Days like this are hard to explain to someone who's not from a place like Ordon. It's a certain kind of tranquillity that you can only reach from years of rapport, decades of responsibility and camaraderie. The rhythm follows the same as the day before, steady and familiar. Thoughts wander through your consciousness like so many leaves on a winding river. Forgettable and memorable in equal measure. On days like this, the village is quiet. Like everyone had come to some predetermined agreement to communicate in nods and smiles, stowing any conversation for another day. Everyone’s needs are known and handled before the thought to ask even arises, even the weather obeys the silent commitment. It's the perfect time to sit in and watch the ranchhands at work.

None of them seemed to mind when you'd come sit up here, they don't often notice either. You've clearly become a regular enough fixture of the landscape to no longer be a figment of curiosity to the livestock. Sometimes you’ll bring a book, other times you'll do some weaving or sewing; it's quiet enough to be alone, all while not being too terribly isolated. Wispy clouds rarely blot out the sun that basks your skin in a warm blanket and illuminates the scent of evergreens beyond this quiet paddock.

There's usually a schedule for who's ranchhand each day, and it seems like Link's been picking up Fado's slack lately. Not that he seems to mind. Fado says Sera needs help at the shop, Sera says he’s just lazy. Like these things always go, the truth is probably in the middle. Part of you always loves it when Link is taking the shift, sometimes he'll bring one of the village kids to shadow him. It's like you're learning along with them, all while sparing yourself from the backbreaking work. Sure, Fado is a good teacher, but they always listen to Link more. They adore him, practically nipping at his heels wherever he goes. Saucer eyes watch him as if he might evaporate into thin air if they lose sight of him for even a moment. 

Today, Link is handling the ranch, today's pupil had long since turned in for the day. He takes to the saddle like he was born to it. Sweeping like a breeze through the paddock with the commanding presence of a Clydesdale, his face is the image of tranquillity. He seems like the quintessential dreamy village boy that you read about in those cheap romance books they sell by the fortune teller in Castle Town. But he's the real thing. It makes you wonder what he's doing stowed away down here in the country. 

A familiar white mane emerged from behind a hill, the cyan-blue coat of a yearling tucked under the arm of the familiar rider. The poor thing must've wandered off, swept off its hooves and returned to the comfort of the herd by an all-knowing rancher. How easy it must be to be an Ordonian goat, have every need patiently tended to. He slipped from the saddle with catlike ease, gently lowering the youngster to its mother who nonchalantly trotted to greet it. Even when he makes the work look easy, it's still a physically demanding job that commands daily strain. A thin layer of sweat makes suntanned skin catch the lowering sunlight on his bare shoulders. 

His gaze flashed toward your direction, returning a weak smile as he approached. Your chest tightened. He often left his horse to graze as she pleased, releasing the reins to her. They both knew that no matter how far she’d wander, she always came back; often, only a rhythmic whistle would kick her into a sprint in his direction. Those two have some sort of spiritual bond; twice now you've seen him round up the livestock bareback, his input often redundant. For reasons beyond your understanding, you posed as if you were looking up from being otherwise occupied, lifting your gaze from a book that you hadn't read a word of in half an hour. 

He came to find a space in the grass beside you, resting his forearms on bent knees. Every other time you'd been up here when he's working he'll come up and sit with you. Sometimes he'll ask how your day was, sometimes he's just sitting in sheer silence, just basking in the setting sun amid a long day’s work. 

Around this time of day, distant frogs start to peep, those heralds of the nighttime stir in their ponds down by the village. From there the fireflies start to arouse, lighting up thick ferns along the treeline, and the nighttime wildlife assumes its station. Like Link’s duties as a farmhand, these creatures assume daily tasks too. A steady, reliable clock that's been followed for thousands of years, and thousands of years to come. 

"Y'know… I never really asked you but, why did you leave Lurelin?" His voice cut the silence like a warm knife through butter. 

"I've been here for months and you never thought to ask?"

"Didn't want to pry," he shrugged, taking a long blade of grass between his teeth.

"After the Twilight, everything was different. Sure, we were safe from the curtain, but the people changed. They were meaner, jaded. I think a lot of people just couldn't wrap their heads around the fact that we were really safe from evil," you felt his eyes on you as you lamented, the words just kept coming. "It's hard for people to go back to caring about others when they'd spent months wondering if they'll make it the next morning after another Moblin raid."

Your words settled in the air to create a steady silence, only rippling waves on a motionless pond of his presence. While the conversation reached a melancholic calm, the surrounding woods were alight with song. Birds began their last act in one final crescendo, a soaring hawks chwirk to one another in a call to their mate. All over a constant chorus of bleats and huffs from the regular livestock, it's not strictly true to say Ordon is a quiet place to live. 

"Since' we're asking questions, why did you stay in Ordon? You did all that and just went back to normal afterward?"

"The people here are genuine, they look out for each other. They're all like my family. And also-" You watched him mull over his words as if he was tasting them in his chops. "It's kind of all I know. I never cared about my reputation, the glory, none of it."

White sunlight tipped into amber as the evening approached, your eyes trailed along a winding wooden fence along the grass' perimeter. You fidgeted with a piece of grass you drew, folding and tying it in an unknowable pattern. A smirk cracked your face, and the caress from a cool breeze emboldened you to share your burning challenge. 

"I don't believe you."

"Pshht" air slips past his teeth in exasperation, he blinked slowly at the horizon. 

"You killed the demon king, freed the world from the Twilight- the entire Kingdom kissing your boots. The realm was in your debt, you could've had gold, castles, hell, you could've married the princess - could've become king. You could've bought Ordon, could've made it a new Hyrule Castle."

"I never asked for glory or even acknowledgement at all for what I did… I just- I think I just really wanted things to go back to normal, back to when it was simple."

"And did your dream come true?"

"Yes and no, the village kids are safe and I'm back on the ranch… but the kids are growing faster every day," there was a melancholy in his tone, as proud as he might sound. "Ilia's set up in Kakariko, Malo's there too. Rusl n’ Uli's baby was born, but I think Colin's most excited about not being at the bottom of the pecking order now."

"Y'know there are some people that don't believe in this whole hero thing at all," you sighed, it made him huff a soft chuckle. 

"Is that so," he spoke, low and frivolous. 

"They say it's a fairytale parents tell their kids to get them to go to sleep- make them think there's an order to the world," your words made him stir with an emotion you couldn't detect, only pensively rubbing the back of his hand. "Or that it's made up by the royal family to keep people compliant, that the royal bloodline is special or whatever."

He nodded along to your allegation, a conspiracy theory, really. The kind of thing people with too much time on their hands and spite in their hearts conjure up. The kind of thing you came here to get away from. In truth, you didn't even know that the so-called hero was from here, for all you knew he'd married the princess and lived a life of luxury. But he's different, it's intriguing. Rolling hills with proud evergreens lining a thick wilderness were the obvious choice over a life of servants and grovelling city folk. 

"What do you believe?" His voice reached an octave that rattled in your bloodstream, low and smooth. 

"Do I believe some country bumpkin could kill the King of Evil and save us from some horrible doom?" A sneer that manifested on your lips, plucking that piece of grass on his lips between your fingers, he barely seemed to notice, only dreamily watching the sky. "I'll take your word for it."

"It was tempting, the power," the words make his forehead wrinkle in thought. "But power corrupts people, makes them behave not like themselves. Hearing people cheer my name at parades, it was so odd. I didn't like it." 

You lean back on your forearms, studying his expression and digging for meaning. It's an easy enough reason to grasp, but that's the thing. There's a darkness to his words, the kind of sternness that comes from experience. 

"How benevolent of you," you smirked, eyelids falling heavy. You put that same grass between your teeth, the taste bitter on your lips.

"I'm not-" he seemed to have caught himself mid-sentence, truncating some elaboration. "You're trying to rile me up, it's not gonna' work."

"I think it already has," the words croaked from your throat, flowing off your tongue before you had the chance to censor them. "Besides- I think you like it.” 

He shifted in his posture, turning to plant his near hand beside you and bridging much of the distance between you. In an act of spite or otherwise, he'd tossed the strand of grass from your lips in a weak underhand toss that made a goat stop and consider the object with its snout. It didn't stop a certain humour from registering in his eyes. He leaned in and your blood ran chilled with anticipation, smelling his pale skin as his body heat approached. He smelled like trees and goat milk soap, musk and leather. 

For a moment the world was still, quiet. No birds, no bleats, silence hung in the air. Heavy branches held their ripe apples, captivated by your exchange. Before you knew what was where, warm skin under your cautious fingertips melted into your palm, your exploring hand taking an expedition across broad shoulders. Thick, scratchy cloth with lazy stitches across their hems gave way to more skin. Across his bicep, muscles warped and body heat intensified, your eyelids drifted closed. Foreign breath ghosted across your bottom teeth. 

Your lips touched and it felt like lightning in your chest, carnal thirst for each other's blood substituted by cautious movements. Part of you felt the timidness in his movement as if you'd open your eyes to see him a visage of bashfulness. You leaned in against soft lips that met yours, digging your fingers into his bicep, spurring him closer. He obliged, shifting his body weight all while you impressed further. Suddenly he shifted as if to withdraw, you dug deeper. Again, he withdrew, and you were left like a canoe without a paddle. 

"Not here," his tone a soft murmur, barely above a whisper. 

"No? Seems romantic," your words failed to get his attention, his gaze lingered on the winding wooden fence-gate on the far end of the pasture. 

"No," he started, but you wouldn't let him finish. 

"It's more exciting, don't you think," a finger on his chin dragged his face back to meet you. "Out here in the field, in the open, under the sunset."

"Someone might see."

"That's the danger of it all," you breathed, but boldly cut you off in retaliation. 

"I'm not scared of danger," a knowing flicker of mischief lit up his eyes for a moment before sobriety stymied the thought. "C'mon, let's go- let's go to the barn."

His voice was smooth and low like warm honey, part of you wondered if he knew how that tone would affect you. It made your mind so hazy you didn't even notice an upturned palm to guide you upright.

"What happened to not caring what others think of you," you held steadfast, testing the limits of his patience as a smile pulled at your cheeks. 

You got to watch the words register on his expression as he rose to his feet. At first, he blinked in confusion. Then he must have considered your challenge, turning to stand in a way that blocked your view of the setting sun. He lazily pushed his hair out of his face with raking fingers, you tilted your chin to look up at him. 

"Here’s the thing," he turned before you, planting a foot on either side of your lounged ankles, "you're in my ranch. And I have a knack for getting misbehaving critters to go where I want them to."

"Oh is that what you'll do," manifesting your calmest tone. "Ride me down on your horse, whoop and holler and whip your lasso until you round me up?"

His body language spoke for him. He's nothing if not intimidating, the way amber sunbeams splay around his silhouette made him look like a Golden Goddess descending unto you. Reluctantly, you raised your palm to meet his, and he effortlessly raised you to meet him. As polite as the gesture was, he hardly offered you much time to brush the grass off the back of your dress before he led you to the painted barn. You'd left your book behind, you realized. Hopefully a goat doesn't eat it, but frankly, you'll have to take that risk. 

Beady eyes linger on you. Onlooking livestock lifts their heads from the grass as you pass, considering your presence, but carelessly returning to their grazing. Maybe they can sense the heat in your chest, your rapid pulse. Perhaps they taste your wicked thoughts in the late summer breeze, knowing which of them involve their master. Maybe, maybe not. More likely they're not thinking about much at all, just the next possible meal they can scrounge for and enjoying the autumn sun. You were practically skipping, it's like the ground was rising to meet you with every step. Anticipation burned in your chest as the sturdy gate groaned to welcome you inside.

This barn is worn and honed, with years of tender care and thoughtful woodwork. Sturdy crossbeams and thick wooden pillars have kept generations of prized Ordon goats in fine fettle. A community's labour, spotlessly cleaned and attended. It's a marvel of handcrafted ingenuity, the pride of the village. This place is cleaner than many people's homes, but the splendour must have been lost on your company. 

In an instant he was all over you. You'd barely found time to catch your breath before his mouth enclosed around yours, eagerly resuming their previous meeting. Resistance against your back meant you'd met one of those sturdy wooden pillars and he cornered you in. A warm hand at the small of your back, a relentless onslaught on every inch of exposed skin. Soft hair brushed against the side of your cheek the more he leaned over you. Even when they move with a desperate thirst there's still a kindness to his hand’s grip, he pressed himself against you like the missing puzzle piece.

"Maybe your magical powers will rub off on me, what boons might I get for sleeping with the legendary hero?" You murmured, seizing a newfound opportunity.

He laughed into your mouth, your lips parting only barely as he dipped back over you.

"Can't sleep yet, there's work to do," he smothered the conversation with another persistent kiss.

"Maybe the light spirits will split the sky and bless me," you gasped.

There was a strange delight in mocking him, riling him up with reminders of his auspicious status as a hero. He was so keen to dismiss it all and some part of you felt like he secretly occasionally enjoys the worship, as humble as he might want to come off as. And maybe it's your way of saying thanks for his sacrifice, his courage. Or perhaps you just like seeing someone so sickeningly sweet squirm. Well, not so sweet anymore. Searing fingertips trailed up and down your spine, daring to bunch more of your skirt in his fist. 

"Oh the hero in green," you raised your voice in a mimicking tone, reciting the cries of fawning Castle Town citizens "Link has saved us all."

"Shh," he cooed, silencing you with another crashing kiss.

But you felt him smile, laughing at your mockery. 

Before he had the time to silence you or give you some snide remark you bit down on his lip. He flinched, grinding to a halt as the playful nip didn't seem to compute for him at first. Another bite and your hips swayed against his. Firm resistance met you, his hands shifted in unison to your hips, keen to pursue that motion. There's a mischief under that innocence. He feigns like he's this sweet country boy who blushes and simpers politely at flirtatiousness, but there's more to him than that mask he wears. He likes the mocking, pestering jabs you make, no matter how he might act like he'll brush them off.

With a shift in movement and weight, you stepped into him, softly grappling his shoulders and pushing. He lightly fell onto the stack of hay behind him, pink cheeks and lips warmed the colouring of tanned skin from days of work in the hot sun. As much as you might like to think otherwise, he only permitted you this control—out of politeness or otherwise. Every part of you knew picking you up and throwing you would be nothing to this man. You'd heard the legend of him besting armoured men thrice his size, a whirlwind of steel and green. Tale of him challenging Gorons barehanded, swinging a hundred-pound iron ball like it's nothing. Hell, you'd seen him firsthand stop a charging goat dead in its tracks. His letting you push him on his back into a pile of yellow hay is only an illusion he's allowing you to believe. 

But as your lips part and he's on the ground before you, an uncharacteristically devilish grin dances across his expression. Your tongue ran heavy as he dragged his thumb below the blue sash that ran across his waist, dragging up the border of white cloth to lift his shirt. Legs kicked slightly apart, lifting his shirt to reveal a chiselled abdomen for you to touch. He knew what he was doing, and you'd be remiss if you didn't acknowledge the sting of warmth that clutched your core. 

You both knew what was at stake, a lowering sun and basking the countryside in amber light would mean Fado would want to see the goats brought in any minute. It made this unexpected encounter ever more exciting, urgent, necessary. Neither of you had the liberty of having the time, or patience to fully undress. He loosened the rest of his sash, lifting his shirt over his shoulders as your knees buckled, collapsing around him. You'd barely had time to kick off your undergarments, haphazardly grabbing fistfuls of a scratchy dress' skirt. Blue eyes drifted down to your figure, collapsing into his lap. He sighed as your weight connected with his, already delighting in the friction. 

Years of life on this farm left warm muscles curving and contouring his form, only then did you clue into a handful of white scars that scattered across his skin. Your consideration was cut short, though definitely not from a sense of bashfulness. The way he grabbed the back of your neck could be argued to be aggressive, but you both had a similar urgency, and your lips were sloppily colliding again. It felt good to be over him, there's a thrill in having him captured between your knees, and how his breath deepens whenever you'd drag yourself over the sturdy bulge in his lap. 

This steady friction you developed could spark a fire in this dry hay for all you knew, heat and butterflies formed a steady inferno in your gut. A hand on the back of your hair kept you grounded in his reach. His tongue lashed again yours, hot lips colliding and drawing in a soulful rhythm you'd developed. Like a spur in a horse's flank, stern fingertips urged the back of your thigh closer, you gathered that was your cue to hurry up already. 

Soft skin was electric with heat, you gasped against another crashing kiss, fingers tightening around your hair as your fingers dragged lower. What felt like scars peppered his rippling abdomen, for a second a twang of sorrow struck your chest. Quickly overridden, a palm struck your rump in an unexpected crack of pain. He looked pleased by your surprise like he'd finally shed that illusion of an innocent do-gooder farmhand. With renewed fury, you made quick business of unfurling the rest of his clothing. 

His cock sprang free, but you didn't get a chance to get a good look as it was shielded by layers of fabric from your skirt. The eager tip is easily aligned with your entrance, guided by your thumb. Slick heat lowered into him, and the initial entrance made your forehead wrinkle from the unfamiliar pressure. But you quickly adjusted, and he entered you fully with lifted hips. Your fingers fumbled for grip, finding soft brown hair in your knuckles as you ground yourself onto him. He groaned, and your spine flexed. Sweet spit danced over your tongue from the exertion, hanging agape and crying softly. 

He wants to grip your hips and urge your tempo on his lap like reins as if he weren't the metaphorical steed in this instance. Your core began to aching with with a feverish, achy warmth that made you gasp and cry when he'd pull you back down onto him. He filled you up just right, just enough that you'd winge from strain whenever he'd take a moment to savour the feeling of being buried to the hilt. 

Sweat beaded on brown strands across his forehead, down his pale jaw that fell open from his panting. Fluttering eyelids strained to hold eye contact with you as you rode him harder, feeling him twitch and fumble beneath you. Your own ache came on hard and fast, a sternness overtook you and your hands planted on either one of his shoulders, locking him into place. His eyes widened, captivated by your intensity, steely blue and full of fire. Another slap on your flank, you could barely contain yourself. 

Your skin slid against his, warm and dewy and fierce like a summer storm. The building intensity in your core from his rutting cock made you sway back in ecstasy. You could almost hear his breathy groans under your whimper, he gripped you hard. Cascading sparks released through every heartbeat, muscles across his abdomen flexed as he bucked up against you. Pulsing seed spilled into you, clutching your waist as if you'd even dream of lifting from his lap just yet. His groans were so sweet, he shuttered with ecstasy as his face softened and grinding steadied. 

Part of you couldn't imagine separating from this moment. Just panting, suddenly feeling the presence of the late summer breeze ghost over your skin, a consequence of a steadying internal temperature. Gravity collapsed and you found yourself plummeting into him, he caught you against his shoulder, he easily slipped from within you. 

Under your temple his heart was still thundering, his Adam's apple flexing as he halted his gasping to gulp. A mist of sweat made his chest glint in the lowering sun that soon would promise starlit darkness. Your muscles eased, worry faded, sinking into a relaxation that wrapped your limbs into his. A gentle caress on your shoulder slid down your spine and back, tender and kind. 

"Do you feel any supernatural powers?" He mocked, voice husky and deep.

You exhaled in a chuckle, his chest rattled in laughter under your laze. He'd earned that cheap shot at your earlier implication. The supernatural feeling you felt didn't come from any mythological being, but a forgiving, humming, post-orgasmic bliss that settled deep in your bones. But he’d come to deserve much worse for suddenly stripping you of an ocean of body heat, but you already knew what he'd say in response.  All the while his arm reached to grab his white tank, gently slipping his arm from beneath you. It's cruel, really. To assume you were finished with enjoying him. Maybe he knows, maybe he's about to invite you to his house, spend precious few hours of sleep together before a new dawn brings new responsibilities. Maybe he'll toss you under his arm like that young goat he returned and let you worship him for hours. But alas, his work commands him to bring the precious livestock indoors, distant coyotes’ yipping serving as a sobering reminder. 

"You're right, I didn't go to the parades only because I didn't want the limelight," aligning the rest of his clothing as he spoke, shifting to a crouch as he buckled a clasp at his shoulder. 

You sat up in intrigue, propping yourself on your forearm in the hay bale that suddenly grew more uncomfortable by the second. 

"The truth is," he continued, "I just plain don't like cities."

Finding Link was proving harder than it should’ve been. You felt as if you had walked the entire length of the castle before you stopped at the door to the guards barracks.

Of course, unbeknownst to you, the barracks wasn’t a room a girl should just walk into. Despite being almost 19 years old, you still thought that men didn’t walk around wearing almost nothing when they weren’t working. You certainly didn’t retreat to any state of undress when you were alone, unless you were asleep.

You took a deep breath, nervousness making your body itch and feel weird. A feeling you weren’t unaccustomed to.

Pushing open that door was the biggest mistake you had ever made.

Throat going dry as your eyes laid on bare skin, you froze on the spot. The guards of the palace were either playing games, practicing drills, or sleeping, but they were all in various states of undress. You could see arms, corded with muscle, stomachs, and legs hardened from years of work.

Shit.

Slowly, every eye in the room turned towards your face, bright red and eyes wide.

“Princess!”

Several of them immediately bowed, fist to their chest. That shook you out of your trance, blinking and fists clenching at your sides.

And there he was, sitting up and rushing towards you, slipping through the crowd, shirtless, every inch of scarred skin and muscle exposed to your eyes. Link grabbed your hand and led you out of the room, letting the door close behind him.

“Princess, what are you doing?” His eyes searched your face, bowed and red as a tomato.

“M-My desk broke,” you stuttered, finally gathering the courage to look up and not stare at his chest. It was tan and strong and…not the time! “You told me that if I needed help, to come to you.”

Link ran a hand over his face. “So you decided to walk into the barracks?”

“I didn’t know that…”

He didn’t ask you to finish that sentence. He just turned to the door. “Let me go put a shirt on, then I’ll help you with the desk.”

When he turned to open the door, you shamelessly watched his back move as he opened the door, muscles straining and tightening under his skin. Heat pooled low in your gut and you looked away, subconsciously tugging at your skirts, smoothing out non existent wrinkles.

You knew that the next few days were going to be so awkward. Walking into the soldiers barracks wasn’t just a mistake you would easily forget, and not just for the reason that it should’ve been.

When Link returned, clad with the apparel of a royal guard, he led you back to your room, the silence thick and heavy. You couldn’t get the image of that room, full of things you never should’ve seen, his body, and goddess of hylia, did you want to take a retreat far, far away.

“The desk is in your study, right? That one?” Link’s voice dragged you out of your train of thought and back to the present. He didn’t look back at you, which was all well and good.

With a nod (that he clearly did not see) you mumbled a quick “yes” and remained silent.

A pained grunt echoes through the forest, but it isn’t yours. You crack your eyelids open just in time to see the moblin crash to the ground, an arrow embedded in its forehead, and when you jerk your head around in search of your savior, you find - 

A man, clad in a loose tunic with a length of cornflower hair spilling over his shoulders.

For a moment you’re too stunned to move, your eyes locked on the blond as he lowers his bow. He seems caught off guard by your presence, though you can’t rightly blame him, this deep in the forest.  

The moblin twitches, one last death throe, and the spell is broken. You yelp and kick out at the beast’s snout, hissing as the movement pulls at your injured knee. The blood has already begun to dry, but the pain continues, making you wince as you attempt to pull yourself up from the forest floor.

A hand appears in front of your nose, palm open and fingers outstretched. You glance up to see the mysterious blond holding out his arm to you, his bow strapped to his back and his face cautious.

You take notice of his pointed ears as you grip his hand, though your pain steals the rest of your attention as soon as he’s lugged you upright. 

“Can you walk?” he asks you, his voice low.

You test it, and though your knees ache, you can bear it. “Well enough,” you tell him, though you’re proven a liar when your first step ends in a stumble.

The man sighs and pulls your arm over his shoulder. “I live nearby,” he says, his arm curling around your waist to steady you. “I can tend to you there.”

“There’s no need to - “ you begin, only for your words to be broken by a gasp as pain rockets through your knees. Okay, so maybe there is a need. “Thank you,” you finish instead, chastened.

The man says nothing, but he’s gentle about his movements, taking great care not to exacerbate your pain as he leads you away from the moblin’s corpse. 

You study your companion. He looks familiar, somehow, though you can say for certain that you’ve never met before. His pointed ears give him away as a Hylian and his skill with the bow prove him to be a skilled archer, but beyond that there’s little to glean from his appearance or state of dress.

Who are you? you wonder. 

As if sensing your thoughts, the man’s eyes - a startling blue - flick to yours. You turn your head hastily away, embarrassed, only to find yourself in sight of a modest dwelling, its walls sun-warmed and covered in vines and what appears to be a well-tended garden growing at its base.

You’re led inside and deposited gently on a rumpled bed, the man disappearing from your side only to return moments later with a clean cloth and a crimson-tinged potion. 

“Could you - ?” He gestures to your torn trousers.

You hold in a gasp as you raise your pant legs over your knees, taking stock of the damage with a scowl forming on your face. The torn skin and blood flecked flesh makes your stomach turn.

“This will help,” the man says, pulling the cork from the potion bottle and dumping a bit of its contents into the cloth. “But you’ll be sore for a while.”

“Should have rented a horse at the stable,” you get out between gritted teeth, hissing as the man goes to work cleaning your wounds. “Decided to travel by foot instead. More fool me, huh?”

“You can rest here,” he tells you, the offer falling from his lips with such ease that you’re certain you’re not the first wayward traveler he’s aided. Did he come by them often, out here in his secluded pocket of the forest? 

“Thank you - “ you start, only to falter awkwardly when you realize that you still don’t know his name. 

His eyes flick up to meet yours, and though he doesn’t hesitate, he suddenly feels guarded. “Link.”

“Link,” you repeat, and then you realize - you have seen this man before, in murals emblazoned across Castle Town. His hair had been shorter there, his clothes a distinct shade of blue and the sword of legend strapped to his back. Slayer of Calamity Ganon. The Hero of Hyrule. Link.

He had disappeared after the destruction of Ganon. You had heard the rumors - that he’d fled from Hyrule entirely, that he’d been mortally wounded in the fight with Ganon, that the Princess had sent him on another mission far beyond Hyrule’s borders.

But he’d been here, all this time, living a pretty isolated life from the looks of things. 

You had taken too long to respond. A look of resignation had settled over Link’s face, his shoulders stiffening beneath his tunic. 

“Thank you, Link,” you say, and that’s all you say, refusing to draw attention to the matter of his identity in the hopes that you can ease his guarded expression.

It appears you’re successful - the tension releases from Link’s shoulders, and his expression settles into one of patient curiosity.

“Not many travelers make it this far into the forest,” he tells you, beginning to dress up your wounded knees in clean bandages. 

“Wasn’t my intention to make it this far either,” you admit. “You can thank the moblin for that.”

Link’s lips twist into a wry smile. His movements bely an obvious familiarity with the tending of wounds, and though his hands are calloused from years of sword work, his touch is gentle. There’s dirt beneath his fingernails, you notice. No doubt from tending to his garden. Such a strange contrast, imagining the fabled Hero of Hyrule indulging in such a mundane act. 

Then again, despite his history, the man was just that - a man, and one who had offered you aid. The least you could do was refrain from ogling him like he was some figure from myth.

“You can ask.” His voice has no inflection, perfectly pleasant in that way that world-weary adults all seem to be in the face of a subject they’d rather avoid. 

You know what he expects - for you to ask about the Calamity, the Princess, his century of sleep. 

“What do you grow? In your garden?” 

Link glances up from his work, clearly caught off guard by your question. “Pumpkins,” he eventually answers, and you might be seeing things, but you’re almost certain you catch his lips curling into a smile. “Carrots. Wheat, too.”

“I make a mean pumpkin stew,” you offer, already tasting the dish on your tongue. “It’s the least I could do for you, in return for your help.”

“You don’t have to - “ Link starts, but at the look on your face, his expression softens with amusement. “Fine. If you wish. Now, stop talking.”

You almost take offense, until Link reaches for your face. You stiffen in surprise, an unexpected burst of warmth pooling in your cheeks, before you realize he’s just tending to your chin. You’d forgotten how hard you’d hit the ground until his fingers brush against your skin and the ache blossoms anew, causing you to hiss.

“Easy,” he soothes, like you’re a skittish horse in need of easing. You can’t bring yourself to feel offended at such treatment, not with Link as close as he suddenly is. Cornflower hair spills over his shoulders, framing his handsome face in a way that you can’t help but find pleasing. His tunic hangs loose at the neck, exposing the sun-warmed expanse of his collarbone and chest, and his eyes are very blue. 

You’re hardly breathing as he cleans your wound and applies the potion; when he eases away, seemingly undisturbed by your strange behavior, the breath you release is a strangled thing.

“T-thank you,” you murmur, inwardly scolding yourself for behaving so boorishly. You had been in the presence of handsome men before without falling to pieces, had you not? And yet here you were, your chest pattering away like a colt taking its first shaky steps. 

You retreat to the cooking pot outside, hoping it will allow you some reprieve from the Hero’s presence, but he seems content to follow, dutifully fetching the ingredients you ask for and watching curiously as you slice pumpkin and simmer milk and butter over the fire. 

It’s strange to have Link’s undivided attention while you complete such a menial task, but he seems content to watch you bring the stew to life. He doesn’t talk much, but he answers your questions - you stray far from his life as the Hero of Hyrule, and instead ask about the garden, the forest, the creatures he must see. 

In all the stories you’ve heard of him, the murals and the books and the songs, the Hero of Hyrule had always seemed… distant. Not cold, but withdrawn, the silent sentry at Princess Zelda’s side. And yet here, now, he’s… different. Not exactly talkative or unguarded, but open, once his caution toward you had been eased. Warm. Eager, when the scent of the stew hits his nose. 

Happy, you realize. He’s happy.

“What?” You’ve been caught staring. Link doesn’t seem to mind this time, his caution replaced by simple curiosity. His fringe is in need of a cut, long strands falling in front of his eye, and in a move that surprises even you, you reach over to push them clear of his gaze.

Your eyes lock. For a grueling moment you waffle between freezing in place and jerking your hand back as though burned, but Link merely huffs in amusement and places a roughened palm against the back of your hand, tucking it warmly against his cheek.

“Your stew is burning,” he tells you solemnly, and beneath your muffled cursing and the clanging of cutlery as you attempt to save and ladle out your stew, you can hear him laughing. It’s a soft thing, but it eases the lines from his brow and leaves his lips curled into a smile that sends your heart pattering once more, and when you hand off a bowl, gently-steaming and smelling of sweet milk and spices, you’re almost certain his fingers linger against yours. 

Wishful thinking, you assure yourself, but that doesn’t stop the warmth that fills your belly, a heat that you can’t blame on the broth and sweet pumpkin that you swallow in eager mouthfuls. 

You catch Link’s eyes over the rim of your bowl. He’s smiling, hair falling into his eyes again and a trace of broth glistening on his upper lip. The setting sun casts a golden haze over his shoulders and dyes his hair with amber rays. 

You return the curl of his lips with one of your own.

____________________________________________________________

Thud. Thud. 

The sudden noise kickstarted your heart, and your mind raced with all of the possibilities as to who could be at the door. Wrapping yourself up in your blanket for a bit more decency, you crept slowly down the stairs. 

The shop was bathed in moonlight, and through a window you could just barely make out a tall silhouette standing outside. It was not bright enough that you could make out who it was, but you could tell that it was definitely a man. 

A feeling of annoyance bloomed in your chest. Was it Elis? You had absolutely no desire to talk to or see him at the moment. The sadness you felt earlier had gradually faded into anger and you were afraid that if you had to look at his face in your current state of mind you would say something you would come to regret. 

Wrapping the blanket tighter around you, you stopped right in front of the door. 

“Go away, Elis. I don’t want to see you right now. If you wanted to talk to me you should have bothered to show up to Telma’s this evening like you were supposed to.” Your voice was clear and devoid of any emotion. You didn’t want him to know how hurt you were. 

“Well, then I might have some good news for you.”

Your eyebrows shot up, surprised to hear the voice on the other side. You immediately fumbled with the locks and pulled the door open. 

“Link?” 

Said man was leaning comfortably against a wooden beam that stood just a few meters away from the door. He was dressed in his casual civilian clothing, his fancy Royal Guard uniform swapped out for a loose fitting green tunic and tan pants. His blonde hair was partially pulled back into a half ponytail and the rest of his shoulder-length locks framed his face in a way that gave him a very ruggedly handsome appearance. He looked up as the door opened and gave you a soft smile. 

“Hey. Can I come in? I bring gifts.” He patted the bag that hung at his side. Still working through your feelings of surprise, you simply nodded and stepped to the side so that he could pass by you. 

After putting the locks back into place, you turned around and suddenly felt very self-conscious about your clothing.. or lack thereof. Underneath your blanket you were only wearing a large nightshirt that hardly covered your butt. You cursed yourself mentally for not having the foresight to put on some pants. 

“What are you doing here?” You asked, squinting up at your friend. Afraid that your tone was a bit too harsh, you immediately rushed to add, “N-not that I’m unhappy you’re here! It’s just late and you’ve had a long day, I’m surprised you’re not already asleep.” 

You certainly were not unhappy that he was here. In fact, you made a point to not acknowledge the relief (and maybe a bit of happiness) that had immediately washed over you when you saw that it was him at the door instead of Elis. His presence brought nothing but comfort, which you knew would not have been the case for anyone else. The only thing that made you nervous was the fact that he had seen you so upset earlier. You weren’t sure you were feeling up to rehashing the day’s shitty events and how worthless you were. 

Link just shrugged. “Even if I wasn’t here, I wouldn’t be sleeping. There’s a fancy party taking place up at the castle right now. I should be working, but I called in a favor with Zelda and managed to get out of it.” He grinned mischievously, clearly proud of his actions. 

You were surprised to feel a pang of jealousy at hearing how casually Link referred to the Princess. It was another reminder of just how close he was to the royal. You didn’t know everything about their relationship, but you did know that whatever connection they did have with each other was unlike any other. You’ve heard whispers and rumors about the true nature of their relationship, but Link had never confirmed or denied them to you and you never brought them up. 

But it would make sense if they were together. I mean, that is the kind of woman that Link deserves. Truthfully, she’s probably the only person worthy of him. 

“Well, I’m flattered that you chose to spend your night off here… but again, that begs the question: why?” You weren’t meaning to sound so skeptical and negative, but surely he had better ways to fill his time. 

Link cocked an eyebrow. “Is it not enough to just want to come and see you?” He asked. 

The effortless way he said that, as if it were the most obvious answer in the whole word, made your heart flutter. He intentionally made time to come see you? He wanted to come see you in the first place? 

You opened your mouth, struggling to find words. 

“Do you have any clean forks?” He asked suddenly, changing the subject. His random question seemed to snap you out of the stupor you had found yourself in. 

“What?” 

“Forks. We need some forks.” He turned then, making his way upstairs to where the living area and small kitchen were. You followed behind, still feeling very much confused. 

Link rummaged through the kitchen drawers as if he lived there, taking no longer than a few seconds to produce two forks, one of which he gave you. Then, he pulled a small container out of his satchel. You frowned at it, trying to figure out what it was. 

“I managed to snag a piece for us before I left the castle,” he grinned, setting the container down on the counter. He took off the lid, revealing a gorgeous slice of white cake. It was topped with thick white frosting and decorated with blue and gold flowers. It looked delicious. You stared at it with wide eyes, then looked up at Link. He waved his hand at it. 

“Well, ladies first.” 

You didn’t even pretend to be polite and deny the offer. Instead, you happily dug in. You tried and failed to hold in the moan that came from the back of your throat as you took the first bite. It was absolutely delicious, practically melting in your mouth. 

“Lingk, dish ish amazin’!” Your voice was muffled, but happiness outweighed the shame of forgetting your manners. 

He nodded, taking a bite of the cake for himself. But unlike you, he waited until he was finished swallowing to speak. 

“I know how much you love sweets, so I figured that if I brought you a piece you wouldn’t be so angry with me for potentially waking you up. A peace offering, if you will.”  

You shook your head. “You could murder my family and I’d still forgive you if you gave me a piece of this cake.” 

Link laughed, the warm sound almost as satisfying as the food. “Alright, noted.” 

The two of you finished the treat in a comfortable silence, and Link insisted on cleaning the forks himself once you were done. You sat on the counter next to him as he scrubbed the utensils with a rag and some water. Watching from the corner of your eye, you were amused at how concentrated he was. He carefully inspected each fork, rescrubbing when he found even the smallest fleck of cake or frosting left behind. 

“Slayer of monsters and dirty dishes. What can’t you do?” You joked. 

He hummed, considering the question. “I’m not really a fan of laundry.” 

“Oh ho, so the great Link does have a mortal enemy then.” 

“The very sight of a pile of dirty clothing strikes fear right into my very soul!” He exclaimed dramatically, turning to give you a look of exaggerated fear. He paused suddenly, frowning as he looked at your face. He took a step towards you and leaned in. “Hold still..” 

You froze as he reached out towards you, unsure of what was happening. His warm hand cupped your cheek gently, and your heart started to pound so loud you were positive he could hear it. Before you could ask him what he was doing, he brushed his thumb over the corner of your mouth a few times. 

“There,” he said quietly, a look of concentration on his face. “All gone.” 

You just looked at him with wide eyes, and he met your gaze with a soft smile. Your cheeks burned underneath his palm. Both his touch and his proximity made your heart race and clouded your mind.

What is going on? Why am I reacting like this?

He held your gaze for what felt like forever, and you weren’t sure but you could swear you felt his thumb softly brushing over your cheek slowly. His touch was so light, however, that you could have just been imagining it. 

You found yourself feeling a small sting of disappointment when he seemed to snap out of whatever trance he was in and pulled his hand back quickly. Your cheek suddenly felt ice cold and you almost wished he would put his hand back where it was. 

“Sorry,” he said, clearing his throat. “You had some frosting on your cheek.” 

You let out a nervous laugh, and the quiet that enveloped the room as Link finished cleaning the dishes was awkward and not as comfortable as before. When he finished, he turned to face you and leaned up against the counter. You scrambled for anything to say, hoping to break whatever weird tension had built up between the two of you

“Thank you for bringing me the cake. It was so good, I might have to break in to the castle sometime to get some more.” 

Your joke seemed to do the trick, and Link visibly relaxed a bit. “Well, good thing you know one of the Royal Guards. I’m sure he could be persuaded to help you on your mission.” 

You grinned. “Maybe I could offer to do his laundry for him, think that would work?” 

The tension in the air was shattered by the sound of both yours and Link’s laughter. Whatever that awkward moment was, it was gone now. Though you could still feel the ghost of his hand resting gently on your cheek. 

Link’s laughter died down, and his face slowly morphed into something a bit more serious. He crossed his arms and his eyes bore into yours. “So.. do you want to talk about it?” 

You froze, and your smile slowly dropped as your brain took a second to register what exactly it was that he was talking about. 

Of course he wasn’t going to let you pretend that he didn’t see you crying like a baby in the midst of a large and happy crowd. 

You bit your lip and suddenly found a very interesting piece of fuzz on the blanket that was sitting in your lap. As you picked at it, you tried to fight off the tears that had begun to prick at the corner of your eyes. 

“There’s nothing to talk about.” You worked hard to keep your voice steady. 

“Where was he?” It was a simple question, but it cut through you like a knife. What hurt the most is that you couldn’t even answer it because you didn’t even know where he was. 

You ignored the tears as they began to slowly slip down your cheek. You kept your head down, continuing to focus on the blanket, but soon the piece of fuzz was joined by small water marks as the tears dropped down around it. 

“I don’t know.” You muttered. 

“What do you mean?” 

You sniffed, feeling slightly embarrassed to admit the truth. “He never showed up. I don’t know where he was.” 

The silence that followed spoke volumes. Looking up through your lashes, Link’s face was difficult to read. The muscles in his face flexed beneath smooth skin as he clenched his jaw. 

You laughed weakly. “Pathetic, right?”

“Something is pathetic, that’s for sure,” he muttered darkly. 

“This keeps happening. I don’t know what I did but obviously,” your lip started to quiver violently and your voice shook as you struggled to speak, “I’m not good enough for some reason.” The last word came out as a sob, and you slapped your hand over your mouth to try and keep the rest from coming out. It didn’t help. 

There was a long pause where the only sound in the shop was the sound of your crying. Then, “Get dressed.” 

You hiccuped, trying to catch your breath and calm yourself down. You looked up in confusion, wiping your nose in case any snot had started to make its exit from your nose. “What?” 

“Get dressed,” Link repeated, a serious look on his face. “We’re going out.” 

It took a few seconds for his words to register, and you shook your head vigorously. “No, Link, I don’t-”

His warm skin was once again on your cheek, the back of his hand softly brushing away the tears that sat there. 

He leaned in suddenly, his face just centimeters from yours, and there was a sparkle of something almost mischievous in his blue eyes. A stark contrast from the stoic expression he had been wearing moments before. 

“Last one to the castle entrance is a rotten cucco egg.” His voice was a soft whisper, nearly inaudible. You stared up at him, a dumb look on your face. 

“Wha..?” 

But before you could ask any more questions, he gave you a delishly grin and took off, running out of the room and clunking down the stairs loudly. 

“I - what? Link! Hey, wait!” You shouted after him, but got no response. “Oh fuck me,” you muttered. But you couldn’t deny the childlike giddiness that was bubbling up inside you as you ran to your room and pulled on some decent clothes as quickly as you could, determined to catch up with your friend. He had challenged you, and he knew that you weren’t one to back down from a challenge. 

As you exited the shop, you saw Link standing a few doors down, obviously waiting for you. He didn’t let you catch up, however, and with a quick grin he was off again, running through the streets of Castle Town. 

“This isn’t fair!” You shouted as you sprinted after him. “You got a head start!” 

He looked back as he ran. “Don’t blame me because you’re slow!”

You stuck your tongue out at him, and then watched in horror as an unsuspecting couple walked right into the path of an inattentive Link who was charging like a bull. You opened your mouth to warn him, but luckily he turned back at just the right moment. He managed to jump out of the way, mostly avoiding them. But he still tripped over the man’s shoes, stumbling forward wildly. You didn’t even bother holding back the laughter as you followed behind, watching as he struggled to regain his balance. 

“Sorry!” Link shouted, not even bothering to stop as he apologized. The couple gave him a nasty glare, then made to keep walking. However, they were once again abruptly stopped as you ran right into their path. You didn’t even need to look to know they were also giving you a dirty glare as well.

“Sorry!” You copied Link, also not even bothering to look back. 

You couldn’t stop the laughter that was spilling out as you ran. The sadness from earlier seemed to melt away with each stride you took. All you were focused on now was keeping an eye on Link and trying to catch up. He kept glancing back to check on you as well, and the smile on his face as he did so gave you butterflies. 

“Is that the best you got?” He shouted over his shoulder. 

“You know, it’s amazing you can run so fast with a head that big!” You shot back. His laughter carried down, filling your ears. 

“It’s part of the Royal Guard training!” 

Big head aside, by the time you got to the castle entrance out of breath and sweaty, he was already there waiting, looking completely unfazed. Not even a drop of sweat on his brow. 

He pretended to yawn as you dragged yourself up to him. “Well, it’s about time.” 

You glared at him as you leaned down and placed your hands on your knees to try and catch your breath. He just smiled innocently. 

“How does it feel?” He asked. 

“What, the stabbing pain in my side? The sweet embrace of death herself?” You panted. 

“Being a rotten cucco’s egg, I mean.” 

You couldn’t even pretend to be mad, a loud laugh escaping your lips. He joined in, and next thing you knew, the both of you were in tears and struggling for air. 

Once you two gained your composures, Link straightened up and gestured to the paved road that led up to the castle. 

“There? Link, we can’t just walk into the castle!” You looked nervously at the very large guards that stood on either side of the entrance. They looked straight ahead, their faces completely blank. But you knew that they weren’t zoned out and would not hesitate to use the very sharp looking swords they had strapped to their hips if need be. 

“C’mon, it’ll be fine. I promise.” He held out his arm to you. Hesitantly, you linked your arm with his and let him lead you. As you walked up to the guards, Link simply nodded to them. They returned the nod, and let you walk by without any issue. 

“Wow, must be nice to be the Hero of Hyrule,” you muttered sarcastically. He shrugged. 

“I guess putting my life on the line to save Princess Zelda and all of the people of Hyrule, yourself included, comes with the added perk of being able to enter and exit the castle freely. I mean really, that’s what makes it all worth it if I’m being honest.” 

You rolled your eyes at him and gently smacked his arm. He rarely ever made jokes or even talked about the events that led to him being hailed as a hero, so it was strange to hear him acknowledge it, even if he was just joking around. He just smiled down at you, and the two of you continued the walk in a comfortable silence. 

You weren’t exactly sure where he was taking you but as you approached the grand steps leading up to the front door of the castle, he quickly whisked you to the side and instead led you down a small path that disappeared around the side of the castle. 

“Where are we going?” You finally asked. He glanced down. 

“You’ll see. We’re almost there.” 

After a few more minutes, you ended up in front of a small arched gate. Thick green vines covered most of the silver metal, and you wondered if it would even open at all. But without any effort Link pushed one side and it swung open easily. He held out his hand, which you took, and led you through. 

The air grew thick with the sweet scent of blooming flowers. Crickets sang from their hiding places, competing with the sound of the leaves on the trees gently rustling in the soft breeze. The garden you had stepped into was filled with lush greenery, more vines climbing up the castle walls in a race to get to the top. The small area was dimly lit by the light of several small fairies, much to your wonderment. Some floated through the air, their tiny wings shimmering in the moonlight. Others sat perched on flowers or the trees, beautifully twinkling in the dark. 

The sound of water trickling drew your attention to a small pond that sat in the corner of the garden. The water was calm, the reflection of the bright moon and stars dancing on the surface. Small ripples danced throughout as water traveled down a small waterfall made naturally by large rocks. You saw other sporadic ripples in the water further out, hinting at tiny creatures who have made the pond their home. 

You truly had no words as you stood and absorbed the sight before you. The garden was small and magical, a sense of peace and serenity washing over you as you took in the beautiful sights and sounds under the lights of the moon and the fairies. From the corner of your eye, you could see Link looking down at you with a strange look on his 

face. 

After a few minutes of stunned silence, you finally found your voice. “What is this place?” You whispered. 

Link gently grabbed your arm again, guiding you to take steps forward. “Come on, let's sit.” 

A small bench sat at the edge of the pond, and the two of you took a seat and looked out at the water before you. You felt almost hypnotized watching the small stream trickle down the rocks and listening to the soft bubbling that accompanied it. 

“After.. everything,” Link started, his quiet voice pulling you out of your trance, “I spent a lot of time here.” 

You looked up and saw that he wasn’t looking at you, but rather looking out at the pond with a faraway expression on his face. You decided to stay silent to see if he would continue. He did. 

“It was really difficult at first. Well, it still is honestly. But those first few weeks, months, after Zelda was back and we were picking up the pieces left behind after so long of turmoil and destruction.. I really struggled.

The transition from being constantly on the road, constantly fighting, constantly throwing myself into the face of danger and being unsure if I would live to see another day, another hour even..” 

Your heart ached as you listened. You had only ever known Link to be courageous and brave. Hearing him talk about his struggles was difficult, and you didn’t want to think of him in any pain - emotional or otherwise. 

He sighed, shaking his head. “When nobody knew who I was, it was easy. I mean obviously what I was doing wasn’t easy, but before I felt like I was only responsible for myself and…” his voice trailed off, and you sensed there was something painful in the word that was supposed to come after “and”. But it never came. 

“I had pressure to succeed of course, knowing what fate would await Hyrule if I didn’t. But I didn’t have much time to stop and consider things. I just did what I had to do to get through each day.”

He nibbled anxiously on his bottom lip. A rare display of doubt and worry. “Now everyone looks up to me. They put me on such a high pedestal and for so long all I could think about was how much it was going to hurt when I fell. Because nobody really knows what I did. They don’t know the choices I had to make. The mistakes I made. How could I possibly be deserving of their love, their unwavering trust, with how many things I’ve done wrong?” 

Gingerly, you placed your hand on his knee. You weren’t sure what to say, or if he even wanted you to say anything. But you wanted to comfort him somehow. For him to know that you were listening and there for him. 

“I used to come out here almost every night. I had.. I had trouble sleeping for a while. And when I did, it was mostly nightmares. So I would come here and think about the questions I was too scared to ask out loud. What could I have done differently? Did I save everyone I could have saved?” 

You could feel your heart breaking with that final sentence. The look on his face and the pain in his voice. You had no idea how he could doubt himself when he had saved so many people, but you also couldn’t pretend to understand what he had gone through either. 

He turned to you, and you could see the vulnerability written on his face. “Luckily my nights out here have been becoming fewer and fewer in recent months. I don’t think I will ever be able to fully feel like I deserve any of the praise I get, but I am coming to terms with it. Learning to live with it. The voices in the back of my head will always be there, but they’re getting quieter and quieter with time.” 

Silence once again fell between the two of you, and you waited to see if he was going to continue. He did not. So you focused on the sounds of the night while you tried to think of the best way to respond to him. 

Link was one of your closest friends, but he had never been so open and honest and.. raw with his feelings before. While it hurt you to think of him struggling through all of those emotions alone, part of you - the selfish part - was over the moon that he had chosen to share these things with you. This was a whole new side of Link you were experiencing, but you decided that this was the most important one. This was the side that showed you the real Link. And he trusted you with that. That was no small thing. 

“Link, I’m so sorry.. I had no idea you were dealing with all of that.” Your eyes searched his, hoping he could hear and see the sincerity in your words. He gave you a small smile and shrugged. 

“I didn’t tell anyone. With all of the eyes on me, I didn’t want anyone to think I was ungrateful. Everyone believes me to be a strong and heroic person, so that’s what I’m going to show them.”

You shook your head. “But Link, I don’t think there’s a single person out there that would blame you for feeling the way you did. I mean, none of us know what it was like for you and you’re right. As soon as the dust settled, you were thrust into the spotlight and given all those fancy titles and promotions. There wasn’t much of an adjustment period, which I’m sure would be hard for anyone.” 

He was quiet for a minute before laughing softly, which confused you immensely. Had you said something funny? 

“Did I ever tell you what my life was like before? Back when I was just an average person who had never even been in a physical fight, nevermind battled monsters and evil rulers.” When you shook your head, he continued, a hint of longing in his voice. “I was a cattle ranch hand. I spent my days on my horse, rounding up the goats, cleaning stalls, and working on random projects around the ranch. Occasionally had to go and wrangle a goat or two that had gotten loose and tried to make its way down to the village.” 

You couldn’t stop the giggle that escaped your lips as you tried to imagine Link wrestling with an angry bleating goat. He raised an eyebrow and pretended to look offended. “Don’t you laugh, it was serious business. To this day I think I’d rather take on Ganondorf than a pissed off goat charging at me.” 

You nodded furiously and closed your lips together tightly, pretending to zip them up, lock them, and throw away the key. Link rolled his eyes but grinned at your foolishness. 

“Anyways, I just never would have imagined what my future would hold. And don’t get me wrong, I am immensely grateful for Zelda and the people of Hyrule and everything they have done for and given me. But a part of me I think will always mourn the life I could have had. Simple but pleasant. With the freedom to exist without the weight of all this pressure.” He sighed wistfully, looking once again back out across the pond. 

“Well, for what it’s worth, you are deserving.” He turned away from the pond to look back at you, and you continued. “You’re deserving not only because of what you did, but because of who you are. You are kind, you are caring, and you have the biggest heart of anyone I know. You intentionally go out of your way to help strangers, you play with the city’s kids during your free time, you visit other villages around Hyrule to make sure they have everything they need and if they don’t you make sure they get it, you share your food with starving potion makers.. I could go on, but I think you get the point.” 

Link pursed his lips and tapped a finger on his chin as if he were thinking hard about something. “No, no I think I’d like you to continue.” 

You scoffed loudly. “Fine. You also have the biggest head of anyone I know. That’s quite an impressive feat.” 

His laugh was loud and genuine, and you didn’t even mind that it disrupted the peaceful quiet of the garden. You shoved his shoulder with yours, and he gladly returned the gesture. The two of you battled it out for a minute or two before Link put up his hands in surrender. With a triumphant smile you leaned back on your hands and looked up at the sky. 

“Thank you.” He said after a few moments of comfortable silence. “For listening to all of that. It was nice to get it off my chest finally.” 

You sat up straight and gave him a serious look. “Anytime Link. I’m more than happy to listen when you need it. That’s what friends are for.” 

He stared at you for a few seconds before nodding and smiling, though for some reason it didn’t quite reach his eyes. It almost looked.. sad. Before you could ask him about it, he looked away and changed the topic. 

“Well, this is my special place to come and think about my life and whether I’m deserving of love and kindness. So I brought you here because I want you to do the same.” 

You took a sharp breath, suddenly being reminded about the situation with Elis and why you were even out of your bed in the first place. Since stepping into the garden you hadn’t thought once about it all. 

“What do you mean?” You asked. 

“I mean,” his voice was stern, “That you need to realize that you are also deserving. And to accept anything less is just cheating yourself.” When he looked at you, his gaze was intense and it seemed to cut right through to your very soul. 

Listening to Link talk about his feelings had been easy, but now that the attention was turned on to you, you suddenly felt very uncomfortable. You didn’t want to sit and list out all of the reasons why you were certainly not deserving and make yourself look even more pathetic than you already were. 

“It's hardly the same,” You said quietly. “You’re.. you. And I’m.. me.” 

He shook his head. “Our situations are unique, sure, but that does not mean that you are any less deserving of happiness.” 

“I am happy.” You knew it was a pathetic lie, and you knew that Link would absolutely not believe you. And by the look on his face, you could tell he certainly did not. But before he could lecture you any further, you suddenly stood up. 

“It’s getting late, and I’m very tired. Walk me home?” 

He looked like he wanted to protest, but eventually he nodded. Once again he held out his arm, and you took it, welcoming the sense of comfort and security being close to him brought. You did feel guilty that he had been so open and vulnerable with you tonight, only for you to immediately shut down when he tried to get you to do the same. But you hoped that he would realize that it wasn’t worth the discussion and would give it up. 

The walk back to your home was silent, neither of you knowing what to say. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence per se, but the journey to the garden had certainly been more fun. You kept stealing glances at Link from the corner of your eye as you walked, but his face was unreadable. You had no idea what was going on in that mind of his. 

When you reached your shop, you were both relieved and disappointed. You dropped Link’s arm and unlocked the shop door. When you turned around to say goodbye, you were surprised to find that Link was much closer than you expected. 

Your heart began to beat rapidly at the proximity, which was silly because you had just spent the whole walk home arm-in-arm with him. But something about the way that he was standing, looking down at you just a step away, felt different. More intimate. 

You looked up at him - goddesses, he was tall - with wide eyes. He said nothing as he brought his hand up to your face. With a gentle touch, he caught hold of a lock of your hair and tucked it back behind your ear. His fingertips brushed your neck softly, sending tingles down your spine and butterflies erupting in your stomach. 

“Please just think about what I said,” he murmured, his voice so soft you almost had to strain to hear what he said. His hand was still holding the side of your neck, however, and really that’s all you could focus. Link probably could have shouted his words directly into your ear and you still wouldn’t have heard him properly. 

You nodded, unable to form words or even a single coherent thought. His thumb delicately stroked the sensitive skin behind your ear, triggering another wave of tingles and butterflies. 

“Promise?” His blue eyes were pleading and sincere. 

You nodded again, not even able to imagine how you could possibly say no to him in this moment. 

He stared for a moment longer before nodding, seeming to accept your answer. You expected him to pull his hand away, but instead he pulled you into his chest, catching you completely off guard. His one hand stayed placed at the base of your neck while the other snaked around your back, pressing you to him.

You momentarily forgot how to breathe. 

Had he ever hugged you before? 

Why was he hugging you? 

WHY did he smell so good?? 

You felt brief pressure on the top of your head, and then he released you and stepped back. As he did so, you finally took the breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. 

“Sleep well.” His smile was warm and damn it, when did his smiles start to make your stomach flip so violently? 

Ever so smooth with words, you replied “Uhh okay.” 

Link gave a final wave goodbye and you stood there like an idiot, watching as he walked down the road until he turned and was out of sight. 

Then, as if a switch had been flipped in your brain, a million thoughts and emotions slammed into you at once. Giddiness, guilt, sadness, confusion, admiration - you felt it all. You had no idea how to even begin to process anything that had happened that night or the emotions that you were feeling. You were like a zombie as you wandered upstairs to your room and changed back into your sleep clothes, your head swimming with so many things. 

When you laid down finally, you decided to just push all of the thoughts and emotions away and shut your brain off. You would think about it later. Put off sorting out your feelings for later as you always did. 

But there was one feeling you couldn’t push out of your head no matter how much you tried. The feeling of Link’s touch. His hand on your cheek wiping away the tears. His thumb stroking your neck softly. His arms wrapped around you as he pulled you close. And how utterly empty you felt when he pulled away. 

Groaning, you smashed your face into your pillow and pulled the covers up over your head until you were enveloped in total darkness. 

“Sleep well.” 

The red moons had been happening more and more frequently now. At first they’d only risen once every few months, but now the brilliant scarlet sphere rose with only a few weeks between them.

And with the blood moons came the monsters. Bokoblins and moblins and lizalfos and even Guardians piecing back to life from swirls of black and red smoke, emerging from the ash as though they’d never been slain. As soon as the moon set, the monsters would resume wreaking havoc on their previous territories by terrorizing travelers and hunting down any nearby wildlife.

The phenomenon of the blood moons caused a shift in the lives of the people of Hylia. Before, people had been able to carry on with their travels throughout the night if they had wanted to, but now people found themselves barricaded into their homes or inns for the night; too afraid of being caught out during a blood moon and surrounded by the terrible creatures as they were resurrected.

You’d been among those that locked themselves away for the first few months, but you thought that you’d finally calculated the pattern. With the current information that you’d gathered, you thought you would have another week or two until the next blood moon would rise, which would have given you more than enough time to run down to the edge of Lake Hylia and fish.

But apparently you’d spent longer on the bank than you’d thought, as the sun had long since begun to set by the time you collected your fish and started on your way home. You’d been a little distracted by a herd of horses playing in a meadow, but when you noticed a wisp of black smoke flickering past in your peripheral you knew that you were in trouble. Now that you had noticed, you knew that you were running out of time; the smoke was rising quickly now- clouding thickly over the ground and pooling in a few key spots, where you knew monsters would be rising any second.

You hesitated as you neared the top of the hill beside the Bridge of Hylia, knowing that that area was nearly always crawling with monsters right after a blood moon, but that you had to cross the bridge if you wanted to make it back home. After a moment, you forced yourself to steel your nerves and pressed on, up over the ridge.

You moved quickly, picking your way between the lingering groups of ash and trying to hurry across the bridge before the monsters formed.

The other end of the bridge was in sight when your time ran out. The smoke solidified around you, forming one, then two, three, four lizalfos, armed to the teeth and looking ravenous as their eyes landed on you.

You took a slow step backwards, your eyes darting around in a last-second search for a weapon. There was nothing, not even a tree branch, which meant that your only option was to run like hell and hope you were faster than the monsters were.

The fish that you had spent the afternoon catching hit the ground with a wet slap and you turned on your heel, pushing yourself into a sprint. You managed to gain some ground in their moment of surprise, but you knew it wouldn’t last long.

Your breath caught in your chest and you pressed on, forcing yourself to go faster. There was a shout behind you accompanied by the unmistakable sound of one of the lizalfos crumbling back to ash.

The sound of a horse’s hooves against the cobblestone path of the bridge snapped you out of your thoughts and you chanced a glance over your shoulder, eyes widening as they locked onto the form of a massive reddish-brown horse approaching you, its white mane flying around its head like a halo. Its rider’s sword glinted where it was held out over the horse’s flank.

You had no way of knowing whether the rider was there to help you, but as the steed came up alongside you and your eyes locked with the beautiful azure pair belonging to the rider, you couldn’t help but take his extended hand and allow yourself to be pulled up onto the horse behind him.

The two of you rode for what felt like ages, but was probably only a few minutes. Eventually, the rider guided his horse to a stop in the small valley between two hills and dismounted. He shot you a small smile as he pulled a piece of flint and a bundle of wood from his saddle bag, moving to light a campfire.

“This should keep the creatures away for the night,” he said quietly as he settled on the other side of the crackling flame, eyes bright as he watched you climb down from your seat on his horse. “We can rest here until morning, and then Epona and I will take you wherever you want to go.”

Once you were safely back on solid ground, the horse- Epona, you figured- turned and snuffled affectionately at your cheek before meandering off to graze nearby, leaving you to make your way over to sit across from your savior.

“I’m surprised you came with me so easily,” he said after a moment of silence. “A lot of people find me kind of intimidating.”

You raised an eyebrow, curiously examining him to see what might make others so wary. He was short, petite even, with long blond hair that he had tied back out of his eyes, and was dressed in a worn blue tunic with white designs littering the front and a pair of white breeches. The hilt of a sword with an oddly familiar triangular shape protruded from a scabbard slung over his shoulder. It was when you saw the hilt of the sword that you realized exactly who you were enjoying the firelight with.

“You might be the Champion from a hundred years ago,” you started, lips curled up in a slight grin, “But you’re about as scary as a golden retriever. You know that, right?”

His eyes widened, seemingly surprised that you’d caught onto his identity so quickly. He was quiet for a long moment, before he finally found his words, “Only the people who have reason to be afraid of me should be.”

The response gave you pause and you took a long moment to mull over the words. “I like that,” you said finally. “Goes to show that a person’s actions have consequences.”

“Right,” he said, looking back to the fire. “My name is Link, by the way. I tend to prefer it over ‘Champion’ or ‘hero’ anyway,” he grinned sheepishly.