Prince of Silence Addendum
Hey, so great news, friends! A long-winded and heartwarming review that my friend @plainrea left on Prince of Silence (you can find that fic here) stirred a memory deep in the recesses of my mind. I vaguely remembered writing something of a midquel drabble for PoS earlier this year, but I didn’t think it substantial enough to properly publish as its own story. So I went digging around in the hellscape that is my Google Drive, and sure enough, there it was! At the moment, I do not have any extensive plans for this piece (though I believe at one time it was intended to be something of a bridge gap between PoS and my short-lived series Heroes About the House), so I thought I’d stick it here to collect dust on the hallowed shelves of my Tumblr blog. Enjoy, and thanks to everyone for reading my work! 🥰
Queen Zelda’s Royal Council was, with a few exceptions, a sanctimonious group of nags. Link had always been under the impression that a council’s purpose was to, well, council; to advise the leader of Hyrule and aid them in important decisions. Apart from a handful of members (himself, Riju, Kaneli, Bludo, Sidon, and Impa), nobody ever bothered to assist Zelda. They simply went out into the world, drew up a list of tasks to be completed and problems to be solved, then dumped the load on the queen and expected her to take care of everything without any helpful input. In their defense, Zelda pointed out, Hyrule had not known organized government for over a century. There was hardly anybody left who truly understood what it took to lead others. She had done her best to choose her councilors from among only wisest the most experienced, which meant a good portion of the group was comprised of doddering old Sheikah who could hardly decide what to eat for breakfast in the morning, let alone how to approach a national affair. Certainly they weren’t lacking in wisdom. Any good Sheikah could wear your ear off with profound verses and inspiring sayings from olden times. It was decisiveness that they lacked. And to someone who had spent his entire life forced to be decisive lest he or others suffer, indecisiveness was a near intolerable quality to Link.
Today’s meeting was particularly stifling. Riju, Impa, Sidon, and Bludo had all been unable to make it due to responsibilities in their own towns and settlements. Kaneli could be helpful if you could catch him at a good time, but at the moment, he was spending most of the meeting in a deep doze, occasionally jerking awake with a hoot and a “Yes, yes, I couldn’t agree more,” which was hardly making the meeting go any faster. Link sat at the end of the table next to Zelda, straight-backed and rigid as usual, though overcome with the impatient desire to drum his fingers against the table, if only to give some indication that he found this meeting entirely pointless. Even with a mostly useless council, Zelda had pulled Hyrule together and shaped it into a strong, unified country in the past eleven years. They were in a time of unprecedented peace and prosperity. The “problems” the council found to saddle his poor wife with were often little more than small disagreements between merchants or concerns about new trading routes.
Zelda was the image of patience today. She never lost her temper, though Link could sense her growing frustration. It was a beautiful day outside, perfect weather for riding and field research. They could feel the wild outside calling to them, trapped as they were in this stuffy council room. Though her facade never slipped, Zelda’s hand often found his beneath the table and gave it a sort of desperate squeeze, as though to say Please tell me I can get through this. And Link would squeeze back, Just hold on. You’re doing great.
“...With the issue of fruit taxes addressed, I believe this concludes our meeting for the month,” she said at last. Link perked up, only to deflate when Getsu, a particularly verbose old Sheikah, dashed his hopes of freedom against the ground again.
“Beg pardon, Your Highness,” he began, his regal, pompous voice grating more harshly on Link’s nerves than ever. “But there is one more issue I believe the council needs to discuss.” Link saw his wife’s eye twitch ever so slightly. He found her hand beneath the table again and ran a commiserative thumb over her knuckles.
“Speak, Lord Getsu,” Zelda said, the faintest trace of weariness in her voice.
“It is in regards to the security of our nation,” he said. Link picked up his water goblet and swirled it, highly doubting that there was any threat to Hyrule’s safety that this man would have found out about before him. “Your reign over the past eleven years has been great and prosperous. Hyrule is a greater kingdom now than even in your father’s days. Yet we have a duty to continue to look to the future, to find ways of securing this great land for generations to come.” Get to the point, Link thought irately, bringing his goblet up to his lips. “Your Highness, it has been more than the appropriate length of time since your coronation. With all due respect, I and several others present here believe it is time for you to consider taking up a suitor for marriage, that you may secure heirs for your throne after you.”
Link choked loudly into his beverage. The goblet fell out of his hand and crashed on top of the table before rolling onto the floor, where it lay in a glistening puddle. He felt Zelda’s hand on his arm as he coughed violently into his fist, back heaving as he fought to take in oxygen.
“Sir Link! Are you alright?” Zelda demanded. If she was at all amused, she did not show it.
“Y-yes,” he wheezed. He took a moment to clear his throat. “Forgive me.”
“Hoo, the recklessness of youth,” Kaneli hooted from his place at the other end of the table. The disturbance had apparently awoken him, and he was chuckling softly. “How many times do we tell our fledgelings not to stuff their beaks fuller than they can swallow?” Link was tempted to remind the old Rito that he was technically older than everyone else in this room, but held his tongue. Zelda also chose not to say anything about it. Instead, having been assured of Link’s wellbeing, she looked back at Getsu with a patient smile on her face that, for once, wasn’t entirely forced.
“Your concerns are valid, Lord Getsu, and I thank you for bringing them to my attention. However, you needn’t worry yourself about this affair. Rest assured that I will produce an heir to the throne in due time. There is no need to search for a suitor.”
“Er...” Getsu looked a little uncomfortable. “Begging your pardon, Highness, but how? Are you going to adopt an heir?”
“No, as far as I know, adoption will not be necessary.”
“But...But Your Highness...”
“I have everything under control, Lord Getsu,” Zelda said with finality. “The council needn’t trouble itself over this matter. Now, if all problems have been properly addressed, I believe it is time we adjourned.” She stood from her chair, and Link followed, the corner of his lip twitching in spite of his best efforts to remain stoic.
*****
“You were having far too much fun this afternoon, my lady.”
Zelda laughed and twined her fingers with Link’s, leaning against his side. The night was cool and dewy, the stars glittering and the moon shining down on the couple leaning against the balcony railing.
“Perhaps,” she admitted softly, still smiling. “I would have thought I’d outgrown such childish capers after one-hundred and twenty-eight years. Still, it wasn’t completely born of humor alone.” She shifted against him, her head coming to lean on his shoulder as she sighed. “I’m not... I’m still not quite ready for everyone to know. I wanted this to just be between you and me, and those few we trust. Even if it was only for a little while.”
“We’ve run out of time,” Link replied quietly, squeezing her hand. “We knew we would eventually.”
“I suppose I’m a bit surprised it didn’t happen sooner.” She lifted her head up to look him in the eye. “Are you sure you’re ready? Once everyone knows, you’ll have to be officially sworn in as Prince Consort. You won’t merely have the duties of knight and captain of the guard.”
“I’m always ready,” he answered, turning to face her and taking her other hand. “to do my duty to Hyrule. And to you. And...” he faltered for a moment, suddenly short of breath. “...and to our child.”
