Chapter 1

CM: I should be working… But I can't focus on anything.
Lyx: Can you pat your soft bunnies on their smol perfect earsies? OR START WRITING DOWN IDEAS FOR MIDSUMMER
CM: Hell yeah. Only, what's the main conflict?
Lyx: We COULD steal directly from [REDACTED] and have it be [REDACTED]. But I think that's a little too lazy, even for us.
CM: My first instinct was, oh god, not that tropey mess! And then I remembered what we're doing here. At this stage, if we don't do it, it's a disservice to our audience.
Lyx: This is going to be a disaster. I can NOT fucking wait.
CM: We should probably open with something like….

It was the cry of a seagull that startled Link awake out of his drunken stupor.

Immediately, his eyes shot open, and he was blinded by the sun. All at once, his senses kicked in: the rough sand inside his bathing trunks, coarse and getting everywhere, the painful brightness of the ocean, the pounding of his head…

And the alarming realization that he seemed stuck on a deserted tropical island.

"Ugh." Link rubbed his aching head as he surveyed his surroundings. He was lying on a sandy shore a short distance from a grove of palm trees. Further away, the shore curved around the peak of a hill. He looked over his shoulder: he could see the glint of the sea through the trees. Definitely a deserted tropical island.

"Damn," he muttered. "It's just like that old fortuneteller said it would be." He supposed he should have been surprised, but really, after everything that had already happened, an accurate prophecy from a wizened little fortune teller seemed utterly probable.

Link pushed himself to his feet, swaying blearily. He took inventory: he was wearing an oversized T-shirt emblazoned with rainbows, and an unfamiliar pair of swim trunks, hideously purple with… were those fairies on the butt? It didn't matter. He had no phone. No panic button. Nearby, a battered little boat rested against the rocks, splintered and almost certainly not seaworthy.

What was the last thing he could remember? Link cast back through the fog. He remembered a bobbing party barge throbbing with music, and a number of drinks served to him in containers carved into amusing little head shapes. He remembered thinking that one tasted a little off… had he been drugged?

The thought sent a jolt of panic through Link's senses. He wobbled for a moment, then sank back down to sit on the sand and hung his aching head in his hands. He'd been drugged and stranded on a deserted island. Judging by the splintered boat on the shore, someone was trying to set him up to look like an irresponsible, untrustworthy drunk. The optics for Zelda would be horrible.

He wouldn't be surprised to find out that she didn't want to marry him anymore after this was all over. After everything else that had happened in the past two weeks, she'd be well within her rights to call it off…

But no. He wasn't going to give her up without a fight.

Link straightened up and looked around. He needed a way off this island. He needed to get back to Zelda. And he needed to make things—everything—right with her.

Moving slowly, Link pushed himself back to his feet and began to weave his faltering way into the forest.

TWO WEEKS AGO

"Wake up. There's bad news."

Link was rudely awoken by the slap of a newspaper in his face. Curled against his side, Zelda groaned.

"Midna," she moaned, burying her face in Link's rib. "It's too early."

"Bad publicity doesn't wait. Look at this."

Link pushed himself up on his elbows as Midna moved around the bedroom, turning on lights. The bedroom of the apartment he and Zelda shared in Hyrule Castle was a private sanctuary: the only people allowed in were Zelda's personal maid, a handful of specific security guards, and the Countess of Twilight, apparently, who was perfectly done up in spite of the early hour.

"Do you ever sleep?" Link asked Midna as he settled himself against the antique headboard of the bed and blinked a few times, trying to get his eyes to adjust to the bright lights.

"Not when I'm planning your wedding, which is going to be the event of the decade, if not the century," she said. "Which is why I need you to read the paper."

Beside Link, Zelda struggled to a seat. She groped on the bedside table for a moment then found her glasses, which she pushed onto her nose. The chunky black frames rimmed her sleepy eyes in a way that was distinctly adorable, and Link was momentarily distracted by a surge of affection and happiness.

It had been nearly a year and a half since they'd begun dating, and only a few months ago they'd gotten formally engaged. Link had pulled every favor he could from all of his friends to give Zelda a proposal fit for the queen that she was: on a spring weekend getaway to visit Miss Paya, Link had proposed in the garden of Lanayru Heights, which Granté and the other gardeners had transformed into a glittering fairyland. Zelda had tearfully accepted Link's proposal… but, of course, it came with complications.

Complications like getting his upcoming title approved by the royal parliamentary council, for one.

"Is this about Chancellor Cole again?" Zelda asked as Link finally grabbed the newspaper Midna had thrown in his face. She was settling in against Link's side and the sleepy daze was draining from her eyes.

"No," Midna said. Her perfectly-painted lips were drawn into a grim line. "Worse."

Link flipped the newspaper over, then rotated it so it was right-side up. As he caught sight of the all-capitalized headline, his stomach sank.

"EX-GIRLFRIEND OF FUTURE ROYAL PUBLISHES DAMNING TELL-ALL"

"Hell," Zelda muttered.

"Not hell," Link replied absently. "Worse. Hilda."

"The book, which was given a surprise launch overnight, shares unflattering insights about Link Forester, the Queen's future husband. In one detailed accounting of a date night gone horribly wrong, it describes an intoxicated Forrester flirting with the author's best friend, while anecdotes about Forester's upbringing in a Kakariko orphanage depict a man who is, at best, emotionally stunted, and at worst, a potential loose canon primed to do irreversible damage to the royal family's image…" Zelda paused in reading aloud to look up, fury sparking on her face. "I can't believe this! Why didn't we hear about this sooner?"

"It wasn't exactly my best moment," Link said, shame swirling in his gut. "I didn't notice how strong the drinks were at that restaurant, and I didn't realize the waitress was flirting with me. I was just trying to be nice, and it really pissed Hilda off. She didn't talk to me for a week after that."

"No, Link, not that," Zelda said. Her tone gentled a little as she laid her hand on his arm. "I'm sure everything in the book is twisted and blown out of proportion."

Midna nodded her agreement. "There's nothing like the specter of jealous girlfriends past to put a damper on your day," she said with none of her usual playfulness. "Your legal team is already calling the publishing house to ask why we weren't informed and to investigate a potential libel angle. In the meantime, you both need to get up. It's time to do damage control."

"And just how are we going to do that?" Link asked as Zelda hauled herself out of bed. He took a moment to admire the curve of her shapely rear, which was only barely covered by a pair of tiny pajama shorts printed with blupees.

"You're going to go out in the world and do what you do best."

Link rubbed his mussed hair. "Repot Tabanthan moth orchids?"

"No, you ridiculous man," Midna said with exaggerated patience. "Be handsome and charming. Remember, you're going to the Royal Hylian Children's Hospital today, so that's a perfect way to refute the claims that you're a cold fish. And Zelda—"

"I know," Zelda said grimly as she pressed a button to summon her maid. "I need to get ahead of this with parliament." She sighed and shook her head. When her gaze met Link's, her eyes were rueful. "This isn't going to put them in a better mood. And here I thought everything was settled before the vote next week… but what's done is done, I suppose. Hopefully I can soothe their feathers before our trip to Lurelin in a few days."

"I'm sorry," Link said, feeling awful. Ever since he'd proposed to Zelda, she'd been in a constant battle with her parliamentary council. The old guard was dead set against the queen marrying a commoner and elevating him to the rank of king. The younger of the council was split between thinking the queen ought to marry for love, or thinking the queen ought to marry them instead of him.

"I'm marrying you whether they like it or not," Zelda had told him at one point several weeks earlier. "But if I can get them to vote to make you a king after our marriage, things will be much easier."

"And if they don't make me a king?" Link had asked her. "If they don't acknowledge our marriage as equals? Can't they, I don't know, un-crown you or something?"

"It would take a seventy-five percent majority vote to strip me of my rank," Zelda had reassured him. "And the people of Hyrule would riot. Have you seen all the movies and books they're writing about us? We'd win in the court of public opinion and the parliament ―even the Senate― can't risk alienating the people. Don't worry about it."

But Link was a worrier. And judging by the slight lines that had appeared around Zelda's eyes, she was worrying too.

"The sooner I handle this, the sooner I can focus on packing for our romantic pre-wedding honeymoon," she said now with a smile that looked only a little forced. Then she shook her head. "Damn that Hilda," she muttered. She leaned over the bed and kissed Link's lips softly. "I don't blame you for this."

"The worst you're guilty of is having bad taste in women," Midna agreed. "Present company excluded, naturally."

"Tell that to the Senate," Link said glumly.

"No sulking," Midna said. "You need to be handsome and charming. You need to pretend like this book doesn't matter."

"It doesn't matter," Zelda said vehemently as she padded barefoot to the bathroom. "Right, Link?"

"Right," Link agreed miserably. "It doesn't matter at all."

It totally mattered.

Zelda tried not to let her worries show, but instead wound up chewing at the inside of her cheek. In the car, she had pored over the notes she'd taken, the sheet where she vied, desperately, to keep track of which member of Parliament was onboard, and which yet needed to be convinced, and realized the morning's affairs had thrown all of her tracking off. This information was now painfully obsolete. Things were in motion and opinions were shifting, though she had to wait before she began to make crucial phone calls. Every second that passed without her intervention was eroding the fragile support she had built.

If she ever met that Hilda, she would have many choice words for her.

At least Link was doing everything right. He was currently engaged in a thumb war with a little boy, Fado, giving the impression of a hard-fought battle. The boy's chemical drip gave him a sallow complexion at odds with Link's radiant aura of health, but when Link made a great show of being trapped under his thumb, ultimately granting the boy his well-earned victory, it seemed Fado perked up considerably.

"The cameras will be here any moment," Malon announced, erupting into the room with a harried look Zelda was learning to know well. Although the publicist spent much of her time assuring both Link and Zelda that she was honoured to work for them, no one could deny she'd bitten off one massive headache of a mandate.

Link hardly seemed to acknowledge the news. Instead, he was rifling through the boy's bedside shelf, pulling books out to study their covers critically.

"That one," Fado said, when Link retrieved a well-loved copy of The Brave Deku Sprout. Link shot him a curious look, and the boy elaborated: "It's my favourite."

It was a classic. Link's smile was sincere, though Zelda knew him enough to see a tinge of sadness in him. "Mine too," he admitted. He pulled the hardcover open and flattened the pages under his palm. "I like stories where characters have courage."

"My favourite part is when the Sprout goes into the fire to save his friends." Only to be reborn at the end, more cheerful than ever. "Mom says I have to be like the Sprout."

Zelda glanced at Fado's mother, who sat in a reclining chair on the other side of the room, watching them wanly. She nodded, a tired smile on her face.

"When I was in the orphanage," Link said, and Zelda was surprised to hear him speak of it ― he rarely liked to dwell on the past these days ― "I would read this book to remind myself that anyone can be brave, even little boys like me."

Zelda's eyes prickled. She snapped out of it when she heard the click of a camera, and she realized that journalists had come in without her notice. Dabbing at the corner of her eyes as subtly as she could, she turned to smile at them pleasantly.

"If you didn't have a mom, who cared for you when you were sick?" Fado asked, vaguely motioning to the tube that poked out of his arm.

Link shook his head. "I had plenty ― plenty―" he added, with emphasis that made the boy grimace, "of brothers and sisters."

"Ew," Fado said. "I have a sister, but she's dumb."

"Fado!" His mother exclaimed, as the journalists and Zelda held in their laughter.

"Sisters can be pretty annoying sometimes," Link agreed. He was speaking softly. Zelda wondered if he'd forgotten why they were here, if he even knew journalists were in the room. She decided it didn't matter. "But you know, sometimes they're the only ones who can talk sense into us. Like when we need to be brave."

"I guess," Fado mumbled. The two of them sat in silence for a moment as Link continued flipping through the pages. For the briefest of instants, Zelda feared they were creating an awkward silence, that the journalists would misinterpret this, like they misinterpreted everything about Link.

Another click. And one of the reporters grumbled, to her photographer, "If Joe could do that with his own children, just sit and read, I'd not need so many leave days."

Zelda turned, blinking, trying hard not to giggle, and the reporter flushed.

"Forgive me, your majesty." Then, boldly, "But let me know if you want to trade."

"Not a chance," Zelda softly replied. The two women exchanged smiles, and another few clicks sounded.

"Will you be visiting the new radio-oncology labs today?" The reporter asked.

"That's the plan," Zelda said. At the bedside, Link had begun reading the last few pages of The Brave Deku Sprout softly, for Fado's benefit only. Zelda's heart swelled inside her chest. "But not quite yet," she softly added, settling in to wait.

"I imagine you'll have seen the news of Ms. Hilda Lorule's new book…?" Someone else asked.

But Zelda was watching Link. She was absorbed by it. It allowed her to hide her brow's quirk of nervous irritation at the reminder. Rather than say anything, she merely nodded. "Hm." It was vague. Non-committal. Almost bored. Unbothered. She needed to look unbothered. Not just for the press, but for Link, whose ears had twitched at the name.

"Do you have any comment?" A journalist prompted. Gods. Like dogs to a bone.

"I'll have to read the FairyNotes version at some point," Zelda replied, as casually as she could. Then, because she feared her extreme detachment might look artificial, she turned to the men and women crowding the doorway and curiously asked, "What did you think of it?"

The question startled them. Zelda's lips quirked with an irrepressible smile.

"Garbage," one of the journalists said. "Terrible use of commas."

"A nasty spin," another said. "Still, it's bound to sell like hotcakes."

Zelda snorted. "Then I simply must get myself a signed copy." She turned back to look at Link, who was grinning ear to ear as he read. "Though, of course, I don't need some book to tell me what he's like."

"Agreed." That was the female journalist from before. Zelda decided she liked her.

Link shut the cover over his book and looked up at them. "If you're all done talking about me, perhaps we can discuss the great work this hospital is doing, using plant cells to create new graft types?" He glanced at Fado, at his side, and noted the boy was looking sleepy, no doubt from the medication coursing through his veins. "Not here, though." He put the book back in its place and ran a hand over the boy's forehead, pushing hair out of the way. "Alright, bud. Take care of yourself."

Fado mumbled something, so the boy's mother took over. They exchanged parting pleasantries in a soft voice, and not for the first time, Link handed her his contact card. He really had a habit of handing that out to everyone he met. Zelda had once tried to teach him it would overwhelm the operators at the palace, but he'd shrugged. He wanted people to call. He wanted to hear from them.

Zelda couldn't blame him for that.

Link approached, wiping his hands on his trousers nervously. "Labs, then?"

"Labs," Zelda confirmed with a smile, tucking her arm into his.

They made their way through the hospital, escorted by the hospital administrator, a gaggle of pediatric doctors and surgeons in white coats, and trailed by what felt like all the reporters and photographers in Hyrule. As they walked, the doctors explained the cutting-edge technologies that had been installed thanks to a generous grant from the Royal Foundation for Children, and how those technologies were being used to pioneer more effective treatments for various childhood illnesses. Link nodded along, listening with every evidence of rapt attention and asking thoughtful questions.

Zelda tried hard to attend to what was being said, but her mind kept drifting to the problems of parliament and now Hilda. Not for the first time (or even the fiftieth) she wished that she was just another girl, not Queen Zelda. If she was just Zelda, the worst challenges she and Link would be facing with their wedding would be around seating charts, rather than trying to prove that they should be allowed to wed as equals in the first place.

Zelda had been trying hard to conceal it from Link, but things weren't going well with parliament. Even though Zelda's father had married below his station, at least her mother had been a peer with a verifiable bloodline; Link's dubious parentage, plus his upbringing in the orphanage, had led to no small amount of consternation amongst the stuffy chancellors that currently held Zelda and Link's future in their hands.

Of course, it didn't help that there were numerous different factions that opposed Link for differing reasons. Some disliked him because of his low birth. Others disliked him because they thought that he would be unable to acclimate to the rigors of royal life. But worst of all was the small coalition led by Chancellor Cole, who Zelda was certain were opposing Link just out of a desire to drive Zelda to abdicate so they could seize power by putting Cole on the throne instead.

Zelda really, truly hated the fact that she was related to that loathsome little toad. True, it was a distant relation, but he was technically her heir. Her sole heir. Zelda's father had had no siblings. His mother had once had a brother, but he'd died during a long-ended war against Termina. Cole was descended from Zelda's great-grandfather's sister, which ought to have made his claim to the throne tenuous at best… but the family had never forgotten that they were the next in line to lead Hyrule, and had ingratiated themselves or made themselves irritating in turn, depending on who led the clan.

Apparently, the clan had decided that the time to seize power was now.

Zelda felt a gentle press against her fingers. She looked up, startled out of her unhappy ruminations. They'd reached the lab, and one of the white-coated physicians was eagerly explaining how some machine assisted in a 3-D conformal radiation treatment. Zelda looked up at Link, who had squeezed her hand against his side with his arm, and was looking down at her with concern. She read the question in his eyes: "Are you alright?"

She smiled back up at him, thinking that she was fine, just tired, and hoping that showed on her face. His eyes narrowed microscopically in suspicion, but he returned his attention to the doctors. Zelda made herself do the same.

"―better able to conform our radiotherapy treatments to the exact shape of the tumor, reducing damage to the surrounding cells and healthy tissue," the doctor explained. "Though it's a relatively conventional treatment, this new equipment has allowed us to develop even more sophisticated techniques of targeting the lasers, and has resulted in improved outcomes for our patients."

"Are there specific kinds of cancers that this treatment is allowing you to address that you couldn't before?" Zelda asked, wanting to give the appearance of having paid attention. The little gambit worked. The doctor puffed up with pride.

"Yes, absolutely," he said. "We've been using this to treat tumors that would otherwise be inoperable, such as many forms of brain cancer."

"What about liquid cancers like lymphoma or multiple myeloma?" Link asked.

"You've done your homework," the doctor said with an impressed nod. Behind them, Zelda relished in the shutters of the cameras clicking away and the scratch of pen on paper as reporters furiously scribbled down notes. "3DCRT is less effective for those, but we've developed a promising immunotherapy regimen that has also improved patient outcomes. And, of course, the grant from the Royal Foundation has allowed us to expand our treatment protocols to help children that might otherwise be unable to access these life-saving services."

"Good," Link said. Though he gave every appearance of speaking to the doctor, Zelda knew his words were for the assembled reporters. "There are so many children in Hyrule that need our help, and I'm glad to see the progress being made here. I look forward to what you accomplish in the future, and wish to help you in any way I can."

"Yes," said the doctor, clearly catching on. "Children's welfare is a great passion of yours, is it not?"

Link nodded decisively. "Even though I grew up in a group home, I was fortunate to have loving caretakers and access to basic medical necessities. But many children grow up in much more difficult and painful conditions. It's my mission in life to make sure I do whatever I can to support the children of Hyrule. Every child has a right to grow up healthy and well-loved."

A murmur came from the press pool, and Zelda was certain she heard the female reporter sigh with happiness.

Emotionally stunted, my left pinky toe, Zelda thought with no small wave of pride. Take that, Hilda.

Closing banter

CM: Some tumblr-level writing prompt there.
Lyx: Maybe we need a tumblr. Or not. Maybe that's a bad idea because we need to be functional, productive members of society.
CM: I'd waste so much time. It's bad enough as is. Let's not.