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Princess Zelda’s larger-than-life portrait haunted Link every time he set foot inside the castle.
The first time he’d seen the painting, he’d stopped and stared. The princess was beautiful. Elegant. Regal. Clad in royal blue against a crimson backdrop, she was about his age and had golden hair and piercing green eyes. She sat up straight, stiff as a board, with a wistful expression on her otherwise perfect mask of a face.
She was alone.
That note of sadness mixed with longing sparked some faint hint of recognition deep inside his heart. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he knew the princess. It wasn’t rational. It wasn’t logical or reasonable. But his strange hunch was there all the same.
Link wanted to meet her. More than anything, he couldn’t get over the deep melancholy in her eyes. How aloof and lonely and so very burdened she seemed. He wanted to tell her that the burden was not hers to bear alone. The mythical sword strapped to his back said as much. He was the hero fated to guard and protect her, or so all the storybooks and castle town gossips said.
Link wasn’t sure he believed them. Was he really up to the task? He and the princess hadn’t even been introduced yet. Murmurs and whispers that the princess was unwilling to see him spread throughout the kingdom as quickly as fire through the chaff of Tabantha wheat. True or not, Link had to content himself with pining from afar until fate provided their first meeting.
“C’mon, Link!” his friend Pipit said, tugging on his arm and snapping him out of his reverie. “We gotta get to the dining hall before the food runs out.”
Ah yes, food. The King of Hyrule made sure his knights were well-fed. Link tore his eyes away from the portrait of Princess Zelda but cast longing looks towards it every now and then as Pipit cheerfully herded him to the dining hall and towards one of the long tables.
The food was delicious, piping hot bread with melted butter to dip in hearty stew. The harvests and hunts had been good this year, so everyone was enjoying the luxury that was meat. Of course, not even delicious food could stop wagging tongues for long, and the knight’s academy had some of the biggest gossips in all of castle town.
Druck, a boorish type with curly auburn hair and blindingly white teeth who chewed with his mouth open, loudly announced, “I’m gonna meet the princess and make her fall in love with me.”
Chuckles of amusement sounded from the other knights seated nearby. While in times past the princesses of Hyrule had married brave knights, the strict social strata of today’s Hyrule made that a little more difficult.
“Oh?” Pipit asked, shooting a wry look at Link as he decided to play along, his freckles practically dancing across his face. “How do you propose you do that?”
Druck smiled and rubbed the back of his neck. “She’ll want to marry me when she meets me.”
Stifled snickers sounded out from nearby, but Link wasn’t amused. Something about the way Druck saw the princess as a prize to be won instead of a person…it wasn’t the first time he’d heard his classmates speak of her this way, and something about it always rankled him.
“Oh really?” Rorn asked, arching a dark eyebrow. He was sly and cunning, the son of a noble, and Link knew he had his sights on the princess too. “The richest, most famous, and most beautiful woman in all of Hyrule with the blood of the goddess running through her veins, will want to marry you, a blacksmith’s son?”
“Sure, why not?” Druck said, shrugging. “Might as well be me. You miss all the arrows you don’t shoot.”
“You can’t shoot any arrows, Druck,” Rorn pointed out, leading to more snickers and a good-hearted nudge from Druck. The two of them trashed-talked each other frequently, but it was (mostly) all in good fun.
“Can too!” Druck cried, defending his honor. He turned to Link. “Link will back me up on this, won’t you, Link?”
Link was silent. All he could think about was how the princess’s life must be terribly lonely. How could she trust anyone when even her own knights were arguing over who should get to win her hand as if she were some trophy to be set on a shelf? Carefully maintained like a prized bird in a cage, never allowed to fly free.
Maybe she didn’t want to get married. Maybe she didn’t want to be descended from the goddess. Maybe she wanted to be perfectly ordinary and bury herself in her studies and leave her subjects and duties far, far behind—
No, Link was just projecting again. The princess might not have awakened her sacred power yet, but it was Link who had uncertainties and fears and doubts about being the Master Sword’s chosen one. What if he couldn’t measure up?
It was a thought that haunted him and drove him to be the very best at everything he did. At first his classmates had begrudged him, had envied him and hated him. But gradually, little by little, day by day, he’d won their hard-earned admiration and even their respect.
“Link isn’t gonna lie to make you feel better,” Pipit said, waving his spoon at Druck. “He’s honest to a fault.”
Link’s honesty had gotten him into trouble more than once, but there was no point in lying. Lying just got him into even worse trouble.
“More like silent to a fault,” Druck muttered. “You’ve been too quiet lately. It’s weird, man.”
How could Link put it into words? The soul-crushing pressure he felt every waking moment and even in his dreams. With each passing day, it pressed harder and more insistently on his very being with each new prophecy and whisper and rumor.
He suspected the princess understood how that felt.
“The Master Sword is a heavy burden,” Rorn sagely said as he tore off a chunk of bread to dip into his stew. “Link has way more eyes on him than any of us ever will. And that pressure has only increased lately. Of course he’s watching what he says.”
There were murmurs of agreement, and Link would’ve joined in if he weren’t trying so hard to fill the role of perfect, stoic knight. So he contented himself with a simple nod and hoped it would be enough.
“If the princess marries anyone, it’ll be Link,” Pipit confidently said, grasping his friend’s shoulder. All eyes were on Link now thanks to Pipit’s declaration, and he felt his stomach twisting itself into knots. If only he’d hadn’t had that second helping of stew. If only Pipit believed in him a little less.
If only everyone believed in him a little less.
Still, he knew he wouldn’t be left alone till he gave some sort of answer. He took a deep breath and swallowed. “The princess should marry for love,” he said at last, his voice low, hoping it was the right thing to say, knowing it would be repeated over and over again, far beyond his reach or control.
What he left unsaid was that a small part of him deep down hoped it would be him.
Zelda felt as if she was in a cage with walls that were squeezing ever tighter. Her father’s brooding glares, the whispers of her subjects, the pitying glances from the servants. All of it closed in on her and stifled her and made it impossible to breathe.
With each passing day that came and went with her powers still unawakened, the trapped feeling got worse and worse. But nothing she did was working. Not even standing in one of the goddess springs till she passed out from cold and exhaustion was enough.
“You will meet your knight today,” her father practically growled at her over breakfast one morning. The hot porridge would soon grow cold if she didn’t touch it, but her appetite had fled her once he got into one of his moods, just like her powers kept eluding her.
“I will not,” she said, her voice trembling but defiant as she stared him down across the table. “I don’t need him.”
“Sir Link has the Master Sword,” her father ground out, glaring fiercely at her. “Is that not adequate proof that he is fit to be your knight?”
“I don’t want a knight, Father! I don’t want anyone at all!” That wasn’t entirely true. She wanted her mother back, more than anything. Her mother could help her and comfort her. Could be her ally and confidante and mediator. Could explain how to awaken her sacred power. Without her, Zelda felt lost. It didn’t matter that her mother had died years ago. Her absence was felt more acutely now than ever.
“It doesn’t matter what you want!” her father shouted. “You have a job to do, and you need protection to do it! You have a duty to our country, our people, and you’ve put Link off for long enough!”
“Oh fine,” Zelda hissed, her hackles rising like some wild animal at the reminder she still hadn’t fulfilled her sacred duties. “I’ll meet him, but that doesn’t mean I have to like him.”
“I didn’t ask you to like him,” her father replied, mollified for now. “Just get along with him well enough so he can do his job…and you yours.”
Get along with him. That was easier said than done. What if he was annoying and obnoxious? What if he was arrogant and rude? What if he was bloodthirsty and cruel? What if he looked down on her for not awakening her powers yet like everyone else did?
Well, there was only one way to find out. She grudgingly followed her father to the Sanctum, ever aware of the guards flanking them like bars of a cage. The remaining family members of the royal family were far too valuable to be allowed to walk free. Some thief or bandit or assassin might get too close and attack was the ostensible reason, but it never seemed to occur to the guards that there were other ways the royals might die.
No amount of guards could’ve saved her mother’s life. Master Sword or not, this knight wouldn’t be any different. Any more capable of protecting her from certain kinds of harm.
They entered the Sanctum with its plush red carpets lining the stone floors and the banners with her family’s crest hanging from the walls. As she descended the stairs, calm and cool and collected because at least she’d succeeded in mastering that aspect of her queenly training, she spotted her future knight, already waiting for her on the great triangular seal below.
He was younger than she expected, probably around her age. He wasn’t very tall, but even in his blue tunic, tan trousers, and leather boots, she could tell he was strong and toned. He had the same pointy ears all Hylians did, purportedly to better hear the gods, and he wore a pair of shiny blue earrings. His hair was the color of Tabantha wheat, and he wore it swept into a half ponytail, his sideburns framing either side of his face.
Zelda supposed he was rather handsome. Their eyes met, and his were an electric blue that reminded her of the sky at midday.
I know him. The thought came unbidden to her mind, and yet she couldn’t shake it. Where had she seen this man before?
He seemed to know her too. The way he was looking at her unsettled her, like he was peeling off all her royal masks to see the lonely little girl who missed her mother, who loathed and loved her father, who was terrified she wouldn’t be able to awaken her sacred power in time. It was like he sensed her fears and inadequacies and insecurities, felt the weight of a thousand lifetimes and a million expectations pressing in on her, saw her and understood her and knew her.
No one had ever looked at her like this before, with such understanding and compassion. She felt uneasy, she felt raw and naked and exposed. No one could possibly understand what it was like to be in her gilded cage, let alone volunteer to join her in it. And yet she sensed this man stepping into it with her as he stepped forward to take her outstretched hand and then knelt at her feet.
“Your Highness,” he said, his voice soft as he bent over her hand and kissed it. The kiss was gentler and sweeter than she expected, and his voice was oddly reverent.
When he glanced up at her again, she didn’t like the feeling his look gave her. She didn’t like it at all.
She couldn’t let him get close. She wouldn’t let him in. That would be a mistake. The closer he got, the more he would see of her true self and despise her for it. Besides, why did she need some knight who would just get in the way of her research? He was merely a bother to be tolerated to keep her father off her back and nothing more.
“Sir Link,” she said, coldly and stiffly, the loathing creeping into her voice like a Fireproof Lizard crawling along the volcanic rocks of Goron City. “You may rise.”
If he sensed the change in her demeanor as he stood, he didn’t let on. If anything, he seemed calmer and steadier and more confident than before. Like he recognized the challenge before him and was determined to overcome it.
Goddess curse him, where did he get that confidence from? She wanted to…she wanted to…to…knock it out of him somehow. Yes, that was it. How dare he be so confident and determined. It was going to drive her insane.
“You don’t have to look so pleased,” she told Link, earning a warning glare from her father.
“I have long awaited our meeting,” Link said, his voice polite but tinted with longing. That single note of emotion was like a drop of colorful dye, powerful enough to make an entire pitcher of water change color and send its ripples flowing through her. “Forgive me if I have offended you.”
Something about his apology irritated her even further. Maybe because he was drawing attention to the fact nothing he’d said was truly cause for offense.
It doesn’t matter. His very presence offends me because…because…
Oh, but it was far easier to flee the truth, like a deer flees a hunter, than to face it head on.
“I am grateful for your willingness to protect my daughter,” her father said, stepping in to be polite because she was not being sufficiently courteous. The accompanying warning look made that abundantly clear.
“I will guard her with my life,” Link said, but he wasn’t looking at her father. He was looking right at her, his voice calm and unwavering, his blue eyes alight like the hottest part of a flame, blue like the beautiful Sheikah relics from times past.
And something about his look, his public declaration and quiet determination, made her waver, made her trust and hope and yearn and believe him in spite of herself. She felt safe with him. He was familiar somehow. Perhaps he could be a shelter, a refuge in the daily storm that was her life.
No, she hated him already, hated him for existing, hated him for what he represented. That was what was true, and she clung to it.
The tension threatened to break her apart.
Link continued to regard her with the same steady, even look. Oh Goddess, it had only been a few minutes since they’d met, but he really was going to be the undoing of her, wasn’t he? She had a good sense for people, inherited from her mother and enhanced by her father’s shrewdness, and Link being compassionate and brave and good was somehow so much worse than him being cold and cowardly and evil. Perhaps because his very existence might shine a bright, glaring light on her numerous flaws and shortcomings. He would unmask and unveil her deepest self that no image or portrait could possibly hope to hide, and it was only a matter of time before he got all of Hyrule to see what he saw.
Zelda could only hope they wouldn’t all despise her for it.
A still, small voice deep down whispered that they might love her for it instead, but that would mean that Link might—
She slipped the princess mask back on. She had a role to play, much like the knight had his.
“Well, if you’re so eager to swear your loyalty to me, then perhaps we should get it over with,” was her cool, aloof response to him baring his heart and soul to her with his vow and with his eyes. Keeping him at arm’s length kept her safe. The bars of her cage were familiar and secure. Besides, the sooner they got the ceremony over with, the sooner she’d get to return to her studies.
“The Champions will have to be called,” her father said.
“Very well, Father.”
Link was silent, but she felt his eyes on her. His piercing gaze hadn’t let up this entire time.
“Well, Link?” she asked, her voice icy, her irritation slipping through.
“Yes, Princess Zelda,” and somehow his simple response sent shivers of longing running up and down her spine. It was the way he’d said her name, perhaps, unfailingly polite and yet shockingly intimate at the same time. Like he really did know her.
Well, if he insisted on staying in her cage with her, that was his choice. He would only have himself and the gods to blame for sealing his fate. She would have no part in dooming him. The prospect made her heart lurch and her stomach drop, though she couldn’t fully understand why.
A wistful part of her wondered if someday, they might ever be free. She hoped and wished and prayed with all her heart they would be. But why "they" and not just "her?" Why care about this man at all?
Once more the nagging feeling she knew him returned. She could only trust this mystery would be revealed to her in time.