Zelink Short Stories - Chapter 12: Chapter 12

"Again." I pace along the side, watching the sloppy movements as they swing swords so blunt that the worst injury you could receive from one of these blades is a bruise. None of them are ready for the weight of a real sword. They're young and too eager to hit the hardest, to be the most deadly. They're more likely to make the enemy laugh than tremble in fear.
I wince at another clumsy stumble, another poorly balanced swing. Bruises are what they need. Get hit enough times and they'll learn how much it hurts to fail. And in a few years, they'll be ready to become true knights. A select few will be good enough for the Royal Guard. I train them all with the hopes they'll become elites.
They finish their set of routine turns and swings, panting and sweating as if this was anything close to tiring. I walk to the front and look at all the faces eager for my approval. "My wife can do better than that with a frying pan."
Some of them laugh, some flush with embarrassment. But out of all the snickers and huffs of disappointment, I hear a quiet, "Is your wife a man?" And I know exactly who said it.
"She's more a man than you are, Groose. I expect the barrack floor to be sparkling by dinner."
"Captain-"
"Oh no," I say, a smile breaking through. "If you put as much effort into your training as you do with running your mouth, you could be well on your way to becoming a knight." I turn to head for the castle. "I want to see my beautiful face looking back at me when I glance down tonight."
"Yes sir," he grumbles, the rest of the young men mocking him for his petty consequence. He'll learn to keep his mouth shut one way or another.
I follow the dirt path from the training grounds to the better kept stone walkways around the castle. It's only late morning and the gardeners are out to tend the lawns and flowering bushes before the sun is too warm. I would love spring if not for the rampant hay fever making my men sneeze uncontrollably at their posts with watery eyes.
I nod to the guards when they go rigid at the sight of me, straightening out their backs and puffing their chests. I've been the captain for years and I'm not sure I'll ever get used to being on the other side of the salute. But even after all my promotions and moving up the ranks since I joined the Guard, one thing has stayed constant. I still maintain my status as Her Majesty's personal knight. I swore to protect her when we were just kids and I'll keep that oath until I retire.
Maids and other servants scurry through the freshly polished halls, dusting off surfaces that are never dirty, carrying clean linens to the endless maze of rooms. All it took was one scolding on being late to a summons for me to memorize the passages, both known and secret. Even now, only a select few know the hidden tunnels and the correct turns to take to avoid running into dead ends meant to confuse intruders. Goddess forbid anything happen but if it did, my only responsibility is escorting the queen out of the castle safely. The king has his own guards and the princess is well protected with my son as her attendant.
His promotion drowned me in pride as a father but also as his senior officer. I trained him harder than any other recruit, started him young like my father had done for me. Some jealous contenders enjoyed blaming his success on my ties to the royal family, that I'd gotten him the position to feed my own ego. But I had simply given him the discipline and skills necessary to be the best. When asked for recommendations on who should protect his daughter, I gave the king more names than just my son's.
The doors to the dining room were left open and I peek inside, finding servants clearing the dishes left behind after the family's breakfast. They must have all rushed off this morning to whatever tasks are most important today. And knowing my friend, she's starting in the library.
Heading off down another hall, I adjust the strap holding the sword to my hip. After all these years, I hardly feel the weight of it anymore. It's been my companion and has seen as much as I have. It's been broken and reforged, upgraded and refitted. But the heart of it is still the same.
I push open the tall door to the library, coming out on the wrap-around balcony that overlooks the bottom floor. Each wall is lined with shelves starting at the floor and reach high until the top melts into the cavernous ceilings made of carved stone. The books are bound with leather, worn and ripped from the years of sitting here. There's no telling how old they are. Some seem new while others are so delicate they feel as though they may turn to dust between your fingers if you pinch the pages too hard.
I've spent hours here, flitting through the pages of books my queen thought I would like so I would have something to do while she read. It was either boredom or the frustration of coming across words I didn't understand that had my eyes wandering along the dull spines and back again until my gaze landed on a particularly short and beautiful maid cleaning one of the few desks. My friend teased me relentlessly that day for staring and at all my courting attempts that followed, a teasing I returned when she was sent out of her room like a dressed up doll to be presented for suitors. But we both ended up married not long after; her to an ambitious prince much older than her and me to a girl who sprung the idea of babies on me not minutes after I'd slipped a ring on her finger.
After a quick scan, I find my friend on the opposite end of the balcony, standing on a chair as she reaches for a book. I sigh, walking over to assist. I'm surrounded by stubbornness, whether it be from her, the princess, my son, or myself. Of all the things we could have passed on to our children.
"Good morning, captain," she says when I approach. She stretches her arm just a bit further until I see the book she's reaching for. It looks to be a newer one bound with red leather and gold lettering down the spine. The least of my concern is what's written on the pages.
"I'm going to have to ask you to get down," I say, keeping my arms uncrossed in case she loses her balance. She ignores me as she has for the past twenty years. My first few months into my assignment was more like taming a wild animal while keeping my own wildness at bay rather than protecting a well-mannered princess.
"In a moment." I flinch when the chair rocks under her as she stands on her toes, giving her the last couple inches she needed to pluck the thick book from the shelf. She waves it at me, her smile deepening the fine lines in the outer corners of her green eyes. I cross my arms now, raising a brow. "So serious," she muses, flipping the book open to rifle through the pages.
"Would you get down?" I ask, my tone lacking the level of politeness I drill into my recruits. Royalty or not, there's moments where you near the point of wanting to throttle your friends.
"If it'll keep you from being so grumpy." She braces herself by grabbing one of the wooden shelves and she steps down, smoothing out the skirt of her blue and white gown. "Not even a "good morning" out of you."
"It would have been an even better morning, Your Majesty, had I not found you standing on an uneven chair to reach a book rather than waiting for me to retrieve it for you."
"You would have caught me if I fell."
"Think of my back." My joints complain occasionally when I lift my daughter; I'd rather not test them with the queen.
"Oh that's right." Another one of her playful smirks. "I forgot how old you've gotten."
"We're the same age," I point out.
"Maybe. But I'm still younger." I won't even try to wonder how that worked out in her head.
I offer her my arm which she takes and promptly returns her gaze to the book. "Where to, Your Majesty?"
"The gardens. I had the servants set up a tent since it's been so long since I could sit outside and read." She glances up, giving me a look that might have been intimidating if it weren't for our glaring height difference. "And I thought I told you to stop calling me 'Your Majesty.' I have a name."
"I'm well aware although you'll never hear it out of my mouth, Your Majesty." I smile at her huff of annoyance. It was always 'Your Highness' before the crown was hers and now it'll be 'Your Majesty' forever.
"Even after all these years?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Your son does the same to Zelda. He only calls her 'princess' and nothing else." Better than calling her by name but not as formal as he should be. A few too many things he does isn't formal enough. "Is it the mission of the Farore men to drive the Hyrule women mad with titles and knight etiquette?"
"If you think we drive you mad, you should see what we do to the Farore women."
At some point, I realized age didn't matter between siblings and I stopped intervening during my children's petty fights. I let them pull hair and kick and punch until they tired themselves out. It saved me the task of teaching Aryll how to take down a man if the situation called for it, even if I earned myself some scolding from their mother for letting them bloody each other up. Then there's the amount of food my son and I will eat. When my wife cooks, you'd think we were a family of twelve, not four. But I know she loves watching us eat and her food is too good to not enjoy.
"Do you go tromping through the house in your boots?"
"That is something I'll never be stupid enough to do." Never do again, that is.
She laughs lightly before saying, "You haven't been on leave in a few months if I'm not mistaken. How is your wife and daughter?"
"They're alright. They wrote last week to tell me about the neighbors and a new cucco they bought. And Aryll wrote her own note to tell Link how ugly he is and that maybe a punch in the face could make him look a little better. I won't tell you what he wrote back."
"I think the young maids would argue that he's far from ugly." She lifts her chin to a girl scurrying by with a polished serving bowl we pass in the hall. She must have heard by the way her cheeks flush. "The amount of gossip I've heard out of them since he was promoted."
"Gossip?" I say, raising my brow.
"Oh you know. The teenage giggles about if he's a good kisser and even more describing his voice to those who haven't heard it. It's almost like before you were married and all the maids then would find ways to be around you. Though, your voice was never a mystery to any of them." It's true. Link stays quiet and somewhat distant at the castle, only speaking when absolutely necessary. At home, he can't seem to shut his mouth. I miss it.
"If any of them have caught his attention yet, he hasn't told me about it." She tenses at my side for a moment but not enough for me to worry. It could have just been a chill.
"Perhaps that's a conversation he keeps with his mother."
"Perhaps." Though I doubt she'd ask in her letters if our son has had his eye on any of the young women in the castle if he'd already told her. I've never seen him with anyone else. He spends all of his time with princess Zelda, always taking each opportunity to be at her side. She's the one person he does talk to at the castle.
Guards posted by the doors leading to the gardens bow their heads to the queen before pulling open the heavy wood. She gives them soft smiles as thanks and steps with me onto the path.
The high castle walls throw a shadow just outside of the doors, blocking the sun that has taken away the chill from the morning. The gardeners are still out, preening the flowers to leave only the brightest blooms. The queen and her daughter are particularly fond of flowers. There's a rare blue breed that seems to glow at night the princess has taken a strong liking to. She's been trying to grow them domestically and I doubt she'll give up until she does. I wonder what it's like to have a soft child interested in delicate things like flowers. My daughter refuses to wear shoes and usually has a cucco under her arm. That is if she's not climbing a tree.
The tent is placed deeper into the gardens in a small area of grass near flowers and hedges that looks out over the field beyond. It's simple with four posts and an ivory canopy, and a soft lounge chair has been arranged underneath for the queen. She spends most days reading or sending letters to other kingdoms to maintain our friendly relations. The king has taken up the other tasks, more or less leaving her with the sole duty of being adored. It's not my place to judge and she seems content with her position.
She sits on the velvet chair brought out for her, the fabric a stark contrast to the nature we're surrounded by. I stand at her side, my gloved hands clasped behind my back. I can't lie and say I'm not grateful for the tent keeping me out of the sun. My uniform is freshly starched and would love to cook me. I'm proud to have it and proud to be a protector of the royal family but the layers and knee-high boots are stifling in the warmer months.
"Did you read that book I lent to you yet, captain?" Her Majesty asks without taking her eyes off the page she's reading. The book in question is sitting on the desk in my quarters with only the first few pages read.
"Does skimming it count, ma'am?" I glance down to see her reaction. She shakes her head lightly, already on to flipping to the next page.
"It does not." She looks up, the corner of her mouth lifting into a playful smirk. "Why don't you want to read it? It's a good story."
"It's a love story, ma'am, and I'm already living in one."
"I hope your wife knows how much you adore her."
"She does," I say, straightening my back and returning my gaze to the field in front of me.
This small part reminds me of home. Maybe on the outside it's easy to hide how much I miss my house across the bridge and my two loves waiting for me there. Six months is too long to go without kissing my wife or picking up my daughter the same way I had when she was a toddler because she insists. It's too long having to watch my son stand behind the stoic walls he puts up, never letting his true self show. As I get older, I find myself wishing more and more I could just be my wife's husband and my childrens' father. A few more years and I could have that.
"I'm going to order you and Link home soon if you don't take yourselves."
I smile. "We'll go home soon."
"You'd better. Think of that poor woman sitting at home, missing the man she loves most and her only son."
"Poor woman or lucky woman," I joke. "I wouldn't blame her for enjoying the peace while it lasts."
"Believe me, the quiet can get too quiet sometimes." I look down at my queen but her eyes are back on the pages. I understand what she means. The castle echoes everything. Every laugh and cry and goal and wish. Our only difference is I have the luxury of leaving to a home without space for the silence.
I wonder sometimes if my friend got the life she truly wanted. There was no escaping the crown that would eventually be hers but she'd been wild and free all those years ago. It was only after she married that I watched her tuck those parts of herself away piece by piece. Maybe it was simply maturity and motherhood or maybe it's a deeper secret she hides behind the silence filling all these empty halls of the castle.
I stand next to her as she reads, listening to chirping from birds and indistinct conversation from guards and servants. There's a slight breeze blowing through the open sides of the tent, making this all the more peaceful with only the sounds of nature and turning pages.
Servants come before noon to bring the queen tea. I decline her offer for a cup having never been fond of the beverage. I can't get past the earthy taste, even with milk and sugar mixed in. Maybe I'm simply too loyal to coffee after drinking so many pots of it to stay awake when I was put on night rotations.
The wind carries the soft sound of laughter towards us and my eyes follow it, finding princess Zelda escorted by my son along the path closest to the queen's tent. His hand is clasped in hers with a slight smile on his lips. He hardly ever smiles and the few times he does, he's with the princess. It's impossible to not notice.
Princess Zelda turns her head towards us, her grin growing at the sight of her mother while my son's smile fades when his gaze meets mine. His grip on her hand loosens just enough to give the appearance that she was holding on tighter than he was.
"Mother!" She tugs her knight along in her hurry to the queen. She's wearing her riding clothes and boots instead of a gown similar to her mother's. With Link clad in his trousers and light blue tunic, I can assume he took her off the castle grounds this morning. He was already gone by the time I awoke before dawn, his bed made and uniform left draped over a chair. I doubt he waited to receive the king's approval for that excursion.
"Good morning, little bird." The queen tucks a ribbon in the book to mark her page before closing it and setting it in her lap. Her smile is soft and warm, a contrast to the excitement coming from her daughter. "Link," she adds, her eyes flicking up to him standing behind the princess.
He bows his head. "Your Majesty." I don't miss the glance he throws at me after he straightens. He's grown taller in the last year and built more muscle. I was worried he was taking after his mother where height was considered. His legs remained short and his arms stayed skinny no matter how many bowls of stew I pushed in front of him or exercises I put him through. But a late growth spurt was all it was. He shocked his mother to say the least the last time we came home when he strode in a man rather than a boy. He'd been at her shoulder when we left and now his height rivals mine.
Princess Zelda kneels in the grass next to the queen, pulling out a worn journal. She has a pink flower tucked behind her, one her mother reaches for to stroke the petals. "Where'd you find this pretty thing?"
"Link found it actually." He keeps his eyes on the grass, his face reddening to the same shade as the flower.
"Oh?" Her Majesty raises a brow, her lips forming a smirk.
"He said it suited me." She flips open her journal on her mother's lap, both of them ignoring the silent warnings I'm giving Link with my eyes. He's dangerously close to his friendship with her being perceived as something more. Something forbidden.
"I'd been reading about a particular flower that only blooms at sunrise and I heard rumors that they grow in the hills south of the castle," the princess continues, flitting through the pages until she comes to a drawing of the same flower in her ear surrounded by quickly written notes. "Link suggested we search for them since I've been so eager to see if they really did only bloom during the sunrise. He happened to find them just in time and we got to watch them bloom while the sun rose."
The queen picks up the journal, reading over the notes and comparing the drawing to the flower placed behind the princess's ear. "You certainly had an exciting morning," she says without lifting her eyes from the pages.
"Oh, I did! He even let me steer Epona, as much as she seemed to hate it." They took his horse only, not two. And he sat behind her.
"If you'll excuse us for a moment, Your Majesty," I say, forcing a small smile. She returns it quickly, going back to the journal and special bloom with her daughter.
Link stiffens when I motion to him with my finger but he follows until we're out of earshot. To his credit, he looks me in the eye, his lips pressed together tight to wait for me to start.
"What are you doing?" I say in a whisper. He shifts his weight, staying silent. I scrub a hand over my beard. "Did you get permission to take her off the grounds?"
"No..." I sigh, debating if I want to shake him now or wait until we're not in front of the royals. "She never gets to leave. I thought it'd make her happy-"
"Stop," I interrupt. He closes his mouth, his brows furrowing slightly with the attitude he's suppressing. "You're her protector, not her savior. You can be friends within reason but you are getting very close to crossing a line. If anyone, especially the king, sees this as something more, you'll be punished. Do you understand?"
"Yes," he says, his tone sharp. It's like speaking to myself.
"Good." I turn heel, walking back to the tent with him following close behind.
The women lift their heads at our approaching footsteps, the princess's eyes glued behind me. The queen doesn't seem to notice.
"You are looking more like your father everyday," Her Majesty says to Link with an adoring smile. "All you need now is a beard and you'll look almost identical." I incline my head, looking back at my son. He was all too eager to learn how to shave the moment his mother pointed out the faint mustache growing above his lip.
"He'd need a haircut as well," I say, inspecting his ponytail and unruly bangs in the same shade of blond as my hair, "and maybe a comb." He's always had an aversion to combs and scissors. Goddess forbid I try to tame his appearance.
The princess tilts her head with a playful smirk pulling at her mouth. "I think I'd like to see you with a beard someday. One might suit you."
"Maybe someday, princess," he says with a hint of a smile. I savor that slight bit of joy he's showing rather than snuff it out with another scolding. It's not that he doesn't perform his job well; he does. Swearing your life to another is a burden, one he carries without faltering. But it's the hints of deeper feelings glinting to the surface when they shouldn't.
"Maybe isn't a no." She stands, brushing off any blades of grass sticking to her trousers. "I'll leave you to your book now," she says to her mother. "I want to search the library for any more mentions of unique flowers."
The queen smiles, returning the journal. "Have fun, little bird."
She grins and hurries off, my son following her. She holds her hand out to him and he takes it without a moment of hesitation. I sigh, promising myself to speak with him again later.
"It's sweet," Her Majesty says, watching them disappear around a corner of bushes and flowers, "that they're so close."
"A little too close in my eyes, Your Majesty."
"There you go being a grump again." She flips her book open, settling into her lounge to ignore me and my "grumpiness."
"I am not a grump."
"Well you're grumpy enough to find an issue with their friendship."
"I merely said they are too close for what their roles are. We never strutted around the castle, hands clasped together and yet we've always been close friends."
"And who's to say I didn't want you to hold my hand?"
I tilt my head, not sure if I heard her correctly. "Pardon?"
"Oh don't act so shocked. I was only curious about what it was like being on the receiving end of those looks you'd give out like desserts to all the maids."
"What look?"
"The one with the smug smile, the slight nod, and the eyes wandering lower than they should. You did it to what seemed like every maid in the castle until you met your wife."
"That's not true," I say, shaking my head, a small smile tugging at my mouth.
"Yes it is. My mother said your father did it, I saw you do it plenty, and I've seen Link do it as well. Is it simply a trait stuck in you Farore men with high egos about your own reflections?"
I almost respond with my own snarky remark before I pause. "You've seen Link do it?"
"I believe so," she mutters, gluing her eyes to her page.
"To who?"
"I don't remember now that I think about it. Perhaps I'd imagined it."
"I see." I normally don't question her but she seems...strange today.
"Anyway, I wouldn't look too deep into it; their closeness I mean. Zelda was just excited to have someone close to her age to talk to."
"If the king were to see-"
"He's too busy to see so deep into such things, I assure you." Her tone tells me she's not only referring to our children's closeness. I'll never ask and she'll never tell, not outright at least.
"Yes, ma'am," I say and leave it at that.
We spend a good part of the afternoon outside under the tent, her reading and me keeping a watchful eye while enjoying the calm of not training new recruits. Servants bring out small sandwiches to the queen for lunch, something I do accept when she offers. It's against my nature to turn down food, even if it's not my wife's cooking. As far as I'm concerned, the castle chefs could learn a thing or two from her.
The queen snaps her book closed, getting my attention. "That was a good story."
"You already finished it?" I wish I could get through the stacks of never-ending reports that quickly.
"It's not very long," she says, inspecting the thickness of it.
"We have very different perceptions on what's 'not very long'."
"Maybe it seemed shorter because it was good."
"Love story?" I ask.
"Of course." She pushes herself off the lounge and smooths out her gown. "Shall we go back inside now?"
"If you wish, Your Majesty."
"You're insufferable."
"I try my best," I say, smiling and offering her my arm.
We walk back through the gardens, past the same guards from earlier who offer the same bow. I can't complain much about my days being simple like this. They're not nearly as stressful as when I hunted down Yiga or slayed monsters terrorizing villages all while being on the queen's personal guard. Now I train others to do that and spend the rest of my time staying at her side while she reads or pens letters.
She hands her book off to a maid to return to the library while we wander the halls with no destination in mind. She asks for more details about home, how my wife is, how Aryll is doing in school. It's easy to ramble on and it only makes me more eager to go home. I think I'll surprise her with it. Normally I write to tell her I'll be back soon but occasionally I'll surprise her. Maybe I'll catch her in the act of buying yet another cucco or rearranging the furniture again.
We turn another corner, the king coming from the other end, his steps swift. His fists are clenched at his sides and he's wearing an all too familiar scowl. I kneel, bowing my head until I'm staring at the floor.
"Where was she," he demands. I sigh quiet enough to be unnoticed by the king. Link shouldn't have taken her off grounds.
"How should I know," the queen responds simply. It wouldn't be the first time I've witnessed her lying to him.
"I know she came to talk to you after she skipped breakfast and her lessons." I keep my eyes on the floor. That son of mine is going to get them both in trouble.
"She was just out."
"Out where."
"Out enjoying flowers and I don't see the harm in that."
"Flowers," he scoffs. "I didn't permit her to leave. She had lessons to attend. Her studies have remained neglected while she is too preoccupied with flowers."
"She's very smart. Letting her have a chance to breathe is hardly going to affect that-"
"She's brushed off her duties without regard for far too long. I will not have a daughter who doesn't understand the importance of her title and the responsibilities it brings. There'll be consequences if I find her sneaking off the grounds again, for her and her knight." I don't dare look up. I haven't been told to rise, haven't been given permission to look him in the eye as he promises punishment.
"You're only going to make her more resistant-"
"I don't care. Her responsibility is to the throne and I won't allow her to embarrass me when the suitors arrive."
The queen shifts ever so slightly. "So they've responded then?"
"We can expect them over the next few weeks."
"I'll tell her," she says, her tone defeated. "I ask you make no mention of them until I have."
"Very well."
His boots echo when he leaves. I pick myself off the floor, my knee aching from digging into the stone. I'm not sure if he forgot to tell me to rise or if he simply enjoys watching people kneel at his feet. The latter seems the more likely reason.
The queen doesn't look at me as she begins walking in the direction of the stairs that lead to her bedchamber. "Are you alright?" I ask, knowing the answer she'll give me, the same one she has to give me.
"Just fine, thank you."
"I'll speak to Link and inform him of the rules in place." She nods, placing her hand on the railing.
"I won't be in need of your services for the rest of the day, captain." She looks at me, forcing a smile that doesn't show in her eyes. "Write to your wife. Tell her you'll be home to visit soon."
"Yes, Your Majesty." I bow my head, waiting until she's out of sight to start my walk to the barracks.
The barrack floors were freshly mopped when I arrived. It might have been the cleanest I'd ever seen them.
The boys were rowdy at dinner, choking on pieces of bread and chunks of stew during the endless bouts of laughter. I let them have their fun, joining in every so often. But my thoughts were stuck on Link, or more on the fact he hadn't shown up to dinner. He hadn't shown up at all. It's strange for him to miss any opportunity for food, especially a meal.
"I want three miles ran before breakfast," I tell them in the bunkroom as they change for bed, most of them simply stripping down to underwear. They groan, giving a variety of complaints. "I can make it four," I say, shutting them all up. "That's what I thought. After breakfast, you'll be sparring in pairs. I'll know who's been slacking when I watch you get your asses kicked." I may even throw Link into the mix. He's the same age but he'd hand each and every one of them their asses. And getting him away from the princess for a while to leave her to her studies will keep both of them out of trouble.
I got a mix of 'yes sirs' and 'goodnights' before I retire to my quarters. It's a small extension built off the side of the barracks that houses the royal guard. It has enough space for a desk and bed. Link stays in the barracks themselves in a bunk close to my door. I'll be surprised to find him in it since he didn't come to dinner first.
The air is cool, enough so to give a chill to anyone outside. It's mostly quiet with snickering coming from the barracks I left. It's their fault if they don't get enough sleep.
I hear another set of footsteps in the dark. They're quiet, like the owner is trying to remain undiscovered. All my recruits were accounted for and the guards rotated an hour ago.
I place my hand on the hilt of my sword and walk around the corner towards the sound.
Even in the dark I recognize the messy hair and sword on his back. "Link." He turns abruptly, his hand still on the handle to the barracks. "Where were you?"
"Training." He hardly ever trains this late. And I still need to speak with him about the princess.
"My quarters," I say, following him inside.
The knights are already sleeping, some of them snoring. The sound of our boots does nothing to stir them. Commotion and a horn are the only things that'll wake a knight from his rest.
I walk to the far end, opening the door to my quarters. I only speak when the door is closed. "I need to talk to you about princess Zelda."
"You already did."
"The king has new orders." I light the lamp on my desk, heaving a sigh at the new stack of reports waiting for me to rifle through. "She's no longer allowed off castle grounds for whatever reason. She's to turn more attention to her studies..." I trail off when I glance back at my son.
He's a mess and not in a way that would suggest he was simply tired. His hair is missing the ponytail, the already untamed length of it wild with the evidence of fingers having torn through it. His lips are swollen, his cheeks flushed. The belts across his chest are loose, having been redone in a rush. His normally straight tunic is wrinkled and twisted. He hadn't even bothered to tuck his undershirt into his trousers, the hem of it peeking out at his sides beneath his tunic.
"Where the hell were you."
He opens his mouth then closes it, shifting his weight uncomfortably. He's far past the line he should have never gone near. The hand holding, sneaking her out to watch sunrises, calling her princess like she's his princess. I'd seen it but I had no idea he'd dug himself a hole this deep. I didn't think him spending all that time with her was leading to this, that those smiles he only wears around her meant more than just him falling.
I scrub a hand over my beard, not sure where to start. What he's done is wrong. Forbidden. And there'll be consequences if anyone finds out.
"What were you even thinking? Do you not-" I scoff, nearing the point of laughter at the ridiculousness of it. "When did you decide to be so stupid?"
"I'm not stupid," he says quietly, his voice hoarse.
I gesture to him and his disheveled appearance. "Are you sure? Because this looks pretty fucking stupid to me."
"She wanted to."
"And you just agreed? You didn't bother to think what would happen if someone found out you were in her bed let alone involved with her at all?"
"She has suitors coming." His face darkens with hurt. "She thought if we...She said they wouldn't want her anymore."
"They're going to look to you. The king is going to know it was you. Don't you understand that?"
"I didn't...She said she loves me." My gut twists at the sorrow in his voice. At what he told me. But it doesn't change their roles. It doesn't change their titles. It doesn't change that princesses aren't allowed to love knights.
"She can't be yours." If she weren't the princess, it wouldn't matter. But he should have known better. They both should have. "You have to end it."
"What?"
"Tomorrow you end it." He shakes his head, twisting my guilt deeper. If I hadn't ignored it, maybe I could've prevented this from happening. "You have to. She'll never be yours and if the king finds out, if anyone finds out, you'll be punished." I can't bring myself to imagine the consequences.
"I don't give a shit about the king."
"Link," I warn.
"He's going to give her away to a prince who doesn't care about her just like he doesn't. She's going to be miserable, stuck in some loveless marriage like her mother."
"Enough." He shuts his mouth, his fists clenched at his sides until his knuckles turn white. "What you think doesn't matter. What I think doesn't matter. Our duty is to protect them. If you can't handle that, then go home. Otherwise, end it before you land yourself somewhere I can't help you."
Both anger and hurt fill his eyes. But he stands taller, matching my unwavering stare. "Yes sir."
He leaves before I can say anything more, slamming the door shut behind him. I don't know where to start to even begin picking this apart.
I toss my hat onto my desk followed by my gloves, loosening the belt around my waist next to lean my sword against the wall. I ignore the reports and sit on my bed instead, rubbing my hands over my face.
He should have known better. He does know better. Anyone could have seen him sneaking out of the castle in the state he was in. Someone could have heard. I pray to the Goddess no one did. There's too many hungry for the king's approval in hopes for promotions. They wait for things like this-wait for treachery to show itself to turn it in for a reward. More often than not, the story is spun to inflate alleged crimes. But this is different. He was with the princess in the most forbidden way. There's no way to spin it to make it worse.
And there isn't a way to tell it to paint him as innocent.
I'm a captain, a reward for being brave and loyal. Keeping my soldiers in line is only part of it. But I'm a father before it all. I'd rather accept the punishment for concealing this secret than be the reason my son was discovered.
I unbuckle my boots and tug them off, tossing them aside rather than setting them neatly by the foot of my bed. Tidiness isn't high on my list of priorities. I should have known. Or maybe I did know he'd been slipping too deep into feelings he's not supposed to have. That he would have acted on them eventually. It's what I would have done. It's what I did do.
Of all the jokes my friend makes about us Farore men, there is truth to them. We have a terribly perfect habit of falling head over heels for a woman that we don't notice when we've fallen right onto our faces. Courage can be a nasty trait when it makes you stupid. Crossing the line to foolishness is easy when you're blind. So very easy.
I was only harsh out of fear. Love isn't a crime. It never was. But it's a tricky thing that likes to taunt. They can never be together. Maybe in a hundred years that'll change and knights will be allowed to love the princess. They're not lucky enough to have that blessing.
Tomorrow I'll talk to him and try to make him understand.
"You're going to lose your balance standing like that-" His opponent sweeps him off his feet before I can finish my warning. What better way to learn than falling on your ass.
I flip to another page of the reports I should have gotten through last night while I let my recruits spar. Acting like nothing was different was easy enough. I hid my concern when I found Link gone already and kept my questioning minimal. No one saw him or has seen him since. He may very well be in the castle, mending the mistakes he made.
The Yiga have been quiet. The camps of bokoblins are still being a nuisance to travelers and villages. The only new and mildly interesting part of these reports is the lynel that has perched itself on Shatterback Point, terrorizing the Zora. I'll put together a party to assist their soldiers and rid everyone of that beast. I'll send Link and assign another knight to watch over the princess. Then I suppose I'll put in for our leave. Time away to let this settle.
The rest of the reports are payrolls, some soldiers requesting leave, reminders for documents I need to hand over to advisors and other things that aren't nearly as fun as swinging a sword. It doesn't help that I can hardly focus on it with the commotion in my head and the fighting I'm trying to perfect.
"Captain?" I look up from the papers in my hand to see a girl standing in front of me wearing a maid's dress and an apron. She holds out a small piece of folded paper. "I have a message from the king." I don't receive summons from the king very often and it could easily be an issue I skimmed over in the reports. But the doubt whispers nonetheless.
"Thank you, dear," I say, taking the message. "Do you mind taking these and dropping them on my desk?" I hold out the stack of reports that didn't get enough attention. "It's the second barracks, the door in the very back."
"Yes sir."
"If the boys give you any trouble, stomp on their toes." Her grin reminds me of Aryll's and I manage to smile back before she hurries off to complete her task.
I unfold the paper, reading the message quickly while hiding the panic building in my chest. I'm to report to his study. Immediately.
"Keep sparring, boys," I say, tucking the note away. "Commander Hoz; you're in charge."
The young officer nods to me with his hands clasped behind his back. "Aye, sir."
I rely on memorization to take me in the right direction as my mind reels with possibilities. The stack of reports was thick and I easily could have been summoned to go over strategy and how we should disperse the troops. Or it's a more secret development that wasn't included in the reports that I need to be informed of.
But what is the likelihood of that after last night? The summons and the mess my son has gotten himself into are too close together and I rarely put my faith into coincidences.
I pass by the library, wondering if my friend is in there finding a new love story for the day. The king didn't order me to his secret study located in the library behind a hidden panel. He uses it for his more personal matters. I suppose I can count that as a small relief.
I enter another wing of the castle and the guards at either side of the hall share a quick glance as I walk past. Strange as receiving a salute is, that was even more so. I would question it if the summons weren't urgent.
Two of the king's guards are posted outside of his study, spears in hand rather than swords. They stand straight with rigid backs and even more serious expressions. There's no room for anything other than pure respect and discipline when serving directly under His Majesty. Friendly conversation between him and those beneath his throne are foreign. Only when we have visiting royalty is when I watch him don the welcoming disguise.
Stuck in a loveless marriage like her mother, was what Link had said. Maybe that was something I refused to see as well.
I knock on the heavy wooden door, my palm uncomfortably sweaty in my glove. Not a moment goes by before I hear the king say, "Enter." The guards don't give half a glance as I push the door open.
The walls inside are adorned in shelves full of books, banners, and various swords specially made for previous kings. They're crusted in gems and gold, much too impractical for a sword meant for combat. These are for decoration, or rather, a display of authority.
In the middle of the room sitting in front of the windows overlooking the grounds, is an ornate wooden desk with neatly stacked piles of papers and a pot of ink next to them. The king is seated behind it, his gold crown placed perfectly atop his white hair. He's older than me by more than a decade and it shows. His beard is long and white and the creases between his brows are deep from years of frowning.
I begin to kneel only to be interrupted when the king says, "Don't bother, captain. I would prefer it if we got on with things." I swallow hard as I straighten and I clasp my hands behind my back, keeping my face free of anything close to guilt.
"You have a daughter, don't you?" he continues.
"I do, Your Majesty." My gut begins to twist into knots.
"Hm." He pushes himself out of the cushioned chair and walks slowly around the desk with his hands behind his back. "And I assume she's very precious to you."
"She is."
"Then I'm sure you'd do anything to protect her as I would my own daughter."
"I would do anything to protect both my children, sir." I keep my shoulders straight and tone steady. I know he's toying with me, trying to get more of a reaction. If he really does know about Link and his daughter, I won't give him any more satisfaction.
"Anything for both of them," he mutters as if testing how the words taste on his tongue. "I don't tolerate crime, captain, especially not ones where my daughter's dignity is put in jeopardy so tell me, what do you have to say for your son?"
I swallow, my mouth already dry. "Sir-" He holds up his hand to silence me.
"Before you come up with some elaborate explanation, you should know that I myself witnessed his hands on her just this morning and there's no taking back what's been done."
Shit.
"He made a mistake-"
"A mistake." He scoffs, taking a step closer. I stiffen, holding my head high. "A mistake is knocking over a rack of swords, not tainting the princess to this throne and ruining her chances of finding a decent husband. Very few will be willing to take on her stained history, especially when it has been mangled by a mere knight."
And that's all we are to him. Mere, lowly knights. I suppose it doesn't matter that we lay our lives down to protect those who can't protect themselves. Our blood isn't valuable. It doesn't matter that I haven't seen my wife or daughter in months. I'm disposable. As is my son and now the king has the perfect opportunity to execute his authority all because I failed to protect one of the most precious things to me.
"I want you to know this won't go without consequence," he continues. I grind my teeth, praying to the goddess for something bearable. "I believe hanging would be a fitting punishment."
My knees threaten to buckle, willing me to stumble at the thought of losing my son that way. But I stand my ground, not sure if I want to spit in his face or grovel at his feet for mercy on my child. The former would leave me in no position to try to change his mind and I would likely have a rope waiting for me as well.
"Your Majesty, he's only eighteen-"
"He joined the Guard at sixteen. If he's old enough to wield a sword and hold a high ranking position, he's old enough to face punishments for his disrespect as well."
"He has no other instances of violations. His record is clean-"
"Silence," he hisses, his features darkening with an icy rage. "There's nothing you can say to resolve this...mess. My daughter is the most precious thing to this throne and she was tainted by some knight; your son. Letting him go free is not the example I will set for my kingdom.
"However, you have remained in good standing as a loyal soldier to the crown and as such, I've decided to not order his death." He walks back behind the desk to sit in his chair, adjusting his clothes as if talk of executing my son is trivial. "He will lose his rank and be discharged from the Royal Guard. And twenty-five lashes should be sufficient enough to remind him of his place."
Everything that he's worked for will be gone with a bloody back to show for it. His status, the respect he's earned. But he'll be alive. The relief soothes the tightness in my chest, stroking away the fear little by little. If I had to watch him hang...if I had to tell my wife our son was killed, it would have broken me.
"When will his punishment be carried out?" I ask, my voice hoarse.
"This afternoon then I want him out of the castle." He picks up one of the papers from a stack and his quill. "And do not seek out a healing Zora or a doctor of any kind. That would negate the purpose of his punishment. If I find out that you do, you'll both face something more severe than a lashing." He dips his quill in the ink and begins to write, continuing on with his day.
"Yes sir."
"You're dismissed."
My legs are unsteady when I leave, passing the still expressionless guards who no doubt know about what happened. Who knew before I did that my son is no longer one of us. He's a criminal now in the eyes of the crown. He'll never have the honor of serving under it again.
The scuffs of quick footsteps and sniffling sounds from around the corner, the princess hurrying out in my path a moment after. She walks into me, stumbling enough that I steady her by her shoulders. She's in her gown today. It's almost identical to her mother's with the same draping sleeves and shade of blue.
"C-captain." Her eyes are swollen and overflowing, her face red with tears staining her cheeks. My heart breaks just a little more. "I'm sorry," she chokes out, her body shaking with another stifled sob. She really does love him. Tears like this don't come from nothing.
"It wasn't your fault."
"But it was. He-he said we had to stop and I couldn't bear the thought. I didn't think before I-Father saw us and Link lied. He took the blame so I wouldn't get in trouble." She stumbles into me again, this time wrapping her arms around me. I've known her since the day she was born and I've never seen her like this. I never wanted to.
"He's going to die because of me!" she wails, her voice muffled by my uniform. I smooth her hair back to comfort her.
"He's not going to die." I blink away the prickling feeling in my eyes just as she looks up.
"He's not?"
I shake my head slightly. "He'll receive lashes instead and he's being sent home." Sent home as nothing but a criminal.
"Hylia..." She takes a step back and wipes the tears and snot away from her face. "I won't be able to see him again, will I?"
"It's not likely, Your Highness."
"He...he's in the lockup. They wouldn't let me down there." Her eyes well up, the tears running down her cheeks. "If you'll excuse me." She clamps her hand over her mouth and hurries off towards her room without looking back.
Rules or not, how can a father have a hand in making those tears and not do everything he can to prevent them? Our children are supposed to come first. We're supposed to be the ones protecting them from those who want to hurt them, not be the source of the tears.
I failed to protect Link. I didn't try to stop it until it was too late. And now he's going to pay a price he'll forever be reminded of.
Each step towards the lockup feels heavy. The guilt twists and knots itself together. Of all the things I could have done differently that I didn't. I could have stopped it from the moment I saw it taking hold. I've been that blind and stupid before, stumbling over myself and forgetting consequences just to be around the girl I was falling in love with. I could have put an end to it before he fell too deep.
I reach the bottom of the stairs, the chill cutting through my uniform. The lockup is better described as a dungeon with cold damp walls and the lingering smell of mildew. Water seeps in from the river behind the castle, leaving puddles on the uneven stone floors that never dry. It's filthy and I was more than happy to drag members of the Yiga down here when we'd take prisoners. Now my son is being kept here as if he could ever be as evil as them. All he did was fall in love.
"I'm not supposed to let you down here," a young soldier says, stepping into my path. I didn't notice him between the dim lighting and my own thoughts. He presses his lips together, obviously uncomfortable. Anyone would be if they were assigned to guard this grimy place.
"I don't care. I need to see my son." He moves in front of me when I try to step around him.
"It was a direct order from the king." He seems to shrink as he relays the message.
"Then tell him I ordered you out of my way if he questions you." I grab his shoulders to move him aside and I continue on. I can't receive any punishment worse than this.
A cough comes from the first iron barred cell followed by the sound of vomiting. I get the keys from the hook and move to the cell.
He's on his knees, bracing himself with his hand against the wall as he retches into the bucket placed in the corner of the cell. His sword is gone along with the belt that crossed over his chest. My heart sinks lower than I thought possible at the sight of him, stripped of everything that he is and left to freeze in a cell for loving someone.
I hastily unlock the door and push it open, the rusty hinges squeaking at the movement. He hardly looks up before he retches again. The air reeks of vomit but I felt nauseous before I came here.
I kneel next to him, dirtying my trousers. I grip his shoulder, ready to say something but he beats me to it. "I'm sorry." He coughs, spitting bile into the bucket. "He's going to kill me, isn't he." Not a question. Just defeat.
I shake my head and say, "No, he's not. But he was going to." Something tells me he was talked out of it but I don't know who to thank. "Twenty-five lashes and...and you'll be stripped of all rank."
He seems to pause at that, taking it in. I've been training him since he was young with the vision of him being better than me. Even as a toddler he spent all day swinging the wooden sword he'd begged for. He would come to the castle with me and join training with boys much older than him. Being a knight is in his blood and now that's being taken away. The one thing he's done and loved his entire life.
"What happened?" I ask. He shakes his head and sits back to lean on the moldy wall. His cheeks are stained with tears. My chest tightens at the sight of it. "She said you lied to the king."
"You saw her?"
I nod. "For a minute or two. But she didn't tell me what happened, just that you lied to keep her from being punished as well."
"I went to put an end to it and she-" He rubs the back of his neck, his lip trembling as fresh tears rim his eyes. "She got upset and begged me to stop. And when I didn't, she kissed me." A tear falls. Then another. "I didn't hear the king coming. But she shoved me away the second he walked in and it looked like I'd forced myself onto her. I didn't bother to deny anything he asked. I knew I couldn't talk myself out of it after she shoved me away like she was disgusted. She wouldn't even look at me as they dragged me away." His shoulder shakes with a sob under my hand. I'm not sure what to do other than listen and hide the crack in my heart while watching his break.
Broken hearts heal slowly. It's slower when they're torn apart by someone you trusted with it. He won't remember what it's like to live without that ache.
He wipes his face frantically, smearing snot and tears away with his sleeve. It takes me a moment to hear why. Boots scuffing along the stone outside of the cell. I turn just in time to meet the gazes of two Royal Guards from the king's escort.
"His punishment is to be carried out immediately," one of them says as the other comes forwards with a pair of shackles.
"I was informed it would wait until this afternoon." I leave the hate in my voice. I only wish the person who deserves it was here to listen.
"His Majesty gave a new order." And I can't argue with the word from a royal.
I stand aside and watch them drag him to his feet. He takes on the stoic expression he's mastered as they shackle his hands in front of him. I can't stand to watch him be stripped of everything he is and be treated as a criminal rather than a protector of the throne. It's almost unbearable.
"Just don't give him the satisfaction of your screams," I say before they march him from the cell. What father ever wants to say that to their child?
I follow them out, leaving the cell and damp dungeon. The fresh air in the castle isn't enough to lift the weight off my chest. It's like trying to breathe underwater without choking.
I don't look at any of the guards or servants along the way. There'll be whispers about what happened then there'll be the rumors that everyone will remember. The son of a knight, the princess's protector and high ranking soldier whipped for forcing himself on a royal female. People don't care much for the truth when lies are so much more interesting.
The sky is cloudy and the air is cool without the sun to warm it. It's silent besides the clink of the shackles and a few chirps of birds flying overhead. It could have been a normal day full of training recruits and escorting the queen. If it were up to me, it would be a normal day and I wouldn't be marching towards the post to watch my son receive punishment for something so human.
The wooden post comes into view and the small group around it who were most likely forced to come watch. I've only ever seen two lashings in my time here. Both were minor and for trivial things. I had to watch alongside the other soldiers to further humiliate the man shackled to the post. Not that any of us felt that way. I hope that's not how those men feel now.
I catch sight of the king waiting, his expression more smug than angry. It's a look I'd love to punch off. But all I can do is clench my fists until my nails leave marks and endure him a little longer.
The guards bring Link up to the king rather than walking him straight to the post. He's dragging this on longer than necessary. He wants to see something, any hint of faltering. But my son is stronger than he'll ever be.
"I hope you know that if I'd had my way, we'd all be here to watch your neck snap," the king says." I grind my teeth, noticing the same disgust from the soldiers. Some of my recruits are scattered in the crowd. "But your queen took pity on you and begged for lesser punishment though I do think you'll learn your lesson after today." He looks to one of the guards. "Let's move on now, shall we?"
They escort him onto the wooden platform and to the post. His arms are raised above his head and his shackles are secured. He won't be able to fall even if his legs give out.
"Link Farore," the king announces, "you are hereby stripped of all rank and dishonorably discharged from the Royal Guard." The two guards grip either side of his tunic and rip it completely to expose his back that will soon be bloody. "You will receive no pension or benefits. You are forbidden from stepping foot on castle grounds and if you are ever caught attempting to contact princess Zelda, you will be executed." He nods to his guards, telling them to continue.
One of them picks up the whip, letting it uncurl onto the wooden floor. He waits until the king nods to begin.
The first lash leaves a red line across his back, reaching from his waist to his shoulder. He tenses, staying silent. The second lands in almost the same spot, darkening the line. Then there's the third. The fourth. The sound of leather against skin is more nauseating now that it's my son.
By the tenth, he's clenching his fists, twisting his wrists in the shackles with each lash. He remains quiet even when his skin rips open and drips blood. I watch his knees buckle and him pull himself back up. The other soldiers wince. Some are brave enough to wear anger on their faces.
He's given no time to breathe or recover. The next lash comes immediately after the previous one, crossing over the already raw skin. More gashes split open and the whip flicks blood onto his light brown trousers and any parts of his shirt still in the way. But he doesn't give in and let the king have what he wants. He doesn't cry out, groan, or even whimper.
Time seems to move slower as I count the last few lashes. It takes everything in me to not grab the guard's wrist and stop him. Being here to watch is it's own kind of torture. I would have begged to take his place if I thought it would work. The king would have laughed if that's what I'd begged for. But I'd rather wear the scars meant for him that watch this.
I count the last lash but relief doesn't come when the guard reels back once more and adds another gash to my son's bleeding back. I hadn't miscounted and I don't believe he did either when he doesn't stop.
"You said twenty-five," I hiss, turning on the king. Respect is low on my list.
His eyes remain smug and glued when he says, "I seemed to have changed my mind." His attention roves to me when Link lets out a choked groan. "Don't tell me you've gone soft on criminals now, captain. You've never had an issue before when dealing out the deserved punishments."
"That wasn't the same." Relieving a Yiga of his head isn't comparable to this. They're murderers. My son is no such thing.
"Wasn't it?" He looks to the guard with the expression of a man who won his game. "That's enough. Let him down."
They obey and unlock his shackles. Whatever strength he'd held on to during the lashing disappears, his knees buckling under him. They hold him under his arms like a ragdoll and drag him down the steps, throwing him to me.
He groans when I hold him on his feet. His eyes are hardly open and the ripped fabric is damp with a cold sweat. His bottom lip is bleeding as well from keeping himself silent. They took a strong and loyal young man and turned him into this.
"I want him gone in three hours, captain." His Majesty looks to the guard responsible for the lashing. "Be sure he's on his way home by then."
"Yes sir."
Three hours to rest enough and be ready for a two day trip to Hateno. He knows that's not enough time. He can't stand, let alone ride a horse and defend himself if necessary on the road.
"I request a leave of absence," I say just as he turns to walk away.
"Request denied. Your son's actions don't relieve you of your duties." He starts to take a step then stops. "I want recommendations for a replacement knight to protect my daughter by tomorrow morning."
"Yes sir," I growl.
I drape his arm over my shoulder and try to hold him up without touching the gashes in his back. He's dead weight against me and slick with blood and sweat, my hand slipping each time I take a few steps. It's going to take too long to get him to the barracks like this and he won't have any time to rest before he has to leave.
"Captain." I give half a glance to the redheaded recruit jogging up to me. The last thing I want is to hear him run his mouth.
"I'm not in the mood for your bullshit," I snap.
"I'm just here to help." He draps Link's other arm over his shoulder and takes on half of the weight.
Link stumbles along, relying on us to keep him somewhat upright. He lets out a hiss of pain each time our hands slip into the deep tears in his skin. It's cruel: the punishment he was given. He's allowed no doctor or healer. They would be able to patch him in a way to reduce the scarring. I wouldn't doubt that's why His Majesty forbade me from seeking out that care. He wants him to live with the scars. A lasting punishment he'll always see and feel.
"We're almost there," I mutter as we approach the barracks. He only groans in response, his head hanging limp.
Some of the knights and recruits stand to the side and gawk while others come to help. I don't blame the ones who stay out of the way. They just don't want to face possible consequences for helping. But I will remember the ones who ran off to collect warm water and rags.
We take him to my quarters where I pull off his ripped tunic and undershirt and lay him on his stomach on my bed. The cuts are worse than I'd thought. Some are shallow while others are deep and oozing bright red blood. The worst is where the leather landed multiple times. It left his skin as a jagged flap.
I remove my stained gloves and soak a rag in warm water and hesitate with my hand hovering over his marred back. I'm not sure if this will hurt more than the lashing itself.
He sucks in a sharp breath the moment I dab one of the wounds. I hear his teeth grind together and watch his fingers tighten around the sheets. I try to work quickly, sponging off the blood and any grime left in the cuts. Each bowl of water turns red after a few dips and my recruits hurry off to collect more.
"Someone get him something to eat and more food for the trip," I say to no one in particular. My focus is solely on staunching the bleeding from the largest wound. I've dressed plenty of wounds in the field but always with the promise of the soldier receiving better care once we returned.
"Aye sir."
Groose comes with a fresh bowl of water, wincing at the sight of Link's back. The bleeding has only slowed a little and the skin around each gash is raw. "Bastard," he says. "He orders this then struts back to his castle without a care. Maybe he should-"
"Hold your tongue," I warn, "or you'll be the next one whose back is bleeding." He presses his lips together in a tight line and says nothing more as I dip a new rag into the water and press it on a wound.
"Hylia." I look up at the new face in the room. It's the same young maid from earlier that brought the message from the king. She pales at the sight of stained rags on the floor and the cuts still oozing red. "The queen wishes to see you."
"Right now?" I ask. Surely she knows I'm tending to him. But the maid nods, taking a step closer. She has reddish brown hair braided around her head in a sort of crown.
"That's not going to heal well without stitches," she says, her gaze on the worst of the wounds. She reaches into a pocket on her dress and pulls out a needle and a spool of thread. "I can try to sew it if you'd like but it won't be comfortable."
"It can't get worse than it already is."
She takes my spot beside him and asks for more water and alcohol to clean with. The king said nothing about not being allowed the help of a maid. They mend dresses and linens almost everyday and I hope this won't be much different.
"What's your name?" I ask as she cuts the string, threading her needle carefully. Link's eyes are closed enough I would think he'd slipped unconscious if it weren't for the slight movement of him trying to keep his eyelids open. He should sleep while he can.
"Malon." The name is familiar until I remember where I heard it before. She's the daughter of a stable hand. He's either sleeping or talking about her without much work in between. But he's a good man and keeps the horses happy.
"Thank you, Malon." She attempts a smile before shifting her focus to Link. She urges him to sleep as well and promises she'll work as quickly as she can. His mother would have done the same thing.
I rinse my hands as best as I can before heading towards the castle. There's still blood crusted under my nails and I forgot my gloves. I suppose it doesn't matter as my sleeve is stained and my boots are riddled with dried drops of tainted water.
The air smells of rain and I look up past the castle, feeling misty drops land on my face. I hope the rain holds off until he at least makes it to a stable where he can stay for the night. I should be going with him and I should be with him now. It's not likely the king will let me go home anytime soon and I don't know when I'll see any of my family.
My first thought is to check the library. I wasn't told where she wanted to see me but there's few places she would be and the weather narrows that list even further. I push open the door to the seemingly empty room. There's no maids or scholars or guards.
Then I see Her Majesty push herself from a chair near the doors, her face solemn. She plays with her hands as I approach, a tick I've noticed from her daughter as well.
"I wanted to apologize," she blurts before I can bow my head or greet her. "For what happened to Link. He didn't deserve it for all he's done for my family. I tried to prevent him from facing any physical punishment but...Rhoam wouldn't listen." And I doubt he ever has or will.
"I appreciate what you did for him, Your Majesty. I don't blame you for what happened."
"No, you don't understand. I...I knew about them." I stare at her blankly until she drops her gaze and tugs on her wedding band. "I made them think they could be together."
She'd known what I'd only suspected. And she kept it from me. They all did. My son and the princess I understand. They wanted to be together but for my friend to know something that could have resulted in Link's death and she hadn't said a word.
"What?" is all I can manage.
"Zelda came to me upset some time ago. It took her a while to open up and tell me she had fallen in love with him and finally built up the courage to tell him. Only he turned her down despite sharing her feelings out of fear of being caught."
"I told her to talk to him again," she continues. "I swear I only did because I thought they were good for each other. Link was always a sweet boy and an even more respectable young man. None of her suitors would have matched the level of passion your son has. I wanted that for her. I wanted to know she'd be with someone who actually cared."
"You didn't think about what would happen to him if they were discovered? He was going to be killed." She would still have her daughter no matter Link's punishment. I would have grieved while she only comforted. The stakes weren't high enough on her side.
"I never expected my husband to do what he did and I'm sorry for that. I thought I could have convinced him of a union between them at the right time. I didn't think they'd go so far or be so reckless." Her normally bright eyes are guilty.
"We Farore men have a habit of hoping for things we can't reach," I say quietly. "If you'll excuse me, Your Majesty." I bow my head and turn to leave, ignoring her quick footsteps behind me.
"Wait." She grabs my arm and stands in front to block my path. "I never meant for him to get hurt. I just-" Tears rim her eyes. "I didn't want her to end up like me."
Hurt floods my features. Maybe out of the two of us, I was the only one who'd gotten what I wanted. And maybe there were more secrets than this that she's kept for longer.
"Can't you forgive me?"
I break her gaze and stare at the blood under my nails. Blood that might not have been there if it weren't for us.
I choose to stay silent rather than rip the last thread. Maybe someday I can forgive her and myself for failing them. Maybe someday Link will forgive me too. But it's not now. And I have to be a father first, even if it means losing something I've cherished for most of my life.
"I see." She drops her hand and takes a step back. She clears her throat and wipes a tear before it can fall, straightening her back and clasping her hands in front of her, returning to the same poised queen Hyrule adores. "I had an ointment sent to the barracks. It should help him heal faster and ease some of the pain."
"Thank you, Your Majesty," is all I can bring myself to say. With a slight bow, I leave her and our shattered friendship. Years of trust gone and to say a wound wasn't left in its place would be a lie.
Just before the door fully closes, I hear a quiet sob she tries to cover with her hand. I know her too well to believe she'll move on quickly.
Groose and another soldier are packing Link's things when I return to the barracks more raw than when I left. I'm not sure how to thank them all for this. All I give them now is a nod before I enter my quarters.
He's sitting up now as Malon applies the ointment to his back. He lets tears roll silently down his cheeks and he doesn't look at me. What can I possibly say to ease any of his pain? I can only guess how he feels.
"You should rest more while you can," I say. He looks exhausted. "There's still some time-"
"I'd rather go home now."
"Link-"
"I just want to go home."
There's only so much a man can endure until he breaks. And by the look in my son's eyes, he's failing to keep himself from going under.
"I already brought Epona around," I explain. I went to the stables after speaking with the queen. She was on edge like she knew what happened to her companion. If anything, I can trust her to get him home safe.
He nods and winces as Malon applies more of the ointment. Her stitches are near perfect, closing up the deeper gashes with clean lines. It leaves room to hope he won't scar too badly. She left the shallow ones to heal on their own.
"I'd like to wrap these before you go to keep them clean." She closes the jar of ointment and trades it for a roll of bandages. "Can you lift your arms?"
He lifts his elbows, groaning and wincing until she's left with enough room to work. She starts at his front and wraps the bandage around to his back gently. She repeats it, covering the wounds until only the edges of them are showing at his shoulders and neck.
I scratch out a letter to my wife while she finishes. I tell her what happened so he won't have to explain. And I apologize for sending our boy home like this. That I wasn't able to prevent it. I know she'll forgive me before I ever forgive myself and that's a small comfort. And she'll be able to patch him up better than I can. He may have marks for the rest of his life to remind him of how wrong he was to love someone but maybe she can keep his heart from scarring as well.
Once he's bandaged, I help him into a loose shirt. Every movement seems to send jolts of pain through him. He tries to hide how weak he is but he can't fool me.
He adds a tunic over the shirt and a hood to hide his face. The king got what he wanted. He forced Link into shame and humiliation. I can't wait for the day he stands tall again.
It takes a bit of effort for him to mount his horse, him hissing in pain as he pulls himself up. His things are strapped to her saddle. Everything but the sword taken from him.
I remove mine from my hip and secure it to the saddle. I'd planned on giving it to him someday and he's still a knight in my eyes. "Take care of it," I say when I really mean for him to take care of himself.
"Yes sir."
I take a step back to let him leave. I told my wife in the letter that I shouldn't be too far behind. I want to go home as well and not come back. Not after this. I can't serve under a crown in the hands of a man like the king. It took until my son met his cruelty to realize that.
I watch him go, noticing just how heavy my sword really was.