devotion
n. the state of being ardently dedicated and loyal to something or something, often religiously
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"Mido! Look at this!"
Under a blue sky, a boy meandered over to a girl on hand and knee in the tall grass.
"It's Hyrule Herb! I've been reading all about its medicinal properties!" She fingered the feathery leaves of the plant.
"Looks like grass to me."
"Sure, its appearance is somewhat unassuming, but did you know it's actually an anodyne? In fact, if you macerate the entire crown in vinegar, the tincture you're left with can—"
"Woah, woah, slow down!" Mido laughed, placing a hand on her shoulder. "You know I don't understand any of that plant mumbo jumbo."
"Oh, well a tincture is simply the extract you're left with after you've soaked—"
"What I mean is, I just don't find your grass that interesting. Sorry." He gave her shoulder a squeeze. When Zelda's face fell, he quickly amended. "But it's super cool that you think so! I'm happy for you, really. Just... don't bore me with the details, yeah? It's a bit much."
Zelda knew she had a tendency to overshare when she was excited. A forlorn smile brushed her lips, and she chastised the version of herself who had been so eager to share her findings a minute ago.
Somewhere, Father frowned.
Quit wasting your time playing at being a scholar.
Mido tilted her chin up. "Hey, I didn't mean it like that. You can tell me about your grass if you really want to."
"No, you're right, it's silly. I do appreciate your willingness to listen, though."
"Yeah, well, you can't help being smarter than the rest of us." He elbowed her playfully with a wink, and she blushed. "I'm more of a 'swing swords' guy anyway, y'know? Which, speaking of swinging swords..." He took Zelda's hands in his and pulled her to her feet. "How would you like to have the seat of honor at the Knights' Tournament next month?"
Laughter burst forth. "Mido, the Knights' Tournament is put on for the royal family. You know I'm going to be there."
"Consider this your formal invitation, Your Highness, to come as my biggest fan! I can't possibly lose if I know you're up there cheering for me." He flashed her one of his heart-stopping grins.
"Of course I'll be cheering for you," she giggled. "My brave knight."
Rising on her toes, she pecked him on the cheek.
The hero smiled ferociously and inclined back toward her lips, but Zelda raised a hand before he could land a kiss.
"What?" His eyebrows furrowed.
"Sorry... as the princess... I'm not really supposed to... just..."
Hands raised in placation. "Okay, it's okay, I get it." He scratched the back of his neck.
Pink Herons carried on the breeze, rustling the Hyrule Herb as they passed.
"I'm sorry," she said again.
"It's fine. It's just that... you're your own person too, remember? Is it because you don't want to kiss me?"
"No, Mido, that's not it!" Her cheeks turned as pink as the Hearty Radishes in her field guide. She had never kissed anyone on the mouth before. A 19-year-old girl who still hadn't had her first kiss. But when would she have had the time?
Wading before a goddess of stone. Hands clasped. Silent tears.
Pray. Pray. Pray.
Try harder. You're distracted.
"B-but it's not that simple," she tried.
"Hmm." He rubbed his chin. "Wanna make a deal with me?"
She blinked. "What?"
"How about, if I win the Knights' Tournament... will you kiss me?"
It wasn't like she didn't want to kiss Mido. "I mean... a kiss from the princess could be seen as a warranted prize for the victor..."
"On the lips?" he pushed.
Zelda nodded slowly, new resolve taking root. "Yes, on the lips."
As the words came out, her heart took flight with the herons overhead. Would she really do that? In front of all those people? In front of Papa?
She thought about it on the walk home.
It was only a kiss. It wasn't particularly scandalous.
She thought about it during dinner.
Papa had never explicitly forbid her from youthful whims. He only wanted what was best for her, and that was for her to awaken the sealing power so she could save their kingdom. To Zelda, that had meant there wasn't any room for distractions.
She eyed her father across the silent table. The king was a large man; even now as a grown woman herself, he still dwarfed her. The beard that used to tickle her in an avalanche of kisses had turned white as Hebra snow. The deep lines carved in his face betrayed the immense sorrow that swallowed his heart over a decade ago. Those same lines had once been the result of proud smiles and belly laughs.
Everyday she wished she still knew that man. Ganondorf would have quaked before the love their family had for each other.
So... who's to say a little excitement and romance with Mido wouldn't help her in her endeavor to awaken the Goddess' power?
"Papa..." she started.
Collard greens pierced under his fork. "I've told you, princesses don't say 'papa'."
He'd been insistent about that ever since Mama died. It still slipped out on the days when the little girl trapped inside did the same.
"Father," she tried again, "are you excited for the Knights' Tournament?"
"Yes, Zelda. I'm sure it will be great fun." For the first time since dinner was served, he looked up from his plate. "How is sermon going?"
Underneath the table, Zelda clawed at her skirts. It always came back to this. "Fine. Excellent, actually."
"Oh?" Thick eyebrows rose in genuine interest. "Have you felt something?"
"Erm, no, I—"
"Has Hylia spoken to you?"
"No, Father."
Zelda bristled at the displeased crease reforming between his brows. "But prayer is going really well," she quickly added. "I feel as though I will feel something. Or hear something. Soon."
"I see."
Ceramic creaked under her father's knife, sawing through a dry pork cutlet.
It was the only sound in the room for the remainder of the meal.
That night, of her own volition, the princess prayed. She had forgotten what she had intended to ask her father. So she inquired of Hylia instead.
Please awaken my power. I beg of You.
She brought her actual prayer book to sermons, not the decoy. She kept her eyes forward. She listened to the cleric. She bowed her head and put her whole chest into every word that came out of it.
Please, Hylia, speak to me. Why aren't I enough for You?
She didn't visit the knights, but she and Mido still walked together in the evenings.
"Are you avoiding me?" he had asked in the beginning, after noting her fifth absence from the training yard.
"No," she had replied then, "I've been busy trying to contact Hylia."
"Haven't you been doing that for like... ever?"
Teeth gritted. "Yes." Little fists clenched in steady defense. "I'm trying harder now."
"Huh."
Mido never tried to steal another kiss. But he held her hand and kept her mind off of things with tales of his own grandeur.
The days came and went and summer grasses browned in dormancy—protection against blistering heat. Even the plants know how to preserve themselves, Zelda mused. Why was it so hard for her to keep herself afloat?
Before she knew it, a month had passed. The Knights' Tournament was the following day, but Zelda didn't have a breath to spare on excitement.
She was at her desk, praying until tears overwhelmed her. Unwinding amongst pages of flora until guilt wound her back up. Praying for an answer. Forgiveness. Anything.
Outside, summer leaves danced in the warm, late night breeze.
Thunk thunk. The sound of boots hitting stone behind her. The princess whirled in her chair.
"Mido?" she gasped, spotting the lanky ginger in the middle of her room. "H-how did you get in here?"
A one-shouldered shrug. "Climbed your tower."
The princess let out a noise that was between a scoff and a laugh. "Are you crazy?"
"Crazy for you," he said easily, holding out a rose from the trellis he had ascended.
Butterflies assaulted her stomach. "B-but h-how— I mean you c-can't just—"
He stopped her with a finger set upon her lips. "You're so cute when you stutter."
Oh. They were Smotherwing Butterflies; and they burned bright on her face.
"So, listen. I came here to ask you something important."
And here she thought she couldn't be any more flustered! What was so important he had to scale her tower to ask at this hour?
"Let me court you, Princess Zelda. Publicly."
Court her!?
He extended the rose.
Her? Being courted! Publicly! What would Father think!? Mido wasn't from a noble bloodline! Was she even allowed to choose her own suitor?
"What?" was all that came out.
"Think about it!" His brown eyes glinted in the moonlight. "We're both good-looking. We both like each other. Annnd, we're the chosen ones. The divine princess and the fated hero! Haven't you heard...?" He winked. "We're destined to be together."
When words proceeded to fail her, Mido continued. "I know what you're thinking. I'm not from a noble family, yada yada yada, but who in Hyrule would dare disapprove of a match made by the Goddess Herself?"
Her mouth worked like a Hyrule Bass.
"Zelda," he urged, pointedly dropping the honorifics of her title. "Just say yes."
In the pregnant pause, even the trees bent down to listen.
Rebellion took root. "Okay—" excitement sprouted, "—yes."
"Yes!" Mido echoed in exultation, launching the rose just as Zelda had begun to reach for it. He pointed two finger guns at her. "Best decision of your life. Seriously."
Giddiness bubbled over, and the princess laughed. "Yes!" she said again.
"I could kiss you now!" he exclaimed. "But I know you want to wait, and I can respect that. After all, I won't be waiting long." He winked again.
Yearning bloomed like warm safflina. Her first kiss—tomorrow.
"I gotta tell the guys! I'm courting the princess!" He spun on a heel and left the same way he came.
Just like that, as quickly as he arrived, Mido was gone before Zelda could ask him to stay. A hollow wrongness ate her from the inside. She had wanted him to stay.
Is that what longing was supposed to feel like?