipha like they even breathed – and so, despite nominally being quite full, there was a deathly stillness in the corridors, save for the shuffling of feet on the carpet and the soft clanking of armour as the soldiers marched beside them. The Zora did not speak amongst each other, and Zelda seemed rather distant; there was a substantial degree of separation between them, even though they walked only a yard apart. 

Eventually, Mipha spoke, primarily to shatter the deafening silence. “Are you to be sitting in on the negotiations, Princess?” 

Zelda looked slightly surprised at the question, but appeared rather pleased that Mipha had been the first to speak up all the same. “No, I’m not, I’m afraid. I was simply to beat the Castle when you were to arrive, and, as we are already affiliated through the Champions, I was asked to greet you.” 

“Oh. Well, I am glad you consented to come, regardless,” Mipha replied. Zelda looked happier, which pleased Mipha. She had not known the Hylian Princess for long, but she had quickly realised that Zelda did not often feel particularly valued. “And, as we speak of the Champions, have we yet to find a knight who can wield the Sword that Seals the Darkness?” 

“Again, I’m afraid not,” Zelda said, grimacing. “It’s... slightly concerning, if I must be honest. Ah, I think we’re here.” 

They had come to another large door, with another pair of motionless Royal Guards to open it for them. Zelda turned to Mipha. “This is where I must leave you, I’m afraid. Perhaps, if I am lucky, I shall have the chance to see you again. Goodbye, Princess.” 

“Goodbye, Princess,” Mipha echoed, smiling at Zelda. Zelda smiled back, before turning and gliding down the hallway, the hem of her dress trailing on the ground behind her, her head bowed. Mipha turned back to the doors, which, at her nod, the Royal Guards grasped and simultaneously prised open with much flair for the dramatic. Taking a deep breath and smiling at them (they did not react), Mipha and the rest of the Zora walked in silence into the chamber beyond. 

That chamber was large – larger than Mipha, who had seen several large Hylian chambers in her life, had expected – with a high, arched roof, supported by massive stone pillars that protruded from the walls around them. Mounted upon those walls were a large assortment of rich oil paintings – of kings and queens and princes and princesses and noblemen and generals and politicians and explorers and financiers and figures of religious significance – the depictions of many Mipha recognised. Suits of armour dotted the room, including an extravagant golden filagree horse-and-rider set which reared bravely at the far end of the room below a large Hylian Crest, which was painted over with gold leaf so it flashed in the light streaming through the rose windows. The room itself was dominated by a long table of fine polished wood, one side of which was filled with ministers and noblemen wearing clothes of extraordinary vibrancy and quality, the other side of which was empty. And, at the head of the table, rising from a relatively unornate throne to greet the delegates, was the imposing figure of King Rhoam Bosphoromous Hyrule. 

“Princess Mipha,” he said, and though his voice was soft, it held the breadth and weight of command, and seemed to carry over the distance like a gust of wind, deep and sonorous. “Come. Sit. We have much to discuss.” 

. . . 

Just like last time, Mipha had been escorted again to her room, this time by a solider she did not know, shown again its contents (which she noticed contained a wrapped brown package, tucked away on a table; clearly, Necluda had kept his word), assured her assistant again that she was satisfied, and smiled again as he closed the door. This time, however, she had a request – that the soldier’s commanding officer be sent to see her. 

Then, instead of collapsing on the bed, she began to pace. 

She knew, of course, that she was going to have to confront Link, and even as she had left the garden of the inn she knew it would come to something akin to this. But, still, finally committing put her in a state of nerves as she suddenly started wrestling with herself, debating whether or not it was the correct thing to do. What would she even say to him? Could she just act like nothing was wrong, and attempt to converse as if the past half-year's estrangement had not occurred? Or would the veil of separation cloud that, and make it impossible? Should she demand to know why he hadn’t replied, leaning on her authority as his superior? Or would that merely distance him further, and make him view their relationship as nothing more than a cold, emotionless association between noblewoman and commoner?  

If, indeed, Link had been purposefully ignoring her, hoping to isolate himself from her, then the last thing she wanted was to create a further divide between them by confronting him about it – but surely, she had already decided that it was better to know than the go without? But what if the truth broke her? This was an awful time to be heartbroken, and if it happened because she couldn’t just put her fears to rest for one more day, she would be even more devastated- 

A timid knock on the door startled her out of her musings. Automatically, she opened her mouth to give permission for entry, but her tongue seized up halfway through, and all that came out was a rather strange choking noise. She froze in place, as still as the Royal Guards she had seen earlier, the wrestling match in her mind erupting into a full-scale war, with battalions marching and cannons blazing, causing a cacophony in her head that made her quite unable for form comprehensive thought, let alone answer the door. 

The knock came again, dimly audible through the sounds of pitched battle in Mipha’s mind. “Princess?” Link's voice called – the sound melted her with its warmth and she shivered, though she still found herself conflicted. “May I enter?” 

She made another sputter, slightly stronger than the last, but still without much substance. The knock came again, louder this time. “Princess? Mipha, can I enter?” 

Hearing Link speak her name acted as a stimulant – with a gasp, she snapped out of her paralysis, smothering the conflict within her as she staggered slightly, somewhat dazed. Panting, she straightened and called, in a tone that quivered ungracefully, “Come in, Link!” 

There was what seemed to Mipha like a second of hesitation, before the door creaked open to admit Link, still dressed in full uniform, his helmet clutched respectfully in his hand. He appeared to be avoiding her gaze – conversely, Mipha struggled to take her eyes off of him. Laying his helmet gently on a nearby table – the table, Mipha realised with a rush, that contained the wrapped and folded parcel - he turned to face her, staring at a point somewhere near her feet as though frightened of looking at her face. 

There was a silence, thicker by far than the one she had experienced with Zelda. This silence was a guilty, furtive silence, as though it was trying to hide, as though both of them had secrets which they wished to withhold from the other. It was glazed with awkwardness, and spiced by a mutual awareness that this was their first vis-à-vis, alone or otherwise, in six months. Mipha cast around for interesting or amusing remarks that she could use to melt the ice between them, but came up dry. 

Eventually, she was forced to concede that the best she could do under the circumstances was, “How have you been, Link?” 

There was a noticeable delay.  

“I’ve been well,” Link replied eventually, his voice carefully measured. “How... how have you been?” 

“I have been well.” 

A few more seconds of substantial silence. 

“How have you enjoyed your time at Royal Hyrule?” 

A very small frown creased Link’s forehead, but aside from that he made no reaction. 

“I’ve... it’s been good.” 

Silence ensued again, and Mipha knew that attempting to melt the ice was not going to achieve anything – it had frozen to such an extent over the course of six months that it simply extinguished any warmth that was put near it. She decided instead, as much as she trembled at the thought, that the only approach she had left was to smash it. There was too much tension between them to get to him in any other way, and she was not going to renege on her promise of confrontation. If there was any chance at saving their friendship, she needed to clutch hold of it for dear life. And, of course, if there was any chance of making it anything more, she needed to embrace it, as her very bones longed to do. Even besides that, she needed to do something before she was forced to send Link away out of the sheer pointlessness of their meeting. 

Still, she could take some precautions to lessen her own nervousness. She took a deep breath. “Close the door, please, Link.” 

Link started slightly, and his face reddened as he turned to obey her, fussing over the latch mechanism and taking much longer to do so than was technically required by anyone’s definition. Mipha had not thought anything strange of the request when she had uttered it, but his reaction made her blush, too; so that when he finally turned back, his expression rigidly composed again, she had to make a rather futile attempt to hide it behind her hands. It was not, she reflected, the best way to begin a confrontation. 

Coughing daintily into her hand, she made a concerted effort to look back up at him with a steady gaze (though he was looking at the ground), and summoned all her determination to give herself the courage to press on. 

“H-have you received any of my letters, Link?” she asked timidly, mildly surprised that it only took her one false start. 

“I-I did,” Link replied, with equalling timidity, shifting in place with an uncomfortableness that contrasted strikingly with his impressively tailored uniform. “Though I... I...” He swallowed, and fell silent. 

“Go on,” Mipha encouraged softly. 

Link exhaled slowly. “Forgive me, Mipha. I was just a little confused as to your presence here, as you hadn’t... well, mentioned this expedition in your letters.” 

The taut wire of Mipha’s fear and awkwardness was severed by an abrupt blow of confusion. “What do you mean? I am certain that I mentioned this over a month ago.” 

“What?” Link frowned in his turn, sounding equally as confused as she. As with Mipha, some of his nervousness seemed to bleed away in the face of that new, unexpected emotion. “I don’t recall hearing anything of the sort, and I’ve read your letters many times each-” 

But there he suddenly went red and cut himself off, staring rather sheepishly at his booted feet, which shuffled around uncomfortably, their utilitarian appearance looking rather out-of-place upon the plush carpet. Just a minute before, Mipha would have been delighted with the news that Link had not only been reading her letters, but had considered them important enough to re-read multiple times – and, especially for the part of her heart closest to the armour, perhaps even more so at the fact that he felt so self-conscious about it. However, it was now overshadowed by this strange discontinuity between what she had written and what he had read. A vague suspicion was beginning to form in the recesses of her mind, gaining substance with every passing moment, and she felt the dawn of realisation just beginning to creep over the horizon, ready to crash upon them both like a breaking wave. 

“Link,” she asked slowly, “how many letters have you received from me since the time in which we last met?” 

There was a brief pause, and then Link, rather awkwardly, replied; “Nine.” 

Mipha’s amber eyes widened in the crimson and ivory of her face as the wave of realisation crashed down over her, dousing her in a blisteringly cold torrent of understanding. “Nine? Link, I have sent nearly three dozen letters in that period!” 

Link’s expression suddenly went taut as the wave broke over his head, too, and he glanced sharply up at her, meeting her gaze for the first time. His brilliant blue eyes were deep in shadow, as cold as ice, and as hard as iron, revealing only a few flashes of lightning which illuminated the tumult that had suddenly reared up inside of him. He made no response, but instead sat down heavily into a nearby chair and stared broodingly at the opposite wall, hardly even appearing to blink, and leaving Mipha to navigate her own way as she attempted to follow what exactly had led to this situation.  

Link claimed that he had not received more than nine letters, and both his reaction and Mipha’s own innate desire not to think ill of him seemed to confirm that fact. Which meant – Mipha fervently sorted through a dozen different scenarios, attempting to narrow it down to the most likely – which meant that something had to be stopping them or impeding their progress. The most likely candidate, she thought, was the Hyrule Mailing Service, which she had always regarded as rather dubious in regards to quality. It seemed quite likely to her that some steward had been careless, or had been mishandling the mail, and had failed to deliver Mipha’s epistles to Royal Hyrule. Perhaps, even, said steward was opening and reading Mipha’s letters, amusing himself at the expense of the Princess of the Domain and her closest friend. If that was so, Mipha was going to make sure that those immoral practices were ended by a very strict official reprimand, and any mail that the Service had failed to deliver would be- 

Another realisation, perhaps trailing behind in the wake of the first wave of understanding, crashed headlong into her, and, with sudden elation, she glanced back over at Link, feeling her heart begin to flutter in her chest as her romantic yearning, long since kept without sustenance, lifted its head, sniffing the air and tasting joyfully the scent of fresh hope. 

“Link, y-you did not... y-you did not send any letters of your own to me, did you?” she asked, stumbling slightly over her own words in her excitement. 

The question did not immediately register with Link – after a second, he stirred from his stoic reverie, then gave a jerk as the meaning finally reached him, snapping him from his sombre appraisal of the wall to look back up at her in indignation. “I sent you plenty of letters, but you never replied to any of them!” he exclaimed, before, realising how accusatory his tone had been, immediately recoiled and mumbled in an abashed voice, “I’m sorry, Mipha, I didn’t mean that to sound so harsh, I just...” 

But exactly what Link was to say by means of apology, Mipha did not hear it. Her mind was far away, transported by ecstasy to a fire which had been lit in her heart – a wondrous sensation of joy and hope that burned away all the feelings of betrayal and abandonment. Link had replied to her letters. He had tried to remain in contact. And he did care. And, if the indignation with which he had replied to the mere suggestion that he hadn’t attempted to remain in contact was any indication, then he cared a lot . Perhaps – and she hardly dared think it, but she couldn’t prevent herself – perhaps he cared for her as much as she cared for him.  

Perhaps he cared for her in the way that she did for him. And maybe, just maybe, he even reciprocated her feelings towards him. 

“Mipha?” Link’s uncertain voice cut across her fantasy, and this time it would be her turn to come out from a trance. “Are you all right?” 

“W-what? Oh... oh, yes, I am quite all right,” Mipha assured him, feeling her heart continue to beat rapidly with exhilaration against her chest. Privately, she thanked Hylia profusely that She had given her the courage to confront Link, for she had truly received Her reward. “I am just... I am just very glad to hear that you have attempted to reply, for I have not received any such correspondence. I... must confess I rather feared you had wanted to sever our relationship.” 

Link’s eyes flickered towards the floor, and Mipha watched him eagerly for any sign of how he felt about her, hoping against hopes that it was true. “I’m sorry, Mipha. I... I hadn’t known that my letters weren’t reaching you.” 

“There is no need to apologise, Link,” she soothed him, sitting down on the bed so that she was at his eye level, grasping the sheets with clawed hands and squeezing them. “Clearly, many of my epistles have not been reaching you, either. I suppose it is just our penalty for relying upon the Hyrule Mailing System.” 

Link nodded, though Mipha thought she saw something stir in his eyes – maybe a private realisation of his own. Whatever it was, he chose not to share it. 

Pressing on, more recklessly than she otherwise would have while she was still imbibed with courage and elation, she would continue with, “I am sorry, Link, that my lack of reply to any of your letters disheartened you.” 

Link nodded, now gazing at her feet. He would begin to speak, but then cut himself off abruptly. After a few seconds of open-mouthed silence, he carefully tried again; “I was just a bit confused. I just feared... I just feared...” and then words failed him again, and, after a few seconds of straining, he closed his mouth, leaving Mipha’s heart aching, longing desperately to know what he had feared. 

Suddenly there came a knock on the door, which startled both of them and made them jump slightly in their respective seats. Link opened his mouth – automatically, it seemed, as it had been with Mipha, to answer – but froze halfway through and glanced questioningly at Mipha for permission. Mipha, drinking in the sight of his beautiful eyes and handsome face as he gazed at her, delayed a few seconds before nodding in reply. Link called, “Enter,” and the guard from before hesitantly opened the door and poked his head in. He took a second to take in the strange scene that met his eyes – his lieutenant, perching rather dazedly on a chair facing the Zora Princess, who was smiling fondly at him from upon from the large, plush bed – and chose to decline comment. 

“I’m sorry to interrupt, Lieutenant and... and, uhh, Your Highness,” he began awkwardly, “but Major Horwell requests the Lieutenant’s presence immediately. I’m... uhh, supposed to show him to the correct place.” 

Link stood up, and Mipha couldn’t help but think of it as an impressively regal move; even though he was quite short for a Hylian, he was still much taller than she, and much better built as well, as so handsome in his uniform and wonderful blonde hair and incredibly vibrant eyes. “Of course. I’ll be there in a second, I... I just need to finish this conversation with Princess Mipha.” 

The soldier glanced over at Mipha with blatant curiosity, but again said nothing and dutifully closed the door behind him. Mipha followed his example, gazing intently up at Link, her breath rate accelerating as he came close to her. Standing over her and slightly to her side, he glanced down at her and met her amber eyes again. His hand twitched by his side, and then lay still. He swallowed. 

After a few seconds, he took a deep breath. “I’m glad we managed to get all this confusion sorted out,” he said in a carefully measured voice which trembled with supressed emotion. “Like you, I feared... I feared that we were drifting apart. But now... now I feel my fears have been alleviated.” 

With that he turned, and, walking swiftly over to the door, plucked up his helmet from the desk from where it lay next to the brown package and stationed it carefully but firmly upon his head. Then, without another word, he opened the door and slipped outside, glancing around at her as he did so that their gazes met for a fraction of a second before the soft thump of the door hid him from her sight, and the room fell silent once again, save for the distant echoing of a pair of heavy footsteps retreating down the corridor. 

Mipha stared at the door by which he had left for another second before collapsing backwards onto the bed with a giggle, snuggling up against the warmth of her sheets and burying herself in them, utterly filled with euphoria. That Link still cared was her mantra, and she repeated it to herself over and over in her head as she wrapped herself up in blankets, offering praise and thanksgiving to Hylia as she did so in response to Her generous gifts. It seemed rather ludicrous, in her elated state, that she had ever doubted Link – that she had ever, even for a second, believed that he might have hoped to abandon her. Of course , Link cared, for he was Link, and he was far to kind to ever even consider leaving her – it was part of why she loved him so. And, of course, because he cared, it might mean that the armour she had crafted for him was justified after all. Because he valued their relationship, it might mean that he wanted something more. 

She became very still as she heard footsteps treading back up the hallway, and, for a moment, she imagined that it was Link returning to her, come to throw himself down and kiss her or make a profession of undying love or something equally as romantic, but, when she replied the knock with a slight giggle, it turned out to be only a page boy, who froze with a light meal balanced on a tray in his hands, obviously rather perturbed at finding the royal ambassador tangled up in her own bedsheets in such an unbefitting state. Sitting up straight and doing her very best to force down the joyous and slightly manic smile that threatened to overwhelm her, Mipha accepted the meal. 

Chapter Text

The talks ended satisfactorily, as they usually did. There was not much to which the Hylians objected which the Zora had not assumed they would, and there was not much that they had demanded which the Zora had not been expecting, and Mipha could quite safely assume that the situation was the same vice versa. It was always that way with official negotiations; the entire debate was effectively laid out on each side, and any concessions that could be made were ratified, before anyone even got to the negotiating table. Often, all the parley did was iron out any final issues that may have occurred, and provide an opportunity for the elite of two diplomatic bodies to socialise. To Mipha, the entire process hardly felt as though it ought to require an entire day, but she supposed it was simply a detriment of having so many people involved in making decisions. 

She still had no cause for complaint. Not only was it a necessary and vital part of politics, it had (more importantly to Mipha, at least) allowed her some time with Link that she had been craving for months on end. And it had given her fresh hope that the armour she had poured so much time and effort and love and despair into was not, as she had begun to fear, for nothing. 

That hope only increased when she received news from a Royal Herald concerning a grand banquet in the Castle Courtyard that evening for the purposes of “continued amicability between the people of the Kingdom of Hyrule and the noble race of the Dominion”, attended by the King, his daughter, a large group of Hylian aristocrats, the Zora diplomats, and – if she consented to come – Mipha, accompanied, of course, by the guard she had chosen. 

Surely, this would be her moment. 

And so, she gratefully accepted the invitation, and thus spent an inordinately long time in her room, bathing and washing every inch of herself, applying perfumes and salves, and making herself as utterly presentable – and, she hoped, attractive – as possible. Link, she knew, would likely not notice – though he had been around both Zora and her specifically for many years, she hadn’t exactly let him in on her practices of ablution – though there was always the possibility that he would, and the newly-awakened romantic part of her wanted to do it regardless. As she did so, she allowed herself to indulge in fantasies of her and Link, and his professions of love, and his acceptance of her engagement gift, and the imagined taste of his lips, with the result that, by the time that one of Link’s platoon, bedecked in formal wear, came to escort her down to the courtyard, she was again rather elated. She was, however, still clear of mind enough to take from her room a little brown package before she left. 

Mipha could feel the guard eying the parcel as he walked behind her, doubtless wondering what it could be – the guests were not asked to bring anything – but, as befitting his position, he remained silent, and escorted her through a series of corridors and through a large, vaulted gate, into what appeared to be a lush and diverse garden ringed by high turrets and fortifications, upon which the silhouettes of Royal Guards could be seen standing in perfect stillness against the parapets. Around a few beds of carefully trimmed bushes and flowers upon artfully shaped retaining walls, she could make out the flickering light of torches, visible even in the dimming illumination still provided by the retiring sun. 

The sight of it made Mipha rather suddenly feel as though her joy had received a puncture as she realised a flaw in her masterly plan. If she was to take the package to the table, surely questions would be asked – questions that she rather hoped to avoid – perhaps even leading to demands for her to reveal the contents of the package, which she certainly did not want to do in that company; it was for Link alone. Glancing quickly around, she noticed an ornamental shrub upon a nearby stone wall, and, frantically gesturing her retainer over, would shove the package into it, much to his obvious confusion. 

“Please, I need you to stay here,” she whispered urgently as he regarded her with some concern. “I need you to guard that parcel, and to not let anyone near it, and to definitely not touch it yourself. Do you understand me?” 

The guard swallowed, and then nodded hesitantly. 

“You have to promise!” she said, taking a determined step towards him. Though he was a foot and a half taller than she, he still backed away. “This is extremely important, and I need to know that it is in the hands of someone who knows that! Promise to protect this until I return!” 

“I... I promise, Your Highness,” the guard responded nervously, holding her gaze unwaveringly as though he feared glancing away would make him seem insincere. “I’ll.. I’ll make sure no-one touches it. I p-promise.” 

Mipha practically sagged with relief. She smiled at the man in thanks, before quickly straightening, turning, and walking towards the source of the light, where she could hear the murmur of discussion already beginning. As she did so, she began to belatedly wonder whether she had been too stern and impassioned with him. 

The long table, not too dissimilar from the table upon which the negotiations had been held (it was clearly a Hylian practice) was not well-populated – clearly, Mipha had arrived earlier than most in her haste and great anticipation. Not wanting to insert herself into any conversation knots with people she felt uncomfortable with – such as those involving Hylian noblemen who were relatively her own age – she instead chose to sit next to a lonely and aging Earl, whom she remembered as being rather friendly and easy to talk to. Taking a cushioned seat, she struck up with him a conversation, which progressed rather pleasantly as the chairs around her began to fill, and the sounds of various voices became progressively louder, and several more people joined in with the Earl’s discussion, so that Mipha eventually began to wonder when she could politely leave. 

That opportunity came sooner than she had expected as, with a rustle of robes, Princess Zelda sat down on Mipha’s other side, giving Mipha a convenient reason to excuse herself and turn to face her Hylian counterpart. Zelda smiled at her as she adjusted her sleeves so that they sat presentably on her lap. 

“Princess,” she greeted Mipha, as a shout of laughter rang out from somewhere along the table. “You’ll be pleased to hear that I have some more information to give you in regards to your previous question.” 

Mipha’s brow furrowed. “I beg your pardon? My previous question?” 

“Yes; the one about the knight who could wield the Sacred Blade,” Zelda confirmed. Mipha’s expression cleared with sudden understanding as the princess continued. “I’ve heard just then that the Royal Hyrule Academy is planning on sending a contingent of hopefuls and those whom they believe have potential to the Lost Woods in the coming weeks to see whether any of them have been chosen. The number, I think, is quite substantial.” 

“Ah! That is wonderful news,” Mipha replied, smiling. 

“Yes, isn’t it?” Zelda shifted a little in her seat, and her own smile faded somewhat. “Though I do have to caution restraint. All those who haven’t yet been are of low rank – those who don’t really have much experience, and aren’t as skilful in combat or open warfare as those who have already been. I can’t imagine that the Sword would choose anyone such as they. Still, I suppose it’s worth another try...” 

Both princesses lapsed into silence, momentarily lost in their own thoughts. What Zelda was thinking, Mipha could not guess. She herself was dreaming again about Link, this time wondering whether or not he was one of those who had been chosen to go to the Lost Woods. Really, if there was anyone gritty enough to seal the darkness, it would be him. “Have those whom they believe to hold potential been informed of this?” she asked. 

Zelda stirred. “No, I don’t think so. The minutiae are still being concluded. The Domain sent all her men over, didn’t you?” 

“Yes; we did so approximately a year ago. There were, of course, no results.” 

Zelda nodded, and sighed, looking rather tired. “And it's that lack of results that’s so concerning. We’ve been heeding the prophecy for years now, and so many young men have made their attempts, and it’s beginning to appear like the Sword doesn’t want to choose anyone. I just don’t understand how the-” 

But she cut herself abruptly and pushed herself hastily to her feet, along with the rest of the Hylian noblemen, for the entrance of her father, the King, who came escorted by a pair of Royal Guards and accompanied by a man in a rich, blue-and-gold habit, whom Mipha, with some distaste, would suppose to be a priest of some sort. She remaining seated, partaking in the silence of the gathering as the King maneuverer his way to the head of the table, where squatted his rather large but plain chair. Around the table, a company of red-suited waiters stood silently in a great ring around the table, holding dishes concealed under silver plates, some of which were still steaming. King Rhoam, still standing, cast a brief glance at the Zora, all of whom were still seated, but chose not to make any comment about it. 

“My friends and honoured guests,” he rumbled. In many ways, he reminded Mipha of her own father, though, in other, more crucial ways, they seemed quite different. “Our meal may begin shortly, though, as is custom, only once the food has been blessed in the name of the goddess.” 

The priest started forward, and raised his arms in what seemed a pretentious show of supplication. “O Hylia, bless this food to us, we pray! May it sustain us, and give us strength, that we may bring peace to Hyrule! And, O Hylia, may you smile upon us.” 

The Hylians dutifully bowed their heads and muttered hollow words under their breaths. To Mipha, the priest’s words were wholly insincere, and utterly devoid of any sort of devotion or piety. It did not even matter that he had abridged the proper invocation, or that he hadn’t recognised the importance of the Three entrusting the sacred power to Hylia, as he should have. The issue was, in Mipha’s eyes, that she was forced to wonder how often the Hylians actually bothered to bring forth a priest to bless such a momentous occasion, and whether or not the whole display had been put on just for the benefit of the Zora. Still, she said nothing, but merely closed her eyes and offered a short prayer of thanksgiving for Her gifts as around her, the noblemen quickly re-seated themselves and looked eagerly for the waiters to deposit their meals before them as the priest drifted off to wherever else he was required – if, indeed, he actually was. 

Mipha relieved herself of her ire by focusing solely on the meal, and the food and cuisine that the expert Hylian chefs had provided, which she enjoyed in silence, though chatter and murmurs still sounded all around them. As befitting a Hylian banquet, there were just a few, large courses, which were handed to the diners, given time to be consumed, and then whisked away as stemmed glasses of wine were offered to the guests, to occupy them before the next course arrived. Mipha, as befit a Zora about to do something which made her feel slightly nauseous, refused all alcohol that she might have a clear head for the task ahead, which, it was just beginning to dawn on her after her elation had died with the blessing, would quite possibly be the most pivotal moment of her entire life. Beside her, Zelda did drink, but only a little; she seemed to have fallen into a period of deep reflection, which did not appear to leave her with much of an appetite. 

After dessert had been served, and the formal part of the meal was beginning to come to a close, people began to drift away from the table, often decently inebriated, either to wander around the garden, or, more likely, retire to their rooms for a soundless sleep after their prandial evening. When enough people had disappeared that Mipha felt she could leave without attracting suspicion, she stood, glancing around on the off-chance that she could catch a glimpse of Link. Naturally, he wasn’t anywhere to be seen, though Mipha knew he had to be somewhere in the garden, performing the mostly-ceremonial duty of guarding the distinguished guests as they dined. 

Extracting herself from her seat with some difficultly, as the elderly Earl, who was engaged in animated discussion with a number of his relatives, she turned from the lighted torches and hurried in a manner that she hoped did not draw too much attention to herself across the lawn to where she had left her Hylian escort guarding her package. Glancing over her shoulder, however, she stopped short as she noticed Zelda rising from her own seat and following after Mipha, her sleeves fluttering in the gentle breeze of the night. 

“May I ask what you are doing, Princess?” Mipha said softly as Zelda caught up to her. 

Zelda shrugged, somewhat awkwardly. “Well, I had been planning on leaving the table to get away from everyone anyway, and, as you departed, I decided to follow you. For a walk.” 

Inside, Mipha winced. She really didn’t want to have Zelda tag along when she had a heartfelt and affectionate conversation with her hopefully-soon-to-be-fiancé, but she also shied from the idea of rebutting her and thus souring their burgeoning relationship.  

Optimistically supposing that she’d think of some pretext to lose Zelda along the way, Mipha, faced without an alternative she’d like to pursue, nodded reluctantly. “Of... of course, Princess. My apologies. I must warn you, however, that it is likely to be particularly interesting; I am simply going to deliver a package to someone.” 

Zelda looked rather confused, hastening to keep up with Mipha as she resumed her passage to where the shadowed figure of a rather bored-looking guard was just visible around a large tree. “Deliver a package? Forgive me, Princess, but I’m afraid I don’t see why you have to do that. Surely you could commission one of your entourage to do so for you?” 

“I am... I am simply in the habit of occasionally delivering packages personally,” Mipha invented on the spot, wary of Zelda discerning her true purpose. “I believe it good for someone of my position to perform such menial tasks.” 

Zelda continued to look a little bewildered, especially as Mipha retrieved the package from inside of a bush before which a soldier was standing with unnatural rigidity to attention, obviously not having anticipated the presence of two princesses this time around. 

“Thank you,” she whispered to the soldier as she carefully extracted the brown paper, which had, thankfully, retained its structural integrity. In a more normal voice, she continued, “May I ask whether you have any idea where Lieutenant Link could be?” 

The guard tried once, then, swallowing, tried a second time, his voice rather hoarse as he nervously appraised Zelda, who was staring at him in some puzzlement. “I... I’m sorry, Your Highness, I really can't be sure. P-probably down by the rose garden, at the bottom of the c-courtyard, if I’d h-have to... if I’d have to guess.” 

"Thank you,” Mipha replied, gifting him with an encouraging smile. “I release you from this duty.” 

Turning, the man quickly marched away, obviously keen to put the confusion of the past hour from his mind. Mipha, grasping the parcel tightly, started down the hill. 

“Wait!” Zelda called, hitching her dress to her ankles and again having to scurry after Mipha, who paused to let her catch up, realising with some shame that her actions probably weren’t particularly hospitable. “What- how- why did you hide the package in a bush? Why couldn’t you just... take it to the table?” 

Mipha hesitated, but, in an attempt to make amends for her strange aloofness, she decided it was best to give Zelda a bit of the truth – which, in her case, was often less strange than fiction. “My apologies, Princess. The package contains an item of a... a personal nature, which I had not wished to bring to the banquet in case I was questioned. By the time I realised the danger, however, I did not have many options.” 

For a second, Zelda looked as though she might make an objection, but, a second later, appeared to sag and turned to smile wryly at Mipha. “I see. Or, well, I’m not sure I do, but I suppose that’s no matter, really. If I’m allowed to pry, is this... behaviour something that you do frequently, or has this all just been put on for my benefit?” 

“Oh, no, this has been something of an exception,” Mipha assured her, the corners of her mouth tugging upwards as she started down a flight of steps. “I could hardly let you get away with the impression that I was entirely sane.” 

Zelda giggled. “I do doubt, Mipha, that any of the Champions-” she began, but then cut herself off, looking slightly chastened. “I meant princess ; I do apologise about that.” 

Mipha smiled and shook her head. “It is quite all right. I believe you should use my name – while we are alone, at the very least. If we are, indeed, to be Champions together, we cannot entangle ourselves in any sense of disunity or division. Besides, I have no objection to my own name.” 

This time, Zelda laughed. “I do agree; it’s a nice name, Mipha. In that same spirit, I suppose that you should refer to me by my name, too. Even if I am technically your leader.” She gestured towards the parcel tucked under Mipha’s arm. “As I’m already prying into this business of yours, can I ask of this lieutenant to whom you are supposed to be delivering that package?” 

“He is... merely a soldier that I know,” Mipha replied, not entirely honestly. She might wish to be open and amicable with Zelda, but that didn’t mean that she wanted to tell the Hylian everything . “Simply someone who asked a favour of me.” 

They turned another corner and down the middle of a double row of topiary, carved into elegant figures of sages from aeons past. Mipha saw that they were nearing the end of the courtyard, though, quite pleasantly, this particular corner did not terminate in an imposing fortification, but rather was left open save for a low, stone fence, giving a rather awesome view over the seemingly-endless field of speckled lights that was Castle Town - the greatest city in all of Hyrule. The grass there rustled as they moved, so that Zelda’s train swished audibly along the ground behind her as she raised an eyebrow. “Do you often grant personal favours to soldiers, Mipha?” 

Mipha glanced up at her. “You would not?” 

Zelda paused for a second, and considered. “I probably wouldn’t be against it,” she admitted, perhaps with some reluctance. “I’ve just... never really gotten to know any soldier personally. Outside of giving orders or other public duties, I’ve never really spoken to one. If I did get to know one, and he asked for a favour, I suppose I might do it, but the concept is... well, it’s so foreign to me I really can’t say for sure.” 

She gave a slightly coy smile, and amended, “Of course, I would hazard a guess that the personal attractiveness of the soldier in question would probably influence my decision.” 

And it were those words which filled Mipha’s head as she turned the corner and saw Link. 

He was a shadowed figure, standing (to Mipha) tall near the stone fence, staring away from her and into the depths of a distant part of the garden. Between him and Mipha lay a field of disorganised roses, which appeared to glow a myriad of different colours in the faint light of the moon, shivering ever-so-slightly in the cool, gentle breeze. 

Mipha slowed to a stop, her intestines suddenly wrapping themselves in convoluted knots and squeezing her uncomfortably. Feeling a bit flustered, she pretended as though she had not heard Zelda’s comment that was making her cheeks as crimson as the rest of her and pointed to Link. “That is... that is the soldier in question, Zelda.” 

A frown overcame Zelda’s complexion as she stopped rather abruptly beside Mipha. “Are you... I hadn’t realised he was a Hylian.” 

“I had not brought any guards of my own,” Mipha reminded her, shifting the armour under her arm uncomfortably. Her throat was suddenly rather dry. 

“Oh- I... I had quite forgotten.” Zelda looked slightly chastised that this crucial piece of information had slipped her mind. “I just... well, I hadn’t really thought you’d know any of the Hylians here. Is this someone you’ve only just met?” 

“No, I have known him for a while,” Mipha replied, her heart pounding. Forcing herself to concentrate, she resolutely put one foot before another and lurched into motion, wading through the roses to reach Link. 

Zelda opened her mouth to say something in response, but, at that moment, Link turned swiftly towards them, presumably having noticed the sound of Mipha’s voice approaching. Catching sight of them both, he froze with one hand clasped upon the pommel of his sword, and, now he was facing them, Mipha could see the surprise and confusion upon his face in the silvery majesty of the waxing moon. She crossed the rest of the rose garden in silence and stopped just before him, Zelda coming abruptly to a halt just behind her. There was a short, awkward silence, as Mipha gazed up at Link, and Zelda stared at Link in confusion, and Link attempted to watch at both of them at the same time. 

“Hello, Link,” Mipha said eventually, knowing that one of the royals here needed to speak up first. 

Link recovered and offered bows to both of them, removing his hand from his sword hilt as he did so. “My lady. Your Highness. You must forgive my brief surprise; I was not expecting to be graced by the presence of two princesses tonight.” 

“That is quite all right,” Mipha assured him, then added, with some humour, “I would not have expected me in your position, either.” 

Zelda nodded in agreement behind Mipha. She looked a little disoriented, but it was dawning upon her face that she had stumbled into something slightly beyond her expectations. 

“What may I do for my lady, Your Highness?” Link asked, indicating cordially to them both. 

“I require nothing, uh, Link,” Zelda interjected hastily. It was clear she had come to the conclusion that her rôle in this particular situation had come to an end. “I was... was simply going for a walk with Princess Mipha here, and now have... uh, urgent business elsewhere. I’m sorry to depart so soon, but-” 

“Of course, Zelda,” Mipha said gently. “I here bid you farewell.” 

“And I, Your Highness,” Link added, bowing again. 

“Th-thank you,” Zelda smiled. “And- and I assure you, Link, it is not on your behalf that I must go, it is simply a matter of... a ma- matter of...” 

Evidently, she was unable to express what exactly her departure was a matter of, and, after a few more seconds of discomfort, she smiled awkwardly at Mipha in a manner that very clearly suggested that she’d really love to know more about what exactly was going on at a later date, and, following that, turned and bid a hasty retreat, her long dress rustling along in her wake. Link and Mipha both watched her go, and Link only spoke again when she was well and truly out of earshot. 

“Are you going to tell me how she came to be following you?” he asked, turning to regard Mipha with the faintest whisper of a smile. 

Mipha sighed. “She followed me from the table. I was unable to reject her in a polite manner.” 

The whisper grew, so that a slight grin broke across Link’s face. “It was always a weakness of yours, Mipha.” 

“Now, Link,” Mipha admonished, feeling herself relaxing in the comfortably familiar presence of Link; kind, warm, open Link. “I do think that is a little unfair. Courtesy is an extremely important diplomatic skill, you know, and it simply would not do for me to push away people with whom the Domain is in alliance with! I do believe I’ve taught you that.” 

Link shook his head in mock sorrow. “While that may be true, Mipha, knowing when not to be courteous is an equally important diplomatic skill, and one which I do believe I’ve taught you .” 

“When have you done such a thing?” Mipha demanded, glaring playfully at him. “I have not learned such nonsense from you!” 

“Well, I recall a time,” Link began, “and, of course, I might be quite incorrect in my recollection, but I do seem to remember once, when I was nine, how you joined the Bazz Brigade – at my urging – in... ah, sneaking into Muzu’s room to re-arrange his furniture? Is that not – though, of course, I would never accuse you of such a thing - an example of discourteous behaviour?” 

“That was not a matter of courtesy!” Mipha protested. “That was... that was...” 

“A breach of etiquette, perhaps?” 

Mipha shook her head defiantly, the act rather marred by the smile she was unable to contain. “No, it was not the same! Link, that was a totally different matter entirely, and I deeply resent your bringing it up.” 

“Of course, it was,” Link agreed. “I’ll look forward to the time when you can tell me why.” 

Unable to continue the charade, Mipha giggled, covering her mouth with her hand as she did so. A second later, Link joined her, and they spent a few seconds leaning against the stone wall, laughing at the ridiculousness of the games that they played. Mipha realised that she had missed this terribly – there were very few other people with whom she could talk so openly, and with whom she had such a deep bond. It was refreshing to remember how close she had been to Link before he had left, and remember how much she had missed him. 

Controlling himself, Link gestured to the parcel under her arms. “Who’s that for?” 

Mipha, relaxed and warmed by his presence, opened her mouth instinctively to tell him, but the words were barred halfway up her throat and she choked on air as through the elation had been knocked out of her. She felt suddenly torn in half, with two sides tugging on her mind, one begging her to confess, the other pleading with her to lie, and, in the recesses, watching this contest, a voice demanding to know why she had to failed to commit at the most crucial moment. 

Link looked concerned, and moved closer to her. “Mipha, is something wrong?” 

Noticing rather vividly how very proximate he was, and how handsome and strong he looked in uniform, Mipha found herself panicking slightly. “No!” she eventually managed to squeak out, trying with some desperation to keep her eyes firmly on his face and away from any other part of his body (his chest, for instance). “It’s n-nothing! I mean, it’s for n-nobody- I m-mean, it’s for... for someone else!” 

Fighting against a wave of mixed feelings at failing to propose (that word imprinted into her the reality of the situation – this was marriage , binding, unbreakable marriage she was thinking about!), she deposited, with some indignity, the disguised armour at the base of a rose bush, which positively wilted with disappointment at her lack of resolve. She soothed her turbulent emotions by promising herself that she simply needed to ease herself into it before committing to anything – to give herself one last opportunity to determine how Link felt towards her. Ignoring the whispered accusations of procrastination from the voice in her mind, she smiled in a manner that she hoped quite sincerely was natural and at least somewhat reminiscent of the calmness she had only seconds before felt. 

“How has your time at Royal Hyrule been?” she asked shakily, seeking to quickly change the subject. 

Link continued to regard her with some concern. “Mipha, is it something you need to talk about?” 

“I am all right.” (She hoped.) “What about Royal Hyrule?” 

“You’ve already asked that question.” 

“And I did not receive much by way of reply, so I am now asking it for a fourth time. How have you found your time at Royal Hyrule?” 

Surveying her for a second more, Link turned with a sigh to lean heavily against the wall, staring up at the moon high above them. “I suppose I can’t complain.” 

Mipha studied his face, which seemed rather weary. “That sounds to me as though you have something to complain about.” 

A smile touched Link’s lips, and he acknowledged the comment with a brief tilt of his head. “No, really, I have no right to complain against the academy. The quality of instruction is extraordinary, the standard of living – considering its nature – is very satisfactory, and I’m doing... doing duty which is important, and relevant, and vital, now more so than ever. However,” he sighed, “there have been... a few people, and certain individuals in particular who I’ve been getting on with rather poorly.” 

“Why?” Mipha asked, though she felt the answer haunting her like a hovering phantom. 

Link deliberated for the briefest of moments – to most, it would have been unnoticeable. “Oh, some people are simply unpleasant.” 

The hesitation was not lost on Mipha. “Why is it, Link?” she pressed, edging towards him along the stone fence, feeling her stomach clench with tension, her eyes fixated with some fear upon his face. 

“It’s...” Link, looking uncomfortable, shifted slightly so he didn’t have to look at her. There was a brief pause before he made his confession. “It’s probably because of the Zora.” 

Mipha felt rather sick and dizzy all of a sudden. She knew, of course, that many Hylians disliked her race, and despised her austere, ostentatious, and superciliously righteous culture, and she had had her misgivings about how Link’s upbringing would be received in the capital of this hostility, but to hear it from his own mouth was quite horrible. 

“I am sorry,” she said, because she couldn’t really think of what else to say. 

“No, don’t be!” Link replied firmly and with abrupt energy, and pushed himself up on the wall to face her. There was a certain fire in him as he glared at her. “You have no reason to apologise! I certainly don’t regret my association with the Zora, and I would not give up my childhood and my friendships for the sake of a small number of Hylians revealing their intense ignorance about a culture they’ve never even encountered before!” 

Mipha edged a bit closer, so close to him now that she was barely a foot away from him. “But it must have been difficult for you to bear, alone, after all this time? I did not want you to feel ostracised because of me, Link.” 

Link glared at her for another second. Then his expression relaxed, and he smiled sadly, but also warmly. “It’s okay, Mipha. I value my friendship with the Zora far more than my popularity with a bunch of idiots at Royal Hyrule.” 

He hesitated. “And,” he continued quietly – so quietly that Mipha, close as she was, had to strain to her him, in their isolation together, against the rustling of the wind among the vibrant roses, “if the whole debacle with your letters has taught me anything, it’s that... it’s that I value my relationship with you especially, Mipha.” 

Mipha stared into his eyes, just a dozen inches now from her own, and listened to her heart thud loudly in her chest. She wanted now, more than anything, to leap forward, to close the gap between them and kiss him – kiss him far more passionately than she had ever done before, when he was a child – but then, as she hesitated, those inches between them stretched into yards, and those yards into miles, and reaching across that great gulf now seemed like an impossible feat - and, even as she tried to move forward she found herself unable to do so, frozen in place, leaning forward as through she was going to topple into him – and, her mouth dry, she found herself gazing now at Link’s own mouth, noting every crevice and cranny of it, and of how perfectly poised it was beside her lips, almost as though he was leaning towards her as well – almost as though he, too, sought a kiss between them... 

...and then a voice called “Mipha!”, and the illusion broke, and she jumped back from Link as through she had been caught in flagrante , spinning around so fast she nearly hit the ground and was forced to fall rather heavily upon the stone behind her, blinking rapidly as her eyes probed urgently into the darkness, seeking for the source of the intrusion, wondering with terror who had nearly caught her, the Princess of the Domain, in embrace with a Hylian guardsman... 

...and saw, in the distance, moving swiftly through the topiary, the shadowed shape of an upright and erect Zora, his head turning as he searched for her, and it was clearly he who had called.  

Glancing briefly at Link, who looked about as guilty as she felt, she pushed herself hastily from the wall, adjusted her ornamentation, which had fallen into disarray, and, hoping she didn’t sound as shaken as she felt, called out, “I am here!” 

The figure, noticing her cry, changed tack immediately and hurried towards her. As he neared her, and the light of the moon fell upon his face, Mipha saw that it was Jiahto, looking rather relieved that he had found her. 

“My lady, I had wondered where-” he began, but quickly pulled up short as his eyes abruptly lighted upon Link, whom he had apparently not noticed before then – something which Mipha most profusely thanked Hylia for. “Oh, Link. I’m quite sorry, I had not seen you there. How have you been?” 

Link looked dazed, but managed to speak up. “I’m quite well, thank you, Master Jiahto. I’m... I’m quite sorry if I’ve been distracting Mipha from anywhere else she should have been.” 

“That’s quite all right; knowing my lady, I can entertain the notion it was more on her agency than your own.” Jiahto gave Mipha a piercing glare, though thankfully one that was largely humorous. Clearly, he wasn’t particularly perturbed by Mipha’s absence.  

“Quite possibly,” Mipha agreed, making a conscious effort to return her heart to its regular tempo. “May I ask for what you have come to me?” 

“I’ve come to escort my lady to her room,” Jiahto replied promptly. 

Mipha felt a brief sensation of freefall. “Why!?” 

Jiahto looked momentarily confused at her sudden urgency of tone. “Because it is late, of course. And the King of Hyrule has requested that all leave the garden, so that he may remove his guards-” he indicated Link, “-from the area.” 

Helplessly, Mipha looked sideways at Link, who was gazing at her as though experiencing some sort of an epiphany. The armour seemed to glare sightlessly at her in indignant accusation from under the rose bush, and the weight of her failure to propose while she had the chance pressed heavily upon her shoulders. She couldn’t do it now, with Jiahto around. But she couldn’t leave this night without committing, or else the armour she had crafted, the love that she felt, and the opportunity she had craved for months – years, even – would perish and rot, and come to nothing. 

“I had wanted the talk with Link for a while,” she said meekly, by way of a rather pathetic excuse. 

“I... I’m afraid I can’t do much about that,” Jiahto replied, after being taken aback for a second. He glanced curiously at Link, whose eyes were still on Mipha. “I’m not sure whether...” 

“I can come,” Link said abruptly, shaking his head and visibly drawing himself up; and there was no trace of dizziness in his face as he did so. “I have to return to the Castle as well. I might as well escort you both.” 

Jiahto smiled in a relieved sort of way. “That sounds quite acceptable, Link, thank you. If you would, my lady?” He gestured before him expectantly, back towards the Castle – back from where Mipha had come. 

With another helpless glance at Link, Mipha started forwards, stooping for a second to pick up the wrapped brown package from under the rose bush and tuck it once again beneath her arm, and walked through the field of roses besides Jiahto, Link at her other side, the soft whispering of the wind whipping his uniform around his waist, and, just occasionally, brushing against Mipha as it did so. 

Chapter Text

Despite Mipha’s earlier protestations that she wished to speak with Link, there was total silence as they climbed back up the hill – save, of course, for the gossiping whispers of the wind and the chuckling creaks of the trees around them. She felt that both she and Link had taken with them from the stone wall a distinct impression that something significant had occurred between them there, though neither were entirely sure what exactly the significance of it was. Both, however, seemed to be convinced that, whatever it had been, it wasn’t right to pursue it in the presence of Jiahto. So they shared no words between each other, but instead only occasional, unreadable glances, never quite catching the other’s eye, both absorbed within their own musings. Because of this, though he walked besides them, Jiahto was decidedly excluded - a gooseberry of sorts, though the thoughts of neither Link nor Mipha directly labelled him as such, lest it lend too much to his own relationship with the other. 

After a while, probably to simply break the exclusionary stillness between them, Jiahto spoke up. “May I ask for whom that package you carry is intended, my lady?” 

Mipha felt heart thud in her chest, but she forced herself not to react as she searched for an appropriately untruthful answer. “It-it is for- for someone else,” she eventually stammered out; the same thing that she had told Link. Jiahto looked as though he was going to raise further questions, but apparently decided against it, satiating himself instead with a quizzical glance in her direction. 

And that was the only thing said between them on the journey back to the castle. As they approached the vaulted gate through which she had first entered the garden, Mipha recalled the elation that she had felt then – how joyful she had been at the prospect of finally giving herself away. This thought wrenched her mind away from the nebulous realms of how exactly Link might feel about her to the more practical concern of in what situation she might propose to Link. Given that her original plan had failed – immediately due to Jiahto’s interruption, but Mipha was beginning to acknowledge that she had effectively failed the moment she had decided to stow the armour under that rose bush – she now needed a new method of getting Link alone with her, and, with them both on the threshold of a densely populated residence, her options appeared quite sparse. Mipha probed her mind for answers with growing concern, but was unable to think of how in Hyrule she was supposed to pull off such a feat. 

Just before they passed under the arch, and just as Mipha was beginning to panic, a voice from behind them called out, “Lieutenant Link, sir!” 

Mipha turned around, as did Link. A guardsman in a dress uniform similar to Link’s was hurrying towards them, sheathed sword dangling from his hip and wobbling with his every step towards them. He stopped short in front of Link (though not before sending a curious once-over in Mipha’s direction) and saluted sharply. “Lieutenant, sir. Major Horwell requests that you lead the platoon in the next shift on the parapets.” 

Link glanced briefly at Mipha, whose heart had suddenly found its way into her mouth, before looking uncomfortably back at the soldier. “Was this request something I need to be there for now, Pipit?” 

“I strongly believe so, sir.” 

There was a second or two of silence, before Link, his every inch demonstrating his reluctance, nodded. “Of course.”  

He gestured Pipit on his way, and, as the man turned to leave, Link looked back over at Mipha – directly in her eyes this time – as though to cement her image firmly in his mind, or to convey a great deal of unspoken things to her, or perhaps to do both. Then, after a few seconds, he pulled his gaze away from her, turned, and began walking away. 

Mipha stood absolutely still, watching his departure, unable to move a muscle. She felt as though, inside her chest, something was struggling to escape – to burst free of its shackles. It wasn’t a thought that she had thought, or a decision that she had made. It was instead an instinct; an instinct that compelled her without thought or decision, and that drove her forwards without knowledge of where she was being taking. Behind her, Jiahto spoke, but she did not hear his words. The creature was getting stronger, pushing past all resistance, building up instead of her like water in a dam, or like breath in lungs, or like the little voice in the back of her mind that screamed at her to do something; to act now, before it was again too late. Link entered the castle though a small archway, and turned, slipping into the stone walls and out of sight. 

At that, the creature was finally freed, and Mipha did not give thought or decision, but simply acted – breaking abruptly into a sprint most ungainly of her as she tore after her, Jiahto’s words of shouted shock never reaching her ears. Crossing the distance in what seemed like a second, she ran straight through the doorway Link had done, nearly slipped sideways on the polished marble beneath her, and crashed directly into Link, who was replacing a key into his pocket, his hand on the knob of an iron-bound wooden door. 

He gave a gasp of surprise, stumbling forward a step as her body slammed into him – little though it weighed, it was moving at great speed – and, spinning around so swiftly that he himself nearly fell, he grabbed her by the shoulders, pushing her back to arm's length and staring at her, the shock and anger in his eyes turning swiftly to dumbfoundedness as he saw who it was who had collided with him. He stared down in disbelief at her panting, trembling form before him, searching her face for some answer or explanation that wasn’t there. Mipha stared back up at him, barely understanding her own actions herself. She tried, but found herself distracted by the brightness of his eyes, and the feeling of his toughened, firm hands gripping her smooth, delicate, naked scales, and for a moment she thought of nothing else but him; gazing at him, basking in him, yearning for him. 

“Mipha, I have to go,” Link said softly, after a short but prolonged silence between them. 

Mipha wetted her lips. “I know,” she replied huskily. 

Neither of them moved. Both seemed to be waiting for something, though neither had any idea what it was they were waiting for. 

And then it became too much for Mipha to bear, and she leapt forward, and she kissed him. And, for the second just before she pulled away, she sampled just a taste of his lips, and it was so much more than she had imagined it would be. 

Again, they stared at each other, both expressions shocked at and in disbelief of what Mipha had just done, and the moment of intimacy seemed to hang in the air between them like an unanswered question. Mipha was suddenly very aware of the package pressed up against the crook of her arm, and she tried to open her mouth again to form speech, but nothing came out except a pleading, chocking sound. She gazed without blinking at Link, who was now trembling, too. Even the air around them seemed to hold its breath. The silence grew. 

And then the intimacy broke, and the breath was let out, and Link, without another word, moved in a trance; opening the door behind him just a crack, slipping through, and shutting it behind him with a soft but resounding click . And Mipha was left staring hopelessly at the closed door, the package clutched painfully in her hands, and a weight dragging her heart down into the depths of Hyrule. 

There was a puffing behind her, and Jiahto jogged into the room; noticing her, he turned and started towards her, with not an insignificant amount of anger in his gait. “Mipha! What are you doing? This entrance is for guards only, and you should not have run through it in a way so unbecoming of your exalted position!” 

Mipha did not respond. A single tear traced a sorrowful path down her cheek before, after a second of hesitation, leaping off of her face to collapse pathetically onto her breast. It was soon after followed by a second, and then another after that. 

Jiahto’s anger melted away like ice in fire upon seeing this, and he reached out to comfort her, placing his hands upon her shoulders and whispering to her in soothing tones; “My lady, I am sorry; I did not mean to be so harsh. I was worried, and I reacted too strongly because of it. My lady, a- are you all right?” 

Mipha said nothing, but clutched the package in her hand so tightly her fingernails tore through the paper; her fingers brushing against the smooth skin of the armour inside. The armour that she had bought here with such high hopes, but had ended again in another colossal, heart-wrenching, unbearably painful failure. Timorous. Dysfunctional. 

Alone. Just as alone as though Link never had cared. 

The hands that clutched her were no substitute for his. 

The tears now falling thick and fast, she offered no resistance as she was gently guided from the room. Instead, she buried her wet face in the armour which she carried, and she prayed. 

. . . 

Even as it happened, Link did not have a clear recollection of guard duty that evening. The entire experience seemed hazy and undefined to him, and, somehow, he didn’t remember it taking very long at all. It seemed to move in a blur; one moment, he was leaving Mipha behind, his heart fighting against itself as he did so; the next, he was standing upon the battlements, staring out into the star-filled sky; and yet surely it was only seconds later that he was being relieved, and trudging down the stone-walls corridors back to his temporary barracks? The one thing he did remember was an urge – and it grew stronger as he grew closer and closer to the barracks’ door – to abandon his post, and his comrades, and his duty, and to run back to Mipha’s room where she doubtless was. This desire grew and began to gnaw painfully upon his hollow innards. But he resisted it, and entered his barracks with no more than the slightest moment of hesitation. 

It took him a few seconds to realise why everyone else was standing up so silently. Belatedly, he waved his hand to motion them back down, and his platoon all sat, a murmur of conversation bubbling up in the small room once again as they returned to whatever it was they had been doing before. Link did not recall what exactly those activities had been; he did notice, however, albeit with a rather distant and detached interest, that many a soldier looked up from what he was doing to stare at him curiously as he passed, before turning back to his friends and whispering something under his breath when he believed that Link was out of earshot. Link wondered idly what they were discussing, but the thought was pushed out of his mind by other, more ubiquitous concerns. 

Sitting down heavily on the bottom bunk that had been reserved for him, Link stared up at the wooden-panelled ceiling, lost deep within his own musings. The sidelong glances continued, but at increasingly sporadic intervals as his men apparently lost interest, for which he couldn’t help but feel a bit grateful. After a few minutes, Pipit, who had the bunk above him, asked him a question in which Mipha’s name was audible, but Link, having not really listened, made no reply, and Pipit did not ask it again. 

Time passed in a rather lethargic manner for either a very long period of time or very little time at all. Or perhaps it passed swiftly for either a very short period of time or a great deal of time indeed. It didn’t really matter to Link. In any event, there came a time, after what was for Link either an eternity of reflection or a few seconds of deliberation, when he suddenly realised that the room was very dark, and very quiet, and that he could not hear nor see people moving. After a little while longer of taking in his surroundings for the first time that evening, he realised that everyone else had gone to sleep for the night. When he strained himself, he seemed to remember hearing an announcement to that effect, but it hadn’t really appeared all that important to him at the time. Having reached this conclusion, he soon after came to the subsequent understanding that he should probably try to catch some sleep, too. So, he swung his legs on to his bed, lay his head upon his pillow, and attempted to close his eyes.  

But, perhaps because he pursued it so half-heartedly, sleep did not come upon him. As the snores of his comrades-in-arms filled the room, Link found himself lying flat on his back, staring with wide open eyes at the bedframe above him, peering through it and into the nebulous darkness beyond, thinking quietly to himself. 

After a while, as if on some whim or passing thought, he sat bolt upright, the bed springs letting out a creak of surprise as he groped for the bedside cabinet that he knew was nearby. Finding it, he located the knob of the drawer that was set just beneath its top and pulled it out with a soft rattling from the old, unoiled mechanism. He reached inside and took from it a folded piece of paper – the letter he had earlier read, the last one of Mipha’s that had actually reached him, which he had kept concealed near his breast as he had escorted her to the Castle at the very beginning of the day. Holding up to his face, he stared at it intently as though he was reading the words so lovingly traced on to it – which was ridiculous, as it was so dark he could barely make out the paper inches before his nose. Still, he stared at it for many, many minutes – or perhaps many hours – as though he was divining new information from it; discovering a new meaning hidden behind every stroke of the pen. His hand brushed against his lip, where, hours, minutes, or seconds earlier, Mipha had kissed him. He smiled. 

And, eventually, still smiling, he fell asleep. 

. . . 

This time, the bright sun of the day had only just risen as Link stood to rigid attention outside of the Castle Gate, and the frigid early morning temperatures were just beginning to flee in its wake. The newly-born radiance glinted off his armour and the armour of his platoon around him, near-blinding to the eye if it caught just right, though Link did not heed it. His attention, unfocused though it was supposed to be, was fixed rigidly on the young Zora princess who was just about to depart Castle Town and return to Zora’s Domain, where she would be days if not weeks of travel away and utterly unreachable save by epistle – which had already proven itself a most unreliable medium. 

The mix of emotions inside of him made Link feel slightly nauseous as he gazed at Mipha’s lithe form – perhaps gazed at it a little more than he felt he probably should – for he did not really know exactly what emotion was to take precedence, and thus simply let them simmer. She was exchanging some inaudible words with the Duke of Necluda, shaking her head and smiling in response to some comment of his. What those words were about, Link had no insight into, though he did find himself pondering whether the duke was enquiring as to Mipha’s already widely gossiped-about breakdown in the castle garden the previous night. Link had heard that story by virtue of the fastest known method of conveying information known to man – gossip – as well as some other, equally significant murmurs. From what the rest of his platoon had been conspicuously discussing that morning – and, more tellingly, conspicuously not discussing whenever Link drew within earshot – there were already rumours that the otherwise-respectable lieutenant of the foreigner’s escort was somehow mixed up in the whole situation. His association with the Zora princess, usually considered hearsay by most at the academy, had apparently become accepted as general fact, and what exactly Link’s involvement with her was had become a popular topic for conversation overnight. 

Still, Link found himself far less worried by what the soldiery whispered about him behind his back than he did the inescapable fact that he probably bore no small part of the blame for the events that had led to Mipha’s collapse. 

Mipha graciously inclined her head towards the duke as they said their final farewells to each other. One second, she was standing there; a second later, she was turning and, with an apparent desire to be quickly gone, walking swiftly through the Castle Gate and out of the town with the rest of her retinue behind her. Away from Link.  

In the last second before she passed completely through, her head turned, and her eyes roved down the line of soldiers. For the barest fraction of a second, she found Link’s gaze, and the look she sent was far too brief for him to read, and only just long enough for him to realise what a weight of significance there was behind it. Then, almost before Link could begin to comprehend it, she was gone again. 

A sigh seemed to run through the body of assembled soldiers like a ripple – or like the shuddering relief of a muscle that had been exerted far beyond what it had anticipated. It wasn’t particularly strict discipline, but Link had no intention of bringing anyone up on it. For himself, the past few days had been one of the most significant for many a year, and he would have happily given up quite a lot for it to have continued for even just one more day. For the common private in his platoon, however, the whole exercise had already gone on for far longer than he had been promised – certainly far longer than it had any right to have had – and he was ready to retire back at the academy and not have to worry about looking presentable for a good while. As such, heads began to turn to Link’s place in the line, seeking instructions, fervently hoping those instructions would be to run to the nearest pub or games room and relax for a few hours. Seeing this, Link tore himself away from sifting slowly through the complex soup of emotions and moved hastily forward towards a man in a blue frock. The administrator, however, appeared to anticipate his question and met him halfway. 

“You’re shortly to escort His Grace back to his temporary residence at the Castle,” he said briskly. He was rather shorter and more rotund than the last administrator Link had spoken with, and so had to peer up at him through ovular spectacles. “After that, you’re all dismissed. I’m sure you’ll want to retire after all this excitement.” 

Link nodded, before turning and filling his lungs with air. “Men, turn back to the Castle! We’re escorting His Grace there before we retire!” 

There was a small amount of discontented muttering at this command, but, all the same, every one of his men turned with relative precision to face back the way they came, stiffening to attention as he re-joined their ranks. A few dozen seconds later, the duke had wrapped up a few final conversations with his staff and the whole entourage was marching with him back the way they came through the straight and the winding streets of Castle Town. 

The journey gave Link time to think, though in his thoughts he made no progress. Instead, he found himself repeating over and over in his head the same thoughts that he had been repeating to himself since the very moment he woke up that morning. 

Mipha was his friend, he knew that. Mipha was probably the closest friend that he had. He cared about his relationship with Mipha; this was obvious by how he had felt when she did not reply to anything he had written in his letters. Mipha considered him a friend; this, he could now be sure of.  

Mipha considered him something more...? 

The notion he would have, once a few short days ago, disregarded out of hand as utterly preposterous – and, moreover, possibly constituting slander. But, after last night, it was impossible to deny the evidence of his eyes, of his ears, and most especially of his lips. The way she had looked at him – the way she had spoken to him – the way she had kissed him. They all appeared to suggest that she desired something from him that was, perhaps, far greater than friendship. Really, it was hard to think otherwise after the kiss. As for Link, any suggestion that he considered her anything more than a friend would similarly have been dismissed as nothing more than slander and a joke of poor taste designed to embarrass him. He had assured Colin and Pipit many times that she wasn’t his girlfriend, and, moreover, that there was no such concept in the culture of the Zora, and those things were true enough. But to the Zora, there was certainly a concept of something more – something, of course, that Link would, again, have never have confessed to desiring. Yet, remembering the way he had felt after Mipha had kissed him, and the happiness and comfort that he felt whenever he was with her, he wasn’t so sure. 

So he asked himself, very directly, the crucial question – did he care for Mipha in that way? And, in response, he hid, for he knew the answer but did not want to admit it to himself. And so, he took himself through the evidence again, from the very beginning, and it all began again. 

He was guiding himself through the logic for a third time as they marched across the lowered drawbridge and back into the antechamber of the Castle, where the duke was greeted by a score of noblemen, including Princess Zelda, who, as she had last time, appeared rather uncomfortable in her official capacity as greeter of guests. The men conversed with great jollity amongst themselves for a few short minutes while Link’s platoon stationed themselves patiently (or not-so-patiently) around the room, waiting fervently for their turn to leave. Link caught many bored glances around and shufflings of feet amidst their ranks, and hoped that the duke would soon manage to take his get-together somewhere else so they could all finally leave, and Link could think to himself alone. 

A few seconds later, his wish was answered as one aristocrat gestured with a muscled arm through a vaulted archway and led the procession down the plush, carpeted halls, laughing uproariously at some joke as he did so. The princess appraised the group of old men for a second, before deciding not to follow them and instead hurrying towards a side passage that yawned just a few yards to the side of where Link was standing. 

As she did so, she abruptly caught sight of him, and a curious expression stole over her face, rather like the expression of a mathematician examining an unknown variable. Mid-step, she changed directions and hastened towards him, her long dress trailing noisily behind her in the otherwise-silent room. Link watched her approach in what he hoped was a respectful manner, rather suddenly aware that the eyes of every man in the room were upon them. 

The princess stopped just short of sidling up next to him, as if just realising that she was regarding a common soldier and not an equal or near-equal. She opened her mouth to speak, hesitated slightly, then, pushing on as though she was forcing herself to do a very strange and foreign thing indeed, asked “You’re... you are Link, aren’t you?” 

“Yes, Your Highness,” Link replied, bowing in deference. 

“May I ask... how did Mi- did Princess Mipha come to know you?” 

Link glanced around at his platoon, all of whom were listening intently as though scrounging for scraps of gossip they could bring with them to the academy. With a short, angry hand gesture which thankfully escaped the princess’ notice, he indicated for them to begin filing out, which after some hesitation, they did, led by Colin. He returned his attention to the princess and, opening his mouth, deliberated for a few seconds as he waited for everyone to leave the room. The princess, for her part, simply stared at him oddly, as though wondering whether it was usual for guardsmen to simply delay their response having been asked a question. 

“I... I grew up in Zora’s Domain, Your Highness,” he eventually replied. 

The princess’ eyes widened. “Really? You actually grew up in the Domain? As a Hylian?” 

“Yes, Your Highness.” 

“When did you get there?” she asked eagerly. “How long did you stay there? Why where you there in the first place?” 

“It... I was- was orphaned at a young age, Your Highness,” Link said, feeling as though he was being interrogated, though a more informal interrogator he could not imagine. The princess gave the impression that she was fascinated by him as a scientist was by a new creature, which wasn’t necessary degrading, but it certainly felt a bit odd. “I had lost my- my parents when I was four, and had been taken in by a caravan of merchants. When I first arrived at the Domain, I was immediately enamoured with it, and chose to remain there under the protection of King Dorephan and his family. I... I grew up with the Zora, and...” he here hesitated, but the princess seemed so engrossed in his story that he felt he had to go on, “...and I became rather close to many of them, including Princess Mipha. When I was twelve, I chose to return to Hyrule to train at Royal Hyrule Military Academy, though have remained in contact with the Domain since then. I suppose that... that is probably why Mipha- Princess Mipha knew me, Your Highness.” 

“Interesting” the princess murmur, apparently fascinated by his tale. “I’ve never met anyone in that situation before...” 

“I was the first in a century, Your Highness.” 

“That is very interesting indeed. Incidentally, uh, Link, what was in the package?” A second later, she quickly amended, “If I may know, of course.” 

Link frowned, though quickly caught himself. “I... I’m sorry, Your Highness, which package is this?” 

Princess Zelda frowned as well, though didn’t make any attempt to disguise it. “The package that she was carrying down the hill with her, of course. She said that she was delivering it to you on a favour. May I know what was in it?” 

“I’m... I’m afraid I can’t tell you that, Your Highness,” Link replied, a storm of emotions flurrying inside of him. The package. The package that Mipha had profusely assured him was for someone else. The package she had taken with her, and held tightly – the package that she even held when she kissed him. “Princess Mipha assured me that the package was for someone else entirely. She never gave it to me.” 

The princess looked taken aback for a second. “Are... are you quite sure? You- you're being serious, lieutenant?” 

“Yes. Entirely serious. She still had it when I left her.” 

The princess appeared rather bewildered by this information. “But... but she said that she was going to give it to you. She hid it behind a bush and everything, all so she could give it to you. What on Hyrule...” 

“She didn’t give it to me, Your Highness,” Link said firmly, shaking his head. A suspicion as to what the package may have been, still nascent but growing in size with every passing second, had formed in the back of his mind. “I can assure you of that.” 

Princess Zelda did not reply, but stared at the wall behind Link for several seconds, looking at though she was intensely pondering a rather difficult conundrum. As the silence wore on, Link began to become increasingly uncomfortable with the situation and wondered whether she expected him to remain where he was, or whether she had become distracted and completely forgotten that he existed. 

After about thirty long seconds, he plucked up the courage to ask. “May... may I leave, Your Highness?” 

“What?” The princess looked up in surprise, as though he had just popped out of the blue without warning. “Oh. Yes. Sorry. You may go, Link. Thank you for your time.” 

Link bowed respectfully, and left Princess Zelda to muse things over in the castle antechamber. Passing his men lined up in rows, who all stared at him as he passed, he took his place at the front of the formation, and gave the order to march. The platoon, for the third time that day, strode through the streets of Castle Town and finally, after an assignment that had taken much, much longer than any of them had anticipated, arrived back at the gates of Royal Hyrule. A quick conversation with the sentries had Link inside within just a few minutes, at which point his platoon, utterly tired of the unexpected journey they had been forced through, simply dissolved, with men drifting off in all directs, searching for friends or drink or cards, or perhaps all three at the same time. Link, however, had no desire for any of those things – on the contrary, he was glad to be finally on his own, and have some space in which to think quietly to himself. Sitting himself down on a nearby bench, he gazed across the parade ground and pondered. He seemed to be doing rather a lot of that recently. 

He couldn’t be sure that the package was intended for him. He couldn’t be sure what had been in it, whether it had been intended for him or not. But, if it had been for him, and she really had loved him that way, then there was a chance that it could have been... 

Link couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence, for it was very far-fetched. She may love him, but there was a great difference between romantic attraction and... and what the armour symbolised. Giving that away would be amongst the most significant events of her entire life. She would not do such a thing to... to him . But hadn’t the possibility of her ever loving him been very far-fetched just a few days ago? And, really, to the Zora, the difference between romantic attraction and the meaning of the armour was not overly distinct. And the way that Mipha had behaved, and how nervous she had seemed, and how anxious she had been about the parcel, all seemed to indicate that she had made... for him ... the armour. And Link, unable to reject this possibility, wondered instead how he felt that she had not given it to him. 

Abruptly, he pushed himself to his feet, pushing that thought to the very recesses of his mind. Thinking about the past, which he couldn’t change, and the future, which would happen regardless, was simply making his heart ache, and there was nothing he could do to alleviate that. So, he wrenched his mind back to the present, for there was something practical he could do right now; something which, really, if he had been clever enough, he should have done many months ago. 

Resolute, he moved swiftly down the paths of the academy, dodging past soldiers, many of whom turned to stare, as he went, heading in the direction of his barracks’ compound. But his barracks was not the destination he had in mind. Instead, he walked over to a large building – a shed, really – with a painted image of a letter hanging over the doorway, and, pushing the door open, he strode inside. 

The interior of the academy post office rather dimly lit by an oil lamp suspended from the middle of the room, which gave off just enough light to see by. There were windows, but someone had either closed them or never bothered to open them in the first place. Shelves stocked with an innumerable quantity of mail lined the walls, many of them overflowing with neglect, sorted with what appeared like no real commitment whatsoever. On the other side of the room, behind a large, wooden counter were a small group of uncouth and highly obnoxious men, frozen in the act of leafing through piles of letters stacked on the bench before them. The biggest amongst them – the one with the ridiculous red hair – glanced up as Link entered, and gave a boisterous sneer with overlarge, white teeth. 

“Ah, Lieutenant! You’d be looking for some more letters from your fish girlfriend, aren’t you?” Lt Groose smiled derisively, leaning against the counter casually as Link approached him. “I’m afraid we’ve got nothing new from her, nothing new at all. But I have heard that you got to see her in person recently! Escort her round town and in the castle and everything! Though-” and here his smile became very malicious indeed, “-I’ve heard there might have been some problems there, eh? Some of the boys reckon that she was crying last night; crying real hard, from what they heard. What happened; did you split up with her or something? Or did she find out you’d been seeing someone else and ended it herself?” 

Reaching the counter, Link made no reply to any of his questions. Instead, leaning against the bench, he took a deep breath and, trying to appear calm, asked, in a tone of overly forced politeness, “May I please have the rest of my letters, Lieutenant Groose?” 

One of Groose’s cronies – one of the short and bulky variety - shook his head in mock regret and consternation. “Lieutenant, didn’t you hear Groose? There haven’t been any letters from the fishies since the last one we gave you. We’ll tell you when she sends another one,” he added helpfully. 

“Perhaps you should check again?” Link suggested. 

Groose nodded to another of his gang – this one of the tall and reedy variety – who made a big show of inspecting a pile of mail sorted under the shelf marked ‘L’. He checked a couple on the bottom, skipped the rest of the way to the top, and, apparently finished, turned back around. “Nope, Lieutenant. Definitely none ‘ere. Were you expectin’ any more? Maybe your girlfriend couldno’ be bothered sendin’ the rest through!” 

There was an outbreak of giggling amongst Groose’s gang. Groose himself smirked, his eyes mocking Link with their stare. The sound of it rang in Link’s ears and infuriated him, and he was suddenly seized by an overwhelming desire to reach across the counter and grab one of them by the throat. Knowing that he would be severely disciplined for it, and, moreover, that Mipha would be very disappointed with him, he shoved the anger roughly down inside of him and inside adopted a studiously neutral expression that did not quite manage to hide the hardness in every crevice of his face. 

“I request the rest of the letters sent to me, Lieutenant,” he said softly. “The ones that arrived weeks and months ago, but that you withheld from me.” 

The laughter quickly died from the room, and, from the shocked expressions of some of the especially dense amongst them, Link surmised that he had been correct in his suspicions. Several surreptitious looked were shared between members of Groose’s mob, as though there were waiting for orders, and nobody seemed to want to speak for a few seconds. Even Groose briefly looked a bit taken aback, rather like someone had slapped him in his over-styled face. 

“Sorry Lieutenant, I still got no idea what you’re taking about,” Groose said gruffly, after he had recovered. “We’ve given you everything that Zora’s sent you.” 

“I think you do know what I’m talking about,” Link replied, before hardening his tone, allowing himself to vent just a portion of his frustration so he did not burst. “Give them to me.” 

A muscle twitched in Groose’s jaw. He hesitated for a second, before smiling sardonically. “You’ve got no proof of anything, Lieutenant. Nothing whatsoever.” 

“No, I don’t,” Link admitted. “But I could get some, if I so choose.” 

The wiry man gaped at Link and Groose in turn, as though enthralled by the battle of the Lieutenants which was unfolding before him. Groose folded his arms, in a gesture clearly designed to make him look tough. “Any how would you do that, Lieutenant?” 

“I would ask Colonel Gaepora to launch an investigation,” Link said, his gaze resting firmly and unwaveringly upon Groose. “I understand that this is typically a rather difficult process, and one with no guarantee of success. However, due to my recent service to the academy in escorting foreign ambassadors, I’m certain that the Colonel will do me something of a favour in this regard. Too, the post was far longer than I and my men had been promised, which one would think would weigh even more heavily in my favour.” 

Groose seemed unnerved for a second. Then his eyes flashed and his posture hardened, and he seemed to stand up just a little bit for erect, as though to emphasis just how much taller he was than Link. Behind him, his men all murmured to each other, before one – this one of the scrawny and unremarkable variety – called out in a shrill voice, rather like a heckler; “That’d earn you the anger of Groose, Link! You remember what happened last time you tried to do something like that?” 

“Last time, I had no friends to support me,” Link replied evenly. “You, Lieutenant, as we all know, do. This time, however, things are different. So, I really think it would be in your best interests to just quietly give me the letters now and we can all walk away happy.” 

Link tried to make himself sound confident and commanding, but he felt that it came out in a rather unimpressive, pretentious manner; like he thought he was a more threatening presence than was really true. Groose, clearly agreeing, scoffed. Flicking his red crop of hair back, he gazed down scornfully at Link. “Why? What friends’ve you got this time?” 

Link hesitated briefly. This was most definitely not something he was supposed to be saying, and if word of it got back to the Castle he’d likely be in a great deal of trouble. Still, it had to be said if he was going to get his letters back. “Her Royal Highness, Princess Zelda Hyrule.” 

The reaction was certainly comical. The eyes of many men behind Groose widened enormously, like they had been stunned by a plot twist in some theatre performance. Some make surprised choking sounds, and some looked left and right as though confirming that every one of his fellows was having the exact same reaction to the news that he had had. Not one of them decried Link’s proclamation as ridiculous, or derided him for his stupidity, or mocked him in any way, but simply stared as though flabbergasted that he would make such a serious claim. As for Groose... well, if he had earlier looked as though he had been slapped, he now appeared to have been hit squarely between the eyes by an iron bar; he seemed blindsided, and nearly stumbled back a couple of steps in his confusion, clutching at the desk for support. Link held his disconcerted gaze, trying to stop, for the first time that day, a smile from breaking out over his face. 

Gossip, as Link had earlier reflected upon, was fastest known method of conveying information known to man. If he had made such a claim without having spoken to the Princess earlier that day, he had no doubt that the reaction of Groose’s company would have been the one of uproarious laughter he had half feared. But it appeared that, in less than an hour, the word had gotten out; not only did Link have some kind of involvement with the Zora princess, but he had also been witnessed conversing with the Hylian princess as well. This astonishing information was apparently so well founded that it made even Groose, the great, strutting bully of the academy, take it seriously. 

And Link, looking at how stunned Groose had been, knew that, for him, the news was very serious indeed. 

The red-haired ruffian took a while to recover this time, rather like an inexperienced boxer. When he did eventually reply, he looked far less assured; his hair had fallen pathetically flaccid and his shining white teeth seemed to sag in despair. “You- you’re bluffing! You know... you know nothing about Zelda! Nothing! I- I know... w-why would she talk to you? Why would she know you!? You... you can’t possibly know her!” 

“And yet, it appears I do,” shrugged Link. “As I’m sure you wouldn’t want to do anything to irritate her, may I renew my request for those letters?” 

There was silence for a few moments. Groose said nothing, his eyes locked on Link, but one of his gang members – this one of the ratty, greasy variety – scurried quickly into a back room from which he emerged a few seconds later, bearing aloft a stack of letters like a devotee bringing offerings before a particularly vindictive and temperamental god. On each of them, Link could see Mipha’s signature, signed in the neat, elegant cursive she used to mark everything she wrote upon. Wordlessly, Link held out his hand, and the man deposited it hastily into it before scuttling backwards as though fearful of reprisal. Clutching the letters firmly in his hand, Link smiled pleasantly at the sea of frightened and awestruck faces before him. 

“And a very good day to you, Lieutenant,” he said politely to Groose. “Let’s make sure that letters addressed to me are delivered to me in future.” 

Groose, bent double with shock, made no reply; unless of course, the trembling was some kind of response to Link’s farewell. Smiling at him, Link turned, and walked with an exaggerated confidence out of the room, pulling on the door and letting himself out to the day nearing noon, which shone brightly and cheerfully outside. 

The journey back to his quarters seemed to take very little time at all; one moment, he was outside of the post office, and the next he was walking down a double row of beds to where his own lay crouched, waiting for his arrival. The only other person in the room was Colin, polishing one of his pauldrons; the rest of Link’s platoon, evidently, was still off gambling and gossiping and doing whatever else it was that people did after returning from assignment. Sitting down heavily upon his mattress, Link turned the stack of letters over and peered at the dates of the topmost few. Of course, Groose’s gang hadn’t been bothered to sort them in chronological order. Sighing to himself and shaking his head, he began to re-organise them from oldest to most recent, pausing every now and again to gaze upon Mipha’s handwriting, feeling a strange feeling of warmth and comfort whenever he did so. Colin, who was sitting on the bottom bunk across from Link, glanced up curiously from his work. 

“Are... are those letters from Mipha?” he asked Link. 

Link nodded absently, placing the letters in a small, newly-sorted stack by his bedside cabinet. 

Colin seemed to hesitate, before whispering so furtively and so quietly that it was rather ridiculous, “And... and I know you’ve already told me about all this, but... she's definitely not your girlfriend, is she?” 

“No,” Link replied, resigned to explaining it all again. “There’s no such thing as a ‘girlfriend’ or ‘boyfriend’ in Zora culture. People can be betrothed, which subsequently results in marriage, or their relationship is standard. There’s no concept of dating. There are only friends, and something more. Mipha and I are friends.” 

Colin nodded, a bit pink in the face from having asked the question in the first place. Link, having sorted through all the letters, picked the first one from the pile and stared for a moment at the signature on the front. He remembered last night; the smoothness of her scales under his calloused hands, and the taste of her lips upon his lips, and the emotion which had filled her eyes as she had gazed at him. He recalled how he had felt about her then, before he had left her, and he found himself regretting again that he had done so. And he found himself yearning for her. 

Casting his mind back to the package she had carried, and the armour she might have made, his hand came up again to touch the place where she had kissed him. And he realised suddenly that there was really only one answer to that crucial question, and he had simply been hiding it from himself the entire time. 

“And maybe,” he said softly, “we’re going to be something more.” 

Colin, who had returned to his polishing, looked up sharply; his mouth fell open and he made a soft sputtering noise. Link did not heed him, but instead, opening the first letter, began to read.