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"No."
King Rhoam Bosphoramus Hyrule stares at his daughter from behind his desk, taken slightly aback. He'd expected a little resistance when the subject of her marriage had finally been broached, but he had not expected outright refusal.
"Do not be ridiculous, Zelda." He says, trying to placate her. "You've always known that you have a duty to wed and carry on the Goddess's bloodline. It is your destiny just as much as facing Ganon was."
She crosses her arms, cheeks turning pink. At twenty years old, she's at just the right age to marry. He doesn't know why he hadn't expected to fight a little over this; she's always been a headstrong girl.
"I would gladly marry, if the man I want was among this list." She waves the piece of parchment in the air dismissively.
Rhoam frowns. He's well aware of his daughter's… infatuation with a certain member of the royal guard. He'd thought it harmless enough; a girlhood crush on a handsome man, like many of the other young ladies in the castle. "He is not an option, Zelda."
"Why not?" She demands, slapping the list back down on his desk. "He's a hero. The hero! Without him, Hyrule would be a smouldering pile of ash right now. Does he not deserve—"
"He is a commoner." Rhoam pinches his nose. "As much as I like the boy—"
"He's only a commoner because you refuse to elevate him!" Zelda scowls. "He's a far better man than every single person on this list, and yet you refuse to even consider—"
"Zelda, that's enough. We've been over this."
It's been a constant source of contention for the past three years; as much as Rhoam has rewarded the boy—with land, wealth, and accolades—Zelda has never felt that it was enough. And this despite the fact that the boy could have chosen to retire from active service the moment Ganon was defeated, and lived out the rest of his life in luxury. He has no title, but he has significant wealth.
Instead, he had asked to remain with the royal guard. At first, Rhoam had allowed it, thinking that it would be good for morale; to serve with the Hero of Hyrule had been an attractive prospect for many, boosting recruitment.
Now, he's wondering at the wisdom of such a decision. If Zelda's infatuation has grown to such that she's willing to fight him on this—to pass over a selection of perfectly suitable potential husbands for a lowborn knight from eastern Necluda…
"There is not a single man on this list that I would consent to a marriage with." She spits. "Not a single one. If you try to force the issue, I will refuse at the altar. I certainly will not willingly consent to consummation; I will throw myself off the topmost tower of the castle rather than allow any of them to so much as touch me."
Rhoam rolls his eyes. "Do not be dramatic, Zelda."
"I am perfectly serious." She sighs, expression softening. "I'm not asking for much, Father. It's not like he's some no-name guardsman—"
"My answer is 'no', Zelda." He cuts her off. "That is final."
She stiffens, expression shuttering again. "And so is mine." She hisses, fists clenching. "I would rather die, and take the Blood of the Goddess with me. My childhood was sacrificed for the sake of duty—and that in vain, considering how my powers awakened. I will not be moved to sacrifice in this as well."
She slams the door on her way out, causing the bottles in his liquor cabinet to shake. He's mildly impressed; she must be stronger than she looks.
He sighs, picking up the list. If Zelda will not choose one of them, he will have to choose for her.
"How could you?"
Rhoam sighs, pouring himself a whiskey from his cabinet and returning to his desk. Zelda glares at him, tears in her eyes and expression twisted into a scowl. So, she'd heard the news.
He sighs. "You would not make the choice, so I did. Lord Anatol is a good man. He will make you a good partner."
She scoffs, hands clenched so hard that what he can see of her fingers are turning white. "I told you; I will not marry anyone but Link."
"It is time to be an adult, Zelda." Rhoam frowns at her. "You must give up this romantic fantasy; the real world does not work as it does in your novels. Princesses marry Princes and Dukes—occasionally an Earl, if he is in particularly good standing—not country knights."
Her face flushes red in indignation. "You are conveniently overlooking the fact that the Goddess—"
"I have not overlooked the fact that he has earned Her favour." He cuts her off. "However, that does not mean that he has the standing—"
"Because you will not grant it to him!" She snarls. He sighs, rubbing at his eye. He does not want to rehash the same old argument. "It was my love for him that allowed me to awaken my power—"
"Your love for him is not a factor!" Rhoam snaps. She flinches, and he mellows his voice. "I understand that this is painful; your mother felt much the same way when she was promised to me. But we came to care for one another, in time—"
"I am not Mother." She crosses her arms. "I will not accept this. You cannot make me."
"You sound like a child, Zelda." He sighs, taking a sip of his drink. It burns all the way down. "Lord Anatol will arrive in three days to begin the marriage negotiations. I expect you to be pleasant with him, if not inviting." She doesn't even dignify him with a response; she merely glares at him. "At least be civil. Please, Zelda."
"I shall be very civil," she says primly, smoothing out non-existent wrinkles in her bodice, "when I inform him that I have no intention of marrying him, no matter what you say. And, when he is offended and storms off in a huff, I shall be just as civil to your next would-be groom, and the one after that, and the one after that."
"Zelda." Rhoam growls, thoroughly exasperated. "You are being selfish. You must think of your kingdom—"
"Half the kingdom expects me to marry Link anyway." She meets him squarely in the eyes, gesturing wildly at the window. "The only people who do not are the ones who would stand to gain by winning my hand."
He pinches the bridge of his nose. "Even if," he tries a new tactic, "and I do say if, I elevated Sir Link to a peerage worthy of your hand, he still has not had the education—"
"He is very intelligent." She says brightly, clasping her hands behind her back. "He would only require a little tutoring; and he has already mastered the art of keeping one's mouth shut in trying situations and speaking in platitudes."
He stares at her, unimpressed. "No."
Her face falls. "Father!"
"You will marry Lord Anatol." He says firmly. "That is final."
"I will not." She shoots back, storming from his study, leaving he and his whiskey in peace.
"Your Majesty!" There is an urgent knock at his study door. His head shoots up in alarm; he usually only entertains guests by appointment—and with the wedding in less than three hours, he really must be heading outside to greet the groom and his family.
"Enter!" He booms, unsettled by the unexpected intrusion. What has gone wrong, now? He'd thought that Zelda had gotten over her aversion to Lord Anatol—she'd been unusually compliant with the wedding preparations over the past three weeks. He had taken it as encouragement.
One of his guards—one of the ones he trusts to escort Zelda from her chambers to the chapel this morning—enters, lowering into a stiff kneel.
"Rise, Sir Viscen." He says, standing behind his desk. "Report!"
The man rises, standing at attention. "The Princess is missing, Sire."
Rhoam stills, dread coiling low in his gut. "When was she last seen?"
"Last night, Your Majesty, so far as we can discern." The knight answers promptly. "Her maids assisted her in dressing for bed before she dismissed them to retire. The doors and windows were all locked from the inside this morning, when the maids arrived to help her dress for the wedding."
Dread gives way to anger, simmering low and powerful. "Where is Sir Link?"
"In the barracks, Sire; he is ill."
"Ill?"
"Hungover, Sire. It appears he and some of his fellows went into town last night. Sir Eagus reports that he returned just after midnight, unusually inebriated, and had not left his bed until he was informed of Her Highness's disappearance. He is quite distressed by the news. When the messenger left him, he was purging in the barracks lavatory."
A convenient alibi. He can even agree that it's plausible; it is difficult for a sober man to fake being drunk. Doubly so Sir Link, who has a reputation of being so very staid. No doubt his friends had taken him into town to console him about Zelda's upcoming wedding—it is no secret that, despite his adherence to propriety and respect for rank and title, the knight is utterly smitten with her. A night of excessive drinking is exactly what the soldiers of Hyrule Castle and Castle Town would prescribe for a broken heart.
Still…
"Have him report here immediately. And send word to Lord Anatol that I need to speak to him privately, in an hour."
"Yes, Sire!"
"And organise a search of the castle. Top to bottom. The city, too."
"Yes, Sire!"
"Find the Princess. Dismissed."
He will give Sir Link one thing; the man is very obviously hungover. He may even still be slightly drunk; he sways slightly as he kneels in the middle of the King's study, head bowed low, pale and drawn. His uniform is slightly crinkled, too—unheard of, for the Hero of Hyrule.
"You know why I have summoned you, Sir Link?" Rhoam asks, noting that the boy—young man, really, he admits to himself—flinches at the volume of his voice.
"You wished to discuss Her Highness's disappearance, Your Majesty." He answers promptly, voice rough.
"Yes." He stares down his nose at the knight. "Stand, Sir Link. Look me in the eye."
He does as ordered. Blue eyes are bloodshot as they meet his. He looks rough, with deep purple circles under his eyes. Rhoam surreptitiously sniffs the air; he still reeks of alcohol, too.
"Do you have any idea where Zelda has gone?" Rhoam asks point blank. "And do bear in mind that, if I discover that you are lying to me, I will strip you of every rank, accolade, and commendation you possess."
"I do not, Sire." He answers. "I left her in the care of her maids last night before Sirs Groose and Pipit insisted that I accompany them into town. That was the last time I saw her."
"And she gave you no hint that she planned to flee during the night?"
"None, Sire."
"And if she had, would you tell me?" Rhoam asks, one thick, snowy eyebrow rising.
Sir Link hesitates. Rhoam's eyes narrow.
"In the spirit of honesty, Sire?"
"Please." Rhoam's second eyebrow joins the first.
"I would not." He answers boldly. "Sire."
"Sir Link," Rhoam's voice lowers dangerously, "you are aware of to whom you are speaking, are you not?"
"You are His Majesty, King Rhoam of Hyrule." He answers promptly.
"And yet, you freely admit such a thing to me."
"Your Majesty encouraged honestly."
The boy is still drunk, Rhoam thinks with an inward groan, watching him sway a little.
"You will return to the barracks," he sighs, "and remain there until you are completely sober. You will not take part in the search for Zelda. We will speak again later."
"Yes, Sire."
To say that Lord Anatol takes the news poorly would be an understatement. The man is angry, pacing back and forth in the king's study, scowling at the carpet.
"She has run off with that knight of hers, hasn't she?" He demands. "The short one."
"Sir Link is still on castle grounds." Rhoam answers carefully. "I have already spoken to him this morning. He has been within sight of several other knights in good standing since he parted ways with Princess Zelda last night; he could not have been involved."
"He had something to do with this," Lord Anatol spits, "I know he did."
"It is unlikely." Rhoam shakes his head. "She has not done it for some time, but she often used to escape him when they were preparing to face Calamity Ganon. I believe she waited until he was otherwise occupied to slip out of the castle."
"But how?" His would-be son-in-law throws his hands up. "The place has been in constant activity for three days. Even in the dead of night, there are people moving around. Someone would have seen her."
"That is as yet unknown." Rhoam answers with a sigh, pouring himself and the other man a drink. It's barely even lunchtime, but he can already tell that it is going to be that kind of a day. "I assure you, Lord Anatol; we are doing everything we can to find her. Hopefully, she is just hidden in some bolthole or other in the castle."
The man drains his drink in one go, eyes barely watering. Rhoam is impressed; that was some of his strongest whiskey.
"She had better turn up." He mutters, the glass in his hand returning to the table with a thunk. "I will not put up with this disrespect from my own wife."
Rhoam refrains from pointing out that Zelda is not his wife yet, something uneasy coiling beneath his ribs. "I will send for you when I have more news to share." He says carefully. "I do apologise, Lord Anatol."
The man snorts. "If Your Majesty will excuse me?"
Rhoam nods, and Lord Anatol slams the door behind him.
He glares at both men across his desk, eyes roaming from one to the other. Apparently, Lord Anatol had not been content to wait for more information; it had taken several hours, but he had finally located Sir Link just outside the soldiers' mess hall after the evening meal.
The Hero of Hyrule has a red mark on the corner of his lips, where blood has been carelessly wiped away; probably with a sleeve. The skin beneath it is beginning to bruise an angry purple. Otherwise, he is his usual, calm, stoic self, standing at attention and watching his King silently for instruction. He is, Rhoam thinks with relief, completely sober.
"Gentlemen." He focuses on Lord Anatol. The man is red-faced, but otherwise unharmed. "I will not tolerate this kind of childishness in my castle."
Neither speak. Lord Anatol grits his teeth, face flushed indignation. Sir Link simply blinks. To be fair, from all reports, he has done nothing wrong; it had been Lord Anatol who had tracked him down and struck him. He hadn't even defended himself—others had seen the assault and stepped in to detain the irate Lord while Sir Link had been spirited back inside the mess.
"I am aware of what transpired this evening." He says firmly, glaring at his would-be son-in-law. "Lord Anatol; I have informed you that Sir Link is not involved in Princess Zelda's disappearance. That you have chosen to disregard this and sought him out to assault him speaks poorly of your character."
Lord Anatol's flush darkens. "Your Majesty—!"
"Silence." Rhoam scowls. The man's mouth snaps shut with an audible click. He turns to the other man. "Sir Link. Now that you are sober; are you certain there is nothing you can tell me about Zelda's disappearance?"
"Nothing, Sire." He answers, voice low and quiet. "Her Highness stopped confiding in me several weeks ago."
Rhoam's eyebrows rise. This is news to him. "And you did not think that unusual?"
"I assumed it was due to the preparations for the wedding." Sir Link admits. "Her Highness has been… very unhappy. For months."
"And you have no idea why?" Rhoam asks.
"I was under the impression that she did not wish to marry His Lordship."
Lord Anatol snorts. "She is a woman. It's her duty to wed whomever her father chooses for her."
Rhoam watches Sir Link's jaw tighten. Wisely, he keeps his thoughts to himself. "That is enough, Lord Anatol." He jerks his head to the door. "You may go. But know that if I hear of a repeat performance, you will be removed from my castle."
"And what of the wedding?" He demands. "She still hasn't been found."
"That will depend on how you conduct yourself until such a time as her location has been discovered." Rhoam bites. Already, he has soured on the young man. He'd conducted himself well, until this; he'd been well-spoken and charming, showering both Zelda and Rhoam with every courtesy a royal's fiancé could be expected to. He had not even faltered in the face of Zelda's indifference, which Rhoam had thought was to his credit. "You may go."
Now, he questions his assessment of his character. It would not do to have such a reactionary man, so quick to anger, as Prince Consort.
He shakes his head with a sigh as the door slams behind him, turning back to Sir Link. "I apologise, Sir Link; I had not expected that he would seek you out."
"If I may be honest, Sire?"
Rhoam's eyebrows rise. "Please."
"I anticipated it from the moment you informed me of Her Highness's disappearance." It's said so calmly, so dispassionately, that Rhoam can't help but frown.
"You have spent much time on duty during their courtship." Rhoam sits back in his chair, stroking his beard. "You have observed Zelda's indifference to him?"
"I would call it 'aversion', Sire." The knight corrects bluntly. "She shied from him every time he tried to so much as offer his arm."
"And how did Lord Anatol react to this?"
"Poorly, Sire." Sir Link answers promptly. "He would get angry, though he made an effort to hide it. He often took her arm by force when she would refuse him. I stepped in the first time, but Her Highness bid me not to interfere; Lord Anatol made several attempts to insult me each time he saw me from that day on."
"'Attempts' to insult you?"
"Words are only insulting if you allow them to affect you." Sir Link surprises him. "I did not give him the satisfaction, Sire."
Rhoam sighs, rubbing his forehead with a hand. "This morning," he begins, "you said something troubling."
Sir Link, already still, stiffens further. "I apologise, Your Majesty. I was still drunk."
"Drunk words are often said to be sober thoughts, Sir Link." Rhoam is not inclined to allow him any quarter. "You told me this morning that you would not inform me if Zelda had given you information as to her disappearance. This troubles me."
"Ever since I began to serve in Hyrule Castle," Sir Link says slowly, "it has been my duty to protect Her Highness. Her safety has been my primary concern since the first."
"And you believe she needs protection from Lord Anatol? That is why you would conceal her whereabouts if you knew it?"
"Yes, Sire. A man that reacts that way to a woman who is not his wife is likely to be worse within the bonds of marriage." There's a darkness in his tone that tells Rhoam that he speaks from experience. Not his father, surely; Sir Nalik had been a good man. Some other couple he knows? Perhaps something he saw as a child? He can't imagine the Hero of Hyrule standing idly by while such a thing is happening.
"And this has nothing to do with your personal feelings for my daughter?"
"Her Highness is my good friend." Sir Link says carefully. "I desire nothing but her safety and happiness."
"Even at the expense of your own?" Rhoam asks dubiously. "I am well aware of why your friends took you into town last night."
Sir Link closes his eyes and takes a breath. "I would not be so arrogant as to reach beyond my station." He says flatly. When he opens his eyes, Rhoam can see a flicker of something in them—he's not as skilled at reading the boy as Zelda is, but he sees it all the same. "Her Highness's spouse must be a member of the nobility or foreign royalty. I am neither. So long as her husband is good to her, I will learn to be content."
Rhoam is… impressed. Most men in Sir Link's position would be angry, or depressed, or both. He, having been privileged enough to not have any particular attachments prior to his own marriage, cannot say that he would be so calm at the prospect of the woman he loves marrying someone else.
"Has my daughter confided in you as to whom she would prefer to be her groom?" Rhoam asks with a raised eyebrow.
"She has not."
"And you have no inclination as to who it may be?"
"No, Your Majesty." He shakes his head.
It's difficult to tell whether or not he's lying; he is expert at keeping his expression under control. "Very well. You may leave."
"Your Majesty?"
"Yes?"
"May I not join the search for Her Highness?" Sir Link is frowning now. "I thought, at first, that she had perhaps hidden herself somewhere in the castle. I know you forbade me from searching, but I did check a few of her lesser-known hiding spots. I do not believe she is still on castle grounds."
Rhoam sighs. He has, sadly, come to the same conclusion. "No, Sir Link. You will remain here. Others will search."
"…yes, Sire."
"You may go." Rhoam waves him off. He does not protest, this time.
It takes ten days for the letter to come; many of the guests, including Lord Anatol and his people, have long since left the castle. The knight who intercepted it at the gate sprints it all the way up to the King's study, presenting it with heaving breaths.
"From Her Highness." He pants, as Rhoam takes the envelope. "It has come by way of Tabantha."
Tabantha? Rhoam's eyebrows rise, flipping it over and checking the wax seal. It has clearly been made by the signet ring of the Crown Princess.
"Thank you." He nods. "You may go."
The knight leaves, closing the door behind him. Rhoam cracks the wax seal, unfolding the letter and frowning as he reads.
Dearest Father,
At the time of this writing, it has been six days since my disappearance. Do not fret; I am well, and well protected.
As you may have guessed by this letter's origin, I am currently on my way to Gerudo Town. Lady Urbosa, in accordance with what she says are Mother's wishes for me, has agreed to host me until such a time as I am not in danger of marrying the wrong man. She has remained in the castle to cover up my escape, but will likely be on her return journey, if not already arrived in Gerudo Town, by the time you receive this.
Sir Link and Lady Impa are unaware of this arrangement; please do not hold them accountable. And, should you send soldiers to collect me, Urbosa assures me that her own are willing to protect me and uphold the laws of their hometown to the last woman.
I know you think of me as childish for insisting upon marrying for love, instead of what you think is best for Hyrule. But Urbosa insists that, had Mother been here, she would have agreed with me. A kingdom, she once told Urbosa, is only as happy as her monarch. I would be miserably unhappy with any of the men you would choose for me.
I plead with you, not as your Princess, but as your daughter: Please at least reconsider this match with Lord Anatol. He frightens me. I have also heard rumours about a mistress and an illegitimate child kept at his estate; I do not know of the validity of this, but given his general attitude during his attempts to court me, I would not be surprised to find that it is true.
I have sacrificed many little happinesses for the sake of Hyrule. My childhood was spent begging at altars and submerged in springs in preparation for Ganon's reemergence. Now that my fated destiny is discharged, I beg of you to grant me relief and allow me my heart's desire. I will joyfully wed and produce children to carry on the royal line with the man of my choosing, if only you would see fit to grant it.
I will happily correspond with you via letter until a satisfactory arrangement is reached. Until then, I remain,
Your loving daughter,
Zelda
Rhoam sighs, reading the letter a second time. He should have suspected Urbosa, he thinks with a groan; after Sir Link and Lady Impa, she is the third most likely person to assist Zelda in defying him.
The woman had lied to his face, when he had questioned her. None of her vai were missing, she'd said. She had no idea where Zelda could be, she'd said. He's impressed with her poker face; he should invite her to play, some time.
His first instinct is to write a very strongly-worded letter, sending it along with fifty of his strongest men to force her to return home. Urbosa is a vassal to the crown; even as the leader of her own people, she is technically under Rhoam's authority, and would be compelled to return Zelda to the castle at his word.
But to march on Gerudo Town would look bad to the other tribal leaders. The zora are a proud people; just a hint that Rhoam might try to assert more than a token authority over any of the other races of Hyrule would likely be catastrophic for hylian-zora relations. And if his goodwill with the zora disappears, then the rest will likely follow.
He is wounded that Zelda would use her mother's memory against him. His wife had wed for political gain, just as he had been trying to convince Zelda to. She and Rhoam had grown to care for one another long before Zelda was born, but they had not been attached prior to their marriage. If only she would give them a chance…!
But his wife had also not been in love with another when they wed. Rhoam knows, deep in the bottom of his heart, that their marriage would not have been as successful as it had been with such a beginning.
He will think on Zelda's letter. In the meantime, he will send Impa to Gerudo Town to confirm Zelda's whereabouts and safety, and call off the search.
Dearest Father,
Impa has informed me that you have received my letter. I am glad that it reached you safely. I am sending this note with her on her return to Hyrule Castle as proof that I am, indeed, safely within the walls of Gerudo Town.
Your daughter,
Zelda
Rhoam leans back in his chair, sighing. "Thank you, Impa. You may go." She bows, looking travel-worn and weary. She is just about to open the door when he calls, "Actually, wait."
She stills, coming to stand before his desk once again. "Your Majesty?"
Rhoam drops the note on the desk, rummaging in his drawer for Zelda's first letter. Shaking it open, he hands it to Impa. "Tell me what you make of this." He says.
Impa takes the letter between gloved fingers, reading it carefully before folding it up and handing it back. "Her Highness and Lady Urbosa have clearly put much thought into this plan of theirs. The Princess makes a very impassioned plea."
Rhoam returns it to the drawer and throws his hands into the air. "You are a royal advisor: Advise me. What should I do? I cannot very well march on Gerudo Town and force Zelda to return home."
Impa shifts. "I fear that my personal relationship with the parties involved may make me unsuitable to give counsel in this matter." She says carefully.
"Give it anyway." Rhoam's privy council has been split on the matter since he first presented it to them. Half of them are in support of her marriage to the hero; the other half are opposed—though, he can't help but notice that those who are opposed are those with sons among Zelda's potential suitors.
"At the very least, Lord Anatol is an unsuitable husband for Her Highness. I investigated him on her orders, and discovered that the rumours of his mistress and illegitimate daughter are true, though I did not have time to inform her of this before she fled. I've spoken to the mistress personally, and she informs me that he is a violent man. My personal opinion is that Her Highness is correct in evading this marriage."
Rhoam groans, resting his elbows on the table and his head in his hands. He had been so sure that Anatol had been a good prospect. How had he been so thoroughly duped? "The woman—has she left him?"
"Her Highness has issued me with instructions to extend an invitation for both she and the child to relocate to Gerudo Town under Urbosa's protection, should she wish to." Impa shrugs. "There is little that can be done beyond that."
Rhoam nods. "And the other matter?"
"You speak of her preferred husband?" Impa's eyebrows rise.
"I do." Rhoam nods. "I assume you are aware of his identity."
"I am." Impa confirms, tight-lipped.
"What is your opinion on the match?"
Impa frowns in thought. "They are well suited. Sir Link is devoted to her beyond the bounds of duty. He inspires a happiness in her that I've seen nothing else do, and she curbs the worst of his reckless impulses. They care for one another very deeply."
"And politically?" He prods. "I am aware their temperaments are compatible."
Impa hums. "There will be opposition, of course." She allows. "Mostly from those noble families with eligible sons. But there were already murmurings of discontent with her engagement to Lord Anatol among the common folk and the military long before the wedding day. The clergy are particularly in favour of her marrying Sir Link; they tend to be of the opinion that being chosen by the Goddess should elevate him beyond that of the nobility, and in so doing grant him her hand. The gerudo are clearly in favour of the match. The rito and gorons are largely impartial, though I do believe Lord Daruk would be pleased to see them happy. I believe the princess of the zora wishes to marry Sir Link, herself, but she is a kind soul; I do not believe the match would negatively affect relations with them."
"What do the sheikah think?" Rhoam inquires.
"We are highly opposed to Anatol." Impa scowls. "Her Highness and Sir Link have lived their lives parallel to one another, continuously in the service of Hyrule and the Goddess. We believe that it is only right and natural that they wed."
"And that is your counsel? Annul the betrothal and allow the Princess to wed Sir Link?" Rhoam confirms.
"It is, Your Majesty." She nods. "Though, I would remind you that my personal friendship with them is a contributing factor."
"I understand. Thank you, Impa." He sighs. "You may go."
"Ah, Sir Link. Enter. Sit."
Sir Link closes the door behind him and gingerly sits in the chair opposite the King's desk. It has been nearly three months since the Princess's flight from the castle, and Rhoam has made a decision.
"I have an offer for you, Hero."
"An offer, Sire?" Sir Link's face is carefully neutral, his voice blank.
Rhoam hands him a piece of paper, signed and stamped by the Royal Privy Council. It had taken some bullying and a few hefty bribes, but Rhoam has finally gained their approval. "The title is in name only, no land attached—to be dissolved after your marriage."
"Marriage?" Sir Link looks up, frowning.
"My offer is this:" Rhoam nods to the paper in his hand, "Accept this title, and wed the Princess. She has made it abundantly clear, even before her engagement to Anatol, that you are her first choice of husband. This whole debacle has been in service of this goal of hers."
Sir Link looks down at the paper again. "But is she not still betrothed to Lord Anatol?"
"Not for much longer." Rhoam snorts. He had conducted a secret investigation of his own into the man over the past few weeks. "Much has come to light about him that he had expertly hid; he is unsuitable for the position of Prince Consort."
"Will there not be opposition?" Sir Link lowers the paper. "I am of common birth. The nobility will react poorly, surely."
"Some." Rhoam agrees. "Others are in favour of the match. Many more among the common folk and tribal races are also in favour. You also have the support of your fellow knights; those who complain will be as a whisper in the wind. Take some time to think about it; I need to draft the annulment papers in any case."
"I accept."
Rhoam chuckles. "There's no hurry, lad. It will not be an easy life; you should understand exactly what kind of life you're agreeing to."
"With respect, Your Majesty," Sir Link's lips twitch. Is he fighting not to smile? That would be novel. "I have been Her Highness's guardsman for four years. I have witnessed the life of a royal family member intimately almost every day over that stretch of time."
Rhoam is amused. "You will be required to take lessons from tutors; etiquette, politics, history, etcetera. All the things a Prince Consort would be expected to know."
"I understand."
Rhoam laughs, standing and reaching for his liquor cabinet; he doesn't think he's ever seen Sir Link be this eager about anything. When he turns back, bottle and two glasses in hand, he sees Sir Link standing as well. "Sit down, sit down." He guffaws. "There's no need for that."
Sir Link does not sit until Rhoam is back in his chair, pouring two fingers of whiskey into each glass. He hands one to his future son-in-law. "To your upcoming marriage," Rhoam lifts his glass. "Maybe it be long, fruitful, and happy."
Sir Link coughs when he upends his liquor.
Anatol is seething when he receives the notice of annulment. He even goes so far as to demand an audience with the King, stalking into the castle in righteous fury.
"Upon further investigation into your character," Rhoam says heavily, tone booking no argument, "I have come to the conclusion that you are not fit to be Prince Consort of Hyrule. The Princess's hand has been offered to someone more worthy."
"It's that midget guard, isn't it?" He spits. "I knew it. I knew it!"
"Calm yourself!" Rhoam snaps. "You speak of your future Prince; choose your words with care."
"I—" Anatol sputters, "you can't—"
"I can, and I am." Rhoam looks down his nose at the irate nobleman. "Your betrothal is annulled. Unless you have any further business with me, I must bid you good day; I am a busy man."
Anatol, red-faced and irate, spends a long few moments scowling, before turning on his heel and stalking from the room. Rhoam shakes his head, pushing himself heavily up from his chair and wandering over to the window.
From here, he can see the most intimate section of the royal gardens—the place that only those in his highest confidence are hosted in. The rose bushes that had been his wife's favourite are in full bloom, drawing his eye to the bright red flowers.
Zelda and her betrothed are strolling among the rows of bushes, her head resting on his shoulder. Sir Link—now Lord Link, at least until the wedding—is smiling down at her in such a way that makes Rhoam's heart ache. He had nearly deprived his daughter of this, of happiness. And for what? There is no true opposition to their marriage, and the boy is proving to be a quick study with his new tutors; he will make an excellent consort, when the time comes.
Impa trails at a distance behind them, ever the dutiful chaperone. It doesn't seem to matter to Zelda, though; in full view of their friend, she lifts her head, takes her betrothed's face between her hands, and kisses him squarely on the mouth.
Rhoam laughs as the boy extricates himself, gesturing to Impa with what Rhoam is sure is a brilliant blush; Zelda has developed a habit of expressing her affection for her intended whenever the mood strikes her, leaving him red-faced and spluttering with amusing regularity. Impa merely ostentatiously turns her back, giving Zelda the opportunity to kiss him again.
Rhoam shakes his head in amusement, returning to his desk. He has a wedding to begin planning. Again.