Silent Princess

“There’s one!” Snap. 

“Oh, and another!” Snap. 

“And, oh, look at those, Link!” Snap, snap, snap!

The shutter of the Sheikah Slate’s camera snapped in quick succession as Zelda turned in place, eager to capture pictures of every flower in her immediate vicinity. A vast green sea, Hyrule Field stretched on before them; as the wind rolled over the plains, the grasses and wildflowers rippled like gentle waves. The fronds and flower stems bobbed at Zelda’s waist as she waded into the greenery, giggling delightedly as she surveyed the splotches of color kaleidoscoping the lush green landscape. Link finished securing their horses to the nearby tree, then forded into the wildgrasses to follow close behind the giddy princess. 

“The flowers we have in Hyrule aren’t just beautiful,” Zelda commented as she stooped down slightly to capture a photo of a patch of flowers, star-shaped ones of blue and white with bright yellow centers. “They’re also quite useful as ingredients for a variety of things.” 

Link watched her with curious interest. As Zelda had begun to open up to him, it had become evident just how much science dominated her mind; most of their conversations were like this, her babbling aloud to him as she explored the local habitats for interesting flora and fauna or pored over some heavy tome or another. Not that Link minded, of course. He’d learned a great deal from Zelda’s eager commentaries. Besides… He much preferred to see her like this—animated, invigorated, brimming with excitement and anticipation for her next scientific discovery—than how she was a lot of the time… subdued, disheartened, bogged down by the burden of Calamity Ganon’s impending awakening and her own lack of one. 

Zelda paused to smile contentedly at the Sheikah Slate’s screen. Then, she gasped; apparently, something in her peripheral vision had caught her attention. Link watched as she leaned over to gently stroke the petals of a flower blooming near her leg. 

“This one here is called the silent princess,” Zelda explained in a soft, slightly melancholy voice. “It’s a rare, endangered species.” 

It was a shame, Link thought. He’d never been one for aesthetics, but even he would be remiss not to call the blossom beautiful. It bloomed from a bud encased in curved leaves. The flower had five gorgeous petals that had white tips that faded into sky blue toward the center, from which burst stamens bursting with pollen—three orange ones in the middle that were surrounded by ones of aquamarine. 

Zelda kneeled down in the swaying grass, then shifted her weight forward onto her hands so she could marvel at the gorgeous flower. Link followed suit, crawling on his hands and knees to sit beside her. 

“Despite our efforts, we can’t get them to grow domestically yet,” she continued, glancing back when she sensed his approach. She smiled serenely, then turned back to the flower. She reached out to gently cup the delicate flower bud sprouting from the green stem. “The princess can only thrive out here in the wild.” 

How true, Link thought, but he wasn’t looking at the flower when he did so. No, he was looking at Zelda—at his smart, steadfast, silent princess. Zelda and this flower were one and the same; Link had seen it with his own eyes. He had seen her slowly wither when trapped in the cold, lonely halls of Hyrule Castle, a languishing flower ensnared in the weeds of duty and expectation; but out here, in the wild places of the world, she was reinvigorated and bloomed with a brilliance that rivaled the sun. Link’s mouth twitched into the smallest of frowns while he watched Zelda observe the flower with quiet perturbation.

“All we can hope is that the species will be strong enough to prosper on its own…” she murmured, her eyes growing lidded as she just watched the solitary bloom bob gently in the breeze. She lifted her hand to her hard and slightly squeezed it in a fist as she sighed, a mere breath that would have gone unnoticed if Link were not so attentive to his princess. Her lips wore a smile, but it was a shallow one that did little to conceal the deep reservoir of melancholy that burdened Zelda always, even when she was out here in the wilds. 

Link’s frown deepened, and he looked back at the flower. Yes, it was the only one of its kind blooming here, but it was still surrounded by other blossoms of all kinds. It was hardly on its own—and neither was Zelda. He wished she could see that—but his princess, harrowed as she was by her own subjective failures, could not see the meadow for the flowers nor the forest for the trees. 

He glanced back at Zelda, who was still just kneeling before the silent princess. Link sat up slightly and started to reach out to put a comforting hand on her shoulder, but before he could, Zelda suddenly gasped and lunged into the grass.

“Is that what I think it is? Look at this!” 

Link raised his eyebrows as Zelda whirled back around and shuffled on her knees back to him, holding something in her cupped hands. 

“I don’t believe it, but I actually caught one!” she gushed. “This delicacy is known to have very, very potent effects under proper circumstances!” With a flourish, she lifted her top hand to reveal a hot-footed frog resting comfortably on her palm, looking no worse for wear despite being plucked up from its business by a very giddy princess. 

The frog blinked at Link, and Link blinked back before giving Zelda an encouraging look. He wasn’t sure what was so special about this frog, but the princess’ mood had instantly brightened, and that’s all he really cared about. He was more than happy to listen to her rant and rave about the unassuming frog’s hidden characteristics; he’d rather that than have to watch her brood on her lack of progress and suffer in silence for it. 

“Research from the castle shows ingesting one of these can actually augment certain abilities,” she continued animatedly, the frog bouncing up and down in her hand as she squirmed in excitement. “We wouldn’t be in a controlled environment out here, but with your level of physical fitness—” 

Uh-oh. Link didn’t like where this was going. 

“—you’d be a perfect candidate for the study!” 

With a beaming smile, Zelda thrust the frog toward him. With a gasp, Link retreated from her eager offering, bending over backward slightly and arms splaying out at his sides in alarm. But Zelda had a hypothesis in her mind now, and she wouldn’t relent until she obtained some sort of meaningful data; Link’s attempt to retreat was met with her shuffling closer. The remarkably tame frog just continued to softly croak in her hands, completely oblivious to the fact that it was being offered up as a food item to the startled knight. 

“Go on!” Zelda insisted with another jam of the frog into his face. “Taste it!” 

Link crossed his eyes to stare down the bridge of his nose at the frog. The frog stared back, not breaking eye contact even as it flicked its sticky tongue out to wet one of its yellow-gold eyeballs. Link blinked at it, then slowly lifted his gaze to look at Zelda in pleading exasperation. As much as he wanted her to be happy, he really didn’t want to so much as lick this frog, let alone ingest it. 

“Eh?” She tilted her head to the side as she regarded him with confusion. “Oh, of course! How silly of me! You can’t eat it like this!” She held the frog in one hand as she fished through the satchel at her hip. She removed a glass bottle from within, uncorked it, and promptly plopped the frog inside. It would suffocate to death if she closed it with the cork, so she prevented the amphibian’s escape by covering the open top with her hand. Not that it really mattered—the frog apparently lacked any sort of survival instinct, for it just sat in the bottom of the bottle and croaked contentedly. 

“We shall take this specimen back to the castle and prepare it into something fit for consumption,” Zelda declared while climbing to her feet. Link jumped to his so that he could assist her, as she had a little difficulty balancing since both of her hands were occupied with the bottle. “Ah, thank you,” she smiled pleasantly at him as he put a hand on her elbow to guide her to her feet. She then held the bottle up in front of her face and admired her prize with a giggle. 

“And I thank you for your willingness to contribute to science, little one!” she chirped with a firm nod at the frog, who was none the wiser to its impending doom. “Rest assured that you will be treated with the utmost respect, and I shall make your final moments as painless as possible. Your sacrifice will no doubt advance our understanding of your species’ biology and medicinal properties!” 

Link chuckled under his breath as Zelda chattered amicably to the poor, clueless amphibian. Others in the royal court might find Zelda’s zeal and excitability unbecoming of a princess, but Link could honestly care less what was proper behavior for a princess and what was not. As long as Zelda could smile as she was now, without the cares that plagued her nearly her every waking moment, then that was fine with him. 

As beautiful as the silent princess flower was, Link found his princess much more beautiful when she clamored with uninhibited glee. He’d do anything to make that happen—even consume whatever she was about to make out of the blissfully ignorant frog still staring uncomprehendingly at Link through the walls of the glass bottle. He was loyal to Zelda to a fault, there was no doubt about that. 

But strong, stoic, stalwart Zelda deserved every ounce of Link’s loyalty. Whether she awakened her inherent abilities or not, Link would never waver in his devotion to her; not just out of duty, but out of his own simple desire. He would follow her to whatever end was to befall them—be it the end of the world or the arrival of prosperous days where the wilds flourished with entire fields of silent princess flowers… 

Days where Zelda suffered in silence no more.