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“You should have seen the look on his face once I beat him.”
“Didja hear what Fledge did the other day? I can’t believe that guy.”
“Hey, does anyone wanna go out drinking tonight?”
The brash hubbub of soldiers’ collected voices quickly filled the room as they all filed in at once. Link was on the other side of the thin wooden door, washing his hair and face in preparation to start the morning. It was early, the sun barely having peeked from the horizon, but it was the same time every day that Hyrule’s knights awoke and began their morning preparations… along with a fair share of gossip.
Link never took pleasure in whispering behind others’ backs, even within the secure walls of the guards’ sleeping chambers. He didn’t see any point in complaining about someone rather than confronting them directly. If he had a problem with someone, he would want to draw as little extra attention to it as possible. Despite this conviction, Link did often find himself eavesdropping on his fellow soldiers’ morning “reports.”
“I wish his majesty could just cut us some slack,” a groggy voice said with a sigh. “I’d like to be able to visit my family more often, but this crazy schedule he’s given us has got us working ‘round the clock!”
“Eh, I don’t blame him too much,” another, stiffer voice sounded as Link began combing his damp hair from behind his door. “After all, King Rhoam is just stressed. Y’know, dealing with the supposed coming of the Calamity and all that.”
“It’s true,” yet another man’s voice rang. “I’ve got a buddy in the king’s personal guard. It sounds like he’s stressed out of his mind!”
“You know, he wouldn’t be if his daughter would drop the whole ‘researching’ act and do what she’s told.” Several grunts sounded in agreement as Link slipped into the first layer of his uniform.
“Hey, you’re right!” The first voice proclaimed. “If the princess could just unlock her ancient what’s-it-called magical powers already, everyone would rest so much easier!”
“Yeah, what’s the holdup, anyway?”
“My buddy says it has something to do with all the time she spends messing around at the Sheikah tech labs.”
“Ah, I see,” the stiff-voiced man mused. Link could imagine he was surely rubbing his stubbled chin as he often did when in deep contemplation. “So her highness is spending too much time reading in books and not enough praying in front of statues.”
“That princess… she’s crazy, I tell ya!”
Adjusting the final layers of armor and slipping on his boots, Link took a moment to adjust his slight frown back into his normal, trademark, neutral expression before daring to make his way to the door.
“Yeah, all we wanna do is sleep peacefully at night and spend time with our families,” another guard exclaimed. “How can she be so selfish?”
“You know, I heard she even made Link eat a live frog.”
Link’s advance for the door froze for a spell. It wasn’t unusual for his fellow soldiers to gossip about him — or even the princess, at that — but it was also common for them to bombard him with questions and comments he’d rather not take the time to answer. Perhaps if he waited a few more minutes they’d find something better to talk about…
“Are you serious?” a soldier rang again. “She wouldn’t actually do that, would she?”
“You can ask him yourself, but that’s what I heard.” The clatter of swords and spears being sharpened and equipped joined the commotion among the chattering, but most of the gossiping guards were not exactly known for being quiet in volume. “Heard she forced it all the way down.”
“Is he alright?” A voice that didn’t sound at all concerned hollered above the noise. “I can’t imagine that to have tasted too good.”
“Or to have been too healthy…” Link picked up a nearby guard’s murmur.
“That boy must have some real guts to pull off something like that,” another mused. “In both senses of the word..”
“Ah, he’s probably fine,” the groggy man dismissed. “This is Link, we’re talking about. I haven’t seen anything yet that kid won’t eat.” Mixed mumbles of agreement and contemplation followed. After re-adjusting his tied-back hair in the mirror, a quick glance at the clock told Link he hadn’t more time to waste and he strode to the door.
“That, and he’s the princess’s personal knight,” a particularly deep voice bellowed. “He really doesn’t have much choice than to do what she says.”
“Man, I’d quit faster than my aunt’s finest racing horse could gallop if she ever told me to do something like that, princess or not.” A clamor of agreement made for the perfect cover for Link to slip into the room unnoticed. That was, until he happened upon a particularly squeaky floorboard. It wasn’t but two seconds after that the deep-voiced, burly knight caught sight of him and hollered from the other side of the room.
“Well, speak of the devil! Hey Link, is it true that her highness made you eat a frog?” That was all it took before all the men were crowding around their youngest member, each chiming in with his own query.
“Did you actually eat it?”
“What did it taste like?”
“Are you feeling alright?”
“What were you thinking?”
“Was it really alive?”
“Could you feel it moving?”
Link did his utmost to keep his calm, expressionless appearance during the spontaneous interrogation. He reached his right hand and scratched the back of his head, a nervous habit he’d been trying to break — each time he did so people assumed he was reaching for his sword and would immediately back away. Well, normal people. There was almost nothing little Link could do that would make the guards fear him, even though they knew he could easily best almost all of them in combat. So, further they pried. Before he could even attempt to answer any questions, though, a louder, more curt voice rose above the rest.
“Leave the kid alone. You’re not getting anything out of that one.” The voice carried an air of authority that split the crowd of soldiers in two, allowing Link a clear view of the voice’s owner, though he did not need the visual to make the unmistakable connection. He sauntered down the newly formed path until he was toe-to-toe with Link, bending down a bit to meet him at eye level. “The boy’s barely spoken more than a sentence to anyone his whole life. Apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, I suppose.”
A bit of an exaggeration, Link thought, but he didn’t blame anyone for thinking it. It was true that he often preferred not to speak; in most instances, he found it was because there was simply nothing worth saying. He had also begun to find that it seemed to keep him out of quite a bit of trouble by comparison. Still, many misinterpret this conviction as either a disability or some strange superiority complex, as if somehow others weren’t worthy of hearing him speak. Many, including his own uncle.
While not technically a high-ranking soldier, Link’s uncle had a booming voice and commanding presence his fellow guards could not help but respect. One may not see the familial resemblance at first glance with his tall physique, chocolate brown hair, and fairly pale skin, but the piercing ocean blue eyes that were a hallmark of the family were unmistakable. One sharp gaze from them could cause even the bravest warrior to think twice… but they never scared Link. Link had often wondered if his father’s brother had a superiority complex of his own, or perhaps it was all mere jealousy from not being as “naturally gifted” in the ways of the sword as his brother and nephew.
The soldiers soon dispersed one by one to finish their morning routines and grab some breakfast. Link’s uncle, after staring long and hard at him with a perched eyebrow, eventually did the same. Just as he thought he could finally escape, however, one more soldier stopped Link halfway through the door.
“So you’re really not gonna spill a thing, are you?” It was the stiff-voiced man with the stubbled chin — Nohan. Nohan was notorious for being one of the most pessimistic soldiers in all of Central Hyrule, almost always directing his negativity to the royal family in one way or another. “You know,” he continued, “it’s alright to complain. I know you’re the captain of her highness’s personal guard and all, but you and I both know that it ain’t no cakewalk. Everyone has to vent about his boss every once in a while. I’d even say it does a man good.”
Link only listened with the same rehearsed, blank expression; not a sound left his lips. Nohan tried to stand his ground, refusing to continue until the younger gave even a hint of response, but no such thing occurred. After the moment became too awkward for him to bear, Nohan simply shook his head and sighed.
“Well, it’s your loss, kid. Just remember, if you ever need to vent, what’s said in these walls stays in these walls, understand?”
An absentminded nod was all Link offered before hastening his pace out of the guard chambers and up the stairs to the other side of the castle before the princess awoke. They had just recently returned from a long journey to one of the goddess springs in an attempt to awaken her dormant divine power, so she would surely be in need of some extra rest. But duty never sleeps, so neither could she — for long, anyway. All it truly meant was that Link would have the wonderful privilege of listening to a tired, crabby princess yell at him even more than she was already prone to. Just another day on the job, he reminded himself.
The morning definitely could have been better for both of them. As predicted, Princess Zelda was crabby and unpleasant with her personal knight all morning. He accompanied her on her normal morning trek to the goddess statue in the palace garden — one of the most preferable areas for prayer because of its secluded and private nature — and then to the library for her own research projects. He was perfectly quiet, a good four feet or so behind her at all times, and yet she still managed to find fault in every little thing he did. From the sound of his footsteps behind her to the “feeling” of his eyes constantly on her back, there was always some reason to chastise him. She had actually been doing better at controlling her temper around him after they returned from their trip to Gerudo some weeks ago, but apparently, it only takes one bad night’s rest to justify her reversion to rudeness. Link would have been able to tolerate it a bit more if he had at least had time to eat breakfast beforehand.
Then again, sticking around for breakfast would have meant having to tolerate more of the guards’ petty prattle about their princess. “The princess needs to do more of this,” “the princess never does enough of that,” “she needs to stop being this,” “why doesn’t she just do that.” This was the habitual pattern the guards fell into while in the chambers or the dining commons. It always rubbed Link the wrong way, but it wasn’t until he became her highness’s personal knight that he realized these judgments were not only unfair but largely inaccurate.
He watched her pour her heart out to the goddess in prayer every single day. He could practically feel the tears falling down her face and could hear her trembling voice begging for answers. He saw her study ancient texts of princesses past, in hopes that such knowledge of her former lives would spark something, or at least alert her of what she might be doing wrong. He observed the conversations with her father, always one-sided and never encouraging. With no mentor to guide her, no parent to comfort her, and no goddess to bless her, Princess Zelda was easily the saddest, loneliest, and most misunderstood person Link had ever known.
Even so, he never spoke up. He never felt it was his place. He was just another knight trying to get by like everyone else. Others’ opinions had no impact on him, and their whispers did not faze him. What could words do to him that training accidents and battle scars couldn’t? As for the princess, perhaps what she didn’t know couldn’t hurt her. She was already her own worst enemy, so there was no reason to tear her down further by revealing what the very soldiers that pass her in the halls every day truly thought of her.
Thankfully, the afternoon proved to be significantly more bearable than the morning. The sun warmed the land from its place in the cloudless sky, Princess Zelda’s temper was slowly cooling, and Link had finally gotten a meal in his system. He had been dismissed for exactly one hour to eat with the rest of the guards while the princess had a private luncheon with some important delegates. He had sat alone in the dining hall, though that did not at all help drown the poorly veiled conversations of adjacent tables.
“Wait, wait, you’re joking, right?” one man’s exclamation penetrated through the mangled multitude of other voices to Link’s ears.
“No, I’m serious, he’s gonna,” the one sitting opposite of the man insisted. “He told me himself.”
“He’s gotta be crazy to do something like that. I mean, the princess? Really? Talk about reaching out of your league!”
“Yeah, well, can you blame the guy? She is quite beautiful.”
“You’re missing the point, Brad,” the first guard lowered his beverage to the table with a thud. “If beauty was all that mattered in a girlfriend then I’d have married my own steed by now. The point is, looks are just about all her highness has going for her.”
“You think so?”
“Even a blind man could see it. She’s a failure as a protector and a disgrace as a leader. Always shirking responsibility to play with ancient toys while the rest of us are hard at work until the sun goes down.”
“She can’t be that bad, Cliff,” Brad scratched his mustache as he spoke, a quirk Link noticed he only did when he was uncertain. “Surely she’ll learn some of this stuff in time. After all, she is still young, and the heir to the throne."
“Heh,” Cliff chuckled dryly after another swig, “only kinda throne she’s an heir to is a throne of nothing.” Both men had a chuckle (though Brad seemed a bit uncomfortable with his friend’s comment) and Link stood from his own table to report back to where the princess would be waiting for him. He did not, however, manage to leave before catching another guard’s comment as he walked by.
“You got that right. A throne of nothing… nothing but failure!”
“You tell ‘em Nohan!” Cliff chortled.
The rest of the day was meant to be spent researching Sheikah technology. That was just as well; the princess was always happiest — and most distracted — when investigating the ancient relics. That meant there was a lesser chance of her being annoyed at her knight. As much of a challenge she sometimes presented, Link had to admit to himself that he enjoyed seeing her face light up whenever she had the chance to study the ancient machines; she would even openly talk to him about them. It was as if she were a young child, eager to share what she learned with anyone who cared enough to listen. It was rather endearing.
Such was the case as they made their way to her study. The path was all too familiar to the both of them: through the hall, up the stairs, into another room, up more stairs, and across the walkway. She always made a beeline for the place, never allowing even the smallest of distractions. Today, however, was a rare exception. Sheikah researchers were working in the courtyard below, experimenting with some of the most recent excavations, and the princess’s interest was immediately piqued.
From what Link had gathered, these excavations were called “Guardians” — large, robotic machines with a single, swiveling, glowing blue eye and giant, spindly, spider-like legs. They were war machines, used in ages past to fend off the Calamity. They seemed to play the part well enough, Link supposed. There wasn’t anyone he knew that wouldn’t run after seeing a giant robotic spider such as that chasing after them.
“Incredible…” the princess mused aloud, leaning over the stone wall just outside her study. “We’re at a point now where we can actually control them.” Her hair, held mostly in place by the gold diadem atop her head, blew gently in the afternoon breeze, allowing Link a proper view of her face from his position behind her. She was not as expressive as he had witnessed on other occasions, but the spark in her jade eyes was unmistakable. There was a thirst for knowledge and a passion for learning that could not be tamed.
“And, should Ganon ever show itself again, we’ll be well positioned to defend ourselves,” she stated confidently, smiling as she turned to face Link and making him sorely aware that he was spacing out again. Princess Zelda certainly loved to talk and, whether her words were meant for someone in particular or just herself, sometimes her velocity and use of unfamiliar jargon were all but too much for him to keep up with. He often found it better to do what he was best at: remain silent. However, her delicate smile was short-lived when another, lower voice diverted both of their attention across the stone path before them.
“What are you doing out here, Zelda?” King Rhoam demanded in a low, slightly intimidating tone. Link immediately dropped to one knee and lowered his head as he had been programmed to do since he was a boy. This, however, did not prevent him from catching the princess balling her hand into a tight fist out of the corner of his eye.
“I…” she hesitated, “I was assessing the results of the experiment with the Guardians. These pieces of ancient technology could be quite useful against the —”
“I know that,” the king interrupted unapologetically. Link kept his body low. He knew where this conversation was headed — and it wasn’t going to be pretty. “They are essential to Hyrule’s future, and our research demands that we keep a close eye on them. However, as the princess, you currently have a crucial unfulfilled responsibility to your kingdom.”
The vocal Princess Zelda only gave a melancholy sigh in response. For once, she had nothing to say. She rarely did when her father confronted her on these matters.
“Let me ask you once more… When will you stop treating this as some sort of childish game?” Link winced ever so slightly at the sharpness of his majesty’s words. He could sense the princess shifting her weight and piecing together a proper response. This is where it could get ugly, he thought.
“I’m doing everything I can,” she stated earnestly. Her fists were starting to turn her knuckles white. “I’ll have you know that I just recently returned from the Spring of Courage where I offered every ounce of my prayers to the goddess —”
“And now you’re here wasting your time,” the king interjected a second time, a hint of growing frustration in his voice. “You need to be dedicating every moment you have to your training.”
It was always the same: stop wasting time, stay single-mindedly focused on your task, unlock your power. It was no different from the complaints of the gossiping soldiers Link endured every morning.
“I already am,” her highness contended. “Don’t you see — there’s nothing more I can do! My hope… My hope is that you — that you’ll allow me to contribute here in whatever way I can.”
“No more excuses, Zelda!” It was close to cutting her off a third time. The king had grown impatient — as he often did during these talks. He forbade her from having anything to do with the ancient relics and commanded her to focus solely on her training. Link still dared not move a muscle, but he felt the princess’s heart drop to the ground as if it were his very own. It only took a few days to realize how much those relics meant to her, and how much she relied on them for her peace of mind and sanity. They were an escape, not from her training or duty, but from the pressures and expectations that everyone had placed on her shoulders. They provided a sort of freedom Link reckoned she scarce had the chance to experience.
“Do you know how the gossip mongers refer to you?” the king persisted, now observing the same Guardian and Sheikah researchers from the stone wall. “They are out there at this moment, whispering amongst themselves… that you are the heir to a throne of nothing… nothing but failure.” He paused, perhaps anticipating a defensive response from his daughter, but she found no words. The king softened his tone as he faced her once more. “It is woven into your destiny that you prove them wrong. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” the disheartened princess replied shortly. “I understand.”
Though he hardly seemed what one would call satisfied, King Rhoam took his leave then, his two bodyguards following his exit. All was still after that. Princess Zelda didn’t move, her head lowered and hands folded solemnly in front of her. Link remained on one knee, head also lowered. For some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to move. He found himself swimming in his own thoughts on what he just heard. The king’s words rattled in his mind more than they should have, considering they weren’t even directed at him.
“...you are the heir to a throne of nothing… nothing but failure.”
Those were the exact words the guards spoke during their lunch hour. Had his majesty been there? Or was there a messenger that deemed such whispers significant enough to report? Either way, why would anyone let those guards trash talk Hyrule’s princess that way? Who would stand around and endure such nonsense without confronting these extreme claims? Why did no one say anything?
……
…why didn’t he say anything?
Who better than the captain of her personal guard to put a stop to preposterous rumors with no merit? Who better than Link, one of very few who have seen the best and worst sides of her, to stand as a voice of reason amongst a sea of exaggeration and misgivings about her capabilities and priorities? With such a vantage point, who wouldn’t stand in defense of the beloved princess?
Link… Link wouldn’t…
“I’m sorry…”
Those two words were all it took to break her from her trance. Link himself was only scarcely aware he’d even spoken the words out loud. Princess Zelda turned to him with perplexity plastered on her features.
“W-what?” He still did not move from his kneeling position, keeping his head low out of respect and voice low out of remorse.
“I’m sorry, your highness,” he repeated. “I have failed you.” This was far from the first time she had heard him speak, but that didn’t change how taken aback she appeared by his words.
“Failed me..? What do you mean?”
“The gossip mongers,” Link explained, finally rising and forcing himself to look his princess in the eyes, “the guards. I hear them all the time. They speak of you often, princess, and I have done nothing to stop them.” The eye contact did not last long as he bowed his head so his blond fringe hid his eyes. “I have failed you.”
“You… you have nothing to apologize for,” the princess stated, only the slightest hint of compassion blended in the melancholy of her tone. “It’s not as if you have taken any part in it. You have done me no wrongs.”
“But I haven’t done you any good, either.”
“Well…” she now averted her eyes, and Link noticed her instinctively touching the back of her right hand. “I can’t blame you. I see no real reason to halt the conversations of others when… when all they speak is the truth.”
Link could feel the heat building in his face. This was their fault — the guards. If they could just keep their rumors to themselves, such accusations would have never reached the king, or the princess. He felt his hands become clenched into fists, eyes still downcast. Now what little confidence she may have had in her ability to awaken her hidden power has likely been shattered to pieces. And it was all their fault…
…and Link’s.
Bitterness turned to remorse once more as he realized he was no more innocent than the gossip mongers themselves. But he hadn’t the time nor desire to navigate his own feelings. Link gazed upon his princess once more, compassion in his eyes, and summoned the courage he was becoming well known for — only for quite a different purpose now.
“Princess, with all due respect, you’re wrong.” He felt all his muscles tense, half expecting a harsh rebuke. But the princess — quite to his surprise — innocently cocked her head to the side, eyebrows knitted in perplexity. It was an invitation to continue speaking. So, naturally, Link obliged.
“The guards speak in nothing but exaggerations and lies. They don’t know the truth, therefore do not speak it. Your highness, though you are still unable to see the fruits of your labor, that does not mean you have not been laboring. It is as you said, my princess, there is nothing more you can do. You are already doing your utmost. You have been strong and courageous, and I’ve no doubt that you will continue in the same manner until the very end — no matter the cost.”
Princess Zelda was speechless. Link was equally surprised by his own spontaneous pep talk — charisma had never been one of his specialties. Her eyes were wide and her hands were held close to her chest. He could feel a droplet of sweat running down his temple. After a silence that lasted a century, the princess parted her lips to speak.
“Link…” she breathed in what was almost a whisper, “I… do you really believe so?” The most he could manage was his sincerest nod and a hint of a smile. “Well, then,” she began again shakily, “I suppose that’s all I need. Someone… just one person… who believes. Thank you.”
“Of course, your highness.”
Clearly, her father’s words were still churning in the young princess’s mind; she remained troubled and absentminded for the rest of the day. Link, on the other hand, held the princess’s words fondly at the forefront of his thoughts. All she wanted — all she needed — was someone to tell her she could do it, that they were rooting for her. And he was that someone. He confronted her… and she thanked him.
“Hey, who wants to spar with me this afternoon?”
“Where's Brad at? He borrowed my shield and I need it back.”
“I wonder what’s for breakfast today?”
The soldiers filed in the next morning just as they had every morning before. Link, as per usual, was behind the thin wooden door finishing his morning preparations. He tied his hair back, shimmied into his uniform, and, of course, overheard the latest of his fellow soldiers’ “reports.”
“I specifically said I don’t want anyone touching my equipment!” An angry voice yelled above the normal hubbub. “Now look, it’s all smudged!”
“Calm down, already, would you?” Nohan’s distinct voice groaned. “We’re guards, not royalty. We’re not supposed to have nice stuff.”
“Still, you shouldn’t have taken it without consulting me!”
“Hey, it wasn’t me.”
“Alright, alright, jeez,” a gravelly voice sounded, soon followed by a clanking of metal on the wooden floor. “My apologies, ‘your highness.’”
“Heh, you'd make a better ‘highness’ than the one we’ve got, at least.” Link recognized Cliff’s dry chuckle instantly.
“Maybe not as pretty looking, but he’s a lot more loyal to his kingdom, that’s for sure!” Commotion rose, ranging from hearty laughter to clever retorts. Link, now fully suited and prepared, entered the room at this time. As usual, he was unnoticed… at first.
“The royal family is nothing to joke about.” The annoyed edge to the voice immediately defined it as Link’s uncle’s, who was sitting on a bench near the room’s only window, sharpening his sword. “No matter how capable or incapable they are, they are still our future. That means we must confront whatever chaos they bring to our home, including the Calamity.”
“Oh, settle down, old-timer,” Cliff sauntered toward him — a brave soul, that one — and patted his shoulder. “Even you have to admit if it weren’t for that whole ‘blood of the goddess’ excuse, any one of these men would make a much better future ruler than our current princess.” Link’s uncle glared at the reckless young man but didn’t utter any defense — the closest thing to concurrence one could get out of him.
Link, not as per usual, took a moment to observe his surroundings: same squeaky floor, same sturdy walls, same gossiping soldiers. Still, amidst all their half-truthful whispers and assumptions stirred something different in him. It was now impossible to ignore, so he didn’t.
“The princess works harder than you’ll ever know,” he heard his voice project, bringing the entire guard chamber to utter silence. All eyes were fixated on his perfectly neutral, expressionless face, but his voice carried all the emotion necessary. “She has committed every moment of her life to fulfilling her duty to her kingdom and has nothing but compassion for her people. She works despite the criticism, not because of it. I have seen her struggles and successes and can personally testify to her diligence and loyalty.”
The guards shifted a bit, a mix of confusion and discomfort displayed on their faces. None seemed overly concerned with the sudden outburst — even from the one who’s “barely spoken a sentence” to anyone. Link’s uncle was giving him an especially contemptuous glare, and in another corner, Brad’s gaze wandered as he scratched his mustache. Small murmurs began to form amongst the guards after a bit, but Link wasn’t through. He called back their attention with a mighty stamp of his foot and raising of his voice.
“And I am sure I needn’t remind you that she knows of the criticisms spoken about her.” They hushed again at once. “Every word, every complaint — all have been reported to her highness. It’s no wonder she has no faith in herself. Her own people have abandoned her! Of course she would find something else to do where she is not under the pressure of expectant and impatient people like you! So, if ever she were to fail due to distractions or lack of faith, as you say, I suppose we’ll know exactly who would be to blame.”
Though all have faced horrific beasts and beheld gruesome scenes, this time, not one found the courage to challenge the young knight. So, having at last contributed his thoughts about his princess, Link made his way out the door, giving a nearly invisible smirk and a nod to a nonplussed Nohan on the way.
That was the last time he’d be meddling with gossip, Link told himself as he marched across the plush carpets of Hyrule Castle. He didn’t know if his speech would have any lasting impact — or any impact at all, for that matter — on his fellow guards, but he felt contentment just knowing that he tried. If surveying the others was any sign at all, though, speaking up probably only stirred up more trouble for Link than anything else. Still, there was a certain peace of mind that came with doing what was right instead of simply watching others do wrong. And, if one — just one — more person chose to believe him and support her highness rather than condemn her, it would have been more than worth it.
Upon reaching Princess Zelda’s chamber (after grabbing a couple of apples for breakfast, of course), Link was surprised to hear the sound of two voices coming through the grand double doors. Immediately (and conveniently) forgetting his earlier resolution, his ears perked at the delighted squeal of his princess.
“All right, all right, I understand, your highness,” another feminine voice pleaded. “I know you’re excited, but you mustn’t forget that you still have to do your daily prayers.”
“I know that, Impa,” Princess Zelda’s voice sounded with a new air of confidence Link had never heard before, “and I assure you, I am prepared. I am certain that this time it will work!”
“Wow, Princess, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this upbeat when it comes to your prayers.”
“Well, it’s only natural. You see, I have been restored with a new sense of confidence.”
“Whatever the case, I’m glad. It’s a joy to see you smiling again, Princess.”
“But it’s more than that…”
Just as he was about to pull away at the sound of footsteps nearing the door, Link caught the princess’s softer, concluding utterance.
“He believes in me, Impa. He doesn’t hate me. He believes.”