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Zelda wakes with a jolt.
A layer of cold sweat covers her body, causing her nightgown to cling uncomfortably to her chest. However, the mild nuisance is the furthest thing from her mind. Heart pounding, she sits up in bed, head turning sharply to see the moonlight filtering in through the sliver of space separating the drapes.
An otherwise clear, calm night in contrast to her rude awakening. Hylia knows how late it is.
She forces herself to breathe in slowly through her nose, then gradually lets it out through her mouth.
In and out. In and out. Slower. In…and out. In and…out.
She does this five times until she can feel her rapid heartbeat return to a semblance of its normal rhythm.
Running a hand through her hair, briefly grimacing upon touching the sweat-soaked roots, she muses on the means of her being ripped out of the dream world and thrown back into consciousness.
She could’ve sworn she heard a man scream; that was the catalyst for her waking. The dream she was having was perfect, too. All was right in the world; there was no Calamity, her sealing powers were a nonexistent problem, and she was freely running around Hyrule Field conducting research on the fauna.
And Link was right there at her side, as he always was, no longer bound to a destiny he never asked for. She could still see the sunny, cloudless sky; could still hear the sound of Link’s carefree laughter, something that happened so scarcely she can count the number of occurrences on one hand, echoing in her ears.
“Augh!”
Zelda’s head snaps to the door, heart in her throat. It’s time to stop reminiscing on dreams and focus on what is really happening.
It was another scream, masculine and anguished before it chillingly cut off. Unlike the shout that initially woke her up, this one sounded much closer to her room. Straining her ears, she can make out rapid footfalls rushing somewhere…to here? Her room?
What is going on? Is it the Calamity? Has it finally struck?
No, it couldn’t be that. She doesn’t hear the deafening sound of lasers fired from the Guardians fighting back, nor any battle cries from the Divine Beasts that she knows can be heard for miles and shake many a person to the bone throughout Hyrule.
So, then, if not the Calamity, then what? Someone attacking the castle from within? If so, are the Yiga Clan responsible?
A sick feeling twists in her stomach: doubt. Something is telling her that this couldn’t be the work of the infamous group of rogue Sheikah who turned their backs to the crown to serve Ganon. They’re too careful; if they dared to execute an elaborate takeover of Hyrule Castle, they would’ve made sure their victims wouldn’t have time to alert others by screaming before killing them.
This is the work of an inexperienced, yet successful if the pained shouts are anything to go by, group. If not the Yiga, then how were they able to get past the many guards stationed around the perimeters of the castle? The nearly impenetrable structure that also serves as her home is practically a fortress from how it is so heavily guarded, now so more than ever since the inevitable day of Calamity Ganon’s return is looming ever closer.
They wouldn’t have been able to get past the guards. Unless…
A chill races down her spine as she grips the Gerudo-made satin sheets.
Unless all the guards, or a good portion of them, are in on it. Could it be a coup staged from the inside?
But why? Her father is harsh in his demands for her to unlock her powers, yes, but it’s only for the good of Hyrule. Other than that, he is a wise and just king. Why would his own guard detail conspire against him?
Moreover…who could be the mastermind behind such a nefarious plot?
The thudding beats of boots are coming closer. Zelda doesn’t have time to ponder any longer. It’s simple, really. If she stays, she runs the risk of being killed at worst, or imprisoned at best. If she escapes, she’ll leave with her life intact and seek help outside. Perhaps she could run to Castle Town and find shelter there or in any of the surrounding villages; her subjects wouldn’t turn their backs on her, right?
Or she could run to the Gerudo Desert and ask Urbosa for…what exactly? To take her in? Assemble her troops and help her take back the castle? Would it even be possible?
But first she’d have to find Link and—Oh, Goddesses, Link! Where is Link in all this mess? Is he fighting back against the conspirators? Or are there too many and he was forced to retreat outside of the castle?
No, that option isn’t remotely plausible. She knows that despite the odds being stacked against him, Link would never abandon her. Even if it meant fighting through a hundred men to whisk her away to safety, he’d do it without hesitation. Link’s loyalty and devotion to her knows no bounds, and may Hylia have mercy on the poor soul who challenged him.
He’s grown especially protective over her these days, she muses as she bites her lip to suppress a growing smile, although it does nothing to hinder the blush blooming across her cheeks.
A soft hum emits from her throat, eyes glazed over as she absentmindedly twirls a finger in the bedsheets. She can’t help but recall their last encounter, this very night after he escorted her to her bedchamber, whereupon he bid a very fond farewell to her before withdrawing to his own quarters.
She would’ve scolded him for the roguish smirk he walked away with if she wasn’t brandishing one of her own.
Zelda brushes two fingers against her lips. Hours later, they’re still tingling from his amorous attention.
The fierce thunder of boots echoing off the stone walls of the hallway, alarmingly pressing closer and closer, effectively shakes her from the pleasurable memory. There’s no more time to dawdle by reminiscing on dreams or events that were like them. Now is the time to act; she has to get out here!
She pushes herself out of bed, pausing to slide her feet into her slippers—a pair of white, silken ones with silent princesses embroidered on the toes—waiting for her at the side of the bed.
For a moment Zelda considers taking her diary, but the sound of men shouting ‘over here!’ and ‘we’re close!’ have her dismissing the notion. There’s simply no time to waste on endeavors that will only slow her down, as much as she hates to admit it. She needs all the few, precious seconds she can get.
As she crouches down to that spot in the wall, pushing on the stone to reveal the entrance to the escape tunnel, she laments the loss of not only her diary, but the Sheikah Slate and all of her other relics and notes she is forced to abandon. If she has no time to grab her diary on the other side of the room, there’s no way she’ll be able to run across the bridge connected to her study, snatch everything she can carry and haul it all back with time to spare.
The passage has completely opened, revealing a gaping maw of foreboding darkness that both relieves and terrifies her.
She jumps, heart catching in her throat as a series of knocks pound on the door.
“Princess? Princess Zelda!”
She hastily casts one last, longing look to the room that has served as her safe haven for the last ten or so years, mourning the loss of everything but the nightgown she wears and the slippers on her feet, before crawling inside the small hole on her hands and knees.
It’s cold, hard, and musty. Her knees already ache from the lack of a cushion to kneel on. Still, she doesn’t let that distract her from hurriedly pressing the hidden button to close the panel. Just in time too, because no sooner than it slides shut does she hear the wooden door to her room burst open.
“Princess Zelda!”
A flurry of movement closes in, likely the group of men are charging into her room. She’s frozen in place, too afraid to move lest she make noise and would give herself away. She bites her lower lip and closes her eyes, praying to Hylia to answer at least this prayer and bestow a blessing of safety.
“She’s gone,” one of the men barks. His voice is gruff, mature. How long had he been serving her father before getting corrupted and joining this coup, if indeed it’s an inside job as she believes.
“She couldn’t have left,” another says. Younger, though not completely boyish. Perhaps a man in his thirties. “We would’ve seen her.”
“One of you, go check her study,” yet another man orders, and not long after follows a flurry of boots, loud and vibrating in her ears prior to the sound of a door being wrenched open. The footsteps grow increasingly fainter as he scampers across the bridge to carry out the command.
There’s at least three men in her room that are looking for her, and who knows what their plans entail if they should capture her.
Zelda takes in a shuddering breath, willing her arms to stop trembling as the sound of her heartbeat reverberates in her ears. She can’t sit still anymore; she has to get moving and get out of there before the other two men fumble around her room and accidentally discover the passage. She can already hear them rummaging through her things, trying to find any trace of her.
She doesn’t wait for the confirmation that she isn’t hiding in her study. Quietly, agonizingly slowly, she crawls. She crawls through the dark tunnel, a void so dark she can’t see her hands. Her knees cry out with each inch traveled along the unforgiving stone floor.
The purely white nightgown she wears, simple yet pretty with the sheer fabric that trails off her elbows, doesn’t provide much protection for the sensitive skin of her knees.
It’s a lot different than crawling around in the soft, yielding grass of the wild searching for specimens.
Unable to use her eyes, she seeks out with her hands. The tunnel branches off into plenty of directions. Some lead to dead ends to confuse intruders who are lucky, or unlucky, to find it. Others lead to locations such as the library, in case a princess wanted not to escape, but to avoid the daily hustle and bustle of the castle to get there.
She may have used the passage once or twice for that purpose.
Now, however, she’s going to another place entirely: the docks. If she can swim across the moat, she run over the vast Irch Plain, past the impressive Royal Ancient Tech Lab, then join the main road past North Hyrule Plain and keep going past Sanadin Park and even the grand Coliseum. She won’t slow down until crossing Digdogg Suspension Bridge and traversing through Gerudo Canyon Pass, and she won’t stop until she reaches the security that Gerudo Town will undoubtedly provide.
It’s a risky endeavor. She’ll essentially be traveling in half a circle around the castle. There’s a chance a stray conspirator patrolling along the ramparts might see her. But it’s a chance she must take.
She doesn’t want to seek shelter in Castle Town or any of the surrounding villages. She can’t say for certain who’s friend or foe; anyone could be in league with this usurper after her father’s crown.
All she has to do is make it to the docks. Easy. The map of this escape passage has been ingrained in her head since she was a child; her parents wanted her to be prepared should the worst happen. Zelda always hoped she’d never have to use the passage for that purpose but…well, here she is.
Swallowing, she hastens her crawling. She’ll need all the cover the darkness of night can provide when she gets out of here.
Crawl, crawl, and crawl some more. Zelda is tired of crawling in this endless chasm of darkness.
She’s cold and wishes she had the foresight to grab a robe. Her knees are screaming for a reprieve from the hard stone. Her palms are rubbed raw and have been the victim of too many stray pebbles to count. The puncture marks dotting the underside of her hands are likely still there, with no sign of fading so long as she continues crawling through the tunnel.
The silence and lack of sight is near maddening. To keep her wits about her, she lowly hums a lovely melody from her childhood. It’s simple yet effective in calming her; a series of simple notes that her mother used to sing to her before she went to sleep. The song was aptly named, “Zelda’s Lullaby”.
When she was little, she thought the song was solely dedicated to herself. It was once the source of her immense pride; after all, not everyone got a whole song named after them. But as she grew older, and began to consider how her mother was named Zelda as well, along with her grandmother, and great-grandmother, and so on and so forth, the pride dwindled and was quickly replaced with curiosity. For years, she couldn’t help but wonder to whom “Zelda’s Lullaby” truly belonged to.
She supposes there isn’t any harm in claiming it for herself, if only for tonight. She’ll take any amount of comfort, however small, she can get.
At long last, to her immense relief, she reaches her exit. Good timing too, it was beginning to feel like the walls were closing in on her. It takes all her willpower to not shove open the panel and make a break for it, but a voice in the back of her head warns her to wait. Wait, and have patience.
For all she knows, there could be someone guarding the docks. With her luck, she’d rush out of there only to end up getting captured right when she was on the cusp of freedom.
Hopefully there isn’t anyone out there. Besides, why would there be? If someone is executing a hostile takeover such as this, wouldn’t they have more things to prioritize than a dock? Still, it doesn’t hurt to check.
She’s soon glad she did. After opening the panel a crack, barely allowing a sliver of light to filter in her hiding spot, she sees a lone royal guardsman standing watch over the docks. But is he really a guard, or is he part of the coup? Again, if the conspirators are indeed her very own guards as she has imagined.
Zelda isn’t sure who she can trust.
Judging from his rigid posture, he isn’t merely sleeping while standing up like so many other guards have trained themselves to do on long, monotonous nights.
It is a grievance Link has bitterly aired to her on more than one occasion.
“Hoskel!”
Zelda instinctively ducks back, her heart kicking into overdrive as she hears a series of harried footsteps rushing down the stairs. She only calms and looks out the opening crack again when she remembers that nobody can see her.
The guard surveying the docks turns, and seconds later is met with another breathless, haggard guard, his cap lying askew and his uniform rumpled where it should’ve been neatly pressed.
“What-” the first guard attempts, eyes wide in bafflement, but is unable to finish.
“Have you,” he pauses to drag in a lungful of air, “seen the princess? Has she,” another break to breathe, “been here?”
“No, there’s been nobody. Is she-?”
“Yes, she’s missing! We can’t find her anywhere!”
“Has he been notified?”
‘He’? Who is ‘he’? Could he be the leader?
“Yes.” An audible gulp is heard. “He wasn’t very happy. But he says he expected her to pull a stunt like this.”
Her running for her life is a ‘stunt’?!
“Ah, keeping him on his toes as usual.”
Zelda’s eyebrows furrow, pondering that last statement and the breathy chuckle at the end. Just what exactly did he mean by that, when he said ‘as usual’? Does she personally know this mysterious conspirator?
“Heh. If you ask me, I think he enjoys the chase.”
“Is he looking for her?”
“Yeah. He said that if anyone can find her, he can. But that we’re to continue searching as well and not to rest until she’s found. And we’re not to harm a hair on her head, or he’ll have ours.”
Zelda swallows nervously. She has an entire plethora of guards-turned-traitors scouring the castle for her, and apparently their leader knows her well enough to know exactly where she’d be.
Yet, he doesn’t want to hurt her? What kind of person takes the throne by force and then doesn’t execute the previous party in power, or at the very least throw them in a dungeon and let them rot? Why would he feel so strongly about her being unharmed, especially to threaten his own men should they not comply? It doesn’t make sense.
Either way, a promise of safety or no, she can’t trust this man. How could she trust a stranger’s word?
“I’ll keep watch over the docks, make sure she doesn’t escape this way. You go back and look; she has to be somewhere in this castle.”
Drat. Well, there goes her escape plan.
“Alright. See you, Hoskel. Report if you see her.”
“Naturally,” he replies with a sarcastic edge yet resumes watch over the docks anyway. The other guard turns around and returns from whence he came, and Zelda soon after could hear feet running up the stairs.
Gently, she slides the panel closed without making a noise, then pauses in the ensuing darkness to dwell on this new development.
She can’t escape through the docks, and obviously the front door isn’t an option. She needs somewhere to lay low for a while until she can think of a new strategy, somewhere well-hidden and not in a place where this man would expect her to be.
Ideally, she should think of a plan here in the tunnel, where she knows it’s safe, but she doesn’t want to spend Hylia knows how long trapped in here, suffocating on musty air, tight walls, and pitch blackness.
She mentally recalls the map of this labyrinth she was forced to memorize as a child. Every branch, every intersection, every exit. Unfortunately, all paths either lead to other rooms in the castle, or they all connect and wind up at the docks.
There used to be other exits, interspersed in unassuming areas of the outside walls of the castle, but they were sacrificed to make way for the complex mining system her father ordered to be built so that it would be easier to dig up the guardians of 10,000 years old. As an unfortunate side effect, it meant that the only exit in the case of an emergency lead to the docks.
They were all preparing for Calamity Ganon. Who could’ve predicted a malicious takeover from their own subjects?
It’s difficult to turn around in the cramped space, but Zelda manages, and starts backtracking to the library outlet.
If this person prides himself on having the ability to find her while no one else can, she knows that the library will probably be first on his checklist. However, there’s a secret in the library that she doubts anyone will remember in their frenzy of searching for her in the obvious places.
She just hopes she has the strength to hide there…literally.
Well, it wasn’t easy. Her arms felt numb and her legs felt like they were made of chuchu jelly, but she got it done.
The library had surprisingly been devoid of guards, but she knew that it wouldn’t stay that way for long. Zelda had quickly got to work, crawling out of the tunnel and sliding the panel back in place before running to the special bookcase.
What made this bookcase so special?
It hid the entrance to a small room used in the mining efforts. A portion of a wall, rumored to belong to an astral observatory used by the Sheikah 10,000 years ago, could be seen. However, unlike the guardians, it didn’t glow with an orange light, rather it stayed frustratingly dark, just like the shrines scattered across the land.
It took all the strength in her arms, and then much effort on the behalf of her legs, to push aside the heavyset iron bookcase just enough for her to squeeze through. She still doesn’t know how she managed such a feat, since the bookcase had to weigh several hundred pounds. Perhaps the adrenalin racing through her veins due to the situation at hand loaned her the strength? Stranger things have happened.
At the end of it, she got what she wanted: a safe place to think of what to do next. Unfortunately, nothing comes to mind.
Instead, her thoughts wander to other matters. Is Link alright? She hopes he wasn’t overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the treasonous Royal Guard. Is he looking for her? She refuses to believe that given the opportunity, he would’ve fled the castle without her.
And what of her father? To take over a kingdom, she assumes that the first person to take care of would be the ruling monarch. If that’s so…
Zelda exhales a shuddering breath. Her stomach plummets to the floor, and she slowly shakes her head back and forth to dispel the sudden dizzy spell threatening to overtake her.
It is true that she hasn’t had a good relationship with her father since her mother died, and the fine string of affection grew tauter and more frayed at the edges with each day that passed in which she couldn’t harness her sacred power. Finally, the string snapped on the day he banned her from any and all things to do with the ancient technology.
They haven’t spoken since then, which was about three weeks ago. Their dinners were spent in cold silence, and the only times she heard from him consisted of written demands delivered by servants ordering her to pray more.
Still, despite their rocky/borderline unstable relationship, she doesn’t wish harm on the man.
Hopefully, Impa-
Her thoughts come to a screeching halt at the faint sound of footsteps. Zelda wills her breathing to even out, nervous even in the safety of her little alcove with its thick, rock wall that the slightest noise will alert them.
Click, click, click.
They’re gradually pacing along the library floor, as if they’re taking a leisurely stroll, pausing here and there to peruse the books on the shelves. They’re walking all around the library; shouldn’t they have moved on when they noticed she wasn’t in plain sight?
Zelda forces herself to breathe; she had nearly forgotten how to do so. The nervous tension locks up her legs, which are brought up to let her arms rest on her knees. She’s huddled into herself, a cocoon of white satin and blonde tresses.
Her eyes are shifting back and forth along the wall as her ears try to trace the person’s footsteps. Finally, they come to a stop once more, yet this time they don’t start up again.
Her breath freezes in her lungs.
If she didn’t know any better, she’d say the steps stopped exactly outside-
A horribly loud screech cuts off her thoughts, prompting Zelda to grimace and cover her ears. To her horror, she watches as the steel bookshelf scrapes, inch by torturous inch, across the stone floor.
How?! How did they know where she is hiding? How did they even know about this secret place? She only ever shared the knowledge of the alcove with-
The jarring scream of the bookcase being dragged again switches her to action.
With her heartbeat roaring in her ears, Zelda jumps up, grabbing a rock on the way, and holds it aloft. She has no idea how her aim is—princesses don’t throw things except for royal tantrums—but she’ll have to take her chances. The rock fits squarely in her hand and has a decent weight to it, adequate to knock out a man if need be. Even if she merely grazes him, it’ll likely sufficiently stun him so that she can slip past him and hide somewhere else.
Zelda fights the urge to cover her ears to block out the painful noise of metal screeching against stone. She waits, heart in her throat, rock held behind her head ready to throw, although her arm trembles with the remnants of fear.
Her eyes stay locked on the makeshift entrance, hardened in a glare meant to intimate whoever it is and let them know she won’t go down without a fight.
The scraping stops. She hears the person walk forward. Never has someone walking sounded so ominous.
The vivid blue of his tunic is what catches her eye first. Then the dirty blond twin locks of hair, left free and unbound, framing his jaw. The gleam of the sword’s hilt strapped to his back.
And finally, those intense blue eyes whose stare she once cursed, but has gradually grown to crave.
The rock slips free from her hand, tumbling uselessly to the floor. With a relieved cry, she runs forward to let him catch her in his arms.
“Link!”
His arms wrap securely around her waist, clutching her tightly and pressing her close to his chest, easily supporting her weight since her legs have given out under the wave of relief. She hugs back with as much strength as she can, tears leaking in her eyes.
She’s so relieved. He’s here. He didn’t abandon her; she knew he wouldn’t. He’s here, in her arms, safe and sound and unharmed as far as she can see.
“Link…”
He gently shushes her, rubbing a hand comfortingly up and down her back. “It’s alright. You’re safe. I won’t allow anyone to hurt you, not ever again.”
“But-but I was so worried! I didn’t know where you were, and the guards broke into my room, and I had to take the secret escape route, alone and in the dark, and I couldn’t leave through the docks because there was a guard there, so I came here and I didn’t know what else to do and I was so worried about you and I didn’t know if you were hurt or-or-”
She’s babbling, talking so quickly with nary a pause for air that she doubts he understands all of it, despite his being exceptionally observant as he is.
He embraces her impossibly tighter and softly shushes her again. The soothing noise that serves as another reminder that he’s here, and not left for dead somewhere in the castle corridors as she once feared, melts the tension in her body except for her hands, which she uses to anchor her grip on his tunic.
It’s warm, and when she buries her nose in his shoulder, she takes solace in his natural, woodsy scent without the acrid taint of sweat or blood.
His hand, that he previously used to run up and down her back, now strokes her hair as he murmurs in her ear.
“I’m sorry the guards scared you. It’s okay, you don’t have to worry anymore. We’re safe.”
It’s those last words, ‘we’re safe’, that causes Zelda to jolt with the reminder of how very not safe they are. In fact, they’re in considerable danger that is getting worse for every second they stay here. She jerks out of the protective warmth his hold provides, taking a moment to mourn the loss, and fights against returning to him when she sees his eyes dull with hurt.
She speaks quickly to replace it with the light of understanding.
“Link, we must escape the castle. The Royal Guard has taken over with the help of a conspirator, and they’re searching for me right this very moment. And the worst part is that the one in charge seems to know me personally, yet I have no idea who he is. He’s apparently so confident in this supposed knowledge of my character that he believes himself capable to find me while no one else can.”
Link nods solemnly. Although, the corner of his mouth twitches soon after. Is he…Hylia above, is he fighting a smile?!
“Link, this is no laughing matter!” she exclaims angrily. How could he treat this as a joke?! “This is serious! We’re in danger, I haven’t heard a thing about my father, the entire castle is overrun by a band of traitors and-!”
Link smiles—it astounds her how he has the audacity to smile of all things—and takes her into his arms again.
“You’re right, it’s not funny,” he says, the somber words a contrast to the smile she can feel against her ear. “Let’s go.”
Zelda is baffled, not sure what to make of this: Link’s uncharacteristic smiling despite the dangerous situation at hand, yet verbally agreeing that she’s right and that they need to leave.
Yet in spite of his temporary lapse in sanity, she lets him lead her by the hand out of the alcove and out of the library, if out of nothing else but a lack of knowledge of what to do.
After all, no matter what, she’ll always trust him with her life.
The hallways are strangely absent of guards. It’s also rather quiet for a supposed siege taking place.
Still, it confuses her that Link is casually leading her around like this in plain sight. He makes no effort to exercise caution, never has her duck behind a corner while he checks the other side for a potential risk. For all intents and purposes, he acts as if nothing out of the ordinary is going on at all.
Also, she’s beginning to be fairly certain that Link isn’t actually taking her to an exit. Under the threat of the Royal Guard’s mysterious leader, who could pose a real danger to her safety in spite of what she heard about him, wouldn’t Link want to get her out of there as soon as possible? Why would he willingly gamble on her life like this?
No. She can’t allow her mind to be riddled with such poisonous thoughts. Wherever he’s taking her, she must have faith that it will solely be for her benefit.
Regardless, she is yet again rendered to confusion when she is greeted by the vast interior of the Sanctum. Why would Link bring her here, of all places?
She doesn’t have to wait long for the answer.
“Captain!”
Zelda is shocked to see a slightly older man, likely a few years her senior, bearing the uniform of the once-illustrious Royal Guard rushing down the stairs. Link nods once to the man, never relinquishing his grip on her hand.
Could this guard still be loyal to the crown?
“Captain, you found her!” He grins. “Just like you said you would.”
Another nod from Link.
A sinking feeling settles deep in the pit of her stomach. What…what is going on? It’s not what she thinks, it can’t be. Link would never! She’s just blowing things out of proportion again and not giving him the benefit of the doubt, like she mistakenly did before.
This can’t be what she thinks. He’s the Hero and the Hylian Champion. He would never do something as crazy as-
“The castle is secure and we have captured the prisoner. Is there anything else of concern, sir?”
Prisoner? Zelda blanches. No. No, no, no. This can’t be. It can’t-! Please, dear Hylia, it can’t-!
“Yes, I will be having a discussion with the guard about proper conduct first thing tomorrow morning,” Link says lowly. They’re not the soft, warm tones he usually uses with her. He sounds menacing, like a fury is boiling beneath the surface that threatens to burst and scald anyone unfortunate to be in his path.
She can’t recall ever hearing him sound like that.
The guard swallows nervously, yet nods his assent. “Yes, sir. Oh, and, congratulations on a victory well-earned, sir. If I may say, your strategy in taking the castle was nothing but brilliance.”
It feels like the floor crumbles beneath her feet and gives way, her weightless body falling into an endless pit below. It feels like she got punched in the stomach by a Goron. She doesn’t want to believe it, and yet all the pieces of the puzzle of this bizarre night fit accordingly.
Why the leader of this siege knew her well enough to know where she’d hide.
Why he had the Royal Guard on his side.
Why he didn’t have a single scratch on him.
Why he was far too casual leading her through a ‘dangerous’ area.
Link, the man she has come to trust and…dare she say love, whom she painstakingly forged a bond with of the strongest caliber despite their intricately bitter origins—mainly from her end—has betrayed her.
How? How did it come to this? How could he do this to her? Was his affection all a lie? Was their whole affair an artfully crafted plan to lure her to let down her guard and then completely blindside her by taking over her kingdom?
She can’t decide whether to be sad or angry; the two emotions are flitting back and forth in her heart, switching too rapidly for her to be sure of one. Either way, she wants to be away from him. Now.
She discreetly tries slipping her hand free from his, but of course he senses it and grips her fingers tighter.
“Leave us,” the loathsome traitor commands, before she could writhe and twist away from him. His fellow conspirator bows then hastily departs out of the Sanctum. She has enough grace to wait for the door to slam shut with a resounding ‘bang!’ prior to exploding.
“Let go of me! I want nothing to do with you, you traitor!”
Seems that anger won out in favor of sadness.
“Zelda…”
She ignores his patient call of her name in favor of focusing on how he still won’t relinquish his grasp on her hand.
“How could you do this to me?!” she screeches with a firm yank. Alas, it isn’t enough to loosen his hold.
Tears well in her eyes but she refuses to let them fall. Not in front of the kingdom when she was six, and especially not now in front of this betrayer at sixteen. Perhaps she would’ve bared to him that level of vulnerability once, but not now. Not after this.
“Was it all a lie? All this time, were your feelings for me just a sick ploy to make it easier to steal the throne?!”
“Zelda, that isn’t-”
“I trusted you! After everything we’ve been through; how could you?!”
His voice has lost its patience, now lined with an undercurrent of warning. “Zelda.”
She doesn’t care. Let him get mad! He just ripped out her heart, threw it on the ground and danced a jolly ‘ol jig over the crushed remains. She just lived through the most stressful and frightening night of her life, and right when she thought there was a light at the end of the tunnel, it was cruelly extinguished by the one she trusted most. She deserves to let off some steam!
“Was what you said, about your burden of carrying the sword, a lie, too?” she spits. “Because I know everything else that happened during our affair was a sham. You really didn’t have to go as far as you did, you know. There was no reason for you to deceive me to that degree.”
“That’s enough,” he says roughly, as though he’s teetering close to losing his temper.
Well, she was always curious of how he’d look on the day he’d finally snap.
“No, it’s not enough! You’re a liar, and a con, and-!”
He takes her by the shoulders, gripping tightly but not enough to hurt her, only to startle her into silence. His blue eyes stare intensely at her, narrowed in a glare that suddenly has her feeling very small.
And afraid. Just a teensy, tiny bit. She may have despised him once, has grown to be exceedingly fond of him since, but never has she ever been scared of him. Not until now.
But she wouldn’t let him know that. She values her pride too much for that. Therefore, she steels her shoulders and defiantly locks eyes with him, daring him to try something.
“Nothing was a lie,” he bites out. “I did this for you!”
Zelda slackens, the fierce look she adopted completely vanishing like a puff of smoke. She thought the realization that Link is the mastermind behind this nefarious scheme felt like the floor fell from beneath her, but that was nothing compared to this revelation.
What does he mean? Why would he-? Who takes over a kingdom for someone else, and for the princess of that very kingdom no less?
At her hopelessly puzzled expression, he explains.
“Your father isn’t a good king, to say the least. He mistreats you horribly; whenever you’re not eating or sleeping, he’s ordering you to pray or prepare an exhibition to a spring for the same purpose. He’s even banned you from the one thing you get joy out of.”
“But that doesn’t warrant taking over his kingdom!” Zelda cries. “And he’s only ordering me to pray because praying will unlock my sacred power.”
“Are you sure?” Link replies skeptically with a touch of sarcasm, something she didn’t think he was capable of doing. “You weren’t so certain at the Spring of Power.”
She gasps. At the memory of her breaking down in tears, desperately asking the Goddess what was wrong with her, to then feeling the comforting warmth of Link’s arms wrapped around her, warding off the chill of the cool water, and his lips poised at her ear, whispering sweet, soothing words ensuring her of the opposite.
“Nothing is wrong with you. Nothing at all.”
And now he has the audacity to mock her for it?
“Yes, I’m sure!” she seethes, embarrassment and anger coloring her cheeks as her fists clench at her sides. She tries again to twist out of his hold, but to no avail. That doesn’t stop her from trying, though.
“Praying is the only thing that will unlock my power! My father only wants Hyrule to be saved, to not let it be destroyed at the hands of Calamity Ganon! Now, let go of me!”
“Zelda-!”
“Let go!” she screams. “Let go!”
Her hair is flying wildly in her face as she jerks her head around. What a sight it must be, for the Princess of Hyrule thrashing around in her knight’s strong grasp, screeching and demanding to be released, appearing for all the world like a little kid throwing a temper tantrum.
Well, she did say that the only things princesses throw is royal tantrums.
Link says nothing throughout it, apparently content to just wait for her to tire out. It infuriates her all the more and she fights back with a new fervor. Yet somehow, by the grace of Farore, his grip doesn’t yield.
Unfortunately, she grows exhausted sooner rather than later.
“Are you done?” he asks dryly.
Zelda, red-faced from excursion and panting, slowly glares up at him between the tendrils of hair partially obscuring her vision. He returns her glower with an indifferent quirk of an eyebrow. Without further invitation, she brings back her leg and tries to deliver a swift kick to ensure he’ll never be able to pass on his irksome ways.
Key word: tries.
Faster than she can blink, he dodges her foot and spins her around. She lands with her back pressed tightly to his chest, with one hand securing her wrists and the other coiled around her midsection.
She can’t believe it. Here is Link, usurping the throne from under her nose, conspiring with the Royal Guard, directly disobeying her demands to be released, and now holding her body prisoner against his?! He has proven himself to be a despicable fiend of the lowest stature.
So then why, oh why dear Hylia, does her traitorous heart flutter in her chest at their close proximity?
She stiffens as a lock of his hair gently tickles her ear, yet the low hiss of his voice is anything but.
“Do not try that again.”
The sudden shift in power dynamic, her knight possessing the boldness to command her while holding her body flush against his, does not do funny things to her stomach. Nope. Absolutely not.
“Just listen to me, Zelda,” he says, lips grazing the shell of her ear with every word spoken. That voice, empty of its earlier harshness yet rough with something else, doesn’t cause her insides to flip. The blush staining her cheeks is from irritation at his gall to manhandle her in such an insolent way, and it’s the same reason why she’s rendered speechless.
“Would it really be so bad?” He asks, and the arm around her waist gently tugs, pulling her intimately closer. “You are deserving of worship, not scorn. Not from the gossip mongers, and especially not from your father. He doesn’t appreciate you as he should. You are brilliant. With the power of your research, you are the heir to a throne of a new age.”
“You are the heir to a throne of nothing…nothing but failure.”
Her breath hitches upon recalling those disparaging words spoken without an ounce of regret from her father. To hear Link directly contradict him, insisting that she doesn’t deserve the harsh treatment she receives from the likes of her father and the gossip mongers moonlighting as the courtiers…she desires to listen to more.
After all, she reasons, as princess she needs to consider all sides of the story before determining a fair ruling.
Link softly clutches a portion of her hair and slides it out of the way, fingertips barely brushing her neck as he goes. She shivers as a set of lips she had the satisfaction of being on the receiving end of earlier that night find that place that sets her pulse racing. His kiss is slow and he lingers there, for once not worried about getting caught in such a compromising position.
And why should he be, when the only one with the power to punish him has been deposed?
“You deserve the world, and I have, and always will, fight to give it to you.” His tongue darts out for a brief taste, and the familiar coil of heat, originating just below where his arm is still tightly wrapped around her, starts to invade and gradually cloud her senses.
“You’d have the freedom to pursue knowledge of any means, by any means. We could go out in the wild whenever you wish, without the excuse of a trip to a holy spring. I wouldn’t trap you here, Zelda.”
Free? Free to research to her heart’s content? It’s what she’s always wanted, yet never expected to receive. She thought her father would never let her do that, even after the Calamity, which by then she’d hopefully unlock her sacred power. He’d probably add a heaping pile of other duties befitting of the Princess of Hyrule to her daily itinerary, then further scold and rebuke her when she didn’t measure up to his standards of perfection.
She wants to rule Hyrule someday as a wise, fair leader, but she doesn’t want it to come at the cost of her freedom.
No…no! She doesn’t want that if it means usurping her father! This is wrong! She shouldn’t entertain this madness any longer!
“You’re mad,” she whispers, stiffening in preparation for a possible retaliation. She doesn’t want to believe he’d hurt her but…who knows what she should believe after tonight.
His lips curl into a smirk against her throat.
“Am I?”
“Yes,” says pointedly. “This is madness.”
“Is it madness to provide a future where you’ll thrive?”
“You don’t know that,” Zelda argues weakly. “Either way, this isn’t right.”
“Are you so certain?” he asks, his voice subtly shifting to an alluring purr. “Think of the possibilities, Zelda.”
His hand ghosts down the length of her arm, then over her hip and thigh, marveling at the buttery smooth texture of the nightgown. She hadn’t even noticed he released her wrists, yet for some reason, she doesn’t move to strike him.
She should, given the circumstances. She has more than the right to hit him for what he’s done. Yet somehow, something keeps her still.
Link, having finished his perusal of her body (leaving a trail of goosebumps and a shivering princess in his wake), comes back to reach for her hand. He brings their entwined fingers to the center of her chest, to the area above her heart. She can feel the organ’s frantic beating against her palm.
“You’d be a good queen; you know this. With your intelligence and wisdom, you could lead Hyrule to an advanced age unlike any seen before, not even from 10,000 years ago. Your father is holding you back from not only your life’s pleasures, but is hindering the growth of your kingdom. Is it madness to want the best for your subjects?”
He kisses the pulse point of her throat, an area he knows she particularly has a weakness for, and Zelda stubbornly presses her lips into a line, fighting against the subsequent flutters in the pit of her stomach and she briefly locks her knees to prevent them from buckling.
She doesn’t want to become reliant on him supporting her weight, to hand him an excuse to keeping her confined in his secure hold.
Although, her traitorous mind is listening to his compelling words, and deep in the back of it, she may be starting to consider him.
Because he is right, in a way. By impeding her progress, her father is directly impeding the progress of a new Hyrule. The people would benefit greatly from the wonders of the Sheikah technology, and perhaps, with her guidance, they’d be able to expand and advance the technology further!
The possibilities are endless.
But…is this really the right way to go about it?
“I-I don’t…” I don’t know, she thinks, but doesn’t voice it. She isn’t used to not knowing things. Ever since she was a little girl, she’s devoured all scores of information, from the dusty tomes in the library to the faded, worn texts detailing the secrets of the ancient technology.
It’s been years since she hasn’t known something, excluding the knowledge of how to access the holy power. It unnerves her, and she doesn’t know how to fix it.
“I’m not sure,” she finally admits, thinking it’s better than outright admitting she doesn’t know at all. By saying she isn’t sure, it’ll make her sound indecisive rather than ignorant.
A pregnant pause follows. Zelda anxiously waits for a stinging retort of how she should concede to his reasoning, or for the more likely scenario: Link using more of his masculine wiles to worm his way into her heart and wind up changing her mind.
Thus, she’s understandably confused when he releases her and steps back a few feet in front of her. The smirk he dons has a wicked edge to it, much like the one he walked away with hours earlier after their pleasurably mutual farewell for the night.
He holds out his hand, inviting her to take it.
“Let me persuade you.”
It’s an innocent gesture, yet she’s hit with an immense, suffocating sense of dread that chills her to the very bone.
Something tells her that if she takes that hand, there will be no going back.
Zelda stares, and blinks with uncertainty at the proffered palm. Mouth suddenly dry, her tongue swipes across her lips to wet them. She doesn’t miss the way his darkened eyes track the quick movement.
Swallowing, she steels her nerves for what feels like the hundredth time that night.
“And if I refuse to take that chance?”
His grin broadens, as if she said exactly what he wanted to hear. In a few quick strides he’s before her again, yet he doesn’t forcibly grab her hand like she was inclined to believe. Instead, he bends his head to her ear.
“You would defy your king?”
His voice, with its sultry cadence that whispers of sinful intentions to be fulfilled, should be illegal. How in the world did he even learn to talk like that? Not even in their most privately passionate moments did he speak with that low timbre that is presently making her knees tremble and a scorching, insatiable heat to pool between her legs.
Curse her weakness for him. Amazing how in a few short months, she can go from angered by the very idea of his presence, to utterly craving it even when she shouldn’t.
“You’re not my king,” she whispers, a last attempt of resistance.
She has a sinking feeling that she’ll inevitably lose to this man by the end of the night. Nevertheless, she can at least make him work for her acceptance.
Instead of verbally answering, he merely grins and takes her hand, then proceeds to guide her up the winding stairs to the upper level of the Sanctum. His hold is gentle, firm enough to purposefully lead her forward, yet loose enough to allow her the choice of ripping herself free from his grasp if she wishes.
She doesn’t.
They continue on in silence. Along the way she loses her slippers on the staircase, but luckily the stairs are covered with a continuous red rug that keeps her toes from freezing. She doesn’t request him to stop to let her get them, and he doesn’t volunteer to do it either.
Barefoot she walks, up and up until they come upon a single throne.
It belongs to her father. However, the way Link seats himself without pause and drapes her across his lap, makes his opinion clear of who it belongs to now.
Zelda squeaks and blushes furiously upon seeing what a scandalous position they make. Zelda, Princess of Hyrule, lying across the conqueror of her kingdom’s lap as he makes himself comfortable in her father’s throne.
Someone could walk in at any moment, and then what would the gossip mongers have to say?
Link doesn’t seem too concerned over the risk. In fact, he’s grinning with unabashed satisfaction. Blue eyes burning with an insatiable hunger roam the length of her body, inducing another bolt of electrifying heat to shoot down there. She can’t recall ever seeing that type of look in his eyes, not even while he ate his favorite meal.
However, with the way he’s staring at her now, she’s inclined to believe that poultry pilaf isn’t his favorite anymore.
His gaze pauses once, to linger on her bare legs. Due to the short width of the throne, she was forced to let her feet dangle over the arm of it, and the slight elevation was sufficient for the light satin of her nightgown to ride up past her knees.
She clenches her legs tighter together out of self-consciousness. He doesn’t tease her for her reaction, but a husky chuckle rumbles in his throat.
He secures her with one arm looped around her back and the other resting across the tops of her thighs. He casually twirls a lock of her sunshine hair around one of his nimble fingers.
“We’d never get away with a position like this in the castle, you know,” he drawls, admiring his handiwork. He’s twined the loose tendril around in a spiral, sort of resembling an ancient spring.
“Wouldn’t it be nice, not to hide anymore?” he croons, his voice a low purr of persuasion that sets her insides squirming around in delight. “To be able to show our affection in public like any other couple? Not being forced to resort to climbing balconies in the middle of the night and stealing away into hidden alcoves during the day just for a single kiss?”
Zelda nearly snorts in amusement, arousal temporarily fading. Single kiss, her ass. There was never just a single ‘anything’ in their private moments.
Although, he does have a point. It would be nice not to hide their relationship and openly court like any other couple. What she would give to be able to loop her arm through Link’s and take a romantic walk through the gardens? Or be able to have him publicly kiss her hand aside from the moments they’re trapped by societal conventions?
“We could have that,” he murmurs temptingly. “We could have all that and more.”
He unravels the lock of hair—Zelda watches the remnants of his work in how the tendril retains a bit of curl—and lifts her hand to his lips. He ardently lays a kiss on the back of it, ensnaring her captivated gaze and keeping it imprisoned in the depths of his own smoldering irises.
He eventually breaks their stare to return his attention to his task, which currently comprises of trailing a series of searing kisses across her hand, then gradually up her arm. Zelda sighs in bliss and closes her eyes, relishing in the deliberate affection.
In their stolen moments, they rarely have time to simply relax and explore each other. They always experience their gratification in a frenzied blur, with the threat of time being of the essence and that they don’t have much to spare looming above their heads.
A guard could happen upon them during a routine patrol. A wayward groan could reach his ears and, being too curious for his own good, he could decide to search for the source.
Or, in the worst-case scenario, a passing maid could overhear Link roughly back Zelda against her desk. She’d likely be puzzled by the strange noise, then be thoroughly alarmed to hear a book crash to the floor after Link had flung it out of the way so that Zelda would have room to sit after he’d hoist her up. And that same maid, thinking that her princess’s life was now in mortal danger, would fetch a nearby guard to investigate, and ultimately cut Link and Zelda’s night short since he would be forced to flee out the window at the sound of the approaching people.
Not that it happened. This is merely a hypothetical situation that holds no bit of truth whatsoever.
Ahem.
Anyway, Zelda makes sure to savor whenever they’re able to slow down. Kissing along her arm may be an innocent way to express his passion, yet it makes her heart beat all the quicker.
She reasons that she hasn’t surrendered to him yet. She can still refuse him and fight for her father’s right to the throne at any time she wants.
So, why don’t you? The faint voice of reason in the back of her mind whispers.
She doesn’t have an answer for that at the moment. Right now, she’s preoccupied with arching her neck to give Link better access once his avaricious mouth lands there.
“Trust me,” he murmurs, carving a path of kisses along the column of her neck. A breathy sigh escapes her lips, that tingly feeling in her lower regions returns in full force, and she clenches the skirt of her nightgown as his greedy lips climb higher and higher.
She wants to trust him. Oh, Hylia, she wants to. She has, but his siege has shaken and cracked that bond. Can it truly be repaired so quickly?
“I’d rule by your side,” he continues, “fighting for a better Hyrule with you. Together. You’ll unlock your power in time, naturally without nearly killing yourself for it.” His tone has taken on a bitter edge at the end, creating a rift in the fog his smooth, compelling voice has formed in her mind.
Her eyes flutter open, and she’s met with Link’s own hooded stare.
“You and I will bring prosperity to Hyrule,” he promises. “We’ll defeat the Calamity and lead the kingdom to a new age. I’ll treat you like the queen you deserve to be treated as, and support you as a king should.”
It sounds so wonderful. A life without relentless praying that bears no fruit, to have a king who won’t scorn her despite her exhaustive efforts to access her power. To finally have support and encouragement, to have someone who truly understands her.
Link understands and relates to her like no other, not even Urbosa, who she considers her dearest friend.
To be on the cusp of receiving that...it feels…
His finger grazes the inside of her knee, leisurely tracing small circles on the sensitive flesh.
…too good to be true.
“Link, this isn’t right,” she protests in a whisper, her lips brushing his as she speaks. It’s a tease, a ghost of a kiss, and despite what she just said, despite everything, Zelda wants nothing more than to tip her head up and close the scant distance between them.
Morally, it isn’t right, but right now more than ever it’s tempting to abandon her morals in favor of giving in to this man and all his promises, those both spoken and left to the imagination.
Something must be wrong with her.
“Who says this isn’t right?”
He doesn’t afford her time to answer. Grabbing a fistful of her hair and angling his head, he muffles her surprised squeak as he roughly claims her lips, inciting the tempered flames in her belly to roar to life with renewed vigor.
Powerless to the heat, she molds her mouth with his and buries her fingers in his hair, pausing once to rip off that infuriating hair tie and allow the soft locks to freely tumble around his shoulders.
He grins—he always does when she does that—and she nips his bottom lip in mild reprimand. He responds by sliding his tongue in her mouth, swallowing her subsequent moan. And through the heady fog of desire, she registers his hand gradually slithering up her leg.
She seizes onto that tiny window of clarity to make one last attempt of breaking his spell over her.
“My father-!”
“Obviously he’d think this isn’t right,” he growls, unrepentant and moving to hungrily kiss the expanse of her neck. “Try again.”
He’s on her inner thigh now, so close to where she wants him most, yet doesn’t because if he touches her there, she knows it’ll be the point of no return.
“The-ah!” He’s bitten her. “The-The people!”
“Will be happy to have a pair of rulers actually suited for the throne.”
He sucks on the supple skin caught between his teeth, eliciting a breathy sigh from Zelda. It shifts into a broken whimper when his finger slides over the slick patch on her underwear. He wastes no time in parting the soft cotton, and before she fully realizes what he intends to do, she’s gasping his name and tilting her head back as his finger languidly strokes over her core.
He’s never dared to touch her there before.
Link smirks, and damn him, he knows he’s close to victory.
“The castle!” It’s her last defense.
“You mean the Royal Guard I already have on my side?” he quips lazily. He doesn’t offer her a chance to rebuke this or think of another objection.
Without warning, he promptly sinks his finger into her forbidden, tight warmth.
Zelda bucks her hips and arches off his lap with a wanton cry, a burst of liquid heat coating the digit shallowly thrusting in and out, prolonging her pleasure.
The sensation is completely foreign to her. Perhaps she had felt the stirrings of it in his kisses and bold, wandering caresses, but never has it flooded her entire being like this. Like all that matters is Link and how he should be delving deeper.
Instinctively her legs clamp around his hand, trapping him exactly where she aches for him most. To her increasing frustration, it doesn’t drive his finger deeper inside, and she wiggles her hips in an attempt for more stimulation.
He huskily laughs, dark and full of wicked promises. “Eager, are you?”
“Sh-shut up!” she hisses, forcing her eyes open to glare at him.
It doesn’t have the intended effect. Her pupils are blown and the ring of green has darkened considerably, the depths swirling with unadulterated lust. She isn’t breathing in the calm tempo the grace of her station commands; it’s ragged panting through lips red and delectably swollen from his ravenous attentions. His mark is blooming beautifully on her neck, and he takes a moment to appreciate his fine work.
She doesn’t look intimidating in the least; she looks hot and bothered.
Well, he is her loyal knight, and loyal knights always try to help alleviate their princess’ problems.
His thumb strategically strokes over a sensitive bundle of nerves, and the indignant look on her face vanishes. She throws her head back with a choked gasp, electrifying bolts of pleasure shooting down her spine and settling between her legs.
Her hands scrabble for purchase on her nightgown, squeezing the fabric so tightly she’ll probably leave permanent wrinkles. Meanwhile, his finger pumps almost lazily into her, as if he could stop at any time and it would be of no consequence to him. It’s a stark contrast to her flushed visage and the lascivious whines spilling from her lips as her hips desperately try to meet his finger in a rhythm he won’t concede to.
Unbidden, the voice of reason, faint as it is and nearly drowned out by the thick haze of ecstasy, manages to whisper in her mind’s ear.
Don’t give in! He’s taken over your kingdom! This is wrong, no matter how he tries to twist it!
Is it so wrong, though? Her father isn’t really a good man, based on her treatment from him alone. And Link did say he wouldn’t trap her here; he’d encourage and support her in both her efforts to obtain the holy power and her research.
Besides, how could she pass up the satisfaction of what Link is doing to her right now? Does she even have the strength to refuse him?
But that inner voice does have a point. Link did take the throne by nefarious means; he conspired with the Royal Guard to overthrow her own father, the King of Hyrule, the man he’d sworn his fealty to the day he became a knight.
Link has no right to the throne…but his reasoning on the contrary is so enticing to accept…
She doesn’t know. She loathes it, but she doesn’t know what to do.
“Link, I-I…”
I, what? She isn’t entirely sure herself what she meant to say, and in a moment forgets the matter altogether when a second finger joins the first in his torturously, yet deliciously, slow tandem.
Her head is spinning. Her blood is racing and boiling hot in her veins, and there’s a tension coiling deep in the pit of her belly. Her eyes are screwed shut; her mouth open in a silent scream of rapture.
Her hips buck frantically to meet his seeking fingers, trying in vain to make that coil spring and finally release the mounting pressure. She doesn’t care about her dignity anymore, of how pathetically desperate she must look trying to chase this pleasure in her traitor’s arms, seated in the very throne he had stolen.
Her mind, her very essence, is rapidly unraveling, almost to the point of-
“You want this,” he murmurs in a low, seductive pitch. Confident. Knowing.
Zelda sinks her teeth into her bottom lip, trying to fight the way the sensuous purr of his voice threatens to conquer the last of her senses. She has found a single, last thread of clarity, of defiance, and snags it.
“N-N-”
In her defense, any woman would find it difficult to form coherent words while her lover’s fingers are buried deep inside her and slowly but surely pushing her to the brink of ecstasy.
“No?” Soft, sly, mocking. “You shouldn’t lie, not with the truth being so obvious.”
As if to prove his point, his thumb cruelly rubs against that sensitive bud of nerves again. Zelda tosses her head back and emits a lewd, high-pitched keen, while Link smirks as her body falls pliant to his sinful designs. The thread of resolve she clings to is fraying at the seams and is dangerously close to splitting apart.
“You want this,” he insists, and she knows he doesn’t just mean the gratification provided by his hand. What he means is all of what he said, of being his queen, having the freedom to conduct her research, of securing Hyrule a better future, one that her father couldn’t provide.
Does she want a traitor and all his corrupt promises?
The hand that’s supporting her back shifts to gently hold her hair at the roots before he tugs her head forward. His otherwise occupied fingers still inside her, allowing her a moment of reprieve from the endless onslaught of pleasure.
The tattered thread of clarity, just barely heard over the blissful shouts in her mind urging her to cease with this useless resistance and give in already because she knows how much she wants Link, protests of how she mourns the loss of stimulation rather than appreciates it.
Her eyes slowly slip open into a lidded gaze, and she sees him grinning proudly. Likely because of the insatiable mess he’s reduced her to with hardly any time at all.
Smug bastard.
“You know you want this. Why deny yourself any longer?” His fingers sink deeply into her without warning, inciting a sharp intake of air that transcends into a frustrated whine when he refuses to further move them.
He’s right. Why should she deny herself any longer?
“You want this, don’t you?”
His fingers pull out of her and she almost sobs at the loss.
“Don’t you?”
They dive back in and infuriatingly freeze. She grits her teeth and tries thrusting her hips to get some stimulation, but he puts a stop to it by using his arm to pin her thigh down. Another irritated, yearning whine tears out of her throat. He’s driving her mad!
“Answer me, Zelda.”
“Link, please-!”
She isn’t above begging at this point.
He chuckles and dips his head to the hollow between her breasts. Damn him, he isn’t affected at all. He could keep this going for hours on end and it wouldn’t risk his sanity, unlike her who’s very near to the brink of madness.
He presses a languid kiss there, then generously peppers more of them around the tops of her heaving breasts that the nightgown reveals, worshipping them with his lips. Her hand comes up to tangle in his untamed, burnished gold hair, squeezing when he nips at the skin on the edge of the neckline.
His ragged breath washes over her as he tips his head down, inducing a shiver of anticipation while his nose glides over the satin line that serves as the only barrier that shields her areola from his view. Ultimately, the slight force isn’t enough to expose herself to him, yet her core clenches around his fingers at the mere thought of his wandering mouth latching onto that forbidden, intimate area.
“There’s no need to beg,” he drawls, and she can hear the smirk in his voice. Damn him, damn him, damn him. “Just admit the truth and I will be more than happy to provide.”
The truth? She’s already painfully aware of it. However, maybe if she doesn’t say it, she can keep up the pathetic charade a little longer.
“Well?” he asks patiently.
When she offers no answer save for a labored breath, his fingers slowly slide out, before he plunges them back inside her entrance and buries them to the knuckles. Zelda screams, neck careening back while her hand snatches his tunic for support.
The fire in her belly roars to life with his ministrations. A delirious fever wracks her body and threatens to consume her whole. All she wants is more, more, more, more. She’s coming apart in his arms, helpless to the flames he mercilessly fans within her.
She can feel herself teetering close to the brink, but she’s ready to fall and let the delicious heat swallow her. In fact, she welcomes it. Finally, she’ll receive the relief she’s been craving.
But then his fingers still once more, and just like that the mounting pressure (and the sense of incoming relief) agonizingly ebbs away like the tide receding after a formidable storm.
She almost screams again, but this time in frustration.
“I need an answer, Zelda. Do you want this?”
An aggravated snarl reverberates in her throat, and he mustn’t like that, for he crooks his fingers and shallowly pumps once to turn the disgruntled noise into a low, desperate mewl for more of his sinful touch.
The tip of his calloused thumb teases that little nub that previously sent her back arching, but now the touch is so light it hardly serves more than a torturous reminder of what could be in store for her if she only submits.
Her thighs, warm and slick with her desire, clamp around his arm impossibly tighter. She whimpers, wanton and imploring as he presses his mouth tantalizingly near her ear.
She’s so close…so close….
It’s the way his grasp tightens on the back of her head, fingers delved down to the roots to keep her where he wants her. It’s the way he masterfully keeps her swaying on the precipice between frustration and the satisfaction of being thoroughly sated with his fingers, trapped and infuriatingly unmoving in her core.
“Now, Zelda,” he growls, and it’s the impatient edge to his voice, the rumble in his chest that reverberates against her own, and the full shift in power in how he is now the one commanding her, held captive yet lying pliant on his lap, bending to his will if it means finally obtaining the pleasure he’s been dangling above her head since he coaxed her to the Sanctum, that finally breaks her at last.
“Yes!” she sobs, loud and uncaring of who might hear outside the stone walls. Did they really believe she stood a chance against Link, anyway?
Her hips buck for more friction, assuming that since she admitted her desire for him and all that he promises, he’d comply and fulfill his half on the implied bargain.
But of course, he throws her for a loop once again when his fingers don’t so much as budge inside her.
“Yes, what?” he asks, and she can feel his smirk against her ear.
This bastard…!
Fine. He wants his answers, he can have them. Pride be damned; she wants him to bring her over the edge and she’s done playing his games.
“Yes, I want this! I want everything! Just-! Please, Link! Please!”
Without warning, his fingers blessedly move again, surging inside her deeply in a savage rhythm that leaves her brokenly gasping and crying out as searing pleasure cascades across her mind.
“I told you; there’s no need to beg,” she faintly hears, the lighthearted drawl just barely reaching her over the roar of her heated blood racing. “Just admit the truth and I will be more than happy to provide.”
His voice considerably darkens, full of intent that induces an anticipated shiver down her spine.
“Now I will provide.”
And provide he does. Link is relentless, eager to bring her to ecstasy just as much as she is to receive it from his touch. Her inner muscles clench around the three fingers plunging into her with reckless abandon, and Zelda is reduced to a malleable, sobbing mess in his arms, free to mold and play with to his desire.
Above the cacophony of her enraptured moans and cries, she distantly hears what sounds like a pair of fingers snapping. But the observation is quickly drowned out and effectively forgotten when the tight feeling in her lower regions returns with a vengeance, ready to spring and it would not be denied again.
Her nails claw at his shoulder as the feeling is rapidly building, and Link is showing no signs of stopping. She grits her teeth, tears forming in her closed eyes as the tension in her abdomen ascends and ascends into a crescendo ready to burst.
As if he’s fully aware of her impending release, his thumb presses insistently against that spot that has her seeing stars, and his fingers curl and-!
And that is how Rhoam Bosphoramus Hyrule sees his only daughter: back arched off his usurper’s lap, head thrown back in pleasure, her mouth open with her amorous cries of satisfaction echoing off the cavernous walls of the Sanctum for all to hear.
But the man responsible for her debauchery isn’t looking at the finished product of his design, even though his hand is still unashamedly buried beneath her skirt. He instead brazenly locks eyes with the deposed ruler.
Underneath a stray beam of moonlight descended over the throne, a row of white teeth glint viciously as Link’s mouth curls into a smirk of triumph.
Defeated, Rhoam hangs his head. Now that he’s lost the only ally he thought he could trust to have; all hope is lost.
Meanwhile, Zelda’s breaths escape her in rapid pants as she tries to come down from her exhilarating high. Her thighs are drenched, and she can only hope her release hasn’t bled through her nightgown and stained his trousers.
Other than that, she’s never felt more sated in her life. With just a few thrusts of his fingers, he’s reduced her to a boneless heap in his arms, unable to so much as move her head to look at him.
Link for his part doesn’t seem to mind, as he gingerly removes his fingers from inside her—a quiet whimper escaping her mouth from the empty feeling—and gently sets her upright on his lap.
Her head lolls uselessly against his shoulder, not yet having the strength to pick it up on her own. A husky laugh tickles her cheek as Link softly sweeps aside a portion of hair so part of her neck is exposed to the cooling air.
Rhoam’s jaw tightens as his eyes hone in on the purple bruise standing out against the pale column of her throat.
Link’s smirk twists cruelly, taking satisfaction in displaying yet another way he has claimed Zelda, with the full knowledge that Rhoam is in no position to retaliate against him.
He waits until Zelda’s breathing has recovered a semblance of a normal rhythm before he places his lips at her ear and whispers in a rare voice of velvet,
“Our first royal audience. Sit up straight, dear.”
Zelda’s brows lightly furrow. What? Royal audience? What does he mean?
Luckily, the lust-filled haze previously clouding her mind has greatly dissipated, and she’s confident she can sit up on her own without Link’s help. Thus, she does what he suggests, her eyes slowly fluttering open to peer down below the throne.
Only for her back to straighten immediately while she promptly gasps in mortification at the sight of not only two soldiers, but two soldiers flanking both sides of her father, who, assuming from the incensed flush to his cheeks and the snarl to match, has seen a great deal she highly would’ve preferred him not to see.
“Father! I-I was-!”
How does she even attempt to make an excuse for this?
A choked sputter later, and Link apparently takes pity on her. He picks her up, one arm supporting her legs and the other her back, then gently sets her back down on the throne while he’s left standing.
He shoots her a devilish grin before he saunters over to the stone parapet, resting both his hands on it as he considers his prisoner forced to his knees in chains below him.
“Rhoam,” Link says by way of greeting, and Zelda sees it for what it is: a subtle jab of disrespect. No longer ‘Your Majesty’ or ‘My King’. Just Rhoam, as if he’s simply another common peasant to be found walking the streets of Castle Town.
Zelda swallows down the twinge of guilt that strikes. She’s already committed herself to this; she can’t back out now. Besides, Link explained that part of the reason he did this is because her father isn’t fit to lead the kingdom. She has to trust that Link is right.
“You traitor!” her father bellows angrily, glaring up at Link with such an intense hatred sparking in his eyes that Zelda instinctively flinches.
Link on the other hand appears none too offended by the insult.
“Now, now,” he replies casually, although there’s a reprimanding bite to his words. “None of this would’ve happened if you had just given me what I wanted in the first place.”
What he wanted? Her father had already named Link the Hylian Champion, promoted him to Captain of her personal guard, appointed him as her personal knight…what more did he want?
Link glances back at her and he must see the confusion riddled over her features, for he grins and turns back to a seething Rhoam.
“Let me remind you. I’m sure you recall a month ago, when I came to your study one bright and sunny afternoon. I even dressed for the occasion, made sure my royal guard uniform was neatly pressed with not a speck of dirt on my gloves or boots. I wanted to make a good impression after all.”
Rhoam’s lips don’t so much as twitch in amusement. In the face of his silence, Link deigned to continue.
“To cut to the chase, I humbly asked you for permission to marry Zelda after we’d defeat Calamity Ganon, whenever that would be. Or at the very least, court her until I’ve proven myself if you still held doubts about me. I listed all my qualifications on why I would be a suitable husband, and I even chose to bare my heart to you and explained how much I love her, just in case that was a concern of yours.”
He chuckles scathingly. The quirk of his mouth is not there from amusement.
“Although now I know that I shouldn’t have bothered, as Zelda’s happiness is the least of your priorities. And despite my lineage of royal knights dedicated to serving the royal family, my being a Champion, and especially my being the Hero hand-picked by the Goddess Herself, you refused, citing a lack of noble blood. I thought my possession of the Hero’s soul would greatly surpass that little detail. My mistake.”
All her recovered strength abruptly drains from her limbs, causing her to slump in the throne, gaping in astonishment.
Link wanted to marry her? He went to her father for permission to marry her? And when her father rejected his plea, he went ahead and took over the kingdom just to have her? He was that determined?
The extent of what he would do to have his way should probably frighten her. Yet the fluttering in her stomach isn’t particularly from fear. It more closely resembles the tingles she would feel whenever he’d kiss her, or when his hand would wander to an area that would trigger a scandal should anyone see.
She’d accused him of being mad. Now she wonders if perhaps she has no room to talk.
“Now, I was prepared to persuade you. I knew you wouldn’t give me Zelda’s hand so easily. But to dismiss me as if it were ridiculous to even entertain the thought of marrying her, well, I was rather angry to say the least.”
Link frowns, his hands clenching into fists on the parapet.
“Why wouldn’t you want Hyrule’s most capable defender seated on the throne? As a father, why wouldn’t you want to see your daughter happy? Hyrule is strong and well secure; we don’t need to make alliances to strengthen ourselves and none of the other nearby kingdoms have any quarrel with us. You just wanted to act on old traditions for no reason other than to be a prick.”
If possible, Zelda’s jaw unhinges even more. Never did she hear anyone call her father such a vulgar term. For his part, Rhoam’s eyeballs threaten to bulge out of his head at the blatant disrespect.
A corner of Link’s mouth kicks up in amusement.
“So, I got to digging. Every royal has dirty secrets they’re hiding; you’re no exception. At first, it was petty stuff. Like how you eat your steak too rare than what’s considered healthy, going against the healer’s orders. Or how you keep an ace up your sleeve whenever you play cards with members of your council. But I kept going, knowing there had to be something, anything I could find that would gain me leverage against you. Because, prior to what you may think, it’s not easy to convince an entire army to go against their sovereign, even if you are a hero.”
Rhoam pales as Link’s humored grin contorts into a cunning, sinister smirk.
“And boy, did I find something. Several things, in fact. Like how you ceased all further excavation efforts so Calamity Ganon will do just enough damage for you to justify a tax hike, but not enough in that it destroys Hyrule entirely.”
The wind is knocked out of her lungs. Her father, the man who constantly patronized her for researching the ancient technology, scolding her for ‘forsaking’ her duty to the kingdom, wants it to be damaged? Possibly at the expense of human life, just so can raise taxes and accumulate even more wealth?
A sickening, nauseous tendril coils and twists around in her stomach. How…how could he?
But Link isn’t done. No, far from it, which is rather surprising. This is the most she’s ever heard him talk.
“As if that wasn’t bad enough, I found out something even more damning. Like the ancient torture chamber you resurrected with the help of a few, covert Sheikah. The Shadow Temple, I believe the name was, although I’m not sure why it was called a temple of all things. Nothing holy about that place.”
The Shadow Temple? The symbol of an ancient Hyrule’s bloody history of greed and hatred? Zelda thought information about that horrid place was buried in tomes never to be cracked open and see the light of day again. That ‘temple’ is the stuff of nightmares, and she’s always been ashamed of how it’s part of her history.
She thought it must have been destroyed ages ago, as it deserved to be. Now, she learns that her father has brought it back?! For what purpose?!
“I agree that the Yiga should face consequences for their actions,” Link went on solemnly. “Whether it’s by keeping them in the Lockup or by executing them. However, don’t you think torturing them within an inch of their lives is pretty inhumane? It puts us on the same level as them, and Impa is in agreement.”
Impa? Did Impa know about this? By Hylia, did she help him? It would make sense if she has; Zelda doesn’t believe that even with Link’s immense prowess in battle and foresight, that he’d be able to organize a coup d'état without Impa’s help.
Zelda refrains from crossing her arms together and scowling at Link’s back. While she and Impa are close, there was always an invisible barrier there, formed by her even closer relationship with her father as his royal advisor.
While not seen, the barrier presented itself many a time, mainly whenever she’d try to sneak out of the castle to perform field research and she’d always be met with a squadron of soldiers to escort her back to face a verbal lashing from her father, thanks to Impa telling him of her whereabouts.
Figures that Link would be the one to tear down that barrier.
Oblivious to Zelda’s sour mood, Link grins down at the ghostly-white former king.
“She also wasn’t very happy to learn you did this behind her back. Wouldn’t you say, Impa?”
Impa’s here? Zelda cranes her neck around, trying to find the hidden Sheikah in the shadows. Of course, it’s no surprise that nothing comes of it. They’re called the shadow people for a reason, after all. She won’t be found unless she wants to be found.
“Yes,” comes a chillingly cold voice, echoing around her so that it’s difficult to pinpoint its origin. But she recognizes that it’s Impa who speaks. “I wasn’t happy at all, Your Majesty.”
Your Majesty. With those two, simple words, Impa has declared where her allegiance lies now.
“They’re Yiga! They deserve to be tortured for their crimes!” Rhoam protests in a rage. His chains rattle as he tries to stand, but he is promptly forced back down by a boot pressing on his back from a disgruntled guard.
The former king lets out an ‘oomph’ as the air is briefly knocked out of him. Zelda shuts her eyes and turns her head away. Right now, she isn’t sure how to feel about him, at least from a moral standpoint, but he’s still the man who raised her. She can’t in good conscience freely watch him be mistreated.
“They tried to assassinate my daughter, as you’re aware!” Rhoam shouts once he recovered his breath. “You killed them for that.”
“Yes, I did kill them,” Link agrees, eyes narrowing. “But I killed them quickly. I didn’t torture them for days until they were begging for death. I’d go into detail about the heinous acts you’ve allowed to be committed against them, but I won’t because of present company.”
Zelda bites her lip and shrinks into herself. It doesn’t take a scholar to realize that he’s talking about her.
However, Rhoam seizes onto the allusion of her and turns imploring eyes in her direction.
“Zelda! Don’t let him trick you like this. He just wants to control Hyrule; he’s nothing but a traitorous rat and a liar. He’s going to imprison you like he will with me once he gets what he wants. You won’t stand there and let him lock up your own father, will you?”
Her teeth dig into her lower lip so hard that she draws a drop of blood. The coppery taste fills her mouth as her mind wars with his words. In the beginning, she held a firm conviction that Link was in the wrong, until he managed to persuade her on the contrary.
After the revelations that Link has brought to light, she’s more solid on her belief that Rhoam is indeed not suited for the throne. Willingly letting Hyrule be partially destroyed just to satisfy his greed for rupees is horrible, and the reawakening of the Shadow Temple by his hand is deplorable. Nothing will dissuade her on those opinions.
But is he right in the sense that Link will imprison her, just like her father once he fully takes the kingdom? He did swear his life to serve Rhoam once, and now look where they are. Will Link betray her too, one day?
No. No, he wouldn’t do that. Not after all that he did to convince her to join his side. Not after he made all those promises for her happiness.
Right?
“Do not try to manipulate my queen,” Link suddenly growls, effectively throwing her from the chaos her mind has quickly descended into.
My queen? The words aren’t poetic at all, not nearly as flattering like the soliloquies the court poet performs for her. Yet they make her stomach do a somersault all the same, just as a fierce blush paints her cheeks that she hopes the moonlight will somehow not illuminate.
“Or you will find I may not be so merciful and elect to have your head as proof of my victory.”
At once, all warm and fuzzy feelings vanish. His threat is like the proverbial bucket of ice water that has just been poured over her head.
Well, at least it’s obvious that Link will never betray her as she might’ve stupidly thought.
From below, Rhoam tenses. Where before Link’s stare had been flinty, now it has turned positively frigid with no sign of thawing. Swallowing, Rhoam decides it’s probably best if he doesn’t try to directly appeal to Zelda any longer; the next nerve he snaps might be Link’s last.
However, he’s not giving up. He’ll say his piece; hopefully his whore of a daughter will regain some sense into her now that her lover’s hand isn’t up her skirt.
“I named you the Hylian Champion, declared to all of Hyrule that you’re this age’s hero,” he fumes, glaring spitefully at Link who doesn’t flinch. “I trusted you to defend me, to defend this kingdom, not steal it for your own. You’re nothing but a dirty traitor.”
Link slightly tilts his head, quietly considering him for a moment.
Then he smiles, and a shiver runs down Rhoam’s spine.
“Like you’re any different, Your Majesty.”
Link doesn’t turn to meet Zelda’s inquiring gaze. This is not the time nor place to explain his meaning. To be honest, he may never elaborate on it. The truth would shatter her, and unlike Rhoam, he has no intention of purposefully hurting Zelda.
So, without a backward glance, he turns and strides down the staircase leading to the ground floor. Rhoam’s eyebrows are knitted together and his mouth is contorted in a scowl, appearing just as piqued as ever in the face of his approach. However, Link has seen many a battle in his 18 years on this earth, and a seasoned fighter such as himself couldn’t possibly miss the light of fear in the former ruler’s eyes, and it induces a smug grin to stretch his lips.
Interesting how he relishes the fear in one pair of green eyes, yet he’d do anything prevent it in another set.
Finally, he comes upon the disgraced king on his knees, with the chains still holding tight and true. When Link graduated from the Military Training Camp all those years ago and became a soldier, never in his wildest dreams did he think he would be in the position he is in now.
If someone had told him back then that now he’d be the one looming above a kneeling Rhoam instead of the other way around, Link would’ve broken his vow of silence and solemnity and laughed in their face. And if they added that he fingered Princess Zelda on the stolen throne and brought her to ecstasy, he would’ve ensured they be committed to a home for the mentally impaired.
Funny how life turns out. Not that he’d ever tell her this, but this is really all Zelda’s fault. She became the catalyst for his gradual ascension right when she shoved that frog in his face, although he’d already fallen for her long before that.
Link schools his features into a sly, confident expression. Enough reminiscing, there’ll be plenty of time for that later. For now, he perches himself at Rhoam’s ear, prepared to reveal the ace he has up his sleeve.
Then he gleefully watches the remaining color drain from his face as he whispers the dreaded secret, of which someone finding out, has likely plagued his nightmares for the last 10 years.
“I know what you did to Zelda.”
Rhoam’s skin turns chalky to the point where it almost matches his voluminous beard. His eyes are wide, staring ahead and unseeing as his body slackens, before collapsing completely through no fault of the guards stationed at his sides.
Nodding in satisfaction at the crumpled, revolting figure on the floor, Link turns to his guards.
“Take him to the lockup. Do not free him unless otherwise ordered to by me, understood?”
Both nod and raise their arms in a stiff salute.
“Yes, sir!” they chant in unison prior to bending down to take each of Rhoam’s arms. Together, they drag him out of the Sanctum. Link would’ve stopped them and allowed Rhoam to walk out with his dignity intact if he believed that he was capable of such a feat. It appears that he shocked him so badly that his mind has temporarily shut down, unable to let him do even the most basic act of walking.
He swears he didn’t see Rhoam so much as blink in acknowledgement of what was happening before he disappeared through the wooden doors.
Link shrugs. There aren’t many stimulating subjects of interest in the Lockup to distract him, last he heard. He’ll have plenty of time to come to grips of what happened.
For now, though…
Zelda watches as Link sends her a devious grin before he climbs up the staircase again. His eyes burn hotly the entire time he takes to come to her, eliciting Zelda to bite her lip and press her thighs together to quell the tingling sensation returning to that intimate area between her legs.
She forces herself to think of other pressing matters, such as what Link said to her father to make him react like that. Why, the man looked as if Link had put the fear of Hylia in his eyes. What could Link have possibly said to justify that drastic a reaction?
“What did you say to him?” she asks as soon as Link is beside her once more.
He pauses. The fire in his eyes snuffs out and he frowns. He deliberates with himself for a moment, Zelda waiting if a tad impatiently. Finally, he answers, but it’s not the one she’s looking for.
“I’ll tell you another day.”
Zelda opens her mouth to protest, to demand answers because she can’t go to sleep without them, but is silenced when Link apparently is in no mood to argue and simply opts to scoop her up in his arms.
And judging by the heat rekindled in his burning gaze, sleep is likely the last thing he plans for them to do tonight.
Not that she minds. She just watched her father get overthrown and sent to the Lockup, firm in her conviction that he deserves it. The revival of the Shadow Temple and the hope for Hyrule’s destruction, no matter how miniscule, is unforgiveable. Nothing he could say would convince her of the contrary.
Her mind was in chaotic circles tonight, desperately trying to come to a decision and often swaying back and forth with her answers. She could stand to get rid of the remaining tension plaguing her.
Link likely shares the same opinion, since the first thing he does when arriving to their prepared Master Chambers is toss her down on the bed and crawl over her with a salacious smirk. Zelda brandishes one of her own, confident enough to reveal now that she’s in a room with guaranteed privacy.
She’ll have her revenge for her unknown audience to her carnal pleasure later. For now, though, she’ll settle with teasing him.
“And if I refuse to surrender?”
His arms cage her in on both sides of her head on the pillow. The smirk he gives her is all sorts of dangerous, but in the most exhilarating way.
“You would defy your king?”
She doesn’t.
That night, she goes to sleep with a smile. She can’t remember the last time since that has happened. She wakes up to the knowledge that never again will she be badgered to unlock her sealing powers. For the first time in years, she wakes up free of the obligations that have miserably trapped her for so long.
She can research to her heart’s content, go outside and study the fauna, run around without a care in the world.
Her smile curves wider as Link sleepily leans over to plant a kiss on her cheek prior to whispering in her ear,
“Happy birthday.”