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If Calamity Ganon knew the chaos one bad influenza season caused, there would be no need for divine powers nor legendary swordsmen.
He would simply send a plague.
It had started in the outer villages. An illness that sent patients to bed with a high fever and body weakness, nothing that worried the royal court from initial reports. Then it had begun to spread closer to Castletown, finally breaching the castle when a noble family arrived in an attempt to escape becoming sick.
Link had been tasked with escorting Zelda to a royal chateau after the king and his court, along with her maids, began showing signs of illness. The purpose was twofold: ensure the princess avoided becoming sick and allow her to continue her devotions. It seemed foolproof. Only Link would accompany the princess, acting as both her guard and servant, to prevent infection.
For their part, Link and Zelda were just happy for rare opportunity to be alone together. While they would not shirk their duties, they would be able to drop the decorum of their roles as Princess and Hero for a few weeks.
Hylia, it seemed, had other plans.
As soon as the pair entered the empty manor house Zelda began to complain about a headache. Then the chills and sore throat started. Through it all, Zelda insisted she was fine. All offers for rest and medicine were refused, and the first three days Link stood watch over her prayers as her voice slowly grew hoarse and broke.
On the fourth day, he put his foot down.
“You are not praying today.”
Link delivered his order with a gentle firmness as he doled out a thin porridge for their breakfast. Zelda frowned, looking as if she were about to argue before her face screwed up and a sneeze burst out.
“Thank you for your concern, but I’m fine,” Zelda said, cleaning her nose with an already soiled handkerchief, “my prayers will continue uninterrupted.”
Reaching across the table, Link placed his hand on Zelda’s forehead. As he knew it would, her paled skin was hot and clammy. Weakly, she pushed his hand away and spooned porridge into her mouth. Link watched her chew halfheartedly for a moment before trying again.
“You’re white as a sheet and burning up.”
“At least let me do my morning prayers,” Zelda said, pushing her porridge around her bowl before taking another tiny bite.
“You can barely stand,” Link tried again to convince the stubborn princess.
“I’ll kneel.” Her voice cracked around a cough, causing Link to wince.
Zelda’s devotion bordered on desperation. Even now when it was obvious she was feeling miserable. A surge of familiar frustration at the king’s willful blindness to his daughter’s dedication rose in his chest.
“Zelda, you need to rest, please go back to bed,” Link said, squeezing her hand gently.
Returning the squeeze, Zelda pushed herself away from the table. Wrapping her cloak tighter around her bare shoulders, she began to make her way to the chapel across the yard. As Link made to stop her, Zelda called over her shoulder:
“What I need is to unlock my abilities.”
Sighing, Link cleared the barely touched breakfast bowls from the table and followed Zelda. Instead of taking his usual position with his back to the princess and the Master Sword held at his feet, Link faced Zelda as she knelt before the small statue of Hylia. Goosebumps pimpled her arms, and he could see her suppressed shivers as the morning chill seeped through the stone.
The silence stretched, broken only by the occasional cough or sniffle. Link kept watch, knowing at some point he would need to help.
An hour into her prayers Link could see Zelda was barely holding herself up. Approaching Zelda’s kneeling form, Link heard her chattering teeth. The shivers from earlier had increased, her skin paled further with only a feverish flush spread across her face.
Moving quickly, Link draped her cloak across her shoulders and took her into his arms. Zelda did not protest, instead tucked herself into his shoulder with a quiet mumble about finishing her prayers.
Link had done this many times at the castle when Zelda spent late nights pouring over her research after long days praying. It was a familiar routine, one that never failed to spread warmth through him at her sleepy attempts to get him to stay. He always indulged, never able to say no, only to untangle himself after Zelda’s breath slowed and she fell asleep.
Today, Zelda was already asleep by the time Link tucked her into bed. Her skin was as warm as when they spent a day traveling across the Gerudo Desert, and yet Link could see her nestle further under the many layers of blankets he had draped over her. When she had settled and her breathing evened out again, Link quietly left for the kitchen.
Quickly putting away the breakfast dishes, Link set himself to making soup. Thoughts of his mother came to him as he prepared the vegetables and cucco stock. How she would send him and his sister to bed, only letting them get up to drink a strong lemon tea and bowlfuls of her homemade soup. She only made it when someone was sick, swearing it could cure any ailment he and Aryll managed to catch.
It was those many days spent in bed that led Link to being resistant to the illness currently plaguing the court. Rumour said it was the blessing of Hylia that shielded him, but if his mother heard she would scoff and say those stuffy nobles must know nothing of children and their germs.
Setting the soup to simmer, Link prepared his mother’s tea next. Soon, the scent of soup and lemons filled the kitchen with a nostalgia that made his gut twist. It had been a long time since he was home. Perhaps they could visit when Zelda was recovered. He knew she would love the countryside, with its many bugs and plants to study. His mother would dote on Zelda and tease Link about taking so long to bring a woman home. Aryll would jump at the chance to tell her embarrassing stories about him growing up.
The thought made him smile.
When the Calamity was defeated, when Zelda could live as she pleased without burden, he would take her home. He would show her his favourite spots. Follow her as she spent hours combing through the fields cataloging wildlife. And he would bring her out to the pond at dusk, where the fireflies glowed softly, and ask the question that he had been holding onto for what felt like forever.
A hoarse cry broke Link’s daydream.
“Link!”
Retrieving the Master Sword, Link raced to Zelda’s bedroom. Scanning the room quickly, Link propped the sword against the wall and turned to the still sleeping princess. Whimpers paired with her weak trembling that calmed as Link placed a hand on her forehead to check her temperature. The fever had increased, leaving a sheen of sweat coating her, which Link quickly mopped away with a cold cloth.
“No…can’t end…please…come back…” Zelda whimpered, twisting away from the cloth.
“It’s alright, Zelda, go back to sleep,” Link soothed, brushing damp hairs off her forehead.
“Not him! Please…can’t lose him too…” Her trembling increased as her words dissolved into repeated cries begging for mercy.
“Hey, it’s alright, I’m here, everyone is okay, you’re going to be okay,” Link said, gently taking her hands and squeezing them.
Zelda’s movements calmed, and Link began to move away to let her rest when he noticed her brow furrow and a distressed noise sounded in her throat. Again, Link took her hand and Zelda relaxed. Realizing it was his presence that was keeping her from slipping back into the feverish nightmares plagued her, Link extracted his hand with a whispered promise to be back soon pressed into her hair.
He filled a teapot with his mother’s lemon tea, spooned the soup into a tureen, loaded a tray with cups and bowls, and snagged a bread roll for himself before returning to Zelda’s room. Setting the tray on a bedside table, Link pulled the chair from the desk and sat himself next to the sleeping princess. Her stirring slowed as Link settled in and took her hand.
“You can go back to sleep now,” Link told her, rubbing a thumb across her knuckles, “I’ll wake you in a few hours.”
As Zelda’s breathing slowed, Link turned to the book on her bedside table to pass the time. Many passages were marked, with Zelda’s flowing script in the margins, each focused on various plants and their known uses. While some of the flowers he did not know, Link found that many he remembered from Zelda’s enthusiastic explanations and spent the afternoon reading with Zelda’s voice in his head.
After a few hours, Link became distracted by low grumbles in his stomach. Slipping his hand away from Zelda’s, he served himself a bowl of soup. Smiling at the wave of nostalgia, he ate in the quiet, mopping up the last drops with a roll. He served another, smaller bowl, and set it aside before pouring a small cup of lemon tea.
“Zelda,” Link said, shaking her shoulder gently, “you should have something to eat.”
“Mhm,” Zelda replied, stirring.
Her eyes fluttered open, still glazed from fever, and scanned quickly before finding Link by her side. No recognition shone, but she accepted the bowl and spoon and began to eat. Once she had finished, Link pressed the tea into her hands. Zelda attempted to push herself out of the bed weakly after handing back the empty cup, and Link quickly steadied her.
“Water closet.” Was all Zelda mumbled, her head resting against his shoulder.
Link helped her shuffle across the hall, waiting outside as she disappeared behind the door. He expected Zelda to return to her bed but was surprised to see the princess turn towards the stairs.
“Hey, you should get back to bed.” Zelda swayed on her feet as she turned to face him, and Link once again steadied her, keeping a hand on her back. Heat radiated off her skin, and her eyes seemed to stare past him.
“Need to pray. Need my power to keep him safe.”
“You need to rest, Zelda, prayer can wait,” Link said, guiding her back to her room.
“No, can’t watch him die, must save him.” Zelda fought against his gentle guidance, shifting once again toward the stairs.
Seeing her fevered determination, Link bent down and lifted her into his arms.
“So long as I am here, everyone is safe,” Link promised, pressing a kiss onto her clammy forehead. “Rest and get stronger, I’ll be here when you wake up.”
His words satisfied Zelda, as she fell back to sleep in his arms, sleepily reaching for his hand once he had finished tucking the blankets around her. Link settled himself back into his chair, prepared to spend the night watching over his princess.
In the morning Zelda awoke at dawn to Link slumped in his seat, their hand still entwined. Sleepily, she tugged at him until he joined her half-asleep in the bed. Curling into him, Zelda sank into a feverless sleep, forgetting the nightmares of Link’s demise at the hands of Calamity Ganon in favour of them traveling through a field of blossoming Silent Princesses.