#zelinkcommunity

It’s not unlike the one she uses when they are in Kakariko, albeit a few inches shorter, like everything else customized for a child in Purah’s lab. Zelda has to lay at an angle to fit and even so, her feet dangle over the edge when she straightens her legs. Symin offered her his bed, as Paya had in Kakariko, and like there, Zelda declined. 

When she traveled a century ago, families were forced to give up their entire homes to host her. Royal quarters were permanently built in Kakariko, Rito Village, Gerudo Town, and Zora’s Domain. Due to the hostile environment surrounding Goron City, the Gorons agreed to travel to Akkala Citadel whenever there was official business with the Royal family which, in addition to a military fortress for the Hyrulian armed forces, acted as a second residence for her family. Another bed.

But that was all before. Akkala Citadel is in ruins, all the Royal quarters have since been repurposed by their respective domains, and Zelda will never ask anything more of the people of Hyrule so long as she draws breath.

Still, selfishly, and in the safety of her own thoughts, she yearns for the comfort of a real bed. Nothing extravagant, no need for anyone in Hyrule to forfeit their comforts on her behalf. Just somewhere she can readily count on for rest when sleep decides to visit. 

That’s what Link says: a visit of sleep. 

They are alike in this way. Their internal clocks recalibrated in the prolonged absence of waking, such that their bodies don’t readily cue the need for sleep. In the beginning, it took her weeks just to register the sensation of fatigue again. She stayed awake for two full days after the final confrontation on Hyrule Field before collapsing abruptly during the climb up to Kakariko’s western entrance. Link had to carry her the rest of the way. She slept for ninety-two hours straight. 

When Zelda finally awoke, someone was smoothing her hair out of her face. Another sensory experience she needed to register again: touch. Not toxic oil on her skin, claws of shadow raking down her spine, or darkness pulling so tight it feels like it might become one with her. Actual human touch. 

She hoped it might be Link in a delayed return of her affections for a heartbeat, but when she opened her eyes, it was an old Sheikah woman at her bedside. Zelda’s expression must have soured or pulled with confusion, because the woman began to laugh. Laughter. Warm and inviting and familiar. The sound vibrated inside Zelda like a bell. She gasped, set her hands on either side of the women’s face and felt a sudden and painful ache that has accompanied every subsequent realization of her losses. 

She will never age like she was meant to. With the people of her time, with the people she loved.

And after a century in stasis, she is on the verge of being completely left behind.

“Now, it’s not that bad, is it?” Impa teased.  

Zelda didn’t answer. She wept.

It has gotten a little better in the months since she returned to her physical form. She’s started to suspect Link is “visited’ by sleep out of preference more than necessity. But really, he slept for a hundred years, so she can’t blame him for rejecting a more traditional sleep cycle. She, on the other hand, was frozen. Not sleeping, not waking, just there—like gravity itself. Holding everything and everyone in place, unnoticeable until she wasn’t, when the Calamity would slip free of her grasp, swirl about the castle, and remind Hyrule of the horrors that awaited them if she failed again. 

Zelda smudges a tear against the side of her face and turns onto her back. Regardless, she can’t help but feel like having a bed, a ceiling overhead she recognizes, and the freedom to get up and roam down to a kitchen for a slice of fruitcake when the night is still young, that she might be visited by rest more willingly when she wants it. Needs it.

Like tonight. 

“So, what you're really talking about is wanting a home,” Zelda tells herself, a habit formed in the decades of solitude. Sometimes, in periods of dormancy or resignation, the Calamity would growl back at her in a tone that was almost human. But for the most part, she started talking to herself in and out of days and throughout the years until her sense of time too was a thing Hylia claimed in penance for her failures. 

“That’s not accurate,” she chides herself and flips onto her stomach. Blaming the Goddess is a bad habit she is trying to change. When she finally unlocked her Powers, suspended in divinity, the closest to holy she’s ever been, the Goddess didn’t even answer her then. It was just the sound of her own voice, echoing back at her from inside the Calamity. 

A bed. Something simple and fixed, like the one Link has in his house right on the outskirts of the village. Zelda’s caught glimpses of it when they’ve stopped there to replenish supplies; nestled against the wall on the second floor, beneath the only window so natural light kisses him awake when he finally decides to rest. He has a small dresser for linens and travel spoils, and a bedside table that is home to a painted vase from Rito Village he often fills with fresh flowers. 

She wonders which flowers are watching over him right now. Has sleep visited him? Or is he rolling about his sheets, worrying about the Summit, trying to break old habits, or craving something warm from the cooking pot down the stairs?

If he is awake, it is likely the latter. He would be able to sleep on a night like this. The air is cool. Everyone at the Summit knows him personally; is indebted to him in some way, although he carries no ledger. He is known. Respected. Tomorrow is just another day. Sleep will visit.

Zelda’s role in all of this is yet to be defined. While news of Calamity Ganon’s defeat spread quickly, there was no whisper of the lost Princess’ return at first. Rumors focused on the disappearance of the shadow around Hyrule Castle and then later, turned into formal requests for Link’s presence in the aid of investigating the Divine Beasts sudden malfunctioning. No one asked about her.

And it was nice. 

For a brief moment, she fantasized about cutting her hair, burning her dress, and letting Zelda disappear with the embers into history. Maybe she would accompany Link as a traveling scholar under another name? Or join the Sheikah and train with the weapons she was forbidden to touch a hundred years ago?

Impa, however, had other plans. She suggested Zelda travel with Link to investigate Vah Ruta so the Zora could verify her identity. They found her old travel clothes, Link presented her with a descendant of her horse, Storm, and the dreams of obscurity ceased. The Zora instantly recognized her, adding credibility to the announcement of her return and soon, her identity grew heavy with an unspoken claim to a throne that needed rebuilding.

No one has officially said anything, but there is a generous amount of speculation surrounding tomorrow and the opportunity to reestablish a centralized and unifying governing body. If they asked it of her, she would have no choice but to accept, right? It is the duty tied to this life. This title.  

Maybe she could convince them of her usefulness as a scholar? She no longer has any restrictions on time spent researching. She could help the Sheikah redesign their technology. Perhaps to aid in the great restoration…if she could just get the Divine Beasts up and running again, they would prove so useful in the rebuilding! 

This part of her, shunned by her family and now forgotten with them, could be the key to proving her worth beyond a head to carry the crown. She will show them. She has to.  They don’t seem to know what else to do with her, otherwise. Rarely does anyone use her name, even after they realized who she is.

They all call her ‘Princess’.  

Except for Link. 

Zelda turns onto her side and inspects the empty sliver of cot beside her. She runs her hand across the weaving and thinks about how she used to be able to visit Link. When the Calamity was dormant and her Power was still new and untaxed, she would separate a part of herself from Hyrule Castle and ride the wind to the Great Plateau. She watched the seasons turn by Link’s side in the shrine until the Calamity would wake and pull her back into herself like a rubber band. This went on for decades. 

When he finally woke up and the shrine’s toll for restoring his life was realized, Zelda felt her strength begin to waver. She is not aware of a word that accurately describes the feeling of being forgotten by the person you tethered your heart to; to have it remain connected to that person and witness it drift behind them, becoming more of a dark cloud than guiding light.

Her love for him burned for a hundred years. Somehow, in the depths of a living, breathing, rageful hell, it grew. It grounded her within the swirl of eternal darkness, the unyielding burn of malice, the mourning of time. As his memories of their kingdom, their comrades, and of her, returned to him, his reckoning of it all remained indistinguishable. 

The last six months between them were uncomfortable. He never outwardly answered her question on the field. He extended his hand and led her away from the castle. He was gentle yet reserved, closer than the three paces he once stood as her appointed knight and still somehow further than when he sunk into the glowing waters of the shrine and she stepped into the center of the darkest night.  Did his love die with him on the field that day? Was it left in the spot where he bled out, where flowers now grow? Has one unknowingly ever made it back to his bedside table? Could he recognize it now? 

Did he want to? 

She glances over her shoulder quickly, half expecting him to be there like he always was all those years ago, appearing out of thin air, as a part of her as her own shadow. 

But there is no one else in the room. Her shadow is empty. Her window shut. 

Zelda turns her attention back to the empty spot beside her and begins to imagine the weight of his arms around her. The sound of his sleep. His breath on her face. The cot is small, like his bed, but in the way she imagines they might fit together, it would be enough for sleep to find her. Even on a night like this. 

But there is no one else in the room. 

Just her and a bed, that's not even a bed, that doesn’t belong to her. 

—

Sleep doesn’t visit her. 

Zelda eventually gives up and pours her energy into drafting up a proposal on how to repurpose the Sheikah Technology. The Divine Beasts will be a tremendous asset. Vah Ruta can create new water reservoirs. Vah Medoh can mass transport supplies and people across Hyrule. Vah Rudania and Vah Naboris will be essential for maneuvering the harsher terrains of each region. 

She is confident she and Robbie could reprogram the guardians and assign them different purposes. She will recommend they remove all of the mechanics for combat, save for a select few machines that will be assigned to aid in monster defense.

Their greatest challenge will be finding a new power source. When Zelda obliterated Calamity Ganon from the realm, her Light purified every non-living thing it held influence over; every pool of Malice evaporated instantly and every guardian -earthbound, skyward or decayed- from the North Akkala Beach to Daval’s Peak stopped working. Robbie has yet to find a working ancient core and hypothesizes Zelda “nuked the network”. Whatever that means. 

The Sheikah Towers and shrines remain functional, so once they isolate the remaining source of power, she is confident Robbie and Purah will be able to design and power up new cores. 

 If only she had access to the old blueprints in her study…

On her way down to the main floor, she scribbles a note about returning to the castle upon acceptance of the proposal. She folds the pages carefully and tucks them into the small leather satchel Link gave her. Purah assumes ownership of the Sheikah Slate whenever they come to Hateno, so Link presented her with a satchel enchanted by the koroks so she can carry multiple items outside of the Slate on her at all times. Link has an identical one. 

He jokingly calls it an ‘adventure pouch’.  

Purah, Symin and a few others are already buzzing about the lab. Purah has the Sheikah Slate in the Guidance Stone, a tear drop of crystal blue bouncing between the stone and the Slate every few seconds. Zelda always thought it was interesting that information takes the shape of a teardrop. Was it intentional by the Sheikah who created the technology all those years ago? Or is it just the natural form of data? Of memory? 

There is so much for them to learn.

“Good morning, Princess!” Purah says without looking up from her work. Zelda decided earlier this morning, just as the sun started peeking through her window, not to fight the title of Princess anymore. She would help them rebuild the kingdom, sit on a new throne if they asked it of her, but she would have a hand defining the responsibilities of the title. 

“Good morning,” Zelda answers. 

Purah rapidly flaps her hand in Zelda’s direction. Zelda moves into the spot beside Purah, who is balanced on her knees on a pillow in order to sit level with the table. There are sketches of the Sheikah Slate, looking very much like a six year old drew them, along with an unflattering portrait of Symin, and handwriting Zelda won’t even attempt to decipher. 

“I think I can duplicate the Slate,” Purah says, snapping her fingers.

Zelda grins. She imagines each region having their own Slate. The possibilities for research, for communication. How quickly Hyrule could share information…the problems they could solve! 

Link pushes open the door to the lab. Zelda imagines how his shoulders might relax the more Hyrule becomes connected. His burden would finally be eased...then maybe…

“Good morning!” She practically bursts. 

Link waves and crosses the room to the cooking pot. Symin starts explaining what he is cooking and Link casually dumps the entire contents into the fire. Symin sighs in relief and pulls out a notebook. Link produces the ingredients one by one from his pouch, displaying each carefully so Symin can copy the recipe. A dozen eggs, Hylian tomatoes, assorted mushrooms, a handful of greens, and a tiny bottle of Goron spice. Zelda’s mouth waters before he even starts cooking. 

She watches Link demonstrate how to slice the tomatoes before setting Symin to work, involving Symin in the salvaging of the meal and in doing so, lessening the blow of his failure. It is a change in Link’s behavior she has loved witnessing: he is eager to share his knowledge after awakening from the shrine; to spread it generously with everyone who asks for his help. In this way, he is teaching Hyrule how to need him less in the long run, a step forfeited a century ago by the pressure he felt and the structure of the role assigned to him. 

Hero, knight, swordsman; whatever title he is to carry moving forward, she will protect his freedom to define it as well. 

They eat quickly and head down the hill toward the village together. Hateno is the chosen location for the Summit because it has the largest settlement of Hylians, who, as a whole, have been without formal leadership for over a century. Central Hyrule was initially considered given the proximity for all participants, but the general consensus is six months of calm is not enough time for anyone to meet comfortably in the shadow of the castle. 

“I heard this is the first time King Dorephan has left his domain in two hundred years,” Purah whispers to Zelda as they turn the corner down the split in the road to Hateno Pasture. A farmer named Dantz offered up his land, which borders Lake Sumac, to host. The water provides an added measure of comfort for the Zora. Zelda spots King Dorephan sitting close to the shore with several elder Zora and Prince Sidon.

There are a handful of Hylians mingling with leading members of the Sheikah, Rito, Gorons, and Gerudo. 

Purah and Symin split off to join Impa, who is sitting in the shade of a nearby tree with Paya. Their movement pulls the attention of the crowd in Zelda’s direction. She watches recognition ripple across the group. The conversations soften and then die off completely at the mere sight of her. Just like old times. 

Zelda flexes her fingers. 

Suddenly, there is a hand in hers. She jumps, glancing to her side where only Link stands. He’s looking right at her, the same way everyone else is, but she doesn’t feel the weight of the crown on her shoulders in his gaze. He squeezes her hand and nods her forward.  

“Right. Okay, then,” Zelda whispers.

Link leads her around the crowd so she can make introductions before the Summit starts. She is already known to the Sheikah, who are represented by Impa, Robbie, Purah, Symin, Paya, and Cado, and the Zora. Prince Sidon embraces her and compliments Link relentlessly. 

It is Zelda’s first time meeting the Goron Boss, Bludo, who introduces Zelda to a young Goron named Yubono and emphasizes he is a descendant of Daruk, as well as the Rito Chief, Kaneli. He is joined by a Rito warrier named Teba, and his son, Tulin, who begs Link to go shooting with him later that day. Link offers the fledgling a thumbs up and then gestures like, you want to go now, quick? 

Teba scolds them both. 

Her favorite introduction is the last one. Chief Makeela Riju, who insists Zelda calls her Riju, informs Zelda the Gerudo sun has missed her and personally invites her to come meet her pet sand seal. 

There certainly is a lot of personality, but Zelda feels certain the proposal will appease them all equally. The fact Link’s hand has remained in hers the entire time only boosts her confidence. Should she request the floor immediately or wait to see if there are region-specific needs she can weave into her proposal? She wants to emphasize the importance of each region’s involvement. 

“I think it’s time,” Impa makes her way out of the shade with the other Sheikah and takes the spot closest to Zelda. “that we begin again, don’t you all agree?”

“Well said. The Zora recognize the start of the Hyrule Restoration Summit,” King Dorphean says. 

“As do the Rito.” 

“And the Gerudo.”

“The Shei-kah!” Robbie throws his hand in the air and postures. 

“Gorons,” Bludo grunts.

“The Hylians have elected four representatives: I, Reede of Hateno Village, Elder Rozel of Lurelin Village, Hudson of Tarrey Town, and Traysi for the Stable Association. We recognize the start of the Hyrule Restoration Summit.”

“I officially call this meeting to order.” Impa claps her hands together and sits. She thanks everyone for traveling and for the village of Hateno for their hospitality. She summarizes the objective of the meeting as a gathering of the people of Hyrule in preliminary discussions about plans for a massive restoration following the purge of Calamity Ganon. She explains the forum will be open, but organized, in order for accurate minute keeping. Everyone motions in favor of detailed records. There are too many nameless ruins, too many stories and lessons lost to time scattered across Hyrule.

“Since there is no old business to attend to, I suppose it might be best to open the floor up to hear any initial recommendations for the restoration?”

Link raises his hand. 

He so rarely speaks out loud that the anticipation of it commands the attention of the entire Summit immediately. It might be her imagination, but Zelda swears the wind stops, too.  

“Let the record show the Hylian Champion and Hero of the Wild, Link, has the floor,”  Impa dictates and gestures for Link to continue. Zelda fishes her proposal out from her adventure pouch and folds it in her lap. Whatever he says, she’s assuming he will have some brilliant suggestions on how the former trade routes can be optimized or offer insight into the state of Central Hyrule for an exhibition, it will provide the perfect opportunity for her to follow. 

Link turns and smiles at her as he rises. It’s small. Relaxed. The kind of smile that’s only meant for the space between two people. Which means it is meant for her. 

She smiles back. 

With her plans for the Sheikah Technology, which will no doubt be strengthened by Link’s expertise, they can face this new Hyrule together. Self-chosen, this time, not forced by fate and the responsibilities of an old kingdom. 

Her heart flutters so rapidly at the thought, it takes her brain a moment to register what he actually says:

She had no delusions of beating him at swordplay, but this—the fletching soft between her fingers, the pull of the bowstring, the whole world narrowing down to the space between her and the target—Zelda had been born for this.

She could feel Link's eyes on her as she moved down the row of practice dummies and struck each one in the neck as easily as breathing. By the time she reached the end, the guards had paused their drills to cheer her on from across the courtyard.

"You just wanted an excuse to show off," Link accused, his eyebrows raised knowingly, his mouth sliding into a lopsided grin that crinkled the scar on his cheek. And he was right.

He understood her well enough to guess right.

For a brief moment, Zelda forgot the rest of the world. It felt less like falling and more like waking up on those bright spring mornings when dew sparkled the grass and birds greeted the dawn and everything felt reborn, even as the castle stepped into its old comforting routine.

That feeling terrified her down to the core.

Link had known so quickly, since that first warm day of the year when they'd gone out riding through Hyrule Field under the wonderfully clear sky. They had paused to let the horses drink, and at the glittering riverbank, the promise of spring made anything feel possible—even for Zelda and Link, with their scars and their broken hearts. She was standing just beside him, laughing at something he'd said, when Link caught her hands and looked into her eyes and told her quite simply: Zelda, I want you to know that I love you.

He hadn't expected her to say it back. He understood that she wasn't ready; he understood her fears and why she carried them. But now Zelda had that gift wrapped around her, like a warm cloak to keep her safe from any storm, and she had given him nothing in return.

The belltower announced the end of the castle's lunch break, and Zelda jumped at the sound, as though she hadn't been hearing it all her life. Link released a dejected sigh, trading glances with Ashei.

"We have to go," he told Zelda. "The merchant caravan we're escorting leaves in an hour."

"You'll return in a fortnight?" she replied, her voice sounding strange and remote to her own ears.

Link nodded. When they embraced, she found herself clinging hard to the leather strap that secured his scabbard to his back, and he pulled back with a frown. "Zelda? You okay?"

"Yes."

He furrowed his brow, a silent reminder that they'd once promised not to lie to one another.

"There is a knot I must untangle," Zelda admitted. "Let me do that, and I'll explain when you return."

"Okay," Link said reluctantly, kissing her forehead, then her lips, before he stepped away. "I'll see you later."

And those words, even though they used them all the time, snarled Zelda's thoughts even further. The last thing she needed was a reminder of Midna, who they'd both loved and lost. Even so, she repeated the phrase back, and when Link smiled, she returned that too—as always, she couldn't help herself.

.

.

.

Two weeks passed unremarkably: meetings, paperwork, audiences with her people. Hyrule was roaring back from the Twilight with a resilience Zelda could only hope to match. She had never been prouder to be its queen.

Yet she could not settle. Auru watched her rifle aimlessly through the documents strewn across the table. They were working quietly in a solar that overlooked the gardens, doors and windows wide open to welcome the warmth.

"Would you like to talk about it?" he asked.

"No," Zelda replied belligerently.

He took a slow sip of tea, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a manner she did not appreciate. As her childhood tutor, Auru was the closest thing she had left to family, and she was trying not to hide things from him anymore—partly because he was a shrewd old thing who could read her better than most. Still, she stayed quiet, her quill carving aggravated sentences into the parchment.

"If you're worried about Link, he's a good man," Auru began cautiously. "In fact, I doubt there is any man more worthy of you, Lady Queen."

"Link is a good man," Zelda agreed softly. He knew who she was and stayed anyway. He showed her the things he hid from the rest of the world. Somehow—after a life of trusting no one—trusting him had become second nature. "The danger does not come from him."

"It comes from you?" Auru guessed. When she didn't answer, he laid his hand over hers. "Lady Queen, you will not repeat your parents' mistakes. Nor should you spend your life apologizing for them."

"Even so, people will use Link against me. He will never have the peace he deserves."

"Has he asked you for peace?" asked a voice in the doorway. Telma sauntered in, her hands planted on her hips. Zelda pulled her hand away and straightened.

"You could have waited in my office," Auru said irritably. "You know better than to eavesdrop."

"I'd be a poor information broker if I did," Telma chuckled. "Besides, I only heard that last part. Lady Queen, if you want my advice: love is full of risks. Link has already accepted that; it's obvious every time he looks at you with those dreamy puppydog eyes. Now you must make your own decision."

With that, she snagged a cookie off the tray and ate it with the sumptuous delight of someone who never doubted herself.

Zelda wished for half that confidence. But she already knew her decision.

.

.

.

Later that night, she woke to a nudge at the protective spells that guarded her windows from intruders. Usually this meant a rat was trying to get in—once, an intrepid owl—but when Zelda dragged herself out of bed to check, her heart nearly stopped at the large silhouette against the starry sky.

Lethal magic was crackling in her palms before she realized she didn't need it. He was lucky that she would always recognize him, no matter how dark the night, no matter what skin he wore.

Zelda waved away the spell and let the wolf into her bedroom. He dropped to the floor and loped towards her, a silent shadow of sharp lines and bristling fur—except for the luminous blue of his eyes. Meeting his intent gaze sent Zelda back to the day he and Midna had delivered hope to her cold twilit prison, the day she had first realized she wasn't alone.

"Oh, Link," she said, fighting a sudden tightness in her throat. "What happened? Are you all right?"

He lolled his tongue out in a doggish smile to show her that he was. Trying not to laugh, Zelda knelt to touch the thick fur between his ears. He huffed out a long breath, pushing his head into her hand.

"Should I change you back?" she asked.

Link closed his eyes and nodded.

Zelda reached out with the traces of Twili magic left behind from her joining with Midna. Though it had been arduous and painful the first time she'd returned Link to his true form, months of refining the power made the process far smoother this time. The wolf still trembled in her lap as she unhooked the shadow crystal's claws from him, but before long Link was holding her in his human arms.

"Hey, Zelda," he murmured, and if she had any lingering doubts, they dispersed at the sound of her name in his weary voice.

"Link," she replied. "Are you certain you're all right?"

"Better now. Thanks. Sorry I woke you."

"I'm glad you did. Someone might have seen you in the daylight, and then we'd have all sorts of problems."

Link chuckled in a quiet way that betrayed his exhaustion. Zelda pulled back to look him over. His boots were muddy, his hair a bird's nest; he smelled of wolf and rain and the road. But he was safe, and a rush of affection made her lean forward to press her lips to his.

"I missed you too," he teased.

She tucked her hair behind her ears, cheeks burning. "Did something go wrong with the caravan?"

"A kid ran off. The rain had washed away his tracks by the time we realized, so…I transformed to sniff him out. I think he had fun. He thought I was a dog."

"How did everyone else react?"

"Ashei kept them calm," Link replied, looking down at his scarred palms. Like most of what he'd done during the Twilight, he kept this secret close for a reason. "She wasn't that surprised. She remembered seeing a wolf at the bar once, and on Snowpeak, but she didn't know that it was…that I was…"

A beast. A monster. He didn't finish the sentence, but she could hear it anyway, because that was how Link had seen himself for a long time—and, on his bad days, still did.

"But Ashei stood by you," Zelda pointed out, taking his hand. "You saved the child, and he wasn't afraid. They both saw what matters."

Link squeezed her fingers, but he looked skeptical, and she thought suddenly of the gift he'd given her by the riverside, how she drew it out to light the way when things grew dark. She was carrying the weight of a thankless kingdom, but Link loved her. She was a fraud with a heart of ice, but Link loved her. Her family was long dead and Midna long gone, but Link loved her.

She wanted him to give him that too: a shield to guard him against the world, against himself.

For now, Zelda took in the small smile Link sent her way, despite his slumping shoulders, and she said, "You're tired."

"Yeah. I should go." He kissed her cheek and stood, stretching out his limbs shakily.

The word tumbled out of its own volition: "Don't."

Link looked at her hand, which had grabbed his before he could step away, then at her face. He waited with a soft look in his eyes, a look like the slow shifting of sunset into peaceful night.

"Don't go," Zelda said after several hammering beats of her heart. "You're tired. I missed you. I—I want you to stay."

She never told him what she wanted. Her desires had gone into the ground with her mother's coffin, and she'd surrendered everything else to Hyrule, and for a long time, no other life had been possible. Until Midna. Until Link.

He wrapped his hands around hers and drew her to her feet. "Then I'm staying," he promised.

After he changed into the clean clothes she lent him, they climbed into Zelda's bed together. She had never shared it with anyone, but with Link, nothing was ever as frightening as she expected it to be. He settled down as though he'd always been there, curled up in bleary happiness.

"That problem you had before I left," he murmured. "Did you untangle it?"

Watching Link's lashes flutter as he tried to stay awake, counting all the scars she could see, Zelda replied, "Yes. I believe so."

"Knew you would."

"Go to sleep, Link. I'll tell you about it tomorrow."

He closed his eyes and slid away without argument. Zelda took a little longer, but she joined him when she was ready.

.

.

.

In the clean light of morning, she took the chance to study his face again. His mouth was soft and boyish. His hair was an ungodly mess. He had a scar on his cheek, another on his temple, more of them spilling down his collarbones to disappear under the borrowed shirt.

Half of Hyrule spoke longingly of the Hero's proud blue eyes, of his peerless skill, of the legend surrounding him. But he was no legend; he was just Link, and sleep smoothed out his sharp edges until he looked even younger than his eighteen years.

When he woke up, the first thing he did was nestle closer to her. Quiet lay over them like unbroken snow.

"Link," Zelda said after a while, "I love you."

He blinked his blue wolf-eyes. The blush started in his cheeks and grew until he was red from hairline to neck. He answered in a hushed voice, "I love you too."

"I'm sorry it took me so long."

"Don't be. I knew, or—hoped. But thank you for saying it."

"You knew?" Zelda repeated. "How?"

"It's in your voice," Link said, kissing her lips. "And your hands." His lips brushed her knuckles. "And the way you look at me and see everything." He kissed the corner of each eye, her forehead, the bridge of her nose, until she started giggling.

"You must be seeing everything too, if I've been that obvious," Zelda said when she'd caught her breath. That would have mortified her once, but now it filled her with courage, even stronger than what she'd felt the first time their eyes met—because she knew him now, and she knew the battles that lay ahead, and she knew they were worth fighting.

"You're awful cute when you blush," Link informed her.

"You should see yourself!" Zelda countered, poking him in the cheek.

He laughed, and neither of them moved for a long time. The battles could wait.

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Link’s favorite assignment was the Lost Woods. Not the dark, foggy part of it, where he had gotten lost on more than one occasion, but the bright inner forest that teemed with life. Bright green and sunny yellows and white flowers, it was very unlike the desert home he knew, dotted with oases and cacti. Beautiful in its own way, but he felt out of place among the dunes and the cloudless blue sky–like he was never meant to be there.

“You’re on that tangent again?” his partner Zelda asked. Had he said all that aloud? “Listen, Link. Sometimes we just have to accept the cards we were dealt, even if we don’t like it. This is who we are. Besides, don’t you like all the opportunities we get to travel?”

Zelda was an optimist, he supposed, in her own sarcastic way. She saw the good in everything, the good in their countless murder missions, their hundreds of yawn-inducing, boring patrols, their thousands of scoldings by the blademasters. It will increase our discipline, fresh air is good, sometimes people are bad and they need to die; things she had said before, things he never quite believed that she even agreed with. She was an optimist in order to survive.

“Yeah, I like traveling,” he grumbled as he scaled a tree, perching himself on a branch to watch over the clearing in the center of the forest. Zelda climbed the tree next to him and sat on a branch just within arm’s reach.

In the center of the forest was the Great Deku Tree, whose all-encompassing gaze they had supposedly been trained to avoid, but Link figured that was impossible. At the foot of the tree was the very sword they were meant to watch over: the Master Sword. The darkness sealing, monster slaying, princess saving Master Sword of legend, the blade they needed to keep an eye on just in case the hero decided to waltz in and pull it from its pedestal.

“This is silly, though,” Zelda admitted. “I don’t think the hero would show up in our lifetime. It’s so rare.” She shed her red and black hood to let her hair flow freely down her back and took off her gloves. Link followed suit. There wasn’t anybody around, anyway, and he liked when he got to see her face. Maybe she liked to see his, too, but perhaps that was wishful thinking.

“What happens when we kill him?” Link asked, like she would have an answer. The truth was that even the Yiga, with their watchful eyes, never even came close to knowing. The truth was their orders were to kill anybody, any sorry traveler, who stepped foot near that sword.

“I don’t know. We win?” Zelda hopped down from the tree. What was she doing? She strolled over to the sword to take a good look while Link steeled himself on his perch, eyes hardened, wondering what was she doing? To leave one’s post, to defy direct orders was the ultimate Yiga sin. Ganon below they weren’t even supposed to be talking on missions!

“Relax,” Zelda called to him from beside the sword. “Nothing’s happening. I’m just doing some research.” Jokingly, she reached out to touch the hilt of the blade before pulling back with a giggle. Link’s heart pounded in his ears, and he could feel the blood rushing through his veins.

And then–

Why was she glowing?

“Zelda…?”

She quirked an eyebrow at him incredulously, shaking her head and putting a finger over her mouth to tell him to stop. Talking. But she paused, shook her hand away from her mouth and winced.

“Hot!” she yelped, gripping her wrist and staring, wide-eyed, as her jaw dropped. Her hand was glowing, emanating golden light. Link jumped down and rushed over to her, stumbling over his words asking if she was okay, was she hurt, what’s going on?

“I don’t know. I reached out and then it just started burning. It’s hot, it’s glowing, and I don’t know why–”

Then, the Master Sword pulsed. Link took a step closer, and it pulsed again. A step, and again, and a step, and again. Gently, he nudged Zelda to the side and shed his own black gloves, dropping them into the grass. He never would find those gloves again, shrouded by the thick greenery, lost to the forest.

He reached out, just one finger, to prick the base of the hilt tentatively. This time, it pulsed and did not stop as it radiated bright blue and a low humming began. From the sword, the air, the tree looming above them, they didn’t know.

And the sword spoke, faintly, like a whisper, to them both.

“Master…”

Link and Zelda, the Yiga patrolmen, turned their gazes slowly to each other, glowing sword and glowing hand, mouths agape. He held his hand out to hers, steeling himself for a different reason. She would either kill him here or take his hand and pull the sword with him. She would either fulfill the Yiga duty she had dedicated her life to, made constant excuses for, or she would be with the sorry partner who dragged her down at every turn, blocked her sight at every corner. She had destinies to choose.

And wordlessly, she placed her glowing hand into his. By Ganon it burned, but he gripped it harder and pulled her in close to the sword, and he felt like he belonged somewhere for once, in her grasp. Their conjoined hands found their place on the handle and the sword seemed to scream, piercing their ears, as they pulled it from its stone.

And it spoke again.