Hyrule Castle

The cold wind brushes against Link's face as he hurries through the castle halls. His steps are heavier than usual, his thoughts scattered. He's late again—late because he spent those precious extra moments with Leona. He hadn't wanted to leave her, not this time. The weight of his promise to her, the hope in her eyes when he said they'd be together as much as possible, lingers in his mind.

When he finally reaches the royal stables, Zelda is already there, standing tall beside her horse, arms crossed. Her face remains impassive, but there's an unmistakable glint of frustration in her eyes.

"You're late again, Link," Zelda says, her tone even but edged with disappointment. "We have a kingdom to protect, and every moment matters."

Link bows his head slightly, guilt gnawing at him. He can't deny it. The truth is, his mind is split in two. Hyrule's safety and Leona's presence both pull at him from opposite sides.

"I'm sorry, Princess," he mutters, adjusting his sword and preparing his mount.

Zelda doesn't say anything more. Instead, she mounts her horse with practiced ease, giving Link one more glance before setting off. He can feel the weight of her gaze, not harsh, but discerning—like she can see more than just his tardiness. He urges his horse to follow her, the air between them heavy with unspoken words.

The mission itself isn't complex—Zelda and Link are tasked with investigating reports of a strange disturbance near the outskirts of Faron Woods. It should be routine, yet Link finds himself faltering. His mind keeps drifting back to Leona, her face, her warmth—what she had said before he left. He can still feel the softness of her touch as they said goodbye.

The sound of a snapping branch pulls him back to reality. Zelda has already drawn her bow, her movements swift and decisive. A pack of Bokoblins appears from the brush, catching them off guard. Link fumbles for his sword, but by the time he has it in hand, Zelda has already shot two arrows, striking the enemies down with precise aim.

"Link!" Zelda's voice cuts through the chaos. Her tone is sharp now, her eyes narrowing. "Focus."

Link nods, shame bubbling inside him as he dispatches the remaining enemies. His movements are stiff, his mind elsewhere. He should've been faster—quicker to act, quicker to protect. But he wasn't. Zelda's silent assessment of him weighs heavily as they move forward in silence.

When the mission is done, the quiet between them becomes unbearable. Link can feel the tension tightening around him, and as they make their way back to the castle, Zelda finally breaks the silence.

"Link," she starts, her voice softer now, but still measured. "This can't keep happening."

He glances at her, confused. "What do you mean?"

She slows her horse, turning to face him fully. Her expression is calm, but there's a deep concern etched into her features. "Hyrule is in a precarious position. The dangers are growing, and we can't afford to be distracted—none of us can."

Zelda's words hit him harder than the Bokoblin's club ever could. He knows what she means, even if she isn't saying it outright. His time with Leona, those moments he cherishes, are starting to slip into his duties. His heart sinks.

"You've been... distant," Zelda continues, her eyes searching his face for understanding. "I know you care for Leona, but there's more at stake here. You have to be fully present. Hyrule needs you, and I need you to be at your best."

Her words aren't cruel, but they carry an undeniable weight of responsibility. Link feels a lump form in his throat. It's true—he hasn't been giving the kingdom his full attention, not like he used to. How could he? When every free second is spent longing to be with Leona, the only solace in the storm of his life.

"I understand, Princess," he replies, his voice low. But the truth stings, and Zelda's words make it all too real. The life he wants—the one where he can balance both his duty and his love—feels like it's slipping away, and the weight of the kingdom's needs presses down harder than ever.

Zelda doesn't press further. She simply nods and urges her horse forward, but the silence that follows isn't the same. It's a silence filled with the gravity of their conversation, the unspoken understanding that things are changing.

Back at the castle, as Zelda dismounts, she glances at him one last time. "You're a fine knight, Link, but you must remember why we're doing this. Why you're here. You're Hyrule's sword and shield. Never forget that."

There's no malice in her tone, but the weight of those words crushes Link's spirit. He feels small—like a boy who has been scolded for not doing his chores. She's right, of course. And yet, the thought of Leona—her smile, her touch—clouds his mind.

As Zelda heads inside, Link lingers, replaying her words in his head. They're meant to be helpful, to push him forward, but they sting more than anything. The suggestion that Leona is becoming a distraction, even if unspoken, hurts deeply. How can he choose between the kingdom and the one person who makes him feel whole?

Later that evening, Zelda approaches Leona. The two exchange pleasantries, and Zelda, always the diplomat, keeps the conversation light. But there's a deeper undertone.

"I understand it must be difficult for you, being apart from Link so often," Zelda says, her eyes searching Leona's face. "He cares for you greatly."

Leona smiles softly, though there's a hint of unease. "We make it work."

Zelda nods, pausing thoughtfully. "I admire your strength. It's not easy, being close to someone who carries so much responsibility. But Hyrule needs Link, now more than ever."

The words hang in the air like a veiled warning. Zelda isn't cruel, but she's clear—Link's duty comes first. Leona understands, but the conversation leaves her feeling conflicted, as though Zelda has subtly suggested that her presence is becoming more of a burden to Link than a blessing.

The next day, Link wakes early, his body stiff from restless sleep. Zelda's words from the day before echo in his mind. The quiet guilt gnaws at him. He has let himself become divided, his heart torn between his love for Leona and his loyalty to the kingdom.

As he dresses, the thought occurs to him again: how much longer can he balance both? Zelda's subtle concern is starting to feel like a weight on his shoulders, one he isn't sure he can carry for much longer.