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Princess Zelda looked over the wall of the bridge leading to her study, watching the testing of the Guardians down below.
“Incredible,” she said. “We’re at a point now where can actually control them.”
I smiled at the quiet excitement in her voice. The technology of the ancient Sheikah never failed to amaze her, and I enjoyed seeing the joy it brought her to study them. I’d been traveling with her for a few weeks now, watching her work with each Divine Beast, listening to her theories and seeing her test them out, always so impatient for the result. It warmed my heart to see her enjoying herself despite all the doubts and fears she had, all the expectations that weighed her down, and that made her frustrated with me, the Hero. Without all that, without the threat of the Calamity, I had no doubt this kind of research was what she would have dedicated her life to. Hopefully, she would still be able to, some day. Just as I would be able to return to being only another soldier in a crowd, protecting my home without people scrutinizing me.
“At the current rate, we’ll soon know all we need to know about the Guardians and the Divine Beasts!”
Zelda turned to me, confidence displayed in the tilt of her head.
“And, should Ganon ever show itself again, we’ll be well positioned to defend ourselves.”
I nodded in agreement, and she smiled in response. We’d both known that the defence of the kingdom would be up to the two of us, ever since I’d drawn the Master Sword and the signs portending Ganon’s return had increased. The discovery of the ancient Sheikah tech was relieving, knowing that we no longer had to do it alone.
A harsh voice broke the moment.
“What are you doing out here, Zelda?”
The King.
She turned in surprise to face him.
I could feel Zelda’s previous excitement fade, replaced by anxiety. It was obvious in the way her left hand rose to her chest. She always did that when she spoke to me, using frustration to cover her fears.
The King approached slowly, and I dropped to one knee, head bowed, but still watchful and tense. The King did not sound pleased. I hoped he wouldn’t add on to the stress we both felt.
“I…” Zelda started, and I watched discreetly as her hand fell slowly back to her side, in an effort to hide her nervousness.
Her fist tightened. She started speaking, and I knew from her tone that she was trying to sound confident, to convince her father that she had everything under control.
“I was assessing the results of the experiment with the Guardians.” She stepped forward. “These pieces of ancient technology could be quite useful against the—“
“I know that,” the King’s calm voice cut in. “They are essential to Hyrule’s future, and our research demands that we keep a close eye on them.”
“However—“ I braced myself for what he would say next. I had a feeling it wouldn’t be kind. “—as the princess, you currently have a crucial unfulfilled responsibility to your kingdom.”
It sounded like the King was doing his best to hold the accusation from his voice, but frustration and reproach still leaked through.
Zelda’s quiet huff in response spoke volumes. I’d heard her speak before of how anxious her father was for her to awaken her power. I knew she felt the weight of the responsibility, of the “unfilfulledness” of it. I frowned at that word choice.
“Let me ask you once more…” The King continued. I squeezed my eyes shut, feeling the tension rising.
“When will you stop treating this as some sort of childish game?”
I inhaled sharply. That was hard to hear. Many people had spoken similar words to me. As a child, when I still laughed and smiled during weapon training. You think fighting, war, killing, is a game? Now, when people thought I wasn’t training enough. Don’t treat Ganon as a game, he is unfathomable evil! You had better be ready!
It was also so unfair to say of Zelda.
“I’m doing everything I can.” Zelda responded quietly. Her voice faltered and I heard the measured, carefully even tone return to it. “I-I’ll have you know that I just recently returned from the Spring of Courage where I offered every ounce of my prayers to the Goddess—“
Her fist tightened, emotion rising at the word “ounce”.
I’d been there. She had done everything she could. She’d prayed for hours, shivering as her dress drew up water and the sun moved away. I remembered how exhausted she had been when she stopped, her tears of powerlessness that she tried to hide.
“And now you are here wasting your time,” the King snapped. “You need to be dedicating every moment you have to your training.”
I willed myself not to move a muscle in response to that, no matter how close it hit to my heart, how angry it made me. Zelda wasn’t wasting her time, just as I wasn’t wasting my time. No matter how much people demanded of me, I couldn’t spend every moment training. It wasn’t possible, for all their complaining! I had to rest sometimes, as did Zelda. Her role might not be as physically taxing as mine, but it was still mentally so, especially with her father giving her a hard time…
“You must be single-minded in unlocking the power that will seal Calamity Ganon away!” The King finished.
“I already am,” Zelda responded, a hint of outrage in her tone, shock that her father didn’t understand her efforts. I was surprised at his anger as well, though I supposed he didn’t understand. He hadn’t been with Zelda for all those hours the way I had. He knew nothing about what it would take, no one did. Zelda had no one to guide her to her mysterious power. “Don’t you see—there’s nothing more I can do!”
“My hope is… My hope is that you—“ She paused, gathering herself. “That you’ll allow me to contribute here in whatever way I can.”
The King was already shaking his head. “No more excuses, Zelda!”
“Stop running away from your duty.”
My heart was pounding ever faster. He thought she was running? Using research on Sheikah tech as an excuse? It was her greatest source of joy in these difficult times! She needed it, a place to relax, calm down and focus, and it was already convenient that the thing she wanted to do would benefit us all as well. I found my joy and relaxation in eating and cooking, and without that, I would have spiralled into despair a long time ago. Zelda needed that same source of enjoyment.
“As the king, I forbid you to have anything to do with these machines from this moment on, and command you to focus on your training.”
The air left the area, drawn away by mine and the Princess’s horror. Forbid? Command? What could Zelda do against that?
The King turned, stepping to the bridge wall. I thought he was done, ready to leave us stunned by his harsh words, but he continued, quiet and calm again.
“Do you know how the gossip mongers refer to you?”
I wanted nothing more than to be able to stop his next words. This was not what Zelda needed to hear. The pressure of what others said had hurt me so much already, and I wanted to spare her that pain, but the King went on.
“They are out there at this moment whispering amongst themselves… that you are the heir to a throne of nothing… nothing but failure.”
Zelda’s quiet gasp tore at my soul.
“It is woven into your destiny that you prove them wrong.”
“Do you understand?” The King said, turning back to his daughter.
“Yes. I understand.”
The King turned and walked away. I heard only his footsteps, the whir of the Guardian, and my quick breaths echoing in my ears.
Finally, he was gone, and Zelda and I were left alone, the King having signalled the guards to follow him. I slowly stood, my knee aching just a little. I could only see Zelda’s back, but she looked to be shaking slightly. I stepped over to her, reaching out a hand, then pulling it back. It wasn’t my place.
“Destiny,” Zelda murmured. “My destiny.”
She stepped to the balcony wall, laying a hand on it gently, mirroring her earlier pose, when she was watching the Guardians.
“I always thought that would be my destiny. Doing what I loved, helping my kingdom. Just as my mother did.”
Her voice shook. “She loved Sheikah tech, you know. Science in general. The little memories I have of her are of us working together on projects.”
“But then she died.”
Zelda’s voice broke, and she shook harder, crying in earnest now. I wasn’t sure what to do, so I stepped up to the balcony wall beside her, hopping she would feel my support.
“The only person who could have taught me to harness my power, gone! And my memories of her, of what she loved, slipping away, forgotten and forbidden.”
She whirled to face me, and I flinched back at her expression. Her eyes were wide and full of tears, her brow furrowed. Her hands gripped her upper arms tightly.
“What am I supposed to do?”
Her emotions made my own surge. Before I could think, my mouth opened.
“I—“ my voice cracked from disuse. “I don’t know,” I said, feeling powerless. “I’m sorry.”
Zelda blinked, her grief turning to shock. It had been a long time since I’d spoken to her, and I was suddenly embarrassed, looking away and shrugging.
“Well,” she began, taking a deep breath. “Thank you for your honesty. But it’s not your fault, it’s only mine. I will do as Father says, focus on my training. I suppose—“ She exhaled sharply, straightening her shoulders and turned away, looking to her rooms. “We’ll go to the Spring of Power next. The sooner the better, so… We’ll leave tomorrow.”
With that, she strode purposefully away.
My arm raised without conscious thought, reaching after her, wanting her to wait, to pause, to process what her father had said to her. It’s not your fault, I wanted to say, you’re not a failure, and you deserve to be happy, to shape your own destiny… but the words stuck in my throat, and instead, I hurried to catch up to her.