slowly lumbers up the trail toward the castle, their throbbing muscles welcoming the prospect of hot food and a warm bed. Remaining behind, Zelda begins to move soaked husks of lumber and collect debris from filthy puddles of rain and dirt. Moving with a graceless sort of efficiency, her mind slowly quiets through the repetitive task. Nayru has bombarded her ceaselessly with visions of the past, present, and future. Thoughts not her own seamlessly merge into ideas and beliefs. Despite the realization, she has yet to find any means of quelling the fusion of the goddess’s will into her own. The manual labor provides a much needed reprieve from her stresses and obligations, and with no one around to take notice, she can simply be her inelegant self. An hour passes and the queen is surprised at the progress she has made. The removal of corpses from the streets was made the top priority, and with that task long since completed, only the damage dealt by the catapults and the ruined drawbridge remains to be addressed. The reconstruction has yet to even enter her mind as thinking too far ahead seems to invite Nayru in to offer her opinion. Only having let her guard down for a moment, Zelda is almost taken by surprise to discover a presence approaching from behind.
“Hi,” Rho greets, still as detached as ever, though he seems to have made some social progress.
“Hello, Rho,” the queen reciprocates with a genuine smile. Attempting to gather some degree of poise, she straitens up and ceases working for the moment. “How’ve you been holding up?”
“Alright,” he shrugs, seemingly lost. His mannerisms indicate he is not exactly sure why he sought her out in the wake of such a tragedy. “Need some help?”
“I’d be lying if I turned you down,” she admits, shedding all manner of formality. “Feeling strong today?” A shrug is all the boy offers, scratching his nose nervously as he averts his eyes from Zelda’s partially exposed thighs beneath her shredded dress. “Grab that end,” she points out, crouching beside a heavy dresser she had been avoiding until someone returned to help. Promptly doing as he is told, Rho scoops his end off the ground easily, helping the queen relocate the furniture in the pile of salvageable wood. “Did your house survive the attack? How’s your mom?”
“Yeah, yeah,” he nods, continuing to gather miscellaneous objects. “She was pretty shaken up. Kept talking to my dad’s picture on the wall.”
“That’s understandable,” Zelda sighs, thinking of how desperate her citizens must be getting at this point. “I’m just glad you’re alright.”
“Thanks,” he starts, trailing off as he fails to come up with anything else to say. After a time of silence, the tedious task clearing the young boy’s mind as well, the conversation resumes. “Did Link stop the bulbin?”
“Yes,” she nods with a pleasant smile. “The guards kept them out of the city, and Link showed up just in time.”
“I thought so. My dad used to say mean things about him when we passed the statue in the square. He doesn’t hate him or anything. He just thought it should be a knight standing there instead,” he expresses, beginning to think he is insinuating too much. It was only days ago he still dreamed of a statue of himself being erected in Link’s place once his acts of heroism spread across the land. Acts he always knew he would be capable of until his mettle was tested in the most extreme of scenarios.
“I can see where he’s coming from,” she must admit, Link’s exalted status essentially sidestepping all the brave men of the past who gave their lives for the good of the realm. “I think we’ll have a vote for the next statue,” she starts, pouring on the optimism in hopes of getting a smile from the boy. “An even bigger one for the brand new square. Now that the rain has come back there’ll be food and work for everyone. Castle Town will be better than ever. What do you think?”
“I don’t know,” he shrugs, spotting the group of workers marching down the distant hill. “What about Kakariko?” He adds with an unintentional degree of pessimism. “People are still getting sick too.” With no words to offer in return, Zelda is blindsided by yet another vision eclipsing her world in the moments between seconds. Leaning over a windowsill, she is high above her town, overlooking her kingdom as rivers and mountains are slowly pulled apart into an abyss at the center. The colossal ring of flame has accelerated its pace, but now pales in comparison to the dark void consuming the kingdom. The dark figure’s features are still undiscernible, but his hand remains extended to her, almost pleading she accept his uncertain proposal. The tall spire she sits in begins to bend into the vortex, the desert sands and the lush forest tumbling in behind the ominous figure. Unsure what she can do, the queen holds on for dear life as her tower falls, the sudden push of gravity constricting a gasp out of her throat. Suddenly returning to the present, she takes a moment to shake the frightening daydream as the workers return in force. Rho has disappeared, his permanent fear of social interaction seeming to only lessen when talking to Zelda.
“Getting her hands dirty,” a husky woman laughs, nodding with agreement. “I can get used to this monarchy.” A delicate curtsy from the queen is met with a healthy laugh from the group, her antics rapidly garnishing respect from her people.
“We won’t worry about transporting the raw materials until the rest is sorted and we have an idea of inventory. The bulk of the damage was done near the gates. If a couple of you would help me finish up here, the rest can go ahead and get started on the south side,” she instructs, looking from face to face to let each individual know they are appreciated.
“We can stay back,” one of the two guards proclaims, socking his partner in the arm as he steps forward.
“Very well. I’ll meet up with the rest of you soon,” Zelda announces, ushering the rest of the group out of the area. Marching over to a large chunk of stone, she inspects it thoroughly, aiming to determine the best way to move it. With a knowing glance, both of the guards proceed over to her.
“My queen. If I may be so bold,” he starts, bowing slightly.
“Please, stop,” she chuckles, unwinding in the presence of her trusted guard. “I beg you to speak freely. This is hardly the time or the place for such formalities.”
“I am sworn to an oath of respect as well as protection,” he points out, standing up strait and relaxing a little. “But I shall try. We know you’ve scarcely rested since the king’s passing,” he continues, his comrade nodding in agreement. “We admire your willingness to help tremendously, but please return to the castle, if only to rest briefly.”
“I fear rest will not find me for many days to come, but I could definitely go for some chow right about now,” she admits with a modest smile, patting her growling stomach. “Thank you for your concern. I’ll be back shortly.” Each of the guards bow until she has started up the hill, the moist ground making the gradual climb more difficult than usual. All the times her father mentioned her natural charm, she never truly understood what he meant. She is not simply another grandiose royal, always remaining in the castle and turning her nose up at the commoners. She is a citizen of Hyrule, modest enough to declare she is no more important than anyone else. It shows through her speeches, and even more so, it shows through her actions. The main foyer of the castle is teeming with people. Women attempt to secure food for the very young while the children run rampant through the halls, driving the few guards crazy. Climbing to a suitable speaking height upon the massive staircase in the center of the room, Zelda addresses her angry and disheartened people.
“Hello, everyone,” she starts, waiting for the majority to quiet down and turn their heads. “I know many of you are tired and hungry, so I’ll be brief. The danger has passed and the cleanup is well underway. If you prefer to remain in the castle walls, you are welcome to do so, but anyone wanting to return to your homes, please feel free. King Bulbin has fallen, and his minions have fled back into the mountains. I assure you, wherever you decide to stay, you will be safe,” she proclaims, the general attitude of the room softening as she continues. “The guard will
be repositioned to focus their efforts on the perimeter of the town, and I will personally be moving about to hear your concerns. We are all in this together, and no one person’s troubles are more important than the next. I beg you all to come together and rebuild the ties within the community. We all wait now with such burden and sorrow, but the dawn is coming still. We have endured this grand trial of the gods, and our reward is the desperately missed rain. The recovery has begun. Please,” she pauses as an oddly dressed individual marches into the room. “A messenger?” She mumbles, waiting for the man to make his way through the rabble.
“Indeed,” the man nods, curiously glancing about. “I would speak to your king in private, your grace.”
“I’m afraid that’s not possible,” the queen promptly declines, standing proudly upon the staircase despite her ragged appearance. “My father has succumbed to illness and has departed from this world. Whatever manner of message you bring, it affects us all. Please, tell us.”
“That is grievous news, and you have my condolences,” he concedes, obviously uncomfortable in this informal setting. “The Arcadian forces have been routed. Gamelon bids