#loftwingletters24

Days on the surface were busy. From dawn, Link and Zelda were up collecting wood, fetching water, and making multiple rounds of the settlement to see who needed help. By dusk, they were helping cook meals, store equipment, and make sure all were safe to sleep. Their only respite was their one-room cottage, tucked a short walk away from the settlement, where at night they shared stories about the day and plans for the tomorrows they once never thought they would have.

There was a rumor going around that they were exhausted.

“That’s silly,” Zelda yawned, taking a sip of tea from her mug. “Karane, you should really stop gossiping.” Setting down her cup, she resumed her knitting project: a blanket for Kukiel who, despite her love for adventure, was having a hard time adjusting to the surface. The blanket would be covered in pictures of loftwings and clouds.

“It’s not gossip,” Karane protested. “I can see it in your eyes, Zelda. You have bags!”

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

“Link had to wake you up this morning. It’s usually the other way around.”

“How do you know– ah, Pipit…”

“You should take some time for yourself,” Karane encouraged, getting up to refill her teacup. “You and Link give a lot.”

“We don’t mind,” Zelda argued as she shifted to watch Karane over the back of her chair. “There’s a lot of work to do and we can do it.”

Karane sighed and swirled her cup. Looking out the window, she said, “Link is out with Pipit right now chopping firewood. Maybe you can go get some fresh air, walk a little bit, without starting a new project.” She walked to the door, lifting the cup. “Oh, I’ll return this later.”

And then Karane was gone and Zelda was alone and maybe her best friend was right. A light breeze blew outside, gently ruffling the curtains on the window through which she could hear birds singing. A walk outside, without any projects or jobs or strings attached, was something Zelda hadn’t done in a long time. So, she gently set Kukiel’s blanket aside, finished her cup of tea, and ventured out into the surrounding woods.

On the other side of the surface settlement, Pipit hacked away at a pile of firewood while Link–unwillingly–stood and watched.

“I’m not letting you help,” Pipit huffed as he lifted the axe over his head. “This is my job.”

“But I can do it.”

“You’ve done enough.” With a whack, the log at Pipit’s feet split into two. “You never do anything for yourself anymore.”

“I do plenty for myself,” Link protested. “Last night, I ate dinner.”

Pipit couldn’t stop himself from bursting out in a fit of laughter so loud the birds hidden in the trees launched away into the air.

“Alone?” Pipit asked between chuckles.

“Well, Zelda was finishing up some of the laundry she was helping with, and she got back late.”

“That’s exactly it.” Pipit set leaned on the handle of the axe and glowered at Link. “You two don’t have any time to do something together that doesn’t involve working.”

“Finishing up the settlement is important,” Link replied. “Once that’s done, then we can rest.”

”Or you could rest now—“

“Hey,” a voice rang out, and Pipit didn’t miss the way Link’s eyes lit up. “Am I intruding?” Zelda emerged from behind a tree, and to Pipit’s surprise, wasn’t carrying a pile of fabric or a bucket of water. It was just her.

“Not at all, Zel,” Pipit said, casting a glance at Link’s tomato-hued face, “not at all.” He also didn’t miss the slight fumble in his step which almost sent the logs in his arms rolling.

“I was wondering if Link had a minute,” she said. “But if you’re busy, I don’t want to interrupt—I know that wood is urgent.”

Pipit hurriedly, almost eagerly, replied that it was not urgent. “Take him if you need him.” Link hesitated, glancing between the pile of uncut wood and the woman dearest to him, wondering what mattered more.

He went off with Zelda, leaving Pipit alone and knowing he would never hear the end of this later.

There was a rumor going around that Link and Zelda were in love.

“What happened?” Link asked as they walked through the forest.

“Does something need to happen for us to take a stroll?”

“No, but— usually— I mean, when you come get me it’s because you need help with some work.”

“I just had an idea that we could take a break.” Yes. An idea that was entirely her own. “But if you have to get back, I understand.”

“No! No, I don’t.” Their hands swung at their sides as they walked and Link ever so gently grazed his fingers against hers. Zelda glanced down and turned her face away to hide her blush. Nervously, she slipped her fingers into his. The rest of the walk was silent, but in that silence was comfort. The silence said everything—that they could truly be at peace, even in the midst of building and planning and healing, their peace could be found within the other.

Just outside the forest that surrounded the settlement was Lake Floria. Zelda had grown fond of it on the rare occasions she visited. Beside the lake was a tree taller and much older than the rest, which is where they sat down. For a long time they stayed there, talking, reminiscing, clutching hands, and they were so engrossed in each other that they didn’t notice the golden light of sunset or the glowing bugs that came out of hiding.

“It’s been very nice to do this,” Zelda said as she plucked at some grass. “Perhaps we could do this more.”

“I think so too.”

“You know,” she continued after a moment of quiet, “I’ve been working on a blanket for Kukiel.”

“Have you?”

“She’s homesick, so I thought it would be nice.” She tore a tuft of grass out of the earth. “Maybe… I could make a blanket for us, too.”

“I could get some more wood,” Link offered, “for our hearth.”

“We could sit under our blanket in front of our fire and drink tea together. Just us, for ourselves.” And Zelda thought there was no moment more perfect than this, surrounded only by the forest and its wildlife, treasuring every detail: the upward curve of Link’s lips, the presence of his hand over hers, the blush that was surely creeping onto her face.

They faced each other. “That sounds nice,” Link said, eyes traveling down to her lips, then back up to those sky-blue eyes that would always remind him of home. Not the Knight Academy, not Skyloft, not the Goddess Statue, but home: her.

He reached up and cupped her face with that same gentle care he always had, like he could lose her again with just a simple touch, and she closed her eyes and gingerly leaned in…

The pouch slung over Zelda’s shoulders shifted with each step, bouncing against her hip as she walked through Hateno village. Periodically, she couldn’t help but reach inside to ensure the small, white box tied with a satin blue ribbon was safely tucked away. It was a Sowing Day gift for Link she’d chosen at the East Wind on her way home. The store’s merchant, Pruce, had assured her that it was a traditional Hateno custom for women to give appreciation gifts on Sowing Day.

She’d picked a sand seal plushie for Purah and a potted tomato plant for Symin to give tomorrow when she saw them. Zelda’s heart fluttered with memories of Urbosa as she thought of the gift she’d chosen for Link: three rich chocolate truffles imported from Gerudo. They were a delicacy Zelda had always enjoyed, and she hoped they would also bring joy to Link. 

Crossing the bridge to the home she shared with him, Zelda could hear the faint sound of him tending to their small garden at the side of the house. 

“I’m home!” Zelda called as she headed inside. 

Pushing the front door open, the sweet, honeyed fragrance of apple blossoms permeated the air. A vase, filled with the blooms Link must have pruned that day, sat in the center of the already set table. Zelda pulled the box out of the bag and placed it in the middle of Link’s bowl before making their dinner. In the past year, Link had taught her some basic cooking skills since, pre-Calamity, Zelda had never had to cook. She hummed happily, feeling lighter than she had in ages as she peeled and chopped a swift carrot and hearty radish to add to the stewed meat she’d left to simmer all day over the fire in the hearth. 

By the time Link came in from outside, the stew was ready. Zelda placed it, sliced bread, and rice on the table while Link washed up. She took her seat and waited expectantly for him to join her. 

“It smells good, Princess.” His mouth curled into a bemused smile when he saw the package in his bowl. “What’s this?”

“A Sowing Day present for you.” Zelda sat forward in her seat, returning his smile. “Open it.”

Reaching for the end of the ribbon, Link untied the bow and lifted the lid on the box. Zelda’s stomach roiled anxiously as his expression changed from delight to shock to confusion. His brow furrowed, and he blinked several times, clearly processing the unexpected gift of truffles nestled within the waxed parchment. This was not the reaction she’d expected. 

Feeling self-conscious, Zelda stumbled over an explanation. “Urbosa always brought these for me when she visited. They’re my favorite. Don’t you like them?”

Link’s expression softened, and he gave her a shy smile. “I do. They’re my favorites, too.” 

Despite his smile, Zelda couldn’t help but feel she’d somehow upset or disappointed him. “Did I do something wrong?”

Link shook his head slightly and cleared his throat, a hopeful glint in his blue eyes when he looked at her. “Do you know what it means to give chocolates on Sowing Day?”

“Pruce said women gave gifts to show their appreciation. I bought Purah a plushie and Symin a plant. With your sweet tooth, I thought you’d like Gerudo chocolates.” Frowning, Zelda pulled her brows together when Link’s smile faltered, and the brief light in his eyes faded.

“Ah, I see.” Link nodded politely. “Thank you, Princess. We can enjoy them after dinner.”

He set the box aside and spooned rice and the creamy meat soup into their bowls. Zelda’s cheeks flamed, realizing she’d missed something significant regarding her gift, but she was too embarrassed to press Link further. They spent the remainder of the meal discussing how they’d spent their day. After cleaning up, Link declared he was tired from working in the garden all day and departed to the room he’d fashioned for himself in the lean-to behind the house. Zelda spent the night sleeping fitfully, wondering if she’d misinterpreted Link’s response to her gift.

The following day, Zelda rose, intending to ask Link again if he was all right, but found a hastily scrawled note on the kitchen table that he’d gone hunting and would be back later that evening. Sighing, she gathered her satchel and headed to the Ancient Tech Lab. Along the way, she greeted her fellow villagers with a friendly wave and nod. Once past the village proper, Zelda fretted over Link’s odd behavior as she trudged up the winding path, and the rising sun warmed the top of her head.

The clang of a hammer rang in the air before the building came into sight. Cresting the hill, Zelda saw through the open front door ten-year-old Purah standing at her lab table, fully absorbed in pounding a rectangular piece of metal. Spare circuits and wiring were spread over the surface, that wasn’t already covered with pages of schematics. As usual, Symin cataloged his specimens at the back of the room.

“Good morning, Purah and Symin.” Zelda smiled, pulling out the gifts she’d brought them. “Happy belated Sowing Day!”

Purah’s eyes lit up when she spied the sand seal. “Check it!” Grabbing the stuffed animal from Zelda, she ripped it at the seams and pulled out the stuffing. “I love it, Princess! This is just what I needed for my next project!”

“Ah, Princess Zelda, you shouldn’t have.” Symin’s cheeks pinked when he accepted the tomato plant.

“It’s the least I could do for all you two have done for me over the past year.” Their reactions were exactly how she’d hoped Link would have responded yesterday. Biting her lip, Zelda pulled her research journal and the Sheikah Slate out of her bag before stowing it beneath the lab table.

Ever observant, Purah instantly pounced on Zelda’s melancholy. “Is something on your mind this morning, Princess?”

Zelda shook her head as she laid the items on the table. “Oh, I was just thinking about Link. I gave him chocolates for Sowing Day, and he acted strangely.”

“Oh, snap!” Purah pushed her red glasses down her nose and leaned in, peering owlishly at Zelda. “You did what?!”

Taken aback by Purah’s reaction, Zelda flushed. “I gave him chocolates, as a gift, but he was… confused.”

“I bet he was!” Purah's snicker fueled Zelda’s blush. “Giving chocolates on Sowing Day is a romantic gesture!”

“It’s true!” Symin chimed in from his corner, cheeks reddening in sympathy to Zelda’s sudden plight.

“Romantic? I didn’t know that…” Zelda’s mind reeled as she processed this disturbing information. She’d grown to admire Link, but the thought of romantic love had never crossed her mind until now. Recalling the hopeful gleam in Link’s bright blue eyes, Zelda’s heart skipped a beat, and butterflies erupted in her belly. Had she confused platonic love for true love?

“Looks like our princess unintentionally confessed her love!” Purah gleefully clapped her hands and grinned mischievously, tearing Zelda from her reverie. 

Zelda’s cheeks flamed further, and her breath hitched in her chest. “Purah, please! I don’t even know if he feels the same!”

Emitting a most unladylike snort, Purah’s grin widened. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you. Right, Symin?”

“It’s clear he’s smitten,” Symin agreed.

“What am I supposed to do now?” Zelda didn’t know how to face Link when he arrived home that evening. Just thinking about seeing him again suddenly made her heart race with nervous anticipation.

Purah tapped her finger against her lips, contemplating the question. After a moment, her eyes brightened, and she waved her pointer finger flamboyantly in the air. “Actions speak louder than words. I say, lay one on him.” 

Zelda gasped, shocked by Purah’s proclamation. “Are you suggesting I kiss him?!”

Purah shrugged. “Why not? Link may be courageous, but he’ll never make the first move. It’s up to you.”

As it was, Zelda could hardly focus on her research for the remainder of the day as visions of what kissing Link would be like consumed her. Finally, she gave up making any progress and headed home. However, as she was passing East Wind, an idea came to her, and she took a detour to purchase a few cooking supplies. The knowing smile Pruce gave her as he wrapped up the goods made her cheeks burn. It seemed an affliction she couldn’t shake today.

At home, Zelda prepared her recipe in the cooking pot outside their house, and sat by the fire occasionally tasting and idly stirring the contents. 

When Link arrived a while later, he paused a few feet from Zelda. Dropping the boar slung over his shoulder, his nostrils flared, sniffing the rich scent filling the air. “That’s… a lot of chocolate.”

Zelda lifted her head to meet his steady gaze. “It’s a fraction of how much I think I may be in love with you.”

If the confection she’d made weren’t already tempered, Link's bright smile would have done the trick. Standing to close the distance between them, the taste of chocolate was still on her lips when Zelda kissed him.

End Cut Scene:

After Zelda left, Purah turned to Symin, a mischievous glint back in her ruby eyes. “If things turn out how I suspect they will, I can’t wait to see what Link gives the Princess on Harvest Day!” 

Her expression turned thoughtful as she eyed Symin. “Speaking of, what are you getting me for Harvest Day, Symin?”

Purah cackled delightedly at the crimson flush coloring Symin’s cheeks that perfectly matched the setting sun.