#loftwingletters26

Link stiffened. Under any normal circumstance, Link would never enter Zelda’s room unless she had opened the door for him and was given formal permission. But Zelda’s voice sounded slightly exasperated from inside, and it was her asking for him…

Link gently opened the door, his eyes glued to the floor just in case. He did not dare raise them, even once he had fully shut the door. He stood in front of it, awaiting further instruction from Zelda.

Zelda shuffled and huffed from the other side of the room. “Link— Over here, please.”

Link looked up to see where Zelda was and saw her sitting at her desk. He relaxed just a bit and walked over to where she was. She was struggling with her hair, and it looked frazzled from just how much she had been messing with it. Zelda turned to see Link and smiled quickly before turning back to the mirror and furrowing her brows with a pout.

“My hair simply does not want to cooperate today, Link! What should I do?”

Link smiled softly at Zelda and looked at her through the mirror. He took a small step forward and reached his hand just beside her hair before pausing. “If I may, princess?”

Zelda sat up just a bit straighter and nodded.

Link took Zelda’s hair in his hands and felt his heart skip a beat. Her hair was soft and it shone in the early morning light from the bedroom window as he turned it in his hand. Link only allowed himself quick admiration before he began to work on her hair.

Zelda sat still as Link worked on her hair. He did not know how to braid her hair as she normally had it, but he knew how to braid at the very least. He picked up her brush and ran it gently through her hair and separated it down the middle, then got to braiding.

As Link braided her hair, Zelda relaxed. His touch was gentle and thoughtful, and never once did he tug on her hair. She was often rough with her hair herself, braiding it so tightly that she could get headaches later in the day. Perhaps it was her own hand that had been so undoing to her hair that day, what with the ever-looming dread of the Calamity.

When Link finished braiding her hair, he began to tie the end, absentmindedly humming to himself. Zelda looked at him through the mirror, but he was focused on her hair. She smiled at him and the slight furrow of his brows as he concentrated. He let the finished braid fall between her shoulder blades and stepped back.

“Thank you, Link…”

Link nodded and left the room. He could feel his heart beating faster as he stood outside the door, waiting for Zelda to finish anything else she needed to get ready. Finally, she came out the door and offered him a small smile.

“I think I’d like to go to the lake today before we do anything else. The weather has been quite nice recently, and we should enjoy it for even just a little while.”

Link nodded along and followed Zelda as she walked down the hallway, listing what they would need to do following their brief detour to the lake. They saddled up their horses and took off.

The lake was not far, and they let their horses drink from the water while they sat down at a nearby tree. Link was sitting up straight, his sword in its sheath beside him as Zelda laid down on her back beside him.

Sunlight dappled through the leaves of the tree and Zelda extended her hand upward. “Do you think Hylia is watching us?”

Link looked at Zelda, unsure of how to respond. She continued. “I do not believe she does. I mean, if she did, I would have figured out how to use my powers by now.”

Link listened as Zelda went on. He knew that she was under immense amounts of pressure and that all she needed was someone to listen rather than burden her more with their own thoughts or opinions.

So he listened and listened, collecting flowers that were immediately around him as she spoke, her voice beginning to crack as she got more emotional.

“Princess…?” Link said softly, a few moments after Zelda had finished speaking. She looked up at him, sitting up on her elbows. She noticed the small collection of flowers that he had weaved into a crown in his hands and raised an eyebrow.

Link held out the flower crown in a gesture. “I made this for you.”

Zelda’s eyes widened in surprise and she sat up more. Link held it out a bit more and Zelda dipped her head, allowing him to place it on her. She touched it gingerly and smiled.

“I understand the burden you are carrying with you,” Link started. “But just because you have not found your divine light does not mean you do not have light within you.”

Zelda nodded slowly, scooting a bit closer to Link. He continued. “Every moment I spend with you is filled with light, and I am so lucky to live in a world where you exist and I am able to know you. Even if you don’t feel like the princess everyone wants you to be, I want you to know that…”

Link trailed off, his hands fidgeting. Zelda took his hands in her own and laid down in the grass, pulling him gently with her. As they laid there together, Link finally found his voice again.

“I want you to know that you are the princess that you need to be. You are worthy, you are enough, you are everything.”

Zelda smiled sincerely and then chuckled. “I didn’t take you as a type of poet.”

Link let out a soft laugh. “Can’t I indulge in a hobby?”

Zelda hummed. “Link, may I ask a question?”

Link nodded his head.

“How much longer are you going to wait to kiss me?”

Link’s eyes widened and his cheeks began to flush. Zelda smirked and Link huffed softly. “I truly cannot wait another second.”

Link cupped Zelda’s face, rubbed his thumb across her cheek, and leaned forward. Their noses brushed, then their lips, and soon they were lost in each other.

Link was gentle and sweet, and Zelda smiled softly as he kissed her. They eventually broke apart and stared at each other before breaking into giggles.

“Did you have more poetry planned?” Zelda teased softly.

Link shook his head. “I am afraid you have me at a loss for words.”

“Link?”

Link brushed aside some of her hair. “What is it, Princess?”

“Can we stay here just a little longer?”

Link nodded and pressed their foreheads together. He wrapped an arm around her and rubbed her back.

Well, jokes on him because the only thing Link’s dumb face has inspired in her is a desire to break it. Symbolically, of course, though there has been a time or two when she felt her fist tempted…if only Impa were permitted to teach her to fight. 

Ever since they’d been formally bound—for better or for worse till Calamity did they part—she’s been on a mission to identify a sore spot under all that calm. Something she can press her thumb against whenever Hyrule’s chosen needs reminding he just is as human as the rest of them. Just as human as her.

But this has proved easier said than done. Honestly, she could shout at the top of her lungs, and his expression would remain as flat as if he were watching grass grow. He is always on time. Often, he is early. He’s never once complained, no matter how loud or unpleasant her behavior, or how negligent she is of her holy devotions (to her, research is a form of devotion, but tell her father that). Last night he’d even shown her kindness with an invitation to the guards’ chamber to observe a session of archery training. 

His reputation is infuriatingly well-earned. 

“Explain it again,” she commands.

Link lifts his eyebrows in question. So poised. So cool. Barf.

She sighs heavily, as if to imply his inability to read her mind were some tragic, incurable deficiency. “The game. From last night.”

He blinks a few times.”You mean…Cucco?”

“Yes, clever knight. That’s the one.”

As always, he takes his time answering. She bites down on her cheek to keep from speaking. The running hypothesis with the Sheikah, the only people she can openly complain about him with, is that the silence is purposeful. Take too long to answer, and people, so naturally intolerant of quiet, often do the work for him.  

“There’s…really not much to it, Princess,” he says finally.

“I want to know.”

He pauses again, and she bites down harder, tasting metal. 

“It’s a dumb game soldiers like to play,” he says.

“I’ll be the judge of the game’s stupidity once you’ve properly explained it.”

Something like amusement glimmers briefly across his face. Sunlight catching on dark water. Her heart gives a tiny skip. In victory, of course. 

“Basically, you create an uncomfortable situation and see who backs down first,” he says.

“An uncomfortable situation?” She makes a face. Being a guard seems uncomfortable at baseline. Suits of armor. Rigid routines. Taking orders. The high likelihood of injury on any given day. How can they make it worse? “Like what? Do you touch each other or something?”

The woman seated at the table next to them shoots up from her chair. A flurry of loose pages cascade down around them like snow. 

Zelda purses her lips. She’d meant the question in reference to something like ponytails being tugged, or the dreadful practice of shoving a wet finger into someone else’s ear, one of Purah’s favorite ways to annoy Robbie, but in hindsight, she could have chosen her words more thoughtfully. Especially with an audience.

The eavesdropper quickly gathers up her things, eyes downcast, face growing redder with each failed swipe of her fingers trying to pry the pages from cold marble. Finally, she gives up, abandoning what remains of her mess and retreats to the other end of the library. 

Zelda turns her attention back to Link and gestures to the now empty chair.

He shakes his head.

She shrugs and continues, much louder than necessary,” You were saying, you and the other guards touch each oth—?”

He drops into the chair. There is a delightful tint of pink to his ears that wasn’t there before. 

“We don’t touch each other,” he says in a hushed voice. “I mean, there can be a physical element to the challenge, but it’s mostly a mental game.”

“Sounds fun.”

“It’s an immature means of determining the pecking order in the barracks.”

“Ah, hence the name. Cucco,” she concludes, pantomiming a bird pecking with her fingers. “And I premuse not wanting to be one?”

He nods and moves to stand. A bold, or perhaps hopeful, assumption her questioning is through. She leans on the table, pinning the book open with her elbows. “And you win by getting the other person to what? Yield?”

His eyes flick down. “You are going to ruin your book.”

“Don’t deflect.”

He sighs and settles back in the chair. Ha! She has him pink-eared and sighing and relenting. 

“Yes. You want the other person to yield. Technically, you want them to declare it out loud,” he tells her and then, almost an afterthought, adds, “Even better if there is a witness.”

Warmth spreads up her chest. She hasn’t felt this alive since the discovery of the Divine Beasts. 

“And…you’ve never lost?” 

Link’s face immediately goes blank.

She digs her heels into the floor to keep from kicking her feet. So he hadn’t realized she’d still been paying attention after the guards handed her a training bow last night. Ha! 

While the opportunity to fire a weapon was captivating, Zelda has always been an expert multitasker. Okay, perhaps focusing a bit more on her aim would have been wise, but they’d promptly extinguished the flames of the torch she’d struck with that first arrow. And the guard’s chamber remained intact, albeit a little smoky. They had even encouraged her to try again. And she had — several times — all the while keeping her ear to the lovely conversation going on behind her. A meeting of old friends who liked to talk. Not so much Link, but someone brought up Cucco and boasted on his behalf. Words like “undefeated” and “invincible” and something about being a “goat”. Whatever that means. Another category in which he is unmatched. Exceptional.

But Zelda also likes games. She especially likes mental games. She is good at them.

Link doesn’t answer her. He is trying to look bored. He even managed to drain the color out of his ears. A valiant attempt to render the game into one of his dull blades of grass. Not worth her time or energy.

Too late.

Sore spot meet her thumb.

She reaches forward to collect the book from the table and closes it with a snap. “I should like to play.” 

“No,” Link says.

“Oh, yes,” she says. 

“Princess, it’s not—” he begins, but Zelda cuts him off, knocking the flat of the book against the table several times like a mallet. The entire room stops to stare at her. Them.

Even better if there is a witness.

She purses her lips. “Do you yield?”

Seconds tick by, and the silence slips back into the space between them. Only, there is a charge to the air that wasn’t there before. He remains unreadable, but it’s…there is no better way to describe it…dangerous. This unpredictably is probably what makes him a formidable opponent in the game. On the battlefield. She doesn’t know whether to brace herself or to advance, or if doing either will be what lands her in a trap. 

Only when she’s good and frozen does the shift happen. Subtle, but undeniable, and even more dangerous than neutrality. Her stomach coils into a knot. It’s exactly what she was hoping for. 

He looks determined.

“No,” he says.

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