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Chapter Text

Zelda wasn’t sure how long she sat there, hands in her lap, eyes unfocused. The desert air was dry, making it even harder to swallow the growing lump in her throat. The pounding in her chest drowned out the sounds of the world around her. The reality of what happened that day was finally starting to sink in.

A brazen assassination attempt from the Yiga in broad daylight. Had her knight—had he not shown up when he did—she’d… she could have…

Zelda shook that thought from her mind, a shiver running down her spine. Without thought she placed her hand on her chest. She was safe. She was alive. Thanks to him. Thanks to her swordsman.

Sitting on the bed at the inn at the Kara Kara Bazaar, for the first time since she’s met him, Zelda found her knight’s absence unnerving. She had a brief memory of him bringing her here, checking her over for injuries and then…

On shaky legs Zelda stood to her feet, stumbling before finding her balance. Against her better judgment, she stepped into the sun, her eyes adjusting to the light outside of the inn. There, she spotted her knight, knelt before a cooking pot. His eyes have lost that heated glare that pierced the Yiga almost as mercilessly as the legendary sword he brandished. For a moment Zelda wondered if she imagined the entire encounter. Her shaking hands would remind her otherwise. Meanwhile, he—her knight—was so still, so calm, yet her heart was a wild, beating mess.

Slowly, after a shaky breath, Zelda made her way to the cooking pot, and immediately, his eyes were on her (were they always that intense shade of blue?). She swallowed thickly, expecting a scowl. Of course, if she were in his shoes, she’d be livid. It’s not like she made his job easy on him, sneaking out of his sight. Only this time her stubbornness nearly cost her life.

When she finally built up the courage to meet his gaze and found no trace of anger or judgment her body relaxed. But then, when could she ever read his expressionless face?

Clearing her throat was a bit unnecessary—her knight’s attention was on her the moment she stepped into the sand. Perhaps she only did it to clear her own nerves.

“I, um…” she wasn’t sure what to say. Should she say anything? Not once had she ever heard her knight speak. Sometimes she wondered if he could. Still, this was her mess, and she was determined to clean it up. “I’m sorry… for running off.” She stole a glance at her knight—no change. “And… thank you… for saving me.”

She didn’t expect much out of that. They would sit in silence into the cold of night before going to bed, as they did most nights away from the castle. Her knight peeked into the cooking pot, picking up the ladle, scooping orange liquid into a clear bottle. The nights grew cold in the Gerudo Desert, and it looked like her knight was stocking up so they wouldn’t freeze in their sleep. When he was finished with that, his attention shifted to his travel pack. Wrapped in banana leaves, Link handed her a chilly veggie rice ball. And, she swore she saw the smallest hints of a smile. Perhaps the heat was getting to her because when she blinked, at a second glace, he was staring at her with that same stoic expression that irritated her only hours before the Yiga’s attack.  

“Th-thank you,” Zelda took the food in her hands, averting his gaze.

Not for the first time, she wondered what was going on in that head of his. Maybe she had imagined that ghost of a smile. Perhaps he truly was upset with her. How was he meant to train for the Calamity if he were stuck here, babysitting the useless princess?

Breathing out a sigh, Zelda took another bite of her food. She’ll have to make it up to him—make things up to Link.

She couldn’t think of what to do to make things up to Link because she didn’t know Link. He was quiet. And diligent (almost frustratingly so). And he was around her age… Or was he a bit older?

Zelda frowned as she tapped her pen on her diary in her study. If the rumor was to be believed, he pulled the sword no more than five years ago. So that would make him no older than seventeen. She let out a frustrated sigh. At least she knew his age. Back to square one.

She didn’t know a damn thing about him. Guilt pricked at her conscience like a sewing needle, and she let out a sigh.  As she stood to her feet, she closed her diary and exited her study, and went for a walk through the halls of the castle. As she did so, she gave quick glances to the knights standing guard. Perhaps she could gift him something useful to a knight. Like a sword! But then no weapon could measure up to the Legendary Master Sword. New armor perhaps? But nothing would be more prestigious than the champions tunic he wore, proudly parading the royal family’s blue and hand stitched by the princess’s own hands.

She let loose a frustrated sigh, realizing her feet had brought her to one of the balconies overlooking the knight training grounds. They seemed to be practicing combat on horseback that day.

On days like this—when the sky was clear, the weather calm, wind breezy and smelling of wildflowers—she wished she could jump on her horse and ride off with no target destination in mind, and no one to stop her. But then she remembered the Yiga clans near assassination attempt, the sounds of their sickles slicing through the air, their laughs loud, arrogant and mocking as they chased her, and her skin grew clammy. Being alone suddenly didn’t seem so inviting.

A laugh, this one unfamiliar, yet was full of so much warmth, and soft as a whisper, pulled Zelda out of her anxious thoughts. Immediately, her eyes searched for the source, her eyes landing on her knight. The chosen hero’s face was glowing from sweat, his cheeks almost as red as the apple he held in his hand. His horse greedily took it, nuzzling her muzzle into the palm of his hand, eliciting another soft chorus of laughs so sweet and unexpected it made her breath hitch and her cheeks flush. She had never heard him laugh before. Didn’t even know he could make such a sound. Intrigued by this new discovery, Zelda tried to focus on the sound, tuning out the noise around her to the best of her abilities. It was taught in scripture that Hylians had such long ears so they could hear the voices of the gods. She couldn’t help but inwardly roll her eyes at that fact. If only it were truly that easy, then she wouldn’t have to waste any more time praying in freezing temperatures and making herself sick with fever standing in waist deep cold springs in a strapless, thin white dress.

To her dismay, she couldn’t hear Link’s laughter anymore, but she did manage to catch a glimpse of a toothy smile as he brushed his horse’s mane. Another thing he never seemed to do around her. Frowning to herself, she couldn’t help the guilt that pierced her heart at that realization. She wasn’t that bad to be around, was she?

More guilt struck her like a viper, its venom seeping into her thoughts as every memory she had with Link played itself over and over in her head.

Perhaps her assumption that he hated her wasn’t too off.

And yet, he still risked his life to save her. Still ran to her aid even after how coldly she had treated him.

But that’s his job, a bitter voice that sounded too much like her own echoed in her head.

She watched as two other knights approached Link, their conversation lost in the noise and distance. Whatever it was they said, Link gave them a curt nod before leading his horse into the stables, effortlessly setting down a fresh bale of hay before leaving his horse with a pat on the neck. As he slowly closed the gate, he paused for the briefest of seconds, before his eyes looked up and met hers, a curious expression appearing on his face before replacing it with that same stoic look she had grown so irritated by.

Zelda quickly backed away from the balcony, her back against the wall, as though hiding herself would somehow erase the fact that he had seen her at all. Letting out an irritated sigh, she massaged her temples with a groan.

Did she imagine his smile again? It was so hard to picture now, that stone cold expression of his so fresh in her mind’s eye. Never had she ever imagined her knight behaving so… casually. She didn’t know he could be. But now that she did, she couldn't help but want to see more.

To see more of that easy going smile. To hear more of that light, carefree laugh.

But for that, he would need to let his guard down around her. And she had given him more than enough reason to dislike her.

Straightening her back, her head held high, Zelda marched her way to her study. It was a familiar kind of determination. The same kind she felt whenever she made a new discovery when experimenting or tinkering with the Sheikah Slate. Only now, Link was her new subject of interest. A new formula she wanted to solve.

They didn't need to be friends (nothing in the legends ever said they needed to be, after all), but perhaps trusted cohorts would suffice. That at least would be good enough for her.

Chapter Text

Zelda had written a list in one of her journals. It was supposed to be a list of things to thank Link for his braveness, but also a way to discreetly ask for his forgiveness.

It was supposed be a list of things he liked, but so far, the only thing she had written down was “horses.”

She couldn’t just… gift him a horse, right? Even for a princess, that still felt a bit too extravagant for a simple “thank-you-for-saving-my-life-and-putting-up-with-me-despite-my-lack-of-power-and-snippy-remarks” gift. No, perhaps something simpler would suffice.

Zelda found herself in the castle’s library that afternoon, Link dutifully guarding the door. His presence seemed a bit unnecessary for such a low-stakes task, but her complaining never did get her anywhere before and she was well past the days of trying to give him the slip. He would always find her anyway. How he managed to, she had yet to figure out, but perhaps she should be grateful for his accurate tracking skills.

Breathing out a sigh, Zelda tried to force her thoughts back to the tome she was skimming over, banishing any distracting thoughts to the dark corners of her mind.

She was reading through the royal family’s history, in hopes of unearthing how the princesses of the past unlocked their sacred powers. The text never seemed to go into much detail, as though her ancestors were simply born wielding the Goddess’s power. The ever-growing fear that something was wrong with her only worsened the more she read of their success. Some of her ancestors were even as young as ten years old when they started seeing visions of the future. Zelda all but slammed the book shut upon reading that, a frustrated sigh escaping her lips, much louder than she intended.

That seemed to have caught the attention of her knight, his eyes catching hers for only a second before glancing away to stare at the empty space in front of him. Most knights were trained to blend into the background and to only speak when spoken to in the presence of royalty. Despite this knowledge, Zelda had found Link’s silence unnerving. He was too good at keeping to the background, and yet his presence was so hard to ignore. Perhaps it was the sword on his back, a reminder of his role as the hero chosen by the Goddess and the champion of Hyrule. It was always looming in the corner of her eye, as if it were taunting her; reminding her of the expectations she had failed to meet.

Almost abruptly, Zelda stood to her feet, collecting a few books in her arms to return to the shelves. This study session felt just as fruitless as ever. If it were up to her, she’d be out researching one of the mysterious shrines, or helping Purah and Robbie in assembling and activating the newly discovered guardians (they had just unearthed a model that could fly! How she envied the researchers who first found that).

Zelda sighed as she returned to the library’s desk. She hadn’t realized just how large her pile had become and dreaded the fact that she’d have to make more return trips. Just as she began placing more books in her arms, a shuffle and a blur of blue from the corner of her eye caught her attention. To her surprise, Link stood on the other side of the desk, stacking books atop one another when their gazes met. He tilted his head, an expression she wasn’t quite familiar with gracing his features. It took her longer than she’d care to admit to figure out he was asking her a question.

Well, not so much asking, but the gesture was simple enough for her to understand once it clicked.

“Oh,” Zelda stumbled over her words before clearing her throat, “I don’t mind the help.” She said more clearly.

Satisfied with her answer, he gave a respectable nod before moving to her side, stack of books in hand. As they made their way to organize the shelves, the two of them standing shoulder to shoulder, Zelda couldn’t help but sneak a glance at Link. Never had she stood so close to him; normally he stayed six paces behind her, as was the proper protocol, only moving ahead of her if he needed to scout the area for potential danger.

She never ever paid this close attention to his features. The blue of his eyes were so intense, almost perfectly matching his champions tunic. To think those eyes were capable of holding a gaze so intense, so fierce, it could burn a hold through the skulls of any poor soul that were arrogant enough to challenge him. Now those same eyes were scanning over book spines, no trace of that battle hardened stare that could turn Lynels to stone. His soft, neutral expression made him appear almost younger; or perhaps he simply looked his age. It was so easy to forget how young he was. And how much younger he must have been when he pulled that legendary sword.

Only when his eyes met hers, a single eyebrow raised in genuine confusion did Zelda realize she had stopped placing the books and was staring.

Cheeks stained red, Zelda’s gaze darted to the shelf in front of her, her mind running a mile a minute, searching for a way to break this overwhelming silence and save herself the embarrassment of being caught.

“Say, Link?” She spoke and Link's body stiffened beside her. Almost immediately she realized her blunder. Never had she ever called him by name—never out loud anyway. Normally a formal “Sir Knight” was enough to call his attention. And on days when she was feeling extra irritable, a snide “Hero” might have slipped from her tongue from time to time. Zelda couldn’t help but wince at that memory. She continued, “after I’m done here, I was hoping to go out for some fresh air. I’m growing a bit restless and thought getting some sun could do me some good.”

Her pilgrimage to The Spring of Courage was some days away, and though she wished her reasons for leaving the castle were under different circumstances, she wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. Speaking of…

“Impa gifted me a horse not too long ago and I was hoping to take her out to get her accustomed to the area. You don’t have anything planned for later, do you?” What did her knight do in his free time? If he had any at all. She wished she could just ask him, but she doubted she’d get any answers out of him.

He stared at her, the silence heavy and suffocating. The way his eyes studied her face, as though he could read her made her want to fidget under his scrutinizing gaze but she somehow managed to stay outwardly still. After what felt like an eternity, his expression softened as he gave his head a gentle shake.

It took a moment for her to realize he was answering her question. “Alright,” she said, avoiding his gaze, inspecting the book cover she held in her hand as though it were a precious artifact, before placing it on the shelf before her.

What was that reaction? She tried to tuck down that familiar irritation that often bubbled up whenever she suspected he may have been judging her. His silence often left gaps that her mind would fill with self-effacing thoughts that only grew worse the longer the quiet grew.  

When the two were done with their task and Zelda was headed towards the double doors that led into the castle hallways, she couldn’t help but notice the hesitance of Link’s step, the rush of his feet to catch up, before his stride synced perfectly with hers. It was only then that she pieced together his odd behavior.

This was the first time she had told him where she was going, instead of sneaking away on her own.

Her shoulders relaxed at the realization. Perhaps in his eyes, she was the one acting strangely. First calling him by his given name and now asking him to follow her on her small, unimportant endeavor? Zelda couldn’t help the small, amused smile that curled her lips. To be the one to catch Link by surprise was quiet the feat.

Yes, what’s gotten into his princess indeed.

The ride out to Hyrule Field was just as freeing as Zelda imagined it would be. The sweet scents of spring calmed her nerves, chased her ever growing thoughts and decluttered her mind. She breathed it in, letting it fill her lungs, savoring the moment as best she could. Before Zelda had the chance to exhale, her body jolted as her horse came to an abrupt stop. An involuntary shriek escaped her throat as her fingers gripped her horse’s mane, steadying herself.

The hooves of Link’s horse weren’t too far behind, the rumble of the ground growing closer. He halted beside her, his stop much smoother, his horse obeying him without any fuss. Still on his saddle, Link leaned closer to her, his eyes worriedly searching for any sign of injury. It almost reminded her of his concerned expression back in the desert after the Yiga attack.

“I’m fine,” Zelda said, trying to catch her breath. Link didn’t look too convinced, his eyes narrowing as he searched her face.

Effortlessly, Link dismounted his own horse. Standing by her side, Link’s own fingers made their way to her horse’s mane. This did nothing to sooth the poor girl as she stomped her hooves and shook her head with a whinny.

Link's hand pulled back as he released a curious hum, which was the most sound she had heard from him all week.

“I don’t think he’s used to me.” Zelda said. As she adjusted herself to climb off her saddle, Link offered his hand. She paused, staring at it as though it were a forbidden tome that held sensitive secrets.

This is a part of his job, she thought to herself, though that didn’t stop the warmth that bubbled in her chest when she placed her hand in his. His fingers were partially covered due to the fingerless gloves he wore, but that didn’t stop her from noticing just how gentle he was when assisting her. Once her feet were safely on solid ground, a smile graced her lips as she softly said, “thank you.”

He acknowledged her thanks with a nod before turning his attention to her horse. He reached into his pack and, to her surprised, pulled out an apple. An image of Link feeding his horse the very same fruit flashed in her mind, and she immediately understood what he was planning to do. But to her surprise, he offered the apple to her. Zelda stared at it for a moment, unsure of what he wanted. Just as Zelda realized what he was trying to suggest, his own horse swooped in, gobbling down the apple in one satisfying crunch. Never had she seen such a bewildered expression cross her knight’s face. Without realizing it, Zelda had let out a laugh which only seemed to confuse the poor boy more. Covering her mouth with her hand, she tried to smother her laugher with a cough before letting out a, “sorry.”

If Link were offended by her short outburst, his face didn’t show it. He simply reached into his pack and pulled out another apple (just how many did he carry around?). Before his horse could snatch it up again, Zelda was much quicker to grab it this time around (though Link did have to hold back his horse by her reins, which elicited another chuckle from Zelda, earning another bemused look from him, which only made Zelda laugh more).

Looking down at the red fruit with a smile, she said, “thank you—” his name nearly falling from her tongue again. She swallowed it down when she caught herself, replacing it with, “Sir Knight.” Though it was his more appropriate title, something about calling him that now felt so odd. Almost cold.

How strange; it had only been a slip of the tongue when she said his name before, so she didn’t understand why going back to formality bothered her so much. It wasn’t like they were friends. Were they even acquaintances? Would he think of them as such? Probably not. She was simply an obligation, nothing more.

Banishing those thoughts with a shake of her head, Zelda cautiously approached her horse, holding the apple in the palm of her hand. Just as carefully, the mare sniffed at the fruit gingerly before gently taking it into her mouth. Smiling to herself, Zelda’s hand slowly reached up, so as not to startle her animal companion, to stroke her mane. Just as her fingers grazed her coat, a voice, unfamiliar and soft, froze Zelda’s movements.

“Link is fine.”

Zelda’s head turned to the source so fast, she wouldn’t be surprised if her neck was sore the next morning. “What?”

Link wasn’t looking at her, his eyes focused on her hand that had paused mid stroke, hovering in midair. Did she hallucinate that? Did he just—

“I…” his voice, if possible, grew softer, as though unsure if he should continue at all. Thankfully, he did, “I don’t mind… if you call me that.”

He did!

Zelda tilted her head, and said, "if I call you...?" She knew exactly what he meant, but she wanted to hear him again. She still wasn't sure if this was an illusion of some kind. Perhaps she had fallen asleep in the library without notice and she was still dreaming. So she feigned a clueless expression and hoped he would speak again.

He chewed the inside of his cheek, and she feared she might have scared him out of speaking. Finally, in the same low voice as before, he said, "Link..."

The few words he spoke were faint, his voice a lot lighter than she ever imagined. Of course she didn’t miss just how horse he sounded. Just how long has he gone without speaking?

She was so caught up in the shock of hearing him, she completely missed what he might have been referring to. A smile tugged at her lips as she let out a breath. What a relief it was to learn he hadn’t been offended by her thoughtless slip of the tongue. To think such a mistake would lead to him speaking to her for the first time.

Zelda wondered if she could get more words out of him—there was so much she wanted to ask of him after all. But she didn’t want to push him too much too soon. Maybe, if she gave it time, he’ll open up on his own accord.

She could only hope.

Chapter Text

The following days after Link first spoke to her carried on in the same, almost suffocating silence. She’d hoped he’d speak to her more freely after that, but no. It was as though nothing between them had changed.

Over and over, that moment in Hyrule Field played in her head, Zelda analyzing everything down to the finest detail, trying to figure out what drove him to speak in the first place. Perhaps, she thought, if she could figure out what sparked his decision to speak in the first place, she could replicate it.

He had helped her calm her horse and permitted her to call him by his given name; she had thought this meant his walls were finally crashing down. But it turned out Link’s walls were sturdier than she thought. Coaxing any conversation out of him was starting to feel just as difficult as trying to unlock her divine abilities.

It was currently the first day of her pilgrimage to The Spring of Courage and the two had awoken early that morning, essential items already packed days in advance. The trip to the spring should be a two day trip, assuming the weather was agreeable, and they didn’t run into any trouble. Accounting for the return trip back to the castle, Zelda would be spending four days out in the open air, sleeping under the stars for at least two days and two nights. Though she wished this trip were for different circumstances. The last trip to one of the springs ended the way they always did: in failure. The whispers around the castle were hard to ignore, like trying to dodge small pallets of hail while out in an ice storm. Rumors about the Princess’s power skipping a generation or becoming diluted spread like wildfire. Whenever she’d enter a room, an eerie silence would always follow. It was the kind of silence that was too abrupt, too guilty; the kind that only accompanied a gossip whose subject of conversation just came into earshot, and they had to put on a tight-lipped smile, had to pretend they hadn’t just tarnished her name behind her back.

Perhaps that was the reason the quiet haunted her so.

Forcefully pulled out of her dark musings, Link’s grunt as he pulled his horse to a stop brought her mind the forefront. Not too far behind him, Zelda’s stop wasn’t as graceful as she would have liked. Luckily, Link didn’t seem to be paying her much attention.

They had been traveling for a while, her rear sore and legs growing numb. Last time they stopped had been to eat lunch and let their horses drink, but that had been a while ago.

Zelda slipped off her horse, giving her body a nice needed stretch. The sun hung low, painting the sky in gold and soft pink clouds. The warmth that blanketed her was more comforting than overwhelming, the breeze gentle as it caressed her cheeks. They were surrounded by mountains to one side, a thick forest to the other, the tip of Dueling Peaks just barely visible in the distance.

“Are we setting up camp for the night?” Zelda asked.

To her surprise, instead of the nod she expected from him, Link glanced at her for the briefest of seconds and held his pointer finger to his lips. It was only then she had noticed how tense his shoulders were. Immediately, her heart began to race, her eyes scanning their surroundings for potential danger.

“What is it?” Zelda asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Link pointed ahead down the dirt road, “See that?”

She was momentarily frozen by the rare sound of his voice. Biting her lip to hide the almost giddy smile that curled her lips, she tried to quiet her beating heart (she was unsure if her rapid heartbeat was because of Link’s sudden voice or the potential danger ahead). In the distance, she spotted the telltale signs of a campfire, smoke rising and dissipating into the air. Listening closer, she picked up the distinct sound of pig-like snorting.

Zelda pulled the Sheikah Slate from her hip, using it to scope the potential danger ahead.

“Bokoblins,” Zelda spoke softly to herself, “and quite a few of them, too. A lot more than the usual sightings,” Zelda said, “and… I’ve never seen those colors before.”

It was common knowledge amongst the knights of Hyrule how certain colored monsters posed different threats. Young, inexperienced knights were sent out to handle easier, lower-level threats (red, and the occasional blues). Lately, there had been an increase in monster sightings, harassing and attacking travelers and merchants, some even traveling in large packs.

The blur of a sudden figure in her peripheral vision nearly made Zelda drop the slate from her hands. For a fraction of a second, she feared they’d been spotted, and the enemy was fast approaching, only for her eyes to focus in on the brush of blond hair that gently stroked her cheek as Link’s gaze focused on the slate that was still aimed at the camp of bokoblins in the far distance.

His eyes drifted from one monster to the other, before settling on the one that gave Zelda pause.

“Silver…” He whispered so softly, had he not been standing so close, she may not have heard him at all.

Three words out of her knight and the sun had only partially set. Perhaps the three goddesses were smiling upon her that day.

Zelda hoped her gulp wasn’t audible, “Yes… That’s new… I wonder what it could mean…”

Of course she had her own hypothesis. If even the weakest of monsters were growing in numbers and power, could that mean the Calamity Ganon was drawing nearer? Zelda’s stomach twisted in knots, her skin growing cold as that thought crossed her mind.

Link, perhaps mistaking her pale complexion for fear of their current predicament, gave her a reassuring smile before gently guiding her to hide behind some bushes and trees. He motioned for her to stay low, his gaze holding her hostage. She wordlessly followed his direction, and he gave her a nod of approval before he stood to his full height and strode over to his horse. Grabbing a quiver of arrows from his travel bags, alongside a sturdy soldier’s bow, he effortlessly secured them as though it were second nature. Mounting his horse, Link gave her one more reassuring smile before grabbing the reins, his horse obediently and fearlessly galloping away toward the potential threat.

Those smiles he gave her, small as they were, in combination with Link’s lack of hesitance to lead her by the hand, stole the air from her lungs and stained her cheeks red. Was she going to have that reaction every time he smiled at her? Or held her hand?

Inhaling sharply in an attempt to catch her breath (it only succeeded in making her more lightheaded), Zelda pulled out her slate once more, eyes never leaving her knight. So often had she seen him using The Master Sword, she'd forgotten how skilled he was with a bow. His aim was impeccable, each arrow soaring through the air, hitting its target at such a speed, it was nearly impossible to track with the human eye. One bokoblin grabbed its wooden club and, to the surprise of Zelda, thrusted it into the flames of the nearby campfire. It leaped at Link’s horse, waving its wooden weapon now engulfed in a fiery blaze, startling the horse he sat upon. Link tightly grabbed the reins before he could be thrown off. He attempted to calm his animal companion, to what looked like no avail. Unexpectedly, Link launched himself into the air, nocking multiple arrows and taking aim with his bow. He managed to hit every target before his boots hit the ground. Though she had never admitted this out loud, she couldn’t deny how impressive his combat skills were. But then, what else would she expect from the chosen hero?

Zelda was so enthralled by the display in front of her, too mesmerized by his fluid movements and Link's quick thinking, that she just barely missed the footfalls growing closer. An alarmed whinny from her horse made her eyes snap away from her slate, an involuntary gasp escaping her throat before she slapped her hands over her mouth in an attempt to quiet herself.

A silver bokoblin had noticed her horse, not yet noticing her presence, its attention too preoccupied with inching closer to her horse. Before Zelda had the time to even think of a reaction, the monster grabbed at her horse, only to be met with a rigorous kick to the chest that sent the creature flying. It landed with a thud so loud it made Zelda recoil. Had it been an ordinary Hylian, that kick may have earned them broken ribs and punctured lungs at best.

Trying in vain to swallow the lump in her throat, Zelda’s heartbeat erratically, her skin breaking out in a cold sweat. She can’t say she had ever been this close to a monster before. It must have slipped away from under Link’s nose while he was distracted. She couldn’t help but inwardly berate herself for not being more attentive to her surroundings.

The bokoblin lay so still before her, Zelda might have mistaken it for dead. But she knew better; these beasts always dissipated into a puff of smoke, leaving their weapons and the occasional still beating innards behind.

Zelda’s instincts screamed for her to call for Link, but she didn’t want to alert any more enemies to her location. Spotting the bokoblin’s club knocked from its hands, lying uselessly at its side, Zelda sprinted to grab it, her body moving before her brain had the chance to catch up. The plan was to separate it from its weapon, find a new hiding spot, and pray to Farore that Link would return before the beast woke up. But just as her fingers grasped the wooden weapon, its scarlet eyes snapped wide open, sending a shiver down Zelda’s spine. Its movements were sluggish as it rose to its feet, as though in a daze. Not wanting to give it a second to catch its bearings and retaliate, Zelda swung the club with all the strength she could muster. The shriek that forced its way through her throat was muffled by her pulse rushing in her ears. She was surprised by her own strength as she watched the bokoblin tumble down the dirt road, landing flat on its back.

It didn’t stay down for long, leaping to its feet, eyes meeting hers with a snarl. It charged at her, and before Zelda could even think of making the decision to flee or stand her ground, an arrow whizzed past her at such a speed, the breeze it left in its wake stung her cheek. The arrow landed in the monster’s head, sending it flying. It lay there, motionless, before it evaporated into a puff of purple and black smoke. The mist left a trail as it dispelled, the pungent odor violating Zelda’s nose, making her eyes water.

“Highness,” Link’s voice startled her, her pounding heart practically synced with the galloping of his horse. He jumped off his horse and ran to her side, and only then did her knees give out, the club slipping from her hands. He caught her, the two of them knelt on the ground, Link examining her for any injuries, pausing when he noticed her misty eyes.

Collecting herself, Zelda stood to her full height, trying to hide her shaky hands by dusting the dirt from her pants. “I’m fine.” She tried to reassure him, but she didn’t even convince herself. Goddesses above, how did Link manage to fight off a horde of those things and appear so calm afterwards?

“And you?” Zelda asked Link, diverting the attention from her, “Are you injured?”

Predictably, he didn’t answer her. He simply surveyed the area. The sun had practically vanished below the horizon, fireflies glittering about above the grass. With no danger immediately in sight, Link’s shoulders visibly relaxed. It was then Zelda noticed the visible wound on his arm.

“Link,” she hissed, grabbing his arm without thinking, examining it closely, “you’re burned!”

On his forearm, an angry red burn graced his skin. Link looked on in confusion, as though he too had just noticed the injury in that moment. It was then Zelda realized how close they were; close enough to feel his body heat, their shoulder brushing. And she was still holding his arm!

Reluctantly, Zelda let him go, averting her gaze to her horse, whose saddle held her supplies. “I…” She cleared her throat when her voice cracked, “I should have something that could help. Let’s set up camp so we can collect ourselves.”

And, she wasn’t sure if she was referring to his injury or herself.

It was only when her heart was calming and her hands stopped shaking did she notice that, when he called for her, it was by her title and not her name. Zelda couldn’t put her finger on why that bothered her so much.

They had set up camp in the nearby forest, hoping that the trees would hide them from any potential threats. The horses were grazing in the grass, while Link had set up a portable cooking pot. Prime meat stew permeated the air, distracting Zelda in her search through her packed items for the emergency kit. If it was one thing Zelda confidently knew about Link, it was this: he was an impressive chef. She still remembered the first night they spent out in the wild together, he had made the two of them a meat and rice bowl. Even in her annoyance at his suffocating presence, she couldn’t deny how divine that meal had been.

Finally, Zelda’s fingers grasped what she was looking for, pulling out a healing salve alongside some bandages and her waterskin. Marching her way over to the cooking pot, she paused, watching as Link stirred some carrots into the stew. His attention was captivated by the simmering food in front of him, his eyes filled with a glistening sparkle she’d never seen before. Mixed in the array of sounds that accompanied nightfall—the hoot of an owl, the chirping of crickets, the cracking of the campfire—Zelda picked up the distinct, unfamiliar sound of a gentle hum. When she stepped closer, drawing Link’s attention for a fraction of a second before he returned it to the pot before him, the humming stopped. It was then did she realize that Link was the source of that melodic tune.

Zelda had never paid much attention to Link in their downtime. Normally, she’d spend her nights fiddling around with the Sheikah Slate. After their meal, she’d be off to sleep, her back toward him. Had he always been so enthralled by his own cooking? She had to admit; it was a rather endearing sight.

She cleared her throat, though she knew he was aware of her presence. “Alright,” Zelda said as she sat next to Link, “let me see your arm.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Your arm.” Zelda repeated, “The one with the burn? Did… did you forget?”

His face lit in remembrance, affirming what Zelda had suspected. How… was that possible?

Not wanting to dwell on the thought of her knight's possible high pain tolerance, Zelda took Link’s arm and examined it. She cleaned it before applying the salve, his skin warm beneath her fingertips.

“It doesn’t compare to Mipha’s healing,” Zelda said, “but it’ll have to for now.”

As she finished applying the balm, a thought invaded her mind like a sudden flood, drowning out all other senses, making her pause. Had she manifested her abilities, she could have had the power to heal him herself. She worried her bottom lip as she stared at the blistering red mark marring Link’s skin. It would leave a scar, no doubt. Perhaps she could have prevented that if she could figure out what was wrong with her. Figure out why her powers never answered her call when they came to her mother and grandmother and every queen before her so easily. Why did the others—The Champions, Link—fill their roles so easily, but not her. Why not her?

Zelda jumped when the source of her inner anguish cleared his throat. She had been staring at his arm with a scowl, the silence between them growing thick and stifling enough to choke. He must have mistaken her glare for annoyance or concern (and she supposed he wasn't wrong) because he pulled his arm away and gave her another reassuring smile.

“M’fine.” He mumbled, his voice a warm, gentle whisper, yet slightly coarse around the edges. 

Zelda cleared her throat and averted her gaze, eyes focused on the space between them, “Yes, well,” she pulled his arm back to her, unwrapping the bandages that sat in her lap, “even the smallest cuts could lead to a dangerous infection if not treated properly. You should be more careful.”

Link gave her a nod, but his focus was no longer on her, his gaze locked on the simmering food. With his arm now freshly wrapped, he gave her a nod in thanks before scooping a sizable portion into a bowl and handing it to her.

“Oh,” Zelda took it, relishing in the warmth that emitted from the dish, a sweet contrast to the cold of night, “thank you.” She couldn’t keep down the smile that pulled her the tip of her lips as she took her first bite, a satisfied hum emitting from her throat. His cooking could put the royal chefs to shame.

The fatigue of that day’s travel was slowly catching up to her, the weight of their encounter pulling her down heavily. She wondered if Link felt it too. To be on such high alert, surveying their surroundings for danger, fighting off monsters, all while also looking out for her safety? In his shoes, she would be in desperate need of a break.

Even now, Link never seemed to rest, his body taut, ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice, his eyes bright and alert.  

As the ever-growing stillness blanketed around them, Zelda couldn’t help but fidget as the seconds passed them by. Desperate to fill the space, she spoke.

“Link?”

He paused, mid-chewing, his bowl already half empty.

“I thank you for coming to my aid.” She worried her lip, her brows furrowed as she concentrated on the blades of grass beneath her. Now, quieter, mostly to herself, she muttered, “that’s the second time now.”

Zelda didn’t dare count all the times before her near assassination by the hands of the Yiga. The times she’d leave him searching for her while she slipped away into the wilds for her own selfish inquiries.

He waved away her thanks in a gesture that could only be described as nonchalant. It’s fine, she interpreted. Just part of the job. Not a big deal.

But it was to her.

“Also…” her voice wavered, catching Link’s attention, curiosity readable in his expression. He had finished his bowl of stew and was preparing a second serving. She paused for much longer than she intended, Link’s eyes never leaving hers. Finally, Zelda collected the words she wanted to say, rolling them over in her head before freeing them from her lips, “I’d like to apologize.”

That familiar silence returned with a vengeance, the urge to hide away in her bedroll to save herself the embarrassment growing stronger by every second that passed them by. The words echoed in her head, and Zelda began to wonder if he had heard her at all. Perhaps he did and was simply ignoring her. 

But Link’s eyes held no resentment or annoyance. No, instead, a look of genuine confusion graced his features. 

Back straighter, she spoke a little louder, more clearly, “I’d like to apologize for my past behavior. You’ve done nothing but risk your life for me, and I’ve only ever made your job harder for you. For that, I’m sorry.”

The silence that followed was different from the one before. Link bit his lip, his eyes downcast on the fire ahead. The deep furrow of his brow made him appear older, the glimmer of the fire eclipsing his form, enveloping him in an orange glow, and outlining him in shadow. He looked like a hero from an old war painting.

Finally, releasing a sigh from his nose, he said, “s'fine.” Before helping himself to another serving of food.

What.

She couldn’t understand why his response bothered her so much. No indignation? No resentment? Was he truly forgiving her so easily? If she were in his shoes, she’d throw a fit and scold her. So why wasn’t he?

“Don’t you hate me?” The words leaped from her mouth before her brain could stop her. That had meant to be a thought, kept in the deepest, darkest corners of her mind, never to see the light of day. Her hands snapped to her mouth, slapping it shut in horror, face burning in embarrassment. If only the ground could just swallow her up.

“What?” That had to be the loudest she’d ever heard her knight, and were she not been paralyzed with humiliation, she might have laughed at his befuddled expression. “Who told you that?”

There was a waver in his voice, the closest she could ever describe as a panic coming from Link. It tugged at her heart.

“No one,” Zelda reassured. “I just…” let her baseless thoughts grow like untamed weeds. But she couldn’t tell him that. She’d already said too much. “Just forget I said anything.”

The crease between his brows grew deeper, and he stared at her so long she feared a hole might burn between her eyes. Finally, ever so softly, and as gently as a summer breeze, he said, “I don’t hate you.”

His words were a balm for the self-inflicted mental wounds she never left alone to heal. They were more soothing than she’d ever imagined they could ever be, lifting a load off her mind she didn’t even know was weighing her down. For the first time that night, she smiled.

There was that nagging feeling again that gnawed at her psyche and overwhelmed her thoughts. A want to read his mind like a book, a need to understand his motives and habits. To solve and understand him, piecing him together like a puzzle. To memorize him like a song, to quench her burning curiosity that burned away any sense of apathy or resentment she once held towards him.

Zelda couldn’t put a name to this feeling. Couldn’t understand the why. When exactly did he become her new special interest, she couldn't say. But once something caught Zelda’s interest, it was hard to put it out of her mind.

Standing to her feet with a stretch, Zelda stifled a yawn behind her hand. “It’s getting late.” She said, looking over her shoulder at Link, “I don’t know how you do it, but just that one scuffle has left me exhausted. Goodnight.”

She unfurled her bedroll, tucking herself in. Lying on her side, she was surprised when Link didn’t make a move to rest. He simply relaxed his back against a tree, laying the Master Sword in his lap. He folded his arms, resting his eyes, releasing a breath that made his bangs flutter. It had never crossed her mind before, but did Link ever sleep? He would have to be ready to jump into action at a moment’s notice, but did that leave any room for him to rest? He was always so full of energy in the mornings, and she’d never paid much attention to him before, so she’d never thought about it.

“Goodnight, Highness.” Link spoke softly under his breath.

Zelda winced at the use of her title. Sitting up, the rustling of her sleeping bag called his attention to her. “If I am permitted to call you Link, then you may call me Zelda.”

He didn’t respond, but she could practically feel the hesitance radiating off him.

“I mean it,” she gave what she hoped was a reassuring smile, “out here, when it’s just the two of us, I’m just Zelda.”

Lying back down, Zelda closed her eyes, the coziness of the fire lulling her into a more relaxed state. For once, the silence between them was soothing, almost warm and comforting. As she drifted to sleep, she swore she heard Link whisper, “Goodnight, Zelda,” but she couldn’t tell if she dreamt it or not.

Chapter Text

A failure. Of course. Zelda wasn’t surprised anymore. No matter how long she prayed, no matter how hard she tried, the results always ended the same. Her powers never awoken, no voice ever spoke, her pleas for help—for guidance—never answered. It was the same result every single time, and Zelda wanted to scream out to the heavens, curse the goddess, the ancient spirits, and whatever divine deity that may hear her cry. She never did. But, she thought bitterly, even if she ever did, it wasn’t like they’d answer her anyway. Not even to smite her for her blasphemous thoughts.

The journey home was a quiet one, neither Link nor Zelda uttering a single word. On return trips like these, the silence didn’t overwhelm her. If anything, she embraced it. She was numb, her face unmoving, her energy spent. Any word that would leave her mouth now, she knew, would be snappish and short. Link would be her only available target, and she didn’t want to put him through that. She liked to believe she was more mature than that. At least now.

While Link was never a chatterbox before, on their way back, he was as silent as the still air. She wondered if he knew somehow. Knew how exhausted, how numb, how frightened she was. Knew to leave her to her own devices and let her stew in her melancholic thoughts.

Hyrule—her kingdom, her people, their lives, their fate—was in her useless hands. And she failed them once more.

But she expected that result.

The march into Castle Town went by in a blur. Some children who played in the central square fountain waved, and Zelda had to muster the energy to wave back. The closer to the castle gates, the further Link fell behind her, no longer at her side. No longer could she see him in her peripheral vision, and an attempt was made to ignore the hollowness that tried to settle in her gut.

There, at the base of the entrance into the castle, crossing the bridge over the Hyrule Castle Moat, Zelda’s eyes rested on the royal crest that symbolized a rising bird, its wings outstretched, as though it were preparing to soar, etched onto the metal double doors that led into the castle. She thought of the stories her mother once read to her, about the first chosen hero and how, supposedly, he rode that very red bird to save a Hyrule that had yet to be. What might that have been like, she would wonder, to freely fly through the clouds, no ceilings, no walls to confine her. Just her and the open skies.

The gates slammed shut behind them, startling Zelda’s horse. She had to hold tight to her reins, her thighs keeping her steady, to keep herself from falling. That would have just added insult to injury, to fall flat on her rear in the presence of the royal knights that stood guard, on top of having to deliver the news of her failure to her father. If only the Goddess Hylia would smite her. To have the Goddess’s blood coursing through her veins and embarrass her so might be considered a transgression for all she knew.

Zelda sighed, observing her surroundings once her horse had settled. She was back at the place she called home. Back behind castle walls.

Just ahead, watching them from the balcony of the observation room, stood the King of Hyrule. Rhoam Bosphoramus Hyrule. Her father. The expression on his face was as impassive as always, his stature imposing, even from afar. It was what made him so easy for Zelda to spot.

A knight stood on either side of the king, both dressed in navy blue tunics, and white gloves and boots of their royal guard uniforms, yet he towered over them by heads and shoulders. He stood tall, his chin held high, the setting sun’s rays bouncing off his golden crown. He was every bit as dignified as the kings in the paintings that hung on the walls of the castle.

Even at this far distance, Zelda found his gaze daunting. There was no way he could see her face, right? He couldn’t read the dread in her expression, the tightness in her shoulders, or hear the thick swallow of her throat. So why did it feel like he already knew?

But then, it wouldn’t be a surprise. Zelda had been training to awaken her powers since she was a small child, and the outcome was always the same.

Well, if her father already expected these results, then it sure would save her the burn of humiliation of confessing to him with her own mouth. He should just dismiss her now to save them both the trouble.

As they passed through the guard’s chamber, Zelda slowed her steed. “Link,” she called his name, only loud enough for him to hear. He slowly pulled up beside her, his eyes forward and face never changing, but somehow Zelda knew she held his attention. “When we reach the entrance of the castle, you’re… dismissed for the day.”  

How odd. Normally, when she dismissed her knight, it was followed by a sense of relief. She never wanted him to witness her confessing her failings to the king, his icy blue eyes piercing her back as she faced the unmovable stone wall that was her father. It was like being trapped between a wall and a boulder.

So why did dismissing him now leave her feeling lost and anxious?

Learning that he never hated her was still fresh in her mind. It brought on more questions. If not to judge her, what was the reason for his silence? Did he swear an oath, perhaps? Did he only speak amongst his peers? His family?

What would it take, she wondered, to be someone he trusted enough to speak freely with?

Closer to the entrance of Hyrule Castle, sat on two stone pillars, facing one another, was that very same bird with its outstretched wings, bathed in gold instead of the traditional red. Two attendants waited, their heads bowed, hands clasped just below the waist, dressed in their long blue dresses and white head coverings.

“Welcome back, Your Highness.” They said in practiced unison, followed by a synchronized curtsy. The one to the left said, “His Majesty, The King, will be with you shortly.”

The one to the right spoke up next, “wait for him in the throne room, and he’ll be with you momentarily.”

Zelda knew they only informed her out of obligation, but she wished they didn’t. She had the steps to this dance memorized.

She heard Link’s boots hit the ground behind her, watched as he maneuvered to her side, and offered her his hand. Their fingers brushed, and Zelda ignored the warmth that seemed to always bubble in her chest in the moments they touched as she dismounted.

They stood shoulder to shoulder for a moment longer than usual. Ever since their talk at the campfire, their relationship carried a new, unrecognizable atmosphere, almost electrifying. They were far from strangers, and Zelda hesitated to use the word “friends.” Acquaintances felt too impersonal, but so did colleagues.

So, what exactly was Link to her? She couldn’t find an answer.

Link gave a polite bow of his own, a slight bend at the waist, before taking the reins for her horse. He called his own steed with a whistle. The loyal stallion followed behind him wordlessly, as he led them to, she assumed, the stables.

As Zelda watched his disappearing back, the heaviness of unease grew, weighing down her shoulders and restricting the air in her lungs. She had done this a thousand times before—stood before her father, the king, to deliver the same bad news. With every day that passed them by brought Hyrule ever closer to The Calamity. And with monsters growing more powerful, she worried it could be any day now.

Zelda didn’t want to see the hopelessness that would appear in her father’s eyes for that fraction of a second when he heard the same old news. (He always composed himself after, but she saw.) She didn’t want to witness his disappointed sigh as he told her to train harder.

Maybe she made a mistake in dismissing Link so early.

With a sigh, she straightened her back, held her chin high, and kept her eyes ahead of her. With a mirage of confidence that would shatter like any illusion if one looked too closely, Zelda climbed the stairs, entering the sanctum to await the arrival of her father.

She will get through this on her own. Just as she always did.

When Zelda’s father heard of the enemy's growing power, he gave a despairing sigh, just as she’d expected.

“I thought,” Zelda spoke, “perhaps we could build more outposts and station high-ranking knights. We could also send some knights to the villages and have them escort travelers and merchants to their destinations.”

If she couldn’t protect her people with her divine power, then for now, this would have to do. She hoped it would be enough.

Her father contemplated her suggestion, sitting high on his throne. “If what you told me is true, then we may have no other options. This rise in encounters and sightings of monsters can’t be ignored.”

Zelda brightened, “Then I’ll—”

The king raised his hand, swiftly silencing her, “I’ll inform Impa of these potential plans. Perhaps she could even assign a few Sheikah to protect merchants and travelers, in the meantime. Your only job is to focus on your training.”

Zelda didn’t allow for her shoulders to visibly deflate, but the excitement in her voice noticeably dimmed. “Yes. Of course, Father.”

The king stood there, and for a fraction of a second, the dour look on his face cracked, giving way to something Zelda could almost describe as remorseful. Before she could linger on it too long, it vanished.

He dismissed her, as he always did, his expression betraying nothing. Zelda pushed away the lump in her throat. With an obligatory curtsy, a bit more awkward to do in her travel pants, she allowed her attendants to escort her to her room. Before they could follow her inside to assist in readying her for bed, Zelda spoke with her back to them, her hand resting on her wooden door, “if you don’t mind,” her voice was small and lacked its usual conviction, “I’d like to be left alone.”

Before they could even think of objecting, Zelda closed the doors behind her.

The following days passed by in a blur. Zelda tried to stay confined to her room, knowing the word of another failed attempt at awakening her powers would be the primary gossip around the castle. With every failed attempt, their faith in her seemed to dwindle. Not that she could blame them, but she did wish their whispers weren’t so loud. Wished their uneasy silence around her wasn’t so obvious, so haunting. It was always as if they were walking on eggshells around her, and she hated it!

As she sat at her desk that day, reading in the privacy of her study, there was a knock at her door, causing Zelda to inwardly groan. Resisting the urge to slam her book shut, Zelda crossed the open-air passageway that connected her study to her bedroom. Opening the double doors, she was surprised to see one of her attendants with a silver tray, a single slice of her favorite fruit cake, and a steaming cup of green tea.

Zelda tried to ignore the watering of her mouth when the delectable, sweet smell hit her nose.

The attendant answered her unspoken question, “that sweet young man—you know, your knight—left this to me with a note. It said something about helping you feel better. Are you unwell, Your Highness?”

“No,” Zelda answered, the words of her attendant not yet registering in her head, “wait, you mean Link left this?”

She nodded, “made it himself, I believe.” The woman walked past Zelda, into her bedroom, placing the tray on her tea table. “I swear, that boy is in the kitchens almost as much as the chefs.” She let out an amused chuckle. Attention back on the princess, she bowed her head and asked, “anything else you need, Highness?”

Zelda stared at the cake and tea on her tea table. She didn’t know her knight could bake. Or that he took to the kitchens often enough for the staff to notice. Or that he knew her favorite dessert.

“Yes,” Zelda answered as she stuck her finger into the buttercream frosting, sticking it into her mouth (manners be damned!) relishing in the sweet flavor that coated her tongue, letting out a small hum in delight. “Please, tell him I said thank you.”

“Of course.” The woman bowed her head before she left.

Zelda sat on her plush, red velvet chair, taking one of the wild berries and plopping it into her mouth. The fruit was fresh, there was no doubt about it. A warmth settled in Zelda’s chest, and the tea wasn’t the culprit.

An idea struck her as she sank her fork into the spongy cake. All this time she had been debating with herself the best way to repay Link. She recalled his full cheeks as he ate his own stew, how he went back for seconds before she had even finished her first bowl. She remembered the near limitless apples he seemed to have on him at all times. And how his idea of cheering her up was by making her favorite cake (and how right he was!).

Zelda smiled to herself when she placed the fork with the sweet, moist cake in her mouth, closing her eyes as she let out a satisfied hum at the vanilla, nutty flavor.

What better way to a man’s heart than through his stomach, after all.

Once everything had been set up, Zelda made her way to the guard’s chamber. She wasn’t sure where to look for her knight first, but hopefully she knew him well enough to know he’d be training. Even when they were out on her pilgrimages or visiting one of the other kingdoms in Hyrule, he could always be seen, sword in hand, sometimes alone, sometimes training with others.

Zelda’s instincts were correct. Link and a fellow knight, both wielding wooden swords, locked in mock combat. The other knights cheered the two on, as though they were witnessing a match at the Hyrule coliseum.

The merriment was contagious, Zelda stifling a laugh as she stood out of sight. With all the doom and gloom that blanketed the castle like a miasma, it was refreshing to see Hyrule’s soldiers in such high spirits. Link was as swift as ever, his movements fast and unpredictable. It was as though he saw his opponents' next move before they themselves could register what they were doing. Even in a battle with no stakes and a jovial atmosphere, Link’s expression was as serious as always.

He parried the knight before him, throwing him off his stance, giving Link the chance to knock him off balance, delivering a blow that knocked the man flat on his back. The cheers only grew longer, a few knights giving Link congratulatory claps on the back, nearly toppling him off his own feet due to his short stature. It reminded her of Daruk and how Link would take the friendly (what Daruk portably perceived as “gentle”) shove in stride.

This time Zelda’s laugh wasn’t as quiet, causing a hush to cover the room. All eyes on her, wide in surprise or embarrassment, bodies frozen. Finally, as if they all remembered her station at the same time, their posture stiffened, all bowing at the waist.

“Highness,” one knight called, “to what do we owe the pleasure?”

Words caught in Zelda’s throat before she cleared them away. She hoped her face wasn’t red. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to intrude. I simply came here to borrow my knight.”

All eyes shifted to Link, and he looked just as confused as his fellow soldiers. Without another word, he collected the Master Sword that was sitting against a wall, securing it to his back. As the two went up the stairs, Zelda waved and called out, “enjoy the rest of your evening!”

As the two made it into the hallways, Zelda abruptly stopped and turned to face Link, “I’m sorry, I hope I didn’t cause any trouble.”

He shook his head, but the curious look never left his face. She couldn’t blame him. She’d never seek him out, especially in the guard’s chamber like this before. Zelda started to wonder if she might have been intruding, overstepping some unspoken boundary.

Resisting the urge to fidget, she continued, “I was just hoping that… that you’d join me for dinner? Father would be busy for the evening, and I’d rather not eat alone.” Zelda felt her cheeks brighten, “I’d also like to thank you… for the cake. That was you, right?”

He nodded slowly, as if he hadn’t fully processed her words yet.

She sighed in relief. How embarrassing that could have been if she had just assumed. It was an unlikely chance for her attendants to lie, but she needed to see the confirmation from him with her own eyes.

Zelda’s eyes wandered to one of the balconies, and she noticed just how low the sun hung in the sky, “oh, but it’s already so late, and you’ve probably already eaten. I’m sorry, I’ll take no offence if you—”

“It’s fine.”

Zelda paused in her ramblings, still not used to the sound of his voice. She couldn’t understand why it made her heart flutter so, or why her stomach did somersaults upon hearing it.

This time, he smiled, something friendly and kind, his eyes bright, “I could eat.”

Zelda turned her back to him, her head lighter than before, the picture of his smile itched into her memory. Without another word, she escorted them to their destination.

The gazebo at Hyrule Castle was one of Zelda’s favorite spots. The view of the sunset was magnificent, and it always filled her with happier memories of her with her father and mother. The most recent memory of this place was with her and the Champions, all posed for a picture on the Sheikah Slate. She smiled fondly as she remembered Daruk’s antics of that day, resulting in a memorable photo.

In the middle of the gazebo sat a table, newly set up for the occasion by her attendants. On it sat two steaming plates of gourmet poultry pilaf, a tea pot and two cups of warm tea, courtesy of the chef. Zelda hoped, one day in the future, she’d be able to make a dish of her own, just like how Link cooks for her. It would be more personal that way.

Link eyed his plate, a sparkle in his eyes, and impatience in his fidgeting posture. So, her knight’s weakness was food. Good to know.

Only after Zelda took the first bite did Link follow suit. As the two ate, Zelda searched for a topic to fill the silence. While not the first time they’ve been alone together, something about this particular moment felt different somehow.

“So Link…” Zelda spoke slowly, “I was wondering… You supposedly made the cake because I was unwell. What gave you that idea?”

He paused in his chewing, swallowing slowly. Brows furrowed, he sat there for so long Zelda wondered if he was going to answer her question. Finally, he looked to her and said, “you always stay in your room for days after every pilgrimage.”

“Oh.” Her shoulders dropped at the realization. She stayed locked in her room and her study because the first few days after her return were when the gossip was at its loudest. It was easier to ignore in isolation. To think he paid attention enough to notice, though she supposed she shouldn’t be too surprised. “I’m sorry to have worried you, but I’m all better now.”

A lie or the truth, she wasn’t sure. Not so much “better,” but more so “used to it.” She was used to the disappointed eyes, the pitying stares. She just wished they didn’t make it so obvious. At least not in her presence.

He gave her a nod, and she wondered if he believed her. As the two ate their dinner, Zelda tried to let the calming sounds of nature soothe her, just like they did when she was out in the wilds. The whistle of the wind through the trees, the smell of the grass mingling with her tea. She surprised herself when the sigh she let out was tired and dejected.

Despite Link confessing with his own lips that he didn’t hate her, it didn’t quiet the storm of thoughts that always raged when he was around. It ate away at her as every second passed them by. If not because of her, what was the reason for his silence?

Lifting her chin with false bravado, Zelda spoke softer than she intended, “I had been meaning to ask since our last talk.”

Link sat up straighter, his eyes more focused. Just below, she could see his plate was nearly clean, and she might have laughed at the sight had the moment not felt so tense.

“The reason you don’t speak… did you take an oath?” Speaking it out loud, Zelda started to realize how little sense that made. He spoke to her now in curt sentences, as though speaking more would physically pain him. Was that it, then? An injury that prevented him from speaking?

He looked away from her, his eyes far away. With just a glance, she could tell; he wasn’t here anymore. Whatever memory his mind was reliving, his normally stoic expression appeared somber.

Finally, after a gulp that shattered the quiet, he spoke. “I was only twelve when I pulled the sword.”

His words draw Zelda in, like a moth to a candle. Was he going to recount his finding of the Master Sword? That was a story he never told anyone, not even to bards or historians. Not even (if rumors held any truth), apparently, his own father.

Link still didn’t meet her gaze, “I had found myself lost after wandering off from the training camp. That’s when…” he trailed off, his hand reaching behind him, fingers brushing the hilt of his sword. “I didn’t understand what I had at the time. But the look in my father’s eyes… he seemed to know the weight this sword carried.”

Zelda often wondered if he ever struggled under the weight of that sword. If its shadow ever loomed in his peripheral vision, encasing him. Haunting him, consuming him. Then she’d dismiss that thought as ridiculous. He was perfect, she’d rationalized, everything a hero should be. And everything I’m not.

Link spoke so softly, the wind could have carried his words away, but she managed to hear, “with so many eyes on me, their expectations were high, and I…” this pause stretched out longer than the rest, and Zelda thought he would leave it at that, but he continued with, “couldn't handle it.”

The crushing expectations, the anxious thoughts that gnawed away at your thoughts and robbed you of your peace of mind. Did Link experience that too? She wondered if the fear of failure ever left him paralyzed. To go from a boy to the Chosen Hero. Just another knight in training, to the Champion of Hyrule. Perhaps, too caught up in her own tangled mess that was her thoughts, she never spared one for him and his potential struggles.

Zelda’s tea and dinner had grown cold, but she had long lost her appetite by then.

“I can’t remember when I stopped...” He said, “I just remember thinking I couldn’t complain, and I couldn’t taint their trust and faith in me…”

“So you endured it in silence,” Zelda whispered, finishing his train of thought. It wasn’t phrased like a question, but a statement. A fact.

The smile he gave her wasn’t as vibrant as before. It didn’t reach his eyes, as all the other smiles he gave her did. In that moment, he wasn’t her knight, the One Chosen by the Goddess, the Champion of Hyrule, the wielder of the legendary Master Sword. He was just Link.

Link was her opposite. He wasn’t born into these big expectations like her, nor did he have to bear the brunt of judgment from strangers like she did. And yet, the fear of letting down the people who put so much faith in you, not living up to the pedestal they placed you on. It plagued him, too.

Perhaps Zelda was no better. After all, she placed him on some sort of pedestal, too. Not as an object of worship, but something to envy. To compare herself to, tearing herself down, and building him up.

But the outer marble statue of his stoic façade crumbled before her, leaving behind a young boy, not much older than her, in the same predicament. The son of a knight and the daughter of a king. Two worlds that, under other circumstances, would always pass but never collide. Their fates were intertwined, but maybe that wasn't such a bad thing.

“I understand,” Zelda whispered into her cold tea. “They don’t see you as a person, but more of a legend come to life. And you fear if you don’t live up to the legends, you’re failing them.”

Them as in the kingdom, or them as in their predecessors? She wasn’t too sure anymore.

And he smiled, his eyes somber, but the relief in them was as clear as glass. Relief that someone understood; that he didn’t have to explain what he meant.

Zelda made a deal with herself. Around her, she wanted Link to be open. To no longer cling to his persona of the stone hero.

She wanted to be a source of strength.

Not as an acquaintance or colleague. But as a trusted partner.

Chapter Text

Out in the meadow, far enough away to breathe, the heaviness of expectations left behind at Hyrule Castle, the castle itself served as nothing more than a backdrop. Taking in the scenery, breathing in the scent of the flowers, Zelda allowed her mind to wander. The sightings of monsters grew by the day. Link took care of a particular horde that dwelled at Death Mountain, the largest Zelda had ever seen. It was a rarity to spot even one lynal, but for there to be two, and silver at that? It made her stomach twist and ache with an overwhelming anxiousness that made her lightheaded and nauseous. And she might have collapsed then and there if not for Link’s steady hand on her shoulder, the other on her back, ushering her to safety before heading off to handle the monsters. Of course she wanted to protest, to stop him or offer to help in some way, but what could she do? Without her power, she was nothing more than a liability.

So, she watched from the sidelines, as Link somehow managed to doge the large, ruthless blades of the lynals, all while parrying the clubs of the bokoblins. Zelda’s senses were on the fritz, the way she was hyper aware of her surroundings. She didn’t want to be caught by surprise. Not like the last time. If she were caught in either of the two lynals line of sight, that would easily lead to her death. It didn’t matter how fast Link was; lynals were known for their precise aim, and Zelda wasn’t so confident as to believe she could run faster than an arrow. So, she lay low, kept her eyes sharp, and her mouth quiet as she watched the spectacle before her.

Link easily dispatched the red bokoblins without much of a struggle. Like swatting away flies, they seemed like nothing more than a mild annoyance to him.

Though Link was as quick on his feet as always, but she couldn’t help but flinch whenever a weapon came uncomfortably close to grazing his skin. His reaction time was impressive, but she couldn’t help but worry. The memory of the burn on his arm flashed in her mind, and Zelda had the chilling realization that he wasn’t invincible. He could be seriously injured, or worse, and she wouldn’t be able to do anything about it. And that unnerved her.

Zelda made sure to tell him as much when the battle was won. Being surrounded by the fallen, unmoving monsters was unsettling, but Zelda tried to put all her focus on applying ointment to the cut on Link’s brow. She noticed a growing, purple bruise on his arm, grateful that it wouldn’t lead to anything serious.

Her eyes rested on Link’s face as Zelda said, “That cute doesn’t look too bad, actually,” she brushed his hair aside for a better look, “You’re fine, for now,” realizing where her hand was resting on his forehead, she pulled it back to her lap, “but you know, there’s a fine line between courage and recklessness.”

Zelda wondered if her words got through to him. Link had sat there so casually, as though he simply finished a light job and not just slain a whole horde of monsters, alone.

“As brave as you are, that does not make you immortal.”

Despite the light scolding, Link didn’t flinch or appear abashed, his expression as unmoving as always. Though occasionally, she’d seen the mask slip, especially lately after Link opened a bit of himself to her. But the mask had yet to completely shatter. At moments like this, she wondered if his anxious thoughts were as mangled as hers. Like pages of an old book dropped in a ravine, they stick together, sopping wet, the ink bleeding and unreadable. Just a soggy, unsalvageable mess.

If that were the case, she envied his calm outer shell.

Back in the meadow, on her knees in the grass, Zelda clutched the Sheikah Slate to her chest. The sight of those monsters had burned itself into her memory, seeing it clear as day whenever she closed her eyes. Was her hypothesis true? Was the increase in numbers and power of those creatures an omen of the Calamity Ganon’s return? Zelda knew the Calamity wouldn’t wait forever, but it was all happening too soon. Hyrule was both under and overprepared, with the Guardians and Divine Beast. They even already had the Chosen Hero and the Master Sword on their side. But all it took was one unstable brick to cause an otherwise sturdy house to fall, and Zelda feared that might have been her.

Tucking those troubling thoughts away, Zelda looked through her pictures on the Sheikah Slate, an attempt to keep her mind grounded in the present. She had hoped the sight of Hyrule’s wildflowers would bring her some peace, and, well, she wouldn’t say it worked, but it did serve as a nice distraction. As usual, Link wasn’t too far away, feeding their horses some swift carrots he had in his packs. At the sight of her own horse nuzzling Link’s check, Zelda fought the urge to roll her eyes.

“Seems he likes you much more then he dose me,” Zelda mumbled, accidentally calling Link’s attention. She meant it to be a privet observation, but Link could probably hear lightening strike all the way from Faron woods. Louder, not at all embarrassed at being caught (or so she told herself), she said, “he seems to adore you while he simply tolerates me. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were the god of horses himself.”

That did seem to get an almost boyish grin out of him, and Zelda had to bite back a smile of her own.

He stood there a moment, hand on his hip as he pulled an apple from his pack. Pausing before taking a bite, he looked her dead in the eye, face as stoic as ever, “don’t lay it on so thick,” he surprised her when he spoke, “or you’ll stirrup Malanya and get me smote.”

Zelda sat frozen, her eyes unblinking and breath caught in her throat. Was that a pun? Was he joking? With her? And with such a serious expression too?

Despite herself, Zelda laughed. It was far from funny, but somehow, coming from him, it caught her so off guard that it got a giggle out of her. “Well,” she said between breaths of her laughter, “I doubt he’ll smite you for the comparison. Maybe he’ll bestow a blessing on you for caring for the creatures he looks over.”

Link stared at her; his lips slightly parted before he closed them, followed by a barely noticeable gulp. He shifted from foot to foot before turning away to take a bite of his apple. While Link’s silence wasn’t anything to worry about, his reaction left her perplexed. Was he nervous? Why would that be? It was a simple, innocent joke; nothing for him to be worried about.

Not wanting to dwell on the stifling quiet that followed, Zelda patted the ground beside her, beckoning Link to come and join her. He did so without question, kneeling to his knees beside her, a curious gleam in his bright blue eyes.

Excitedly, Zelda aimed the Sheikah Slate at the flowers, capturing their delicate beauty with a satisfying click. The ones before her appeared to be forget-me-nots, judging by their blue color and yellow centers. There were clusters of them, spread out in the tall, plush grass.

“The flowers we have in Hyrule aren’t just beautiful…” Zelda said, “they’re also quite useful as ingredients for a variety of things.” Zelda remembered the evening of the Yiga clans attempt on her life, and how Link made elixirs to last them the night, so they wouldn’t freeze in their sleep while in Gerudo Desert. She wondered where he learned the recipes for elixirs. Maybe it was a part of his knight training.

Through the lens of the Sheikah Slate, something precious caught Zelda’s eye. She couldn’t contain the soft gasp that slipped through her lips as she lowered the Slate, admiring the elegant flower before her. Carefully, as though handling fine, thin paper, using only the tips of her fingers, she softly stroked the petals. The lone flower, its stim long and petals graceful, sat surrounded by a sea of greenery, swaying this way and that in the light breeze.

“This one here,” she said softly, “is called the silent princess. It’s a rare, endangered species.”

Zelda heard the rustle of the grass as Link crawled forward, the view of his shadow visible from the corner of her eye.

“Despite our efforts, we can’t get them to grow domestically yet.” Zelda’s fingers just barely touch the flower’s bulb, “the princess can only thrive out here in the wild.”

Of course, Zelda didn’t miss the implied meaning of her words. Perhaps it was too egotistical to think herself comparable to a rare, wildflower. But then, the flowers’ circumstances were far too similar for her to overlook. Maybe the royal court poet could write a song; it could make for an interesting leitmotif.

Over her shoulder, Link was still not too far behind her, his attention on the flower before them. The way he listened so intently, as though he was truly hearing her and understanding her, set her mind at ease. Even if he may not have fully understood, having his full attention was enough. “All that we can hope… is that the species will be strong enough to prosper, on its own.”

The thought of seeing that endangered flower thrive in the future gave her hope. Just a bit, but a little is better than none, she supposed.  

From the corner of Zelda’s eye, pulling her away from the silent princess, she spotted a flash of green, much darker than that of the grass. It was the blur of orange that caused Zelda to gasp.

“Is that what I think it is? Look at this!” The previous melancholic tone of her voice dissolved, blossoming into something brighter, her excitement bubbling over. She made a grab for it, the cold-blooded creature sitting patiently in the palm of her hand. Surprisingly docile, she noted, expecting the amphibian to be quicker and much more slippery. “I don’t believe it, but I actually caught one!” Zelda turned to Link, who looked at her clasped hands with curiosity, tilting his head with a raised eyebrow.

"This delicacy is known to have very, very potent effects under the proper circumstances." She opened her clasped hand with a sing-song, “ta-da!” It still sat in the palm of her hands as she held it up to Link, admiring her find. "Research from the castle shows ingesting one of these can actually augment certain abilities. We wouldn't be in a controlled environment out here, and with your level of physical fitness...”  her voice trailed before she caught herself, “you'd be a perfect candidate for the study!" Without thinking, Zelda crawled forward and shoved the frog in Link’s face, “go on! Taste it!” The frog gave out a croak as Link nearly fell back, and the bewildered look on his face nearly sent Zelda into hysterics. This might have been the most off guard she had ever seen of him; the most unmasked she had ever seen of his face.

Gone was his usual stoney, stoic expression, now replaced with pure confusion. The frog, perhaps finally fed up with Zelda’s antics, hopped out of her hands, landing in Link’s lap, before hopping away deeper into the meadow, lost in the flowers.

“No!” Zelda pushed off her knees to stand to her feet, shielding her eyes from the sun, scanning the grassy field before her, but to no avail. “Perhaps I could just catch another one.”

Link hesitated at first, giving her an uncertain look. He opened his mouth, as though to protest, before closing it with an amused shake of his head.

The two searched through the grass for a while, but both came up empty-handed (though Zelda was sure Link was just pretending to search, but she didn’t call him out on it). Zelda did manage to talk Link into searching the small pockets of water with her. It wasn’t too far from the meadow, filled with lily pads, cattails and fleet-lotus seeds. Zelda wondered if this might have been a place that hot-footed frog called its home.

Wet, muddy and empty handed, Zelda decided to call it a day.

“Next time,” she said, “you’ll have to promise me you’ll taste it, alright?”

He answered her with a blank stare.

“I’ll let you cook it. I know you’re no stranger to elixirs, so that shouldn’t be a problem, right?”

That did seem to ease him, if only a little.

With the sun still hung high, the two worked their way to the lone tree. Zelda sat under its shade, removing her boots to dry. The air was thick with the aroma of honey, and the usual overwhelming heat of Hyrule’s summer hadn’t settled in yet. Closing her eyes, Zelda breathed deeply, letting the scent of the wildflowers set her mind at ease. Opening her eyes, she spotted Link, their horses crowding him as he tried to make his way to the shade of the tree. His horse was nipping at his hair while hers snuck a carrot from his back pouch. If Zelda didn’t know any better, she’d say they were working together. The laugh that slipped through her lips caught Link’s attention.

“So, that’s your secret, oh horse whisperer?” Zelda asked, “feeding them treats?”

The smile he gave her was a lopsided one as he rubbed at the back of his neck. He didn’t answer, though she wasn’t excepting him to.

Standing to her feet, Zelda met his gaze, “maybe, under your tutelage, I can finally get him to like me.” She had meant it as a joke but hearing it out loud added a new, special weight to it. Mulling it over, Zelda mumbled, “that’s not a bad idea, actually.” Clasping her hands in front of her, Zelda looked to Link and, similar in the tone she used when she asked him to eat a frog, said, “you’ll teach me, won’t you? We’ll be traveling a lot together, and I’d rather not have any bones broken because my horse decided to buck me off.”

He answered quicker than she expected, “alright.”

Zelda wondered if she’d ever get used to the sound of Link’s voice.

After putting her boots back on, her pants mildly dry, she slowly approached her horse, placing her foot in the stirrup, attempting to mount the saddle. Before she could pull herself up though, her steed whinnied with a stomp, jolting suddenly, causing Zelda to nearly fall off. Luckily, Link had been behind her, catching her before she could hit the ground. Her horse had only bolted a short distance.

Letting out a frustrated huff, Zelda gestured at the horse, “see? He hates me.”

Link’s amused chuckle should have annoyed her, but she was willing to let it slide if only because she enjoyed the sound of it. Reaching into his back pouch, he pulled out a swift carrot. He handed it to her, and Zelda eyed it with a questioning gaze. Leading her to her horse, Zelda watched as Link’s fingers ran through the mane of her stubborn stallion.

Link held his hand out to Zelda, beckoning her to come closer. She nearly jumped when she heard Link say, “Be sure to take time to soothe your mount…” He gestured for her hand and, without thinking, too entranced by his voice, she lets him take it. He placed it on the neck of her horse, his hand lingering over hers for one, two, three seconds longer than she anticipated. The warmth of him now gone, Zelda’s own hand sat frozen, the hair of her steed soft beneath her fingertips. Finally, she began to stroke its neck, slow and gentle. Eyes locking with Link, he pointed to the carrot she still had in her other hand, whispering, “that’s the only way it will know how you truly feel.”

Zelda wasn’t sure why her heart was beating so erratically. She swallowed, offering the treat slowly, so as not to startle her jumpy companion. Sniffing the carrot, he took it into her mouth, comping on it with a loud crunch. When the carrot disappeared, his muzzle sniffed at the palm of her hand, giving it a lick, as though searching for more.

Such a simple method, Zelda had to wonder if Link only said it to appease her. But then her horses muzzle sniffed at her hair, and she had to wonder if this was her steed’s way of trying to get to know her. The smile that curled her lips appeared without her permission, Zelda turning to Link as if to say “do you see this” but the expression he was giving her made her breath hitch and her cheeks warm.

His smile was soft, his eyes shining and gentle. There was almost a sense of pride in the way he looked at her. So tender. So sweet.

Averting her gaze, Zelda’s eyes focused on the grass beneath her boots. Her heart hammered away in her chest and she feared Link might be able to hear it. “Thank you,” she managed to say, her voice much lower than she intended, “I’ll keep your advice in mind for the future.”

She didn’t dare meet his gaze after that, too afraid of what it’ll do to her already pounding heart.

Chapter Text

When Hyrule Castle received word from Princess Mipha that the Divine Beast, Vah Ruta, was in need of maintenance, of course Zelda jumped at the opportunity to travel alongside Robbie, Purah and her close friend, Impa to Zora’s Domain. They would have to wait for Purah and Robbie to make their way from the Hateno Ancient Tech Lab, though there were no other researchers the King trusted more with the daunting task of looking after a Divine Beast more than the genius Sheikah duo, so the wait would be worth it.

Of course, her father made sure to remind Zelda where her true duties should lie. While the Divine Beast played an important role in defeating The Calamity, she shouldn’t slack in her own training. There should be a miniature Goddess Statue at Zora’s Domain. She doubted it would awaken her power, but it did the trick in convincing her father to allow her to go.

While it would be nice to chat with someone from outside the castle she considered to be a dear friend, Zelda had to admit her reasonings for travel were rather selfish. Growing board of her daily, morning prayers at the Hyrule Cathedral going ignored and ending in failure, and, with nothing but the whispers of the castle staff for company, an ever-present air of restlessness and isolation choked her lungs like smog. And though she no longer found Link’s silence disconcerting, she couldn’t help but miss his more casual company, when his guard was down and no other eyes were on them.

Perhaps it may be too presumptuous for Zelda to assume he thought of her as a friend. He did seem to loosen up whenever it was simply the two of them. More and more, she studied him closely, picking up on his small quirks and habits. The way he’d scratch the back of his head when nervous, his soft, musical hums of songs that were faintly familiar to her ears whenever he cooked. And how he always ate as though he were a man starved.

She also learned he was quite fond of jokes. More than once he’d make a jest, and an unexpected laugh would burst from her lips. It never failed to catch her off guard.

More often these days, Zelda found herself sharing her afternoon lunches with Link under the gazebo; she even managed to talk him into cooking a few of their meals on more than one occasion. She found his cooking as delightful as always, questioning him about where he learned to cook more than once. He didn’t answer at first, only meeting her curiosity with a bashful smile before returning to his meal. Finally, after another meal together, when Zelda would thoughtlessly ask who he owed his culinary skills to, he shocked her when he stated simply “my grandmother,” as though it were the most obvious answer in all Hyrule. But that answer only brought about more questions, ones she kept to herself. For some reason, the thought of Link having more family outside of his knightly father had never crossed her mind, and she couldn’t fight back the burn of shame that seared her cheeks for never asking of them sooner. Just as she believed she learned all she could of him, a new mystery would reveal itself, renewing her interest in him once more.

So, with her ever-growing fondness for her knight, the usual sourness and resentment that would accompany her whenever her father requested Link to be at her side for the journey to Zora’s Domain did not make an appearance. Instead, it was replaced by overwhelming giddiness, only dampened by the realization that the two wouldn’t truly be alone. That’s right. Three others were to travel with them.

“Well, this should be interesting,” Purah had said as she was checking her saddle bags on her horse in the stables, “been a while since we left the tech lab. We’re counting on you and Impa to get us to Zora’s Domain in one piece, okay Linky?”

Just as the words left her mouth, Impa came rushing in, tripping over her own feet at the stable entrance. Zelda winced at the impact before extending her hand to her future royal adviser.

“You gonna be okay being out in the field, Impa?” Purah asked, “not too rusty, are ya? When was the last time you were sent on an escort mission?”

Now secure on her feet, Impa met her older sister with a scoff, “I am not rusty, I’ll have you know. My blades are as sharp as ever.”

“I’m just worried that living the palace life might have dulled your senses.” Purah said with a shrug, “but I’ll take your word for it.”

Robbie burst through the door’s seconds later, striking a pose, a finger pointing at the sky, “alright!” He exclaimed, “let’s get this show on the road!”

Purah responded in full, striking a pose of her own.

Zelda exchanged a glance with Link, an amused smile on her face at the colorful party they’ll be traveling with. Though, Link appeared bored, as though he were used to the duo’s theatrics. And perhaps he was. Zelda’s ears did manage to pick up Purah’s affectionate nickname for him, and she wondered when the two struck up a friendship, and for how long to be so casual in each other’s company.

The trip started slow and steady, though Zelda did wish she could gallop ahead. Her and her horse had only grown acquainted recently, and she didn’t want to tarnish their new fragile trust by pushing him too hard too soon. Not for the first time, Zelda wished it were just her and Link. During their recent travels together, Link would take the opportunity to guide her in gaining her animal companion’s affection. Their lessons usually accrued during their rest during afternoon lunch or before dinner. He had an attentive care when it came to animals and Zelda couldn’t help but admire such a trait.

Sometimes, when Zelda grew bored on their journeys, she would silently goad Link into a short race. “I’ll meet you at that bridge!” or “I’ll see you at that apple tree!” she’d shout before galloping away. He never failed to catch up. Oftentimes she swore she saw a sparkle of playfulness in his eyes as he passed.

The journey to the Lanayru region from Central Hyrule would have only taken a day had it been just the two of them. Because of the larger party (two of whom weren’t accustom to travel) they decided to set up camp early on the beaches not too far from Zelo Pond. They figured it would be a nice place to rest, with Zora River only being a stone’s throw away. Said river was bursting with Staminoka Bass, jumping out of the water’s surface, and an abundance of blue Bright-Eyed Crabs adorning the sandy shore, their shells bright and glittering under the light of the setting sun. Link readied his bow at the sight of the fish, and Zelda and Impa managed to catch a few crabs (Impa’s almost instinctual, subconscious stealthiness proved useful in netting her five crabs, to Zelda’s two, the rest scampering off at the sound of her untrained footsteps, much to Zelda’s displeasure. But Link’s bow fishing skills more than made up for her loss). They ate a satisfying dinner of fish skewers and roasted crab that evening.

With the smell of roasted fish and firewood filling her senses, the glittering of the moon on the river’s surface, the murmurs of Impa and Purah’s playful banter; Zelda wished she could live in this moment of peace forever.

Zelda found herself at Link’s side as she reached for another skewer of the tender, flaky fish. Nudging Link with her elbow, his eyes caught hers from the corner of his eyes, cheeks full of fish. Swallowing a laugh a long side her food at the sight, Zelda asked, “where did you learn bow fishing? Did your grandmother teach you that too?”

He smiled and gave her a shake of his head before he grabbed for his waterskin. She expected him to follow that up with more information. Or, perhaps, it would be more honest to say she was hoping he would. It hadn’t escaped her that Link hadn’t spoken a single word the entire trip. Back into old habits, his walls were back in place, and Zelda worried if she may have upset him without her knowledge. She dismissed that thought as soon as it came, reminding herself that the Link she had gotten to know wasn’t so easily offended.

Leaning back on her hands, Zelda set her gaze on the velvet sky, admiring the glittering stars.

“It’ll be nice,” Zelda whispered, “to finally have someone who could watch your back for once, I’m sure.” She hadn’t meant it to come out sounding so self-deprecating and she couldn’t help but wince at her own words.

Link must have heard it too, his brow rising quizzically.

“I mean,” she sat up, back straight, resting her hands in her lap, “with Impa here, you shouldn’t have to worry too much about me now. And I’m sure she’ll offer to take first watch tonight too, so maybe you’ll have a decent night’s sleep for once.” She nudged his shoulder, a knowing smile on her lips, but Link’s expression was unchanging.

Of course, Impa did offer to take first watch, as everyone settled for the night, but Link met her with a sake of his head.

“Really?” She answered, “If that’s what you want. Just remember to wake me in a few hours, alright?”

Link gave a sound of confirmation, yet Zelda couldn’t fight back a tiny voice in the back of her mind that told her he wouldn’t do so.

And that small voice turned out to be right. She wasn’t sure what woke her, but the deep velvet sky her eyes opened up to told her it was still late into the night. How late, she wasn’t sure, but she did know this: Link was still up, back facing the group, legs crossed, Master Sword in his lap, as Impa slept in her bedroll soundly. Still groggy from her sleep, it took a moment for Zelda to untangle herself from her own bedroll. Once freed, she made her way over to Link’s side. He didn’t flinch as she sat beside him (perhaps he knew it was her from the moment she woke.)

They sat there for a moment, their eyes resting on the glittery water before them. Finally, Zelda said, “it’s late. Aren’t you tired?”

No answer.

“You should be sleeping. We’ll be up early, and it’ll take at least half a day before we reach the Domain.”

Silence.

Zelda gave an exasperated sigh, “I just don’t want you collapsing. The way to the Domain can be rocky and steep. Not to mention the humidity this time of year.”

It was Link’s turn to sigh, though his was a lighter one, free of any agitation. “My princess must think I’m fragile.”  

For a moment, she feared this time she did offend him, and her throat tightened at the thought. She turned to face him, prepared to see an annoyed expression adorning his face, only to meet one of amusement. His smile might have been small, but it made her heart skip a beat all the same.

“No,” Zelda said, turning away, “I know you’re quite capable. I just—” realized you aren’t invulnerable, that you’re not immortal, and death could claim you as suddenly as it claimed my mother, and I’d be just as powerless to stop it, and I don’t want anything happening to you—is what she wanted to say. Instead, she smothered those thoughts, snuffing them like a flame on a candle. Pulling her knees to her chest, Zelda rested her chin atop them, a melancholy sigh slipping from her lips.

Link shifted beside her, but his eyes never strayed, locked before him. “I’ve stayed up later than this before.” He said, “no need to worry.”

That only made her groan, her annoyance growing, “your lack of care for your own health and safety is exactly why I worry. You’ll run yourself ragged if you’re not careful.”

The grip on the Master Sword tightened, the gulp that emitted from his throat was loud, his eyes downcast. It was then that Zelda remembered their first talk under the gazebo. Link’s fear of not living up to others’ expectations, of not being worthy of their praise. Did he think they’d think less of him if he admitted to needing a break? In that moment, for the first time ever, it was as if Zelda could see the inner workings of Link’s thoughts.

Placing her hand on his shoulder, Zelda gave it a squeeze, and whispered, “Impa won’t mind easing your burden, I’m sure. It’s probably exhausting for you to look after me all the time. You could use the break.”

She’d said it with a light chuckle, but Link’s brows only furrowed deeper. After another moment of silence crawled slowly by, his shoulder slumped under her touch, and Zelda could practically feel the fatigue rolling off him in waves.

Avoiding her gaze, he stood to his feet, paused for a second, opening his mouth as though to speak, before closing it with a shake of his head. Before Zelda could question what he might have wanted to say, Link disappeared from her sight, perhaps to make his way to wake the sleeping Impa. Zelda wondered what was going though that mind of his. Turning her head, she witnessed as Link shook the shoulder of, she assumed, Impa. He didn’t say a word, but she already knew what he awoke her for.

“Well, this is later than I expected,” Impa said with a yawn, “I can take over from here, if you want.”

They took their places, Zelda getting back into the warmth of her bedroll as Impa sat in what once was Link’s spot. To Zelda’s surprise, Link unrolled his own bedroll beside her. Getting comfortable beneath the thick blanket, he rested his hands behind his head, his eyes fixed on the sky above before slowly allowing them to close. Moments passed before his breathing evened out. This would be, Zelda realized, the first she’d ever seen his sleeping face. Seeing his face so relaxed, without that perpetual frown. She’ll only admit this to herself: It was quite precious.

Bright and early the next morning, after a satisfying breakfast of more skewered fish, the party of four had to trek the rest of the way to Zora’s Domain on foot, with the paths growing rockier and more narrow (Zelda assured them that it would only be a few hours, and they could always ask for a Zora attendant to check on their noble steeds once they arrive at the Domain).

Purah didn’t take the news of having to walk very well, letting out a long groan, as though she were already tired from the hike they had yet to make.

Impa spoke before Purah had the chance to let out a complaint, “don’t start. You and Robbie are always locked away in a lab. Getting this extra sunlight should be good for your health, not to mention good exercise.”

Purah rolled her eyes, “no thanks. Sunlight just gives you more winkles.”

Now it was Impa’s turn to roll her eyes.

Zelda nudged Link as she stifled a laugh, whispering, “if I didn’t know any better, I would think Impa were the older sister.”

Link’s smile was faint before his gaze drifted toward the water as they crossed the light aquamarine bridge. His eyes narrowed, and before Zelda could piece together why, he grabbed her forearm, pulling her back just as a rock the size of her head whizzed past where she once stood seconds ago, landing in a loud thud, rocks splintering from the impacts.

Before Zelda could process what had happened, Impa stood before her in a defensive stance, sending a kunai flying in the direction of the rock that flew from the river. Zelda hadn’t been able to get a look at it, but whatever the creature was, it dissipated into a puff of purple smoak, just like every other monster they’ve encountered.

“An octorock.” Impa’s voice was tight as she glared at the river, “there could be more up ahead. Best not let down our guard.” Body tense and on high alert, she placed her hand on her sheathed kodachi, moving onward to lead the group, perhaps to scope for enemies ahead. Robbie and Purah soon followed, not too far behind, leaving Link and Zelda to linger behind. It was then Zelda noticed that Link’s hand was placed on her back, as though to comfort her. Had he been a second too late, that rock would have met her head, and at such a speed…

“Thank you,” she said, not missing the slight shake of her voice, “I’ll try to be more vigilant in the future.” Here he was, saving her life once again because she wasn’t paying attention.

He studied her face, taking her in, before giving her a reassuring smile. Taking her hand into his, he led her along the path before them. Zelda was always taken aback by how casually he held her hand. In the presence of the king, or even his fellow knights, this touch would be seen as inappropriate. Yet, she never had the heart to pull away. If anything, she relished the warmth that usually accompanied his touch. It was soothing and comforting and safe.

As they journeyed further, Impa paused, holding out her arm to signal everyone to stop. “Up ahead.” She pointed. Zelda’s eyes followed Impa’s gaze, where her eyes spotted a cluster of blue Lizalfos.

Zelda frowned at the sight, “Mipha never mentioned an infestation of monsters in her letters.”

Robbie’s eyes were hidden behind his goggles, though even Zelda could tell he was studying the beast before them thoroughly, “a recent development perhaps? Enemies have been increasing in numbers lately.”

When Link had let go of Zelda’s hand to join Impa at the front, she tried not to linger on the loss of his warmth.

“You three stay hidden,” Impa commanded, “Lizalfos are quick; do not let them see you. Link and I can handle this.”

At the mention of his name, Link’s fingers flexed around the hilt of the Master Sword. He met Impa’s gaze, giving her a nod before the two wordless jumped into action.

Taking cover behind the many boulders, Zelda watched the skirmish before her in awe. It had been a while since she’d seen a master Sheihah at work, and somehow, Impa and Link were so well coordinated, so in sync with each other, it left Zelda wondering if they’d trained together in the past. It was almost dizzying, their speed and movements hard for her untrained eyes to follow. Just as one Lizalfo closed the distance in the blink of an eye, one of Impa’s kunai would sink itself into its flesh, or Link’s dodge would throw it off kilter, leaving an opening for a flurry of slashes at its chest. Back-to-back, the two stood as one, effortlessly protecting each other.

As mesmerizing as Zelda found the dance of blades before her to be, it was hard to ignore the voice at the back of her mind. It sounded identical to her own, the way it chastised her. Useless, it said. If only she had her power, then she could have joined the fray. She could protect them and heal any injuries. Maybe the anxiety she’d become too acquainted with would finally leave if she could personally oversee their safety. That small voice in her head would have no choice but to shut up.

The last enemy fell in a puff of smoke and Link and Impa stood on guard, waiting for any potential unseen enemy. When none came, they sheathed their weapons, the tension leaving their bodies.

“Alright,” Impa called out, “it’s safe to come out.”

As the three emerged from their hiding place, Purah let out a whistle, “impressive as always you two.”

Zelda’s steps grew quick as she approached the two, her voice firm as she asked, “are either of you injured?”

“None here,” Impa replied, “those enemies were almost too easy.”

Zelda looked to Link, her eyes tracing his person, in search of even the smallest scratch. Finally, after finding none, her eyes studied his face and she froze at the sight. Link’s reassuring smile made her cheeks almost as warm as the growing humidity around them. She should have grown used to it by now; he only used it to assure her he was fine after a battle. But it never failed to color her cheeks red.

The rest of their journey followed as so: they’d trek the rocky road, Link’s hand never leaving Zelda’s as they hiked. They’d run into another cluster of Lizalfos Link and Impa would dispose of. After a time, the two grew more exhausted, though they hid it well. Weak as the enemy may have been, their numbers only grew, and, with all the fighting falling on Link and Impa’s shoulders, it was only a matter of time before their endurance ran out, making them easier targets for enemies. Death by a thousand papercuts.

If Zelda didn’t know any better, she would have guessed that might have been the enemy’s plan, but monsters weren’t exactly known for complicated strategy. But then “exhaust your enemy before striking them at their most vulnerable” wasn’t all that difficult to pull off, she supposed.

“It’s almost like an infestation.” Impa said, slightly out of breath after their last battle.

By the time they had reached the bridge known as Luto’s Crossing, the sun was slowly setting. The familiar blue of the bridge that shimmered under the sunlight, something undeniably Zora made, relieved any tension from Zelda’s shoulders, knowing they were closer than ever to their destination. The next bridge they crossed would lead straight to the Domain. Zelda’s relief was short lived, however, when she spotted something in the distance. Something much larger than Lizalfos.

“Moblins!” Impa hissed.

Link had already released Zelda’s hand, gripping the hilt of the Master Sword. He closed his eyes, releasing a slow and steady breath. When they opened, his intense blue gaze found hers, and his smile, while just as reassuring and warm as they always were, held a tiredness they hadn’t before. They were all exhausted—he and Impa especially so—and Zelda couldn’t wait to collops into one of the water beds at Zora’s Domain’s inn.

Impa and Link ran off a head, just as they had previously throughout the long, grueling day. While not as fast as a Lizalfo, Moblins were tall, long and slender. A single kick could be devastating to the average Hylian. Deadly, in some cases.

The two Moblins before them fought with spears, one piercing the air Link had been seconds before he dodged. Despite their growing fatigue, Link and Impa held their own, quick as lightning, their stances unbreakable. With a slash of Link’s sword, a Moblin fell in a purple puff, it’s weapon landing at Impa’s feet. She reacted too late, her foot landing on the spear. Zelda’s body launched forward without her permission, a shout boiling in her chest. Purah and Robbie called out for her, but she ignored them.

Just as the second Moblin attempted to strike, Link used his sword to deflect, the scraping of metal on metal ringing in Zelda’s ears. The two blades locked, and Impa took the opportunity to regain her footing, sending a kunai flying right into the Moblin’s head. Its body crumpled, exploding in that suffocating smoak Zelda had grown too familiar with. Out of breath, she finally reached her knight and best friend. “Are you two alright?”

Impa attempted to take a step, winced, and sent Zelda a disapproving frown, “Princess! That was very dangerous!”

Zelda ignored her as she placed her hand on Impa’s back, and asked, “can you walk?”

Impa sighed, “yeah, just give me a minute.”

Slightly reassured, Zelda turned to Link. Before she could voice her concerns, the red stain blooming on Link’s torn sleeve dripped onto the aqua bridge. Her heart dropped. “Link,” her voice was soft, “what happened?”

He appeared confused, tilting his head at her question before following her gaze to his forearm. His mouth parted slightly, as though he’d only noticed his injury at that moment.

Impa took his arm, examining the wound. “Must have happened when you redirected that blow from that Moblin. The gash isn’t deep, thankfully. I’m sure Mipha could patch this up just fine.” As she released his arm, a sheepish expression appeared on her face, something Zelda had never seen on her friend. “Sorry about that, by the way.”

Link shook his head at her apology. Zelda took this moment to dig through her travel bag, pulling out a roll of bandages. It would have to do for now, though she wished she could offer more.

“Here,” Zelda took his wounded arm into her hands, “let’s clean you up and dress that wound.”

He didn’t pull away from her touch, watching intently as she poured water for a clearer look at the gash. Impa was right; it wasn’t too deep. Though, had they been back at the castle under the care of the royal doctors, there was no doubt in her mind that his wound would require stitches. How fortunate then, that they were but a stone’s throw away from the best healer in all Hyrule.

Not too far now, she tried to reassure herself as she washed her knight’s blood from her hands. Mipha will help, she was sure of it.   

The gentle smile on Mipha’s face melted into concern when she saw the party arriving at Zora’s Domain. Zelda expected as much. The Zora Princess was the spitting image of what a Princess should be. Gentle, kind, patient, and a beacon of hope for her people to rely on. She was the very heart of her kingdom.

“What’s happened?” She asked, eyes never leaving Link’s bloody bandages.

Impa was using Purah and Zelda to help her walk. She responded, “we ran into some monsters on the way here.”

“Oh,” her golden eyes held confusion, “we just cleared the area of monsters a week ago. Don’t tell me they’ve returned so quickly?” Stealing another glance at Link’s arm, Mipha shook her head, as though to refocus her thoughts. “Come with me, I’ll tend to your injuries. As for you three,” she eyed Zelda, Purah and Robbie, perhaps in search for injuries. When she saw none, she smiled gently and said, “feel free to eat and rest in the inn. You can start on your work tomorrow.”

Purah offered to escort Impa, despite her younger sister’s protest that she was fine and Purah should focus on getting some sleep. But Purah was just as stubborn, and Impa must have figured arguing would just be wasting time.

In the midst of their banter, Zelda lingered near Link, unsure if she wanted to leave his side. Normally, under different circumstances, when it was only the two of them, Zelda would be the one to tend to his injuries. Mipha’s healing wouldn’t leave behind scars or lead to possible infection, and yet…

A nudge at her shoulder almost made Zelda jump before she realized it was Link. Their eyes met for a moment before he took her hand and gave it a squeeze. She wished he'd say something. A simple "I'll be fine" would suffice enough to ease her nerves. As he left, Zelda watched his back. Despite him being long gone, the touch of his hand still lingered as if she held hot charcoal, warm in the palm of her hand. She squeezed it, as though she could capture his warmth to keep and to hold, only for her heart to falter when she grasped emptiness.

Chapter Text

Link didn’t return for hours. Which shouldn’t have bothered her. But then, she wondered, what if the cut was deeper than she thought? What if he lost a lot of blood? Could Mipha’s healing restore blood loss? If not then, what were they to do? Those thoughts managed to grow when Impa waltzed into the inn, the sun now setting.

“A simple sprang.” She reassured Zelda, “nothing Princess Mipha couldn’t handle.”

That had the opposite effect. If Mipha managed to fix Impa’s injuries in such a short amount of time, what in Nayru’s name was keeping them? Link had even managed to miss dinner! Mipha would tell them if anything went wrong, right? She was always so sensible. So reliable. If anything had gone wrong, then Link was in capable hands. Zelda’s own fretting and worrying wouldn’t help anyone.

Shaking those thoughts away, Zelda bit the inside of her cheek. They were safe now; he was safe now. So why was she so anxious?

Zelda tried to distract herself, sitting in one of the plush beds at the inn, her journal on her lap and Robbie’s snores filling the silence. The glossy ink she wrote on the page was illuminated by the soft, incandescent blue, almost white glow of the Luminous Stone that was used to build the very Domain. She wrote about their journey; how Link saved her life (again). How he only let go of her hand to fight off the enemy. How nice and warm it felt in hers (as she wrote and read over that, she blushed, before scribbling it out with her pen, never to be read by anyone). She knew of his affinity for horses, a grandmother who taught him how to cook, his surprisingly dry wit. How gentle and kind he was. How familiar his touch had become. Not for the first time, Zelda wondered; were they any closer now than before the Yiga attack? Would it be overstepping if she were to think of him as her… confidant? Friend? Partner? What would be a befitting title of their relationship? They had long passed their titles of Lady and Knight the moment she told him to call her by her given name. Something he still hasn’t done, despite their growing fondness for each other. 

She sighed, closing her journal, tucking it under her pillow before lying on her side.

Zelda hadn’t heard Link speak more than a few words during these days of travel. She had grown so accustomed to the sound of his voice, rare as it were. It was soothing, like a splash of cold water on a hot summer day. Now, with the sun fully set, the moon taking its place, Robbie’s snoring was nearly drowned out by the continual rushing of water that was a constant of Zora’s Domain. Zelda had nothing to occupy her thoughts. Link’s absence once brought her solace. Now it filled her with an overwhelming sense of dread. And a sense something missing. She couldn’t put a name to it. Yet it was almost a familiar ache. As though it had always been there, only noticing its absence once that the feeling has returned. Like the ache of a wound when the pain numbing herbs began to wane.

“I’m sorry to have kept you so late.” A new voice nearly made Zelda jump out of her bed. She shut her eyes instead.

From the sounds of it, Mipha was close, perhaps near the entrance of the inn. Voice nothing but a whisper, Zelda had to strain herself to pick up pieces of the conversation.

“It’s just, we haven’t spoken one on one in such a long time.” The laugh in Mipha’s voice was bright. “Though, you’re not as talkative as you were back then.” This time, the brightness had dimmed, this laugh tighter than the last. “Hard to believe you’re that same, mischievous boy I once knew.”

There was no responds from what Zelda assumed to be Link.

Mipha sighed. “You would tell me, would you? If something was bothering you?”

A soft hum, short, almost gruff, filled the stifling quiet.

Link.

It stretched on, this silence, and for a moment Zelda believed Mipha had left for the night. That hush was abruptly shattered when Mipha said, “I meant what I said earlier. Not matter the wound, I will always heal you. So…” a long pause, then, “oh, I’m sorry. It’s getting late, and your journey here was a long, exhausting one, I’m sure. Please, do get some rest. We’ll talk more tomorrow?” Her voice held a hope that was so heavy, even Zelda’s heart was weighed down by it.

She thought Link’s response would be another wave of silence, but instead, he breathed out, “alright.”

A giggle, this one lighter and sweeter than the strained one before. “I look forward to it.” Then, with a voice with so much tender affection it made even Zelda blush, “good night and sweet dreams. I look forward to our time together.”

There was a sense of something wistful in the atmosphere, almost as thick as the humidity, and Zelda almost opened her eyes to see what had happened. Finally, the soft footsteps off, she assumed, Mipha grew distance. Then, the thudding of boots echoed in the inn before the rustle and shuffling grew louder. A sigh rang out beside her, the bed next to her creaking under the new weight. Quite settled, riddled with unspoken questions. She had missed something—a conversation between her knight and her friend. And whatever it was, it wasn’t her business or her place to ask. Although, the curiosity ate away at her, ravenous and greedy.

Had she eavesdropped on something intimate? The way Mipha spoke to Link, so familiar. Mipha was normally so shy and soft spoken. The wallflower of the Zora. Yet the intimacy of how she spoke with Link was unlike anything she’d ever heard from the Zora princess. While always gentle with her friends and family, something about the voice she used with Link was well beyond simple pleasantries.

Were they always like that? Last time she came to Zora’s Domain, Link hadn’t been appointed her knight. Even when the Champions met up at Hyrule Castle, she’d never paid attention to his one-on-one interactions. Ignoring him had become a full-time job. Now she had grown too aware of his presence. How exasperating!

Zelda, against her better judgment, faked a yawn as she sat up in bed. Opening her eyes, Link lay on his back on the bed beside hers, hands behind his head as he stared at the ceiling. Just as he did at the beach. Immediately, his eyes locked onto hers.

“You’re still up?” Zelda asked, her voice not at all sounding as though she had just woken up. Now, with a bit more effort, she spoke lower, rubbing the nonexistent sleep from her eye, “are you alright? Did you give Mipha any trouble? How’s your arm? No lasting damage?”

He shook his head, pulled up his sleeve and showed her a flawless patch of skin. If she didn’t know any better, she never would have thought there was a wound there at all.

“Oh. Good.” Zelda’s shoulder deflated. With the two of them alone, she’d hoped she’d hear his voice. “That’s… good. I’m glad you’re alright.” She laid back down, nice and slow, her gaze never leaving Link’s person. As she tried to beckon sleep to come quickly and release her from her embarrassment, an unexpected voice rang out, a low whisper.

“Good night, Prin—” he paused, cleared his throat, then, “Good night, Zelda.”

The sound of her name froze her breathing and startled her heart. It was as clear as the waters that surrounded them at the Domain, no cloudiness of slumber to muddy her hearing this time. Her name, from his mouth with his voice, echoed in her mind. It seared her thoughts like embers, any word she might have wanted to say burned away like letters in a fire, reduced to nothing but ash.

“G-good night,” Zelda cursed herself for stuttering before quickly adding, “Link.”

Then he smiled at her before closing his eyes. In a short time, his breathing evened out. Zelda didn’t have the room in her mind to wonder how he summoned sleep so quickly. No, instead her thoughts were preoccupied with her name, in his voice, and how unusually light that made her.

It didn’t matter how many times Zelda stood in the presence of the Devine Beast. The sight of such a massive behemoth never failed to steal her breath away. Her head buzzed with excitement as she explored the beast. It was a mysterious creature; one she had never seen before. She hazard a guess that the beast was perhaps inspired by extinct species, long lost to time. Or maybe mythological? But then that did bring Vah Medoh’s bird-like design into question. And Rudania was obviously a salamander.

Zelda had spoken this aloud to Link and Impa, of course, speaking a mile a minute as she examined every nook and cranny of the Devine Beast. They were outside, breathing the fresh air.

“I wonder,” Zelda said, her fingertips gracing the wall of the Beast, “if beast like this roamed Hyrule ten thousand years ago.”

“Who knows,” Impa shrugged, “you’d think we’d find fossilized bones if they did though.”

Zelda hummed in thought as she jolted that statement down in her notebook, “then perhaps… outside of Hyrule?”

Impa frowned, “you don’t think they’d be this big, would they?”

Zelda paused, “I’m not sure. The creatures that seemed to inspire Vah Medoh and Rudania’s design are small…” she paused, “unless Vah Medoh was modeled after the Rito themselves…” She turned to Link, a question on the tip of her tongue before she swallowed it down. All morning, and now all afternoon, her name in his voice echoed in her mind. It grew louder every time she’d look at him. “What do you think?”

To her surprise, Link folded his arms, closing his eyes, and gave a thoughtful hum. Finally, his expression brightened, “have you seen the bones of the leviathan?”

Impa spoke before Zelda could recover from hearing Link’s voice. “Oh, you’ve seen those? They are big as a Devine Beast.”

“Yes,” Zelda recovered and said, “I’ve never been permitted to see the bones up close. But if creatures of that size once walked amongst us, I guess that opens the possibilities of the animals the Devine Beast were created after being that large as well.” She turned to Link, “have you ever seen them up close?”

Link nodded.

“When?”

He closed his eyes in thought again. “With Daruk.”

Link seemed to have a talent for giving her simple answers when she craved more detail. It was more than a little frustrating.

Before Zelda had the chance to ask further, Mipha made her appearance known, clearing her throat, not too far behind them. “It’s well past noon,” she said, “I thought I’d come get you all for lunch. Sorry it’ll be so late.”

Zelda smiled, “it’s fine, Mipha. Thank you.”

With Vah Ruta’s being located in the middle of the East Reservoir Lake, Zelda and her party had to approach the Beast on a raft, paddled by Link. To Zelda’s surprise, despite being the fastest swimmer there, Mipha took to the raft as well for both trips (one for Robbie and Purah and the other for Impa and Zelda, so as not to tip over the raft with overcrowding.) Never had she noticed how fond of Link the Zora Princess was.

Now, on their way back to the dock, Zelda couldn’t help but overhear the conversation between Mipha and her knight.

“Link, the children heard you were here, and they were wondering if you could resume their archery lessons?”

That caught Zelda’s attention, “resume?”

“Yes,” Mipha turned to her, a bashful smile on her face, “last time Link was here, some of the younger Zora asked him to train them with a bow. There aren’t too many archers amongst our rank of knights, you know. A lot of the young ones look up to Link.” She let out a breathy laugh, “he’s a very good teacher. Although,” Mipha lowered her voice, as though to share a secret, “last time, they all snuck off to Shatterback Point Mountain. It’s a place to test your courage; a coming-of-age tradition. No one is allowed there outside of the ceremony. A friend of Link’s, Bazz, dared him to jump.”

Zelda’s eyes darted to Link’s back as he paddled the raft. He didn’t flinch, but something in his posture was stiffer than usual. “Did he?”

“Of course he did!” Mipha muffled her laugh behind her hand, “he wasn’t hurt, thankfully. But poor Muzu gave him a good scolding that night.”

As they pulled up to the docks, Zelda tried to imagine it. A young Link, jumping off a cliff side on a dare. She siffled a laugh of her own, taking note of Link’s shoulders growing stiffer.

Link rolled his eyes as he offered his hand to Mipha. Helping her up, he huffed, “that was years ago, Mipha.”

The casualness of Link using a Princess’s name caught Zelda off guard. Even his expression, a playful annoyance, was one she’s never seen before.

Mipha didn’t seem to mind, “I’m sorry,” she said, but the humor was obvious in her voice, “I don’t mean to embarrass you in front of Princess Zelda.”

As they docked the raft, Link tied the rope, before helping the two princesses’ step onto the sturdy blue dock. Zelda pulled Mipha’s arm into hers, “embarrass away. He rarely ever speaks about himself. It’s hard to believe my stoic knight was once a rule breaker.”

“Oh, he was much worse as a child.” Mipha laughed, “he and the other children were always getting into trouble or getting hurt.” Mipha set her sights in Link direction, her eyes warm with an affection Zelda had never seen from her before, “but I was always right there to pick him back up and heal him.” Her voice was as soft as it was the other night.

Zelda cleared her throat, “i-is that so? That’s hard for me to imagine. Link is such a stickler for rules and propriety, it’s hard to imagine him as a troublemaker.”

Mipha smiled, “yes… before he… pulled the sword that seals the darkness…” she eyed the object of subject on Link’s back as he walked ahead of them, a tentative expression on her face, “he was once so talkative, if you could believe it. So vibrant!”

“Link?” Zelda stopped mid step, nearly tripping Mipha beside her. “Our Link? Talkative?” She couldn’t get him to speak about the bones of a leviathan!

“Yes.” Mipha confirmed with a nod, “very rambunctious. He could never sit still and was always eager to explore. Sometimes he and the other children would run off somewhere and come back with these made-up tales of grand adventure.” She sighed, almost something wistful.

That was hard for Zelda to picture. Link—her stoic knight, Link! —was once a normal child?

Not too far from the dock they came from, they spotted Robbie, Purah and Impa, knelt before a blanket, a spread of food before them. Up close, Zelda caught the whiff seafood. Salt grilled fish and crab, seafood rice balls, creamy clam chowder. It made Zelda’s mouth water.

“I hope you don’t mind a picnic.” Said Mipha as she motioned to their lunch, “I figured it’ll be better to eat near Vah Ruta rather than walk all the way to the Domain and back again.”

Robbie spoke with a mouth full of rice ball, “this is perfect! Work smarter, not harder! That’s what I always say.”

Purah arched an eyebrow, making sure to swallow her rice ball before she said, “do you now? This is a first I’ve heard you say that.” She smiled at Mipha, “but I agree! Smart move, Princess. You’ll save a lot of time with that mindset.”

Mipha appeared bashful by the complements, a hand to her heart as she averted her eyes to the cround. Link wordlessly sat on the picnic blanket, helping himself to a bowl of the clam chowder. Mipha didn’t hesitate to sit beside him. “I had them cook up some of your favorites.” She said, “I hope you enjoy them as much as you did when you were younger. I’m sorry for the lack of fish pie, but I’m afraid the merchants who usually sell us butter and wheat haven’t been seen around here for a while. With the increase of monsters…” Mipha shook her head, hand to her chest. Eyes downcast, Zelda couldn’t ignore the worry that shadowed her face. “I just hope they’re alright.”

Zelda made herself comfortable sitting next to Impa. “Yes. We’ve sent out knights and Sheikah to protect travelers and merchants. But I’m afraid we’re spreading ourselves too thin.” She placed a hand on her friend’s shoulder, “I’m sure they’re alright. Now that Link and Impa’s cleared the way here, maybe they’ll turn up again.”

“Yes,” Mipha whispered, “I hope you’re right, Princess.”

As they ate, their conversation shifted to something more lighthearted. Stories of failed experiments from Purah and Robbie, their latest invention.

Mipha had tales of her little brother Sidon, which led to a story of how Sidon had gone missing, and Link saved his and Mipha’s life from a Lynal. Zelda never realized Mipha was an encyclopedia of all things Link. There seemed to be an almost endless supply of stories. While Zelda listened in intrigue. No matter how detailed the story, or how animated it’s teller, it was hard for Zelda to picture Link as this trouble making child.

“Mipha,” Zelda eyed the two before her, “how… how long have you known Link? You speak as though he grew up here.”

The surprise on her face was clear, “I’m sorry, I thought that was common knowledge. I’ve known him since he was…” she paused in thought, “four?” she looked to him, as though to confirm. “Link would come to the Domain to train so often with his fellow Hylian knights, I suppose it was like he practically grew up here.”

For some reason, this revelation twisted something inside of her. “Oh.” That would explain the familiarity. The fondness. A childhood friend. Someone to share a past with. Did Zelda have anyone like that in her life? Her and Impa were close, but there was still an air of professionalism between them. That was only a recent development. She remembered the two of them playing together as kids. It was only after the Queen’s death did Impa began to take her role as Zelda’s future advisor seriously.

Mipha was a princess too, yet she spoke to Link as though he were her equal. Even Link’s earlier annoyance at Mipha’s recollection of his past antics showed how comfortable he had been around the Zora Princess.

“Oh, that’s right,” Mipha’s voice broke Zelda’s thoughts, “Link, I forgot to ask this earlier. How has your father been? I haven’t seen him in such a long time.”

Link had the decency to swallow his food before saying, “he’s been transferred to train new recruits at the Akkala Citadel.”

“I see. Well, I hope he’s doing well.”

Zelda frowned, “you never told me that.”

Link seemed genuinely surprised by this revelation, arching an eyebrow. “Tell you what?”

“About your father,” she paused, “I didn’t know he was at the citadel.” And that bothered her, for some reason. Was she annoyed with him for being so distant, or with herself for not having the nerve to ask? “How long ago was that?”

His expression was sheepish, which snapped Zelda out of her annoyed state. “A while ago. Never thought to bring it up. Sorry.”

Well, at least Zelda now knew he didn’t mean to be so secretive. But it did make getting to know him all the more difficult.

The rest of the conversation faded into the background. With Zelda’s appetite disappearing, she focused her sights on the Devine Beast in the distance. She pushed down this feeling—one she was all too familiar with. It reared its ugly head occasionally, this green-eyed beast. It was the reason she couldn’t stand being in Link’s presence in the first place. Now it seemed to return, for other reasons. And she hated it. Link was allowed to have a life outside of her! And while she preferred he’d talk to her, he was allowed his secrets.

Zelda sighed to herself. It was her own fault, of course; despite how long they’ve known each other, even though she had been growing attached to the knight she once believed hated her, there were days when she wondered if that attachment was mutual. When the Calamity came. When it passed (and she desperately prayed it will and they’d come out victorious, just as their ancestors did all those years ago) and nothing tied them together… then what? What of them? The legends of old never spoke of the aftermath of The Hero and The Priestess. Only of their trials that lead to their victory. Sometimes, even the hero’s name wasn’t recorded; he would simply be titled as The Hero, Clad in Green. For some reason, the idea of Link’s name being lost to history left a bitter aftertaste. If—no, when they made it through the Calamity, Zelda would take the time to document him herself.

As Impa poured herself some tea, a wide grin spread across Purah’s face. “Say, Impa…” She purred, “how are things going with Peri?”

Impa nearly choked on her drink. She swallowed hard, hiding her grimace behind her hands. Finally, between coughs, voice cracked, she said, “fine.”

Purah’s smirk grew wider, “just fine?”

Zelda’s eyes darted between the two sisters. “Who’s Peri?”

Before Impa could answer, Purah spoke out, “her sweetheart.”

Zelda had never seen her friend’s face so red. “S-sweetheart?” She questioned.

Impa, if possible, grew more flushed. “No! I mean,” she huffed, placing her food before her, “we’re not that serious.”

Robbie, much more innocently than Purah, spoke up next, “oh? But you were getting along so well.”

Purah nudged Impa’s shoulder, the sly expression never leaving her face, “I know, right? He won’t shut up about her either. It’s annoying,” she rolled her eyes. “Is there trouble in paradise?”

Mipha leaned forward, curiosity lighting her eyes, “you’re seeing someone?”

Impa’s jaw was set as she averted her gaze. “No,” this time, her voice was softer, almost somber, “we get along fine, and he’s a hard worker, a fine warrior, and easy enough to talk to. Though, I fear we can’t get any more serious than that. Not…” she swallowed, “until after the Calamity is behind us.”

The silence that followed Impa’s words pierced the air, sharp and quick as an arrow. The merriment was gone, replaced with unease.

They never spoke openly about life after the Calamity. Never out loud. It was almost taboo.

As Zelda sat, she realized she allowed her thoughts to wander to a life beyond the Calamity. Was she of all people allowed to hope for that? She wondered if Link ever thought about it. After everything, when Zelda was no longer his priority, what would he do? Leave for his family? Join his father at the Akkala Citadel? Take a break from fighting and travel? Or would he settle down? He would become of age, and she didn’t doubt he’d be popular at court, despite his low status. Hylia’s Chosen Hero. The knight of Princess Zelda. Every noble in Hyrule would love to marry off their daughters to him. Even the ones who looked down their noses at him when they saw it was a humble knight with no noble blood who pulled the sword.

The thought of Link leaving made her stomach twist, a spell of nausea over taking her senses.

“I think…” Mipha’s voice was soft, laced with melancholy. She glanced at Link before quickly turning away. “Having someone to make a promise for the future with… well, I envy you, Lady Impa.” She looked to Zelda, eyes warm, “It’s better to give yourself something to hope for; something to look forward to. I think it helps us through these uncertain times. Wouldn’t you agree, Princess?”

Zelda spent the moment of silence on the empty cup in her hands, vision out of focus. The tea had long grown cold. To her, and maybe everyone’s surprise, a voice rang out, filled with conviction and poise, soothing them like a gentle breeze. “Yes.”

It was Link. His eyes were set on hers, clearer than the sky and as intense as the Sheikah’s blue flames. So simple, and yet, somehow, it made her heart burst. That simple word confirmation, coming from his lips, and draped in his voice. It made the coil around her heart loosen, just a bit.

It was late when Link returned to the domain, the young Zora following behind him and Mipha like little ducklings. He had made do on his promise, taking the young Zora out to Shatterback Point Mountain to practice archery. While Zelda wouldn’t have minded going, she needed time away from Link. He muddled her thoughts and confused her heart and left her dizzy and vexed. It was her own fault. She allowed herself to wonder about Link’s life after the Calamity. The idea of the two of them going their separate ways squeezed her heart and left her desolate.

Zelda watched from the entrance of the inn as Mipha and Link stopped in their tracks not too far.

Mipha held her little brother, Sidon’s hand. “Say good night to Master Link.”

The younger Zora chimed, “good night, Master Link,” before Mipha lead them away. The trail of young Zora following behind their princess made Zelda smile. As Link came closer to the inn, he flashed her a smile of his own and a nod of his head. He passed her, their shoulders nearly close enough to brush.

“Link,” Zelda surprised herself when she heard herself speak. “I…” she swallowed, unsure of what to ask. “I’d like to clear my head.” She blurted, not turning around to meet him. “Would you join me?” Finally, she turned to face him, but her eyes rested on the hilt of the sword he always carried on his back. “For a walk, I mean.”

She didn’t see him nod, but she caught his voice as he said “alright.”

Zelda didn’t know why she wanted to climb to the top of Shatterback Point Mountain. Perhaps it was curiosity. Or she wanted the hike. And by the Goddess, it was a hike! Nothing she couldn’t conquer, but her calfs would be sore the next morning for sure.

And the view! From the top, she could see the entirety of Vah Ruta under the glow of the pale moon.

Zelda couldn’t hold down the wondrous gasp at the sight. “She’s a marvel, don’t you think?”

Link didn’t answer. Just kept his eyes locked on the Devine Beast in the distance. He stood closer than he normally would and Zelda suspected she knew the reason why.

“So, Master Link,” she used the title she overheard the young Zora refer to him with, “did you really jump off of this very mountain?”

His mouth formed into a thin line. “Maybe.” He answered.

She laughed. Crouching down, she grasped a peddle, and tossed it, watching it plummet into the waters below.

Link crouched beside her, murmuring, “careful.”

Zelda had to stop herself from rolling her eyes, “I’ll be fine. It’s not like me to go jumping off cliffs.”

He frowned, “you could trip.”

“True. But I won’t, so don’t worry about it.” Sitting down on the hard ground, she brought her knees to her chest, resting her chin on them. Link followed her lead, sitting beside her, fidgeting with the small rocks beneath them. Occasionally he’d toss one off the cliff side.

Watching him closely, she said, “you wouldn’t want to demonstrate how you did it?”

Link frowned; something deep and thoughtful crossing his face. He stayed silent for so long, Zelda believed their conversation over before he vigorously shook his head, his hair swaying every which way. “The trip back would take too long.”

Zelda laughed, “that’s your reasoning for not jumping off a cliff? Well, I was only joking, so don’t think too hard about it.”

He blew air from his nose, biting back a smile.

They sat like that, soaking in the moonlight together for a while. The view was breathtaking; the sight of the Domain in the distance, with its luminous glow, the mountains, the breeze. Even at this distance, the silhouette of Hyrule Castle haunted her peripheral vision like a ghost at her shoulder. The sight of the dock reminded her of their picnic, their group conversation from earlier buzzing around her head like a wasp.

“Link?”

He tossed another rock. “Hm?”

She swallowed, mouth dry; it was like swallowing air. “Have you ever thought… about life after… all of this?”

His arm paused mid-throw. Draping his arm over his knee, he frowned in thought. “It’s hard to picture it.”

Not the answer she was looking for. She tried again, “I mean, do you think we’ll ever live a normal life after everything.”

This time a crooked half smile tugged at his lips, “what is normal anymore.”

She laughed a mirthless sound, “I guess nothing’s ever been normal for people like us.”

He hummed a sound of acknowledgement. “I agree with Mipha, though,” he said, “we can’t be too hopeless.”

Just Mipha. No “her highness” no “Lady Mipha.” Plain and informal. And it fell from his lips so easily. She buried those thoughts, shaking them out of her head.

“True.” She sat her hands behind herself, leaning back on them, “let’s give ourselves something to look forward to.” She tapped her chin in thought, “maybe… maybe I’ll have free time to focus on other things… when this is over, I mean. Like creating new inventions or making new discoveries across Hyrule. Maybe try and understand these mysterious shrines that keep appearing.”

Link leaned back too, eyes on the sky. “I think I’d like a break first.”

That made her heart sink. A break? From their travels? Or from her?

Beside her, to her surprise, Link sprawled out on his back, hands behind his head as he looked up at the stars. “You deserve a break too.”

Oh. She sighed out, laughing quietly to herself. Why did that make her feel so relieved? Placing her hand to her heart, she laid down beside him, crossing her legs at the ankles, eyes to the sky. The ground was hard, a rock or two poking at her back, her long hair snagging on a twig. Yet she hadn’t been so relaxed in such a long time.

“Maybe,” Zelda started, “you could show me the bones of one of the leviathans.”

“See all three together?”

She smiled, “yes, I’d like that.”

Quite enveloped them once again as they gazed upon the moon. “You’re in a better mood.” The words that left her mouth surprised even Zelda.

Link frowned, the confusion clear as he said, “am I?”

“You haven’t spoken much since we’ve gotten here. I assumed something was bothering you. You’re also more relaxed now.”

He didn’t respond, and for a second, she feared she might have ruined moment.

“I hadn’t noticed.” He finally said.

Zelda wasn’t sure if that should worry her or not. “Well, maybe coming back to a place where you grew up helped. Mipha’s always so sweet; she could lift the gloom of anyone’s day.”

Somewhere, in the dark corners of her mind, she was disappointed that she herself couldn’t brighten his spirits. She silenced the thought quickly.

Link’s shoulders tensed, “could go without the embarrassing childhood stories.”

“Oh,” she covered her laugh with the back of her hand, “but I did enjoy those. It’s nice to know you weren’t born with that bored look on your face.”

He huffed, but Zelda didn’t miss the amusement in it.

“I do wish I could have met that troublemaker of a boy you once were.”

Link sighed but said nothing. More time passed, and she believed their conversation to be over, until he whispered, “me too.” 

That squeezed her heart and a lump appeared in her throat. She swallowed it.

If they met as children, she wondered, what would that have been like?

“At least,” Link said, “we’re friends now.”

That revelation made more giddy than she cared to admit. From his mouth, in his voice.

“Yes.” She tried to hide the excitement in her voice, “I’m glad we’ve met.”

Zelda didn’t remember how long they laid beside each other. But the ambiance of the night must have lulled her to sleep because the next thing she knew, something was gently shaking her shoulder. Cracking her eyes open, she squeezed them shut when the lights of dawn assaulted them.

“Zelda,” Link’s voice pulled her out of sleep, “we have to go before everyone wakes up.”

She sat up with a stretch and a yawn. Her body was sore, muscles aching. It was early; first dawn. Somehow the skies were more beautiful, encased in the early gleaming glow. It outlined Link’s silhouette, lining him in gold. It reminded her of the old paintings of the hero, with his head surrounded by light. Ethereal.

“I stayed up,” he said, facing the rising sun, “got to watch the sunrise.” His smile was relaxed. It made her chest warm, as though the sun had dropped its rays, like a droplet and soaked her heart.

Link offered his hand, helping her to stand, but her legs were still asleep. Losing her balance, she tripped, but Link, ever quick on his feet, caught her. If the touch of his hands on her waist didn’t sober her up, her increased heartrate sure did. Zelda stood, nose to nose with Link as he held her, eyes full of concern.

“You alright?” He asked, “your face is so red.”

That observation only made her face burn hotter. “Yes!” She stood up straight, gently pushing him away. “Yes, I… I’m fine.” She smoothed out her dusty pants, “I am fine.”

She walked away with the little dignity she had left (did she have any left?). So far ahead, she didn’t dare turn back. His footfalls were the only proof she needed to know he was following her. No matter how fast she walked, her heart wouldn’t stop, and she worried it might burst out of her chest.

So early, so fresh out of sleep, her thoughts unfiltered and unguarded, seeing him under the dawn. He was so handsome. And his eyes, so beautiful, glittering like sapphires, so full of concern.

Zelda smacked her cheeks, holding back a groan of frustration.

No, she couldn’t allow herself to think like that! Like some love struck heroine out of a sappy romance novel.

She abruptly stopped in her step as the realization of her last thought hit her like an arrow to the heart.

Her? Love struck? No. That’s ridiculous. There was nothing wrong with admiring her knight’s attractive face. Right? It didn’t mean anything.

A warm hand on her shoulder nearly made her jump out of her skin. Link’s eyes narrowed before her as he studied her face. “Are you sure you’re not sick?”

“No!” She snapped, wincing at the sound of her voice, “I mean, yes! Yes, I’m sure. I’m fine.”

He didn’t seem to believe her, tilting his head in confusion. She walked ahead, but he caught up with her quickly. Shoulder to shoulder, she didn’t miss how he eyed her occasionally. If only she could curl up in a ball and disappear. The last thing she wanted was for him to look at her.

“Zelda,” he spoke her name and her breath caught in her throat, “you’d tell me, right?” He paused, “if something was wrong?”

She sputtered out, “of course!” which only seemed to worry him more. So, she clamped her mouth shut and walked off. Which might have made his concern worse. But she wasn’t in the right mind to care.

Chapter Text

Link had noticed her unusually quiet state on the journey home. Side by side, their horses drifted behind their party. For Zelda, it was to have space to breathe. For Link… well, she assumed it was to keep an eye on her. Occasionally, Link would search Zelda’s face, examining her so thoroughly, she felt like a sample under a microscope. Back straight and stiff, eyes trained perfectly before her, Zelda resisted the urge to flick her reins and gallop ahead.

Luckily, as evening faded to dusk, they managed to spend the night at a stable. They had passed it before on their way to Zora’s Domain, but with it being so close to Hyrule Field, staying the night there would have been a waste of the time they could have spent traveling. And while Zelda loved sleeping under the stars, a soft bed and a roof over her head might do her wildly beating heart and muddled mind some good. She was also sure she couldn’t survive another night of Link’s bed roll at her side. Or waking up to his sleeping face. Not with this new revelation forever branded in her head, now a permanent fixture in her mind scape. Because once knowledge was gained, there was no way to unlearn it. Like a butterfly going back into its chrysalis, there was no way to turn back.

Link was handsome, there was no doubt in her mind about that. And he was brave and patient and kindhearted and told the worst puns. He was an animal lover, a fantastic cook, and, apparently, had a history of being a troublemaker as a child. She wondered if that mischief lingered or if the discipline of knighthood snuffed that out of him. No matter how many new things she learned about Link, a new wave of questions crashed over her like waves.

Zelda tried to take her horse to the stables, where he’ll be fed and rest for the night. Unfortunately, he was still as stubborn as a pack mule, and if not got his royal bridle and saddle, the crest of the royal family shimmering in gold, she might have mistaken him for one. No matter how she tugged, the beast refused to move, choosing to stomp his foot with a whinny, throwing his head this way and that. Zelda nearly stomped her own foot like a petulant child herself, but decided to take in a calming breath instead. Though it failed to calm her, and it came out more like a groan.

A tap on the shoulder jolted her, turning her head so quickly, she wouldn’t be surprised if her neck grew sore the next morning. Standing behind her, hands behind their back, stood Link. His smile was a slow one, as though testing the waters, to see if he should smile at all. Zelda hated to think he thought she might have been upset with him. She wasn’t exactly sure how to approach him, with her mind focusing on things she’d never noticed before. Things like his eye lashes being so long, or how his smile brightened his eyes, or—

Zelda extinguished those thoughts, swallowing hard, before saying, “yes, Link?”

In a similar manner to Zelda, when she showcased a frog to her knight, Link pulled out an apple from behind his back, his face shining with pride, radiant and blinding. There was no verbal “ta-da” but the gesture managed to get a laugh out of her. Somehow that only managed to make him smile brighter.

“Thank you,” Zelda said as she took the apple, “horse whisperer.” To emphasize her point, she gave bow in jest.

Link scratched the back of his neck, eyes on the ground, cheeks dusted pink. “Just…” he spoke, “don't get so easily frustrated with him.”

Zelda frowned before she noticed Link’s gaze on her horse. She almost scoffed, “just when I think he’s began to trust me, he goes back to being stubborn.” Petting the muzzle of her stallion, she offered him the apple. He took it without hesitation, letting out a satisfied snort.

Link raised an eyebrow, his head tilted, observing her closely, searching. For what, she wasn’t sure. But his intense eyes made her fidget. She needed a change of subject.

Dusting her hands, she clapped them, almost too loud, making herself wince. “Shall we get started on dinner?”

Mipha had packed them an array of food as thanks, wishing them a safe journey as they left the Domain that morning. Robbie ended up carrying the pack on his back on their journey part way through, before they reunited with their horses, allowing his own to carry the new load in Robbie’s stead.

Once Zelda’s horse was safely put into the stables, alongside the other horses of their small travel party, they cleaned their hands using the water from the well (and used that same well to refill their water sacks) before Link decided on making simple rice balls, with scraps of crab meat in the center. Zelda thought that would be all and expected him to put the pack away, but Link had a quizzical look on his face as he looked deeper into the bag. Finally, as though finding what he had been searching for, he pulled out a small brown sack and nodded to himself in approval.

While the others waited for their meal inside the inn of the stable, claiming their beds and dressing down for the night, Zelda sat out by the cooking pot, keeping Link company. She watched curiously, as she always did, catching snippets of Link’s quiet hums and familiar tunes. The smile on her face was a subconscious one, going unnoticed by her until the muscles in cheeks grew sore.

To Zelda’s surprise, Link sat himself right next to her, shoulders and knees touching. She wished to ignore his presence—the warmth that radiated off him, how familiar his touch was becoming, how badly she wished he’d take her hand. His hand reached out in front of her, and for a moment she thought he might have heard her thoughts. She caught a glimpse of something perfectly round, and, upon closer inspection, noticed something wrapped in white paper sitting in his palm. Without thinking, she plucked it, examining it.

“Honey candy?” She looked over at him, only to see his cheek perfectly round, his own candy making itself home in his mouth. Zelda laughed at the sight, “dessert before dinner? Won’t that ruin your appetite?”

His smile could almost be described as impish. “No,” He said simply. Then he watched the fire as it cracked and popped beneath the cooking pot. Following Link’s lead, Zelda unwrapped the paper, placing the surgery sweet treat on her tongue. Closing her eyes, she made a sound of delight a the simple flavor.

Lifting the top to the cooking pot, Link sprinkled some salt into it before placing the lid back on. “You know,” he said, “we used to make these candies all the time growing up.”

“Oh?” She leaned closer, as though he were sharing a secret, “ ‘we’ as in?”

He gave a one shoulder shrug, “it was before grandma moved in, so… it was me, mom, and my little sister.”

Her eyebrows raised at that new bit of information. Link speaking about himself, let alone his family, was a rarity.

“Your sister?” She leaned in, “older or younger?”

“Younger.” He said. A wistful smile spread across his face, “I remember I took her into the woods to search for honey.”

He didn’t finish, so Zelda nudged his shoulder with her own. Go on, the gesture said.

Looking away, almost bashful, he continued, “well, we found a hive.” A chuckle, clear as a bell, rang from his mouth, “mother was furious when she saw us covered in stings. We couldn’t be no older than four and six.”

Zelda gave a teasing tsk, “you were a wild child. Here I thought Mipha was exaggerating.”

Link gave a one shoulder shrug, “luckily, mother was a talented apothecary, so injuries never lasted too long.”

An apothecary. Was that where Link’s knowledge of potions came from?

Zelda didn’t miss the phrasing he used. “Was.” She looked to her feet and didn’t comment on it. Without her probing, he was sharing bits of his past, perhaps without realizing it himself, and she didn’t want to scare him away by asking unnecessary questions. Instead, she asked, “did you get your honey candy in the end?”

He smiled again, focus on the fire, “she didn’t want to reward us for ‘bad behavior,’ but she gave in.” He paused, “eventually.”

Zelda always wondered what life before the Master Sword was for Link. It sounded so normal. Aside from his knightly training and skills that had him labeled as a young prodigy, he seemed to have been a typical child. It was almost too hard for her to picture.

Once the rice had finished, Link scooped it into a bowl, setting it aside to cool, before moving on to cooking the crab meat. Once the preparations were made, Link moved to shaping the rice.

“May I?” Zelda gestured to the rice.

He thought for a moment before giving a nod. And so, they spent their time placing crab meat and shaping rice balls, wrapping them in dried seaweed. Zelda’s were slightly misshapen, but the more she made, the better she got.

“Got any more stories?” Zelda asked. “From your childhood?”

Link hummed to himself, focused on his task of shaping rice balls. Finally, he told a story about a hunting trip he had with his father. How he learned to shoot a bow and set up campfires. Link wasn’t a detailed storyteller. Sometimes Zelda would ask questions, squeezing out as much information out of him like a sponge. He obliged her with little to no friction. It was the most she’d heard him speak since the start of their trip. Zelda sank her elbows into her thighs, hands cradling her cheeks, as she absorbed every word of his tales.

The candy had long dissolved, but the sweet aftertaste still lingered.

Link sat back, admiring their rice balls. “That went quicker than usual.”

“Really?” Zelda could have sworn they’d been talking for hours.

They called the others to dinner. They all sat around the cooking pot, Purah and Robbie going on about their ideas for upgrades for the Guardians, how they’re so close to being complete. Zelda listened, but she couldn’t ignore the almost giddy feeling that possessed her when she witnessed Link take a bite of one of her misshapen rice balls.

The days that followed, after their trip back to Hyrule Castle, Zelda spent that time trapped in her own head. Though that wasn’t any different than before, the subject matter was a bit refreshing. Her untapped power was pushed aside in favor of thoughts of a specific knight and the strange revelation she had. She tried to make sense of this new set of feelings she had toward her knight. It was a tangled mess, her mind, like a knotted string of yarn she couldn’t find the end to. No matter how much it unraveled, the knots only grew tighter.

She left Link to his own devices for the following days; she needed the space to think and figured he could use a break as well. Their trip home from the Domain was less turbulent, with the monsters in the area being eradicated by Link and Impa. The two deserved the rest.

Robbie and Purah were going to be staying at The Ancient Tech Lab Institute; the preparations and upgrades to the Guardians were in their final stages and Zelda wished she could drop by and be a witness to such a historic occasion. But with the Tech Lab being a good distance from Hyrule Castle, she would need an escort. Before the assassination attempt on her life carried out by the Yiga, Zelda would have journeyed off on her own. It wouldn’t be too far on horseback, and her goal at the time was to get away from her dedicated knight. Now, to leave on her own felt like such a betrayal to the trust they had built.

As Zelda looked over her journal entries from the last couple of days, she couldn’t help but let out a frustrated sigh. At what, she wasn’t sure anymore. And that only managed to irritate her more.

Laying her head on her desk, eyes closed, images of Link flooded her mind; the concerned look on his face, the way the sun enveloped him.

The stories Mipha told her, alongside Link’s own tale of his childhood. The honey candy, his mother and sister. And he did it all without her probing. It was all so much.

And now, here she was, refusing to make sense of the way her heart reacted to the simple thought of him. Because the more she thought about that, the more acute the ache in her chest became.

Sitting up, Zelda rubbed her hands over her face with a groan. She had read her fair share of romances with their swooning heroines. She thought them ridiculous and unrealistic. But now she had to wonder; how did someone go about their feelings for another?

Her mother and father had a romance that was typical of royals: they were introduced as children, their marriage arranged by their parents. They grew to love each other over the years, much before they married, and their days leading up to their wedding were blissful. That’s what her mother used to tell her. 

Zelda frowned, burying her face in her hands. She wasn’t sure who to talk to about this new revelation, or what to do with these new feelings that overwhelmed her so. Most others would probably choose their mother for this sort of thing, but for Zelda, that was out of the question.

As she stared at her books through her fingers, she went through her mental list. Mipha and Urbosa were much too far away for this sort of conversation. Even through letters, their usual means of communication, it would take much too long. Purah was out of the question; she saw the way she’d tease her sister, Impa, and Zelda didn’t wish to be on the receiving end of—

Zelda’s breathing froze. Impa! Of course, why didn’t she think of her sooner?

Jumping to her feet, Zelda made her way out of her study and out of her room. It was midday, and Zelda hoped Impa wouldn’t be away supervising the Tech Lab. Otherwise she’d have to get Link to escort her and that would simply defeat the purpose of meeting her alone.

Asking the guards saved her from running around the castle on a wild goose chase; Impa was by the front gates, overseeing the supplies that were being transported to the Tech Lab. Amongst the researchers, Zelda spotted exactly who she was searching for. There Impa stood by the front gates, clipboard in hand, directing knights and Sheikah alike. They moved crates and Guardian parts on the horse drawn carts, some more effortlessly than others.

As Zelda approached, she began to have second thoughts. How would one even start the type of conversation she was trying to have?

Unfortunately for her, Impa was a well-trained Sheikah, which meant she probably heard Zelda before she even reached the front gates.

“Something you need, Your Highness?” She said without lifting her eyes from the clipboard.

“Oh,” Zelda tried to keep her face neutral, “I… was just wondering how Purah and Robbie were doing since out trip back.” She gestured to the guardian parts, “I’m sure they’ll have a wonderful time sorting this out.”

Impa hummed in affirmation but said nothing else. Zelda stood at her side, watching as they loaded up the carts. Finally, after the moment of quiet grew uncomfortable between them, Impa asked, “hoping to hitch a ride? And here I thought you and Link were getting along.”

“What?” Zelda’s exclamation held genuine confusion. Shaking her head, she said, “I’ve already wasted enough time when I went to Zora’s Domain.” Or so her father said. “No, it’s better I stay here, or else father would have my head. Besides,” she held her chin high, “I’d like to think I’ve out grown giving Link the slip.”

Impa bit her tongue, sighed, then said, “just don’t push yourself. You work harder than anyone’s willing to give you credit for. Anyone who’s paying attention would be able to see that.”

Something in Zelda’s heart burst at the kind words. Impa was once more vocal about the king’s strict ways concerning Zelda’s training. As time passed, she grew more careful with her words, not wanting her words to reach the king’s ear.

“Thank you, Impa, I appreciate it. But,” she lowered her voice, stepping closer, “that’s not why I’ve come to see you.”

Impa lifted an eyebrow, “alright. What do you need?”

Before Zelda could conjure up the thought of what to say (because how did you approach a subject about something she didn’t fully comprehend herself), someone—mercifully—interrupted her.

“Lady Impa!” Someone—a fellow Sheika researcher, from the looks of it—called out from behind, box of ancient materials in his arms. He appeared much younger than the other researchers. “I’m glad I found you. You left this—oh!” Zelda caught his eye; his body went stiff as he bowed at the waist. He stood straight quickly when he nearly poured the contents of the box onto the ground.

Impa shook her head. Hand on her hip, face stern, she scolded, “carful with that. Purah would kill you if even a single screw went missing.”

The man laughed sheepishly, face turning red, “sorry about that.”

Impa’s face softened with a sigh, “well, go add it to the pile.” She gestured at the other guardian parts, “and thanks. I don’t know how we missed that.”

“Of course.” He smiled, “happy to help.”

Watching him go, the way Impa’s eyes lingered on him, something in Zelda’s mind clicked. There conversation at Zora’s Domain replayed in her mind; Purah’s teasing of her little sister’s love life reappeared.

“Impa,” Zelda stepped closer, “is that who I think it is?”

The fondness in her friend’s face vanished in an instant, replaced by something stoic. “Who, Peri? He helps at the Tech Lab when he’s not training or out eliminating monster camps.”

“I see…” Zelda’s words drifted, before adding, “Purah spoke of him as though you two were… special, so I thought…” She paused, unsure of what to say.

Impa bit her lip, “I don’t know. I guess we’re just… taking it one step at a time. With everything going on, we don’t have much time for slacking off.”

Zelda understood what she meant. It was difficult to think of much else during these times. Even this conversation was beginning to feel frivolous, the more she thought about it.

The longer she stood there, the more she was beginning to regret coming outside. As the traveling carts became full, and the jobs of the researchers and knights nearly done, Zelda took in a deep breath and said, took a deep breath and said, “I’ve been wondering…” Zelda’s eyes were on the ground, unfocused, “how do you approach someone, when the way you’ve began to see them has changed?”

A quick glance at Impa, Zelda couldn’t help but notice the frown of confusion. “Huh? Changed how?”

Zelda tried to hold back a frustrated groan. “I mean, how would you approach… a change of feelings?”

“ ‘Change of…’ ” Impa wore a pensive expression, eyes narrowed in thought. “Why? Did someone upset you?”

“No,” Zelda rubbed her arm, suddenly too hot under the blistering sun. “What I mean is, if you’ve felt one way about this person, but then you realized those feelings were… changing.”

Her friend hummed beside her, long and thoughtful. “Oh,” Impa practically sang. Turning to Zelda, the smile she wore was an encouraging one, “is this about Link? I have been meaning to ask how you two are getting along. You seemed to be on good terms at Zora’s Domain. It’s refreshing to see.”

Zelda decided to play along, “yes. We have. He’s opened up a lot,” she smiled, remembering how he reminisced about his family to her. He’d been talking more, mostly in her presence.

“That’s good to hear.” Impa crossed her arms, “I remember, when he asked me to tag along to help him pick fruit for your favorite cake. Said he wanted to try cheering you up. I thought it was a sweet gesture.”

That new bit of information caught Zelda off guard, her heart reacting to that new bit of information. “He told you?”

That cake led to their first lunch together, which lead to their daily lunches together. Thinking back on it, the very picture of Link, and how he took his time to pick fresh fruit with her old friend’s guidance, set a tender smile on her face.

Impa answered with a nod, “I remember when he was first appointed as your knight, I told him to just be patient with you. He used to be so frantic when he couldn’t find you.” She shook her head, as though recalling a memory, "I didn't even know he had an anxious bone in his body."

Zelda grimaced. “Oh. Well, I’ve… been meaning to make it up to him.” Link wasn’t the type to hold grudges, thank the Goddess for that. But she wanted to show him she appreciated him. All of her previous ideas never stuck. They never felt special; like something from the heart.

She remembered how his eyes lit up when he found that bag of honey candy. How the treat lead him to innocently recalled a childhood memory and share it with her. “Impa…” Zelda’s voice trailed as an idea popped into her mind, “on your way back, could you stop by the Castle Town market?”

Impa perked up at the requestions, “something you need?”

“Not… necessarily. But,” she grabbed her friend’s hand, almost pleading, “there’s some ingredients I’d like you to pick up for me.”

It was late. Much later than Zelda had expected. Impa offered to clean the kitchens and Zelda should hurry off before Link went to bed. The two had been in the kitchens all day, burning utensils and pans, some beyond recognition. Zelda had searched the library for an old recipe and thought the one they found would be simple enough. Impa was no cook herself, and the two were nearly kicked out of the kitchen when the last batch nearly caught fire. Only once Zelda explained herself did the cook take pity on her and show her step by step what to do. Zelda had a newfound appreciation for Link and his ability to cook out in the wild.

With the sun fully set and the sky a dark velvet, she would be surprised to find Link awake at all.

Pouch in hand, Zelda listlessly made her way to the guard’s chamber. The hall was a glow with torches, leading her way. When she reached her destination, the sounds that filled the room lifted her spirits. There Link stood, training bow in hand, shooting targets, his arrows hitting the center. The air sang a satisfying tune with every arrow he let fly. He’d only pause long enough to nock another arrow, but his speed was unparalleled.

Link let another arrow fly, hitting the center once again. He nocked another, eyes trained before him. His brows knitted in concentration—or at least, that’s what she thought. In a flash, his eyes found her, standing on the stairs. The arrow flew, hitting the target, but just barely. Never had she seen such a blunder from him. She might have been amused if not for the fact that her heart was beating so loudly, it muffled any sound in her ears. Her skin grew hot as the seconds passed between them.

Clearing her throat, Zelda spoke first, “working as hard as ever I see.” She slowly walked down the stairs, ignoring how he followed her every move. She hoped he didn’t see the swallow of her throat. “I don’t see you use your bow too often, so I guess I let curiosity get the better of me. I apologize if I spooked you.”

He shook his head but said nothing more. Standing for a moment, Zelda looked to the bow in his hands. 

To Zelda's surprise, Link just said, “it’s late.”

She's never came to see him this late. When they weren't traveling together, they had no reason to see each other pass dinner. Zelda hoped she wasn't crossing some invisible boundary. She crossed her arms, “yes, well,” she cleared her throat, “any reason you’re still up? Do you normally train this late?”

Link placed his arrow into the quiver on his back. “Sometimes.” He faced her, tilting his head, “and you? Why are you up so late?”

“I’m always up late.” She said, chin high as she smiled. “You just don’t see me because I’m holed up in my study.”

Link acknowledged that with a nod, taking an arrow from his quiver. As he nocked said arrow, he momentarily glanced in Zelda’s direction before he released it. It flew and sank into the center.

Standing for a moment, Zelda looked to the bow in his hands. She wanted to fill the quiet, so she spoke the first thing that came to her mind, “you know, I once read of my ancestors. Apparently, a few of them wielded a bow. Another wielded a rapier.” She paused, mulled over her words, then frowned, “I wonder if father would consider it a distraction if I ever thought of training with a weapon. He just barely tolerates my helping Purah and Robbie in the tech lab.”

Another arrow hit its target. Dead center. Link stared at the ever-growing number of arrows overwhelming the center, lowering his bow before saying, “ever wanted to shoot like your ancestors?”

She surprised herself when she let out a laugh, “only sometimes. With my daily prayers and occasionally volunteering my help to the maintenance and study of the Guardians and Devine Beast, I’m not sure when I’d find the time.”

He handed her the bow, corner of his mouth upturned. Zelda took it before she remembered the sack she still held in her other hand.

“Oh, that’s right,” how could she forget the very reason she came to see him? “This is for you.” She handed it to him, watching as he gingerly took it, inspecting it curiously.

“Since our time after the Yiga’s attack,” Zelda started, an uncharacteristic wave of timidity overwhelming her, “I’ve been trying to find a way to thank you.”

Link shook his head, “you don’t owe me anything.”

“Don’t think of it like that.” She couldn’t look him in the eyes, her cheeks burning, “it’s more than that now. As we’ve spent time together I…” she swallowed. “I’ve wanted to show how much I appreciate you. You’ve become…” a deep breath, slow and shaky (why was this so hard? Why won’t her heart calm down?), “very important to me. J-just as the other Champions are to me, that is.” Zelda cleared her throat, “I know I wasn’t very welcoming to you at first.” She held up her hand when he opened his mouth. To defend her, no doubt. Did he ever see fault in her? It was almost sweet to think about. “I remembered how happy I was when you made me my favorite cake, so, I figured, why not return the favor?”

Link perked up at that, examining the pouch in his hands. Slowly, he unraveled the string that kept it closed, peeking inside. A delightful smile spread across his face, eyes brighter than the sun. The honey candy he pulled out wasn’t as perfectly round as the ones they shared by the fire, but Link didn’t appear to care. As if he were handling something fragile and precious, he unwrapped it slowly. Placing it in his mouth, he closed his eyes, letting out a blissful hum. Zelda’s heart nearly burst from the sound of it.

He opened his eyes, reaching into the pouch, pulling out another round piece of candy. To her surprise, he handed it to her.

“Oh,” Zelda took it without thinking, “thank you, but this was meant for you.”

Link gave a one shoulder shrug, ending any further protest.

Without further questioning, Zelda unwrapped the lumpy candy, placing it in her mouth. It was a lot sweeter than the ones they shared by the fire. (Too much sugar on her part; she’ll rectify that next time she made them.) It wasn’t perfect, but it was still enjoyable. And Link seemed to like it too.

“So,” Link readjusted the strap to his quiver of arrows, shuffling his foot, (an almost nervous gesture, which she’d rarely seen on him.) “Would you like to learn how to shoot?”

Zelda blinked, “why? Offering to be my teacher?”

His gave a lopsided grin, “sure. I’m told I’m a decent teacher.”

“’Decent’,” Zelda smiled, “Mipha wouldn’t stop singing your praises about how good you were with training the young Zora.”

Link shook his head, his hand on the back of his neck, almost bashful. It took all of Zelda’s willpower not to snap an image with her Sheikah Slate. 

“Alright.” She said, and Link’s expression brightened. “But let’s not tell my father. I wouldn’t want him to think I’m ignoring my duties.” But then, he might forgive her if he knew it was Link who was teaching her. After all, for all they knew, physical training may help with unlocking her sealing power. 

Link gave a nod of affirmation before handing her his wooden bow, followed by a singular arrow.

“Wha—,” Zelda took the bow, “right now?”

A pensive look crossed Link’s face. “Maybe,” he spoke slowly, holding up two fingers, “one or two shots. Just to gauge where we’re at.”

Fingers grazing the string, Zelda fiddled with it for a moment. She took note of the rough texture. Link looked on with curiosity, cheek still round from his piece of candy. It took everything in her not to laugh at the display. And, for the flicker of a second, her mind conjured up an image of herself kissing that cheek. She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head, a futile attempt to vanquish that thought.

Nocking an arrow, Zelda tried to mimic what she saw Link do. Her arrow’s tip drifted to the side. Link, to her relief, didn’t laugh or tease. He simply moved to her side, adjusting her grip. His fingers on hers did nothing to help her concentrate.

“There,” he said, voice a whisper, “now, relax your shoulders.”

His hands rested there, warm and gentle. She took a breath.

“Both eyes open and on your target.”

She took a deep, long breath.

“Relax your fingers.”

It was hard to relax when her heart was an erratic mess and Link was standing so close.

“Now,” Link lifted his hands form her shoulders, and she barely had the time to miss his firm warmth before, “release.”

The arrow flew. The trajectory wasn’t as straight as she’d seen Link’s arrows. It hit the target, on the outer edge. Zelda’s face burned, and she tried to calm herself, resting her hand on her chest.

Link made his way to the target, removing the arrow with practiced ease. “You’re a natural.” He said as he made his way back to her side. His voice carried something she'd never heard from him before.

Her cheeks burned at the complement, but she kept her face as neutral as possible. With a wave of her hand, she said, “you’re just saying that.” But one look into his eyes and the earnestness of his compliment shined through. That urge to kiss his cheek returned, this time stronger than the last.

Link shook his head but said nothing more. He turned his head, focused on the practice targets, giving Zelda a clear view of his cheek. How would he react, she wondered, if she did kiss him? She cleared her throat and turned her head. “Well,” she handed Link the bow, “it’s getting late. I should get going.”

As she made her way to the stairs, she paused when she heard Link say: “don’t be too hard on yourself.”

And she smiled to herself. Because her missing the target wasn’t her reason for fleeing. Was he aware of how he overwhelmed her senses? Hopefully not. 

Zelda watched as Link held the small bag of candy in his hand. There was something sentimental in the way he gazed at it, face adorned with a fond smile. She hoped he felt the same way she did when he made her that cake.