Zelda was unconventional, by many means.
As a young child, she was wild and rambunctious. Her princessely dresses were more often than not caked with mud, or splattered with stains of dubious origin. Her nursemaids couldn't keep her from bringing each and every specimen she found indoors; going as far as having to search her tiny, clenched fists and pockets for worms, snails, and occasionally small frogs.
After her mother's passing, that spark faded.
She withdrew, curling so deeply into herself that there was scarcely any her left. Just a vessel for Royal Expectations, and the exceedingly heavy weight of her predetermined future. She didn't cry at the funeral. She couldn't. Princesses weren't supposed to cry, so she bottled every ounce of pain and grief she felt inside herself and prayed desperately that it would disappear.
That cold facade didn't last for long. By the time she reached adolescence, her stone exterior had cracks miles wide. Impatience seemed to thrum through her veins, underneath the skin. She found herself becoming increasingly more agitated with her father, even going as far to purposely rebel against his wishes and the damned escorts he had repeatedly assigned. What had happened to the silent, obedient daughter? Zelda didn't know.
The older she grew, the greater the rift felt between her and every other individual. Her father reassured her that being a future monarch brought on a necessary amount of aloofness, which Zelda never agreed with. From what she remembered and pieced together, her mother, the former Queen, was adored. She had friends from each and every corner of Hyrule, nobility and commonfolk alike. Hyrulians still spoke of the late Queen's warm smile and demeanor. The nicest things Zelda had ever heard the gossip mongers speak of when it came to her was her "radiant and illustrious beauty", often followed by a "seemingly unfit to ever inherit the throne" or "afflicted by a condition of tempestuousness". It was ridiculous. If she was her mother's daughter, why was she so different?
Maybe her ladies-in-waiting were right. Maybe it was just a phase, and she'd wake up tomorrow, access her divine powers, become loved and appreciated by her father and her people, and then finally fire that knight of hers.
After all, there's no way she could stay unconventional forever. She'd grow out of it.