Lover Dearest

by crownedcrusader

Link lost part of himself on his quest. Zelda doesn't know how to help him look. (Deals with PTSD; not set in any canon game, but still within the Zelda Universe.)

1. Chapter 1

One minute Zelda was on top of him, knees pressed to the mattress as she straddled Link's thighs, and the next, Link was scrambling backwards, nearly bruising her inner thighs along the way.

"Reflex," he said, or tried to say. It came out scrambled, like a broken recorder trying to play its message but failing every attempt and starting over, and over, and over again. "Re, refle, refl," he started for the fifth (fifteenth?) time, and finally Zelda put a finger over his lips.

There was concern in her eyes now, but Link shook his head before she could say something.

He took a deep breath, managed to verbalize a "No, it's fine," then started to slide back to where he'd been before. The only problem was that now Zelda was refusing to cooperate.

"Link, it's okay if you don't want to do this," she said, already sitting next to him rather than in his lap. "Really! I can wait, I promise."

The thought of waiting sounded good-really good-but as someone who'd spent the last several months going on a quest to test his courage and willingness to do uncomfortable, terrifying, things, it felt wrong to refuse. "No, I-I can do this, Zelda, I swear. Just-"

She gave him a long look, then leaned forward and cupped his cheek. "If you have to justify why you're hesitant, then you're not ready." With that, she leaned forward and gave him a chaste kiss on the lips. "I don't want to do this if you don't want to."

"But I do," Link emphasized, brows arching up and to the middle, the picture of distress as he worried his bottom lip. "I do, Zelda, I really do! I don't know what's wrong with me-I'm so, I'm so sorry, I'll be ready soon, okay?"

A hand on his shoulder was his only answer, though, as Zelda moved further away and started to re-dress herself. Once she was sufficiently covered, she slid back under the sheets and sat up against the headboard.

Newlyweds weren't supposed to have trouble having sex, Zelda knew. But she also knew that her husband deserved the world-and she didn't think she could live with herself if she forced herself onto him when he wasn't ready. Even if it seemed, lately, that he'd never be ready.

Before they'd even gotten engaged, Zelda had tried to initiate intimacy. But Link had politely declined every time. At first, she'd assumed he just wanted to wait until they were engaged-or even until they were properly married. And she could respect that-would respect that. He was the one she loved, after all, and she wasn't ever going to force him into something he wasn't ready for yet.

But after they'd gotten engaged-and months later, married-Link hadn't changed a bit. In some ways, he seemed more nervous now than he had been before. Even sleeping in the same bed had made him visibly uncomfortable.

So she'd bought separate beds for his sake, though she'd made sure to tell him that hers was welcome to him at any time.

He hadn't really taken her up on that yet.

And now, weeks after saying their vows, he'd backed out of every attempt to consummate their marriage.

Though Zelda would never try to force things, only proceeding after Link had said, "Let's try again," or "I'm ready this time," she couldn't help but wonder: Why?

After Link had excused himself away to his separate bed once more, Zelda remained propped up against the headboard, still wondering. She hadn't given much thought to his aversion to intimacy before, but when she thought more about it, his hesitancy about affection didn't seem to be limited to sex.

He didn't seem to like touching very much.

He kept his kisses to the back of her hand, to her cheek, to her forehead. He opened doors for her, slid her chair out so she could properly sit, always escorted her on walks—the perfect gentleman. But he never seemed to want more than gentlemanly affection and minimal touch.

Yet whenever she tried to initiate kisses—even chaste things to match Link's touch—Link seemed startled. He tensed up immediately, turned his face away, and sometimes pulled physically away from her as if he was intimidated.

That was less fine with her. She wouldn't dream of touching him if he didn't want it, but for him to physically recoil from her? She loved her hero with everything she was, so of course she didn't want him to feel scared of her touch. It had hurt, in the beginning, when he tensed when she'd hug him from behind. It had hurt to see him flinch if she kissed him suddenly on the cheek or on the lips. It had hurt to see him shy away from much more than hand-holding if it had been a bad day.

But they were small things. Things she'd easily put out of her minds. She learned almost without realizing it where the limit was, what level of affection was alright with him if he pushed away from a kiss but not a hug, if he flinched at a kiss on the forehead but not a kiss on the cheek, if he made an excuse to leave at arms around him but not a peck on the forehead.

After months of engagement, though, Link had seemed to be getting better. He flinched less, he initiated affection more frequently, and he even kissed her properly, sometimes.

Yet, after the wedding, he'd seemed to pull back more. He disappeared off on his own less often, but he didn't want to hug her, didn't want to pull her close, didn't even seem to want to kiss the back of her hand as he'd always been wont to do.

She didn't understand. Shouldn't he have started to get better after the wedding? After they were committed? After he knew, by law, by vow, by tradition, that she was his and his alone?

Maybe something had set him off, though.

Maybe he was having a tough time recovering after his quest after all, and she hadn't noticed till now.

Should she be worried if he wasn't making fast progress, though? Should she be worried at all? Or should she just allow him space and time without ever pushing for him to face his issues head on?

Was there even anything wrong with him?

Maybe he just wasn't a particularly touchy person. Maybe she was the abnormal one for trying to be so affectionate with him. Maybe she was just clingy.

Zelda sighed and held a spare pillow against her chest. Tomorrow, she decided. Tomorrow she'd sit down and think about it, really think, and see if she couldn't find an explanation—and more than that, a solution.

She loved Link, after all. And if there was something that he needed help with but was too proud to say, then she'd have to figure it out for him. Outright asking never seemed to get her anywhere, anyways—not even asking little details about his journey, since he always found something else to do just after she asked.

And so she sighed, drifting off minutes later, the drapes around the Queen's bed open as they'd been for a year. It was a surprise, then, that—just as most nights before—her husband spent the night tossing and turning, hand loosely gripping the hilt of his sword.

Zelda decided, come morning, to talk to him. Not outright why he didn't like to be touched—that would be rude—but about his journey. Maybe, if he'd consent to talk to her about it, she could find the answers, if there were any to be had.

Of course she'd asked before-the details of Link's journey were somewhat fuzzy and she was curious, just like their citizens. After all, she hadn't been there for much of it. She got the messages, sometimes tried to aid him in his quest, but more often than not, she was either on the run, or hiding in her own castle.

Or, when Ganondorf stormed Hyrule Castle and claimed it as its own, she was locked up in a tiny cell. She could see out, and air could come in, but escape from his magical hold was impossible from the inside.

Zelda squeezed her eyes shut and forced the memory back down, deigning instead to focus on Link. Link, who was a bigger mystery than she dared try to solve at once.

She knew he'd slept out in the wild more often than he had in a bed, and she knew he must have had trouble finding a safe spot in the wilderness. She knew that he had searched high and low for the magical items he needed for his quest, and that he usually found those things in temples, where magic was at its highest. She knew there had always been something awful waiting for him at the end of every temple, and she knew that he'd been close to death several times. She knew that he hadn't always taken very good care of himself while he was on his journey.

But the details were sketchy.

She knew that he still liked to sleep with his sword by his bedside—but she didn't know the reason he'd started doing so. She knew that he didn't like to sit close to the fireplace, and that he had burn scars—but she didn't know the stories that had led to them. She knew that he always kept potions in a pouch at his waist—but she didn't know how desperately he might have needed them, once upon a time. She knew that he sometimes disappeared for hours on end after he seemed tense, and that he came back looking much better—but she didn't know where he went, if it was something that helped him, if he'd had a safe spot like that when he was on his quest.

There was so much that she didn't know about his adventure.

The first time she'd asked him, though, he'd told her the basics and had changed the subject soon after. The second time she'd asked him, he'd given a few details about the places he'd explored, and some of the people he'd met—but when she asked about some of the tough parts of his adventure, he'd said a few more words and then realized it was time to go to lunch. The third time, he'd avoided her question outright and said he needed to go take care of Epona when he'd taken care of her less than an hour ago.

That had been months ago, though—so Zelda decided that now would be a good day to try again. And, perhaps she ought to modify her question—make it less intrusive, perhaps?

So as they were sitting at the breakfast table, Zelda gently rested her hand over her husband's.

"Link," she started, voice carefully neutral. "I was wondering... I still don't have a very good idea of what places in Hyrule still need to be cleared out, and what monsters we ought to keep an eye out for in case Ganondorf's followers try to take his place in charge. Could you tell me about the ones you ran into on your quest?"

It was manipulative, it was deceptive, and it made Zelda's stomach churn to even ask in such a way. Because she knew if she made it sound as if it was for the good of the people, then Link couldn't refuse.

Still, he reflexively pulled his hand away. "What do you what to know?" he asked in a hoarse voice, licking his lips. His lips were suddenly quite dry, Zelda noticed. She passed him his cup of water.

"Let's start with the area around the woods," she said, thinking it might be better to start small. "How did all of this start?"

Link looked away, eyes finding the far corner of the room. They stayed there for the next few minutes as he slowly recounted details of his time in the forest. But past the minimum description of monsters, and how his home had been destroyed, he gave few details.

Once he was finished, he stood up and hurried out of the room without so much as a goodbye.

Zelda decided next time she wouldn't press so much at once.

However, she wished more that there wouldn't be a next time. Link had looked so uncomfortable through the whole thing that it physically pained her to have to ask again. But didn't he understand that she needed to know what he'd gone through in order to really be there for him?

"So, you..."

"It was a long adventure," Link said quietly, reluctantly, looking away all the while. But it was something—something he'd said without much prompting. "I... Faced a lot of monsters, you know? Several every day. Not all of them were horrible, but... lots of moblins, and bokoblins, and bats, and monstrous plants, and creatures—creatures made of..."

Link trailed off, running a hand back through his hair and looking more and more stressed. Zelda scooted a little closer. "You alright?"

Link nodded, then took a deep breath to steady himself. "Yeah-yeah, I'm fine. I just." He paused, then seemed to collect himself more. "I faced a lot of monsters, Zelda. I can't remember the last time I... When I was on the adventure, I didn't—there weren't a lot of friendly people I met."

Zelda didn't quite understand his point. But she knew he needed time and energy to say what he needed to say, so she quietly took hold of his hand and laced their fingers together. His hand stiffened and tensed for a moment before it relaxed against hers.

"There wasn't a lot of," he started. "Not a lot of... I mean, I didn't... Wasn't really close to anyone. No one I was comfortable with," he repeated, seeming to struggle with verbalizing what he needed to say. "Before I finished Ganondorf, I… I really couldn't remember the last time someone had…"

"Someone had…?" Zelda prompted, furrowing her brows.

"The last time I'd been touched without it being a bad thing." Link stared at the wall. His face was set in a rather stubborn position as he refused to look at her-still, it was progress. "Only got hurt by monsters. You learn to avoid it, to either fight back or run and hide."

That would explain why any touch could startle Link, if the only touches he'd known for months were injuries or near-misses. Zelda bit her lip, realizing too late that she had no words for this answer, that she hadn't prepared for such bad news. "I'm sorry."

Link shrugged a shoulder, seeming nonchalant if not for the tips of his ears turning red. "Yeah. Well. Um—I think that's enough for today, okay?" Without another word, he stood, face betraying his reason for leaving, and hurried out the door.

Zelda watched. But even as she was disappointed for having to cut their talk short, she was glad that he was starting to open up.

That improvement was short lived.

The next time it came up was after Zelda had come up behind Link and hugged him after a job well done on the training grounds.

He'd just masterfully taught a group of young soldiers how to do a side-step an enemy and feint them into falling to the ground, and that, Zelda decided, was worthy of praise. So she ran up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her lips against his shoulder. A reward of sorts, she rationalized. Surely he'd appreciate that?

But Link hadn't taken it as a reward.

In an instant, he'd broken free of her embrace and pinned her against a wall, his forearm against her throat and his opposite hand slamming her arm against the wall, bruising her elbow and forearm in the process. And his eyes… Zelda had never seen so much panic in them.

Despite her initial shock, Zelda knew it was her own fault for sneaking up on him. She should have known better—should have known, especially when he'd just been practicing combat with troops that he wouldn't take kindly to being taken by surprise. But even as she looked at him with compassion and understanding and forgiveness, Link slowly came to realize what he'd done.

Link's face turned almost grey with shock, and he bolted from the training grounds.

There were many witnesses, though, and technically Link had just committed a criminal offense by attacking the Queen.

However, their respect for their captain and their knowledge of what he'd been through made it easy enough to understand what had happened, so it didn't take much convincing from Zelda for them to forget what they'd seen. They were more than happy to forgive and forget their instructor's behavior. So, they wished her luck and then she was on her way, realizing all too late that she had no idea what direction he had headed.

By the time she found him, it was late evening, and the sun had already sunk beneath the mountains in the distance. He'd managed to make it all the way to a tiny gardening shed on the other side of the castle grounds-and he seemed to have been there a while, based on all the dirt and dust on his clothes.

"Link?" Zelda called from below, gently knocking the wall to alert him. "Link, I'm sorry about earlier..."

It took a moment for Link to respond. It always did, considering he was slow to speak at the best of times. Finally he took a few deep breaths, as if to compose himself, and looked up at her. "Zelda...? How'd you find me?"

"Hours of searching. You picked a good hiding spot this time," she said with a shake of her head. "It's getting dark now, though. We need to head inside, so… won't you come with me?"

Link hesitated, remembering what had happened earlier. "Zelda—no, I can't-I'm sorry, I—I can't risk it."

Zelda sighed, leaning into the doorway. "I should have known better than to sneak up on you, that's all." When Link didn't respond, she pressed on. "Really, it was just a bruise. No need to beat yourself up about it."

"No need...?" Link repeated, incredulous. "I hurt you. Zelda, I hurt you," he emphasized. "I can't—Zelda, I hurt you because you gave me a hug—just because I wasn't expecting it, and—and, how am I supposed to deal with that?"

That made her think. He had overreacted, sure, but it wasn't as if he could control that. But if he couldn't control it, he shouldn't be around her—or at least that's what he'd think. She had to get around his logic some other way, then. "You can deal with it by coming down and protecting me from other possible dangers," she finally said. "Come on, Link. I won't surprise you again, so there won't be anything to set you off. I really do need an escort back to the castle, though. It's late."

For the longest time, Link didn't move. Zelda was just on the verge of giving up and going inside when, finally, he stood up and started out of the shed. Zelda moved out of his way, clear out of the path of the shed. No point in even looking into such a tiny space, really. She pressed down memories of her captivity, her tiny, golden cell walls, and looked back at Link as stone-faced as ever.

"You..." Link started, taking a deep breath. "You shouldn't be outside so late—especially not looking for me all this time. I'll escort you back in, okay?"

Zelda looked up at the stars, then offered her hand to him. "Alright, my hero. If you insist."

Link nodded, and took her hand with a cold expression. It wasn't necessarily uncaring, Zelda decided after watching his face for a while. It just looked like he'd removed all his emotions so he could focus on putting one foot in front of the other.

Zelda couldn't help her frown, though, when he finally escorted her to their room, only to turn and leave back down the hall.

Though she ached to reach out and keep him from leaving, she'd learned her lesson for today. Instead, she spoke. "Link."

He stopped, but he didn't turn back towards her. "Yes, my Queen?"

There was a pang in her heart at the name—it hurt to be called her title by the one she loved. "Stop that, you're my husband," Zelda insisted, keeping her voice light. She walked around till she was in front of him, then gently offered him her hand. "Even if we're in separate beds, my room is still your room. I want you near me. …Don't you understand?"

"I understand," Link said, but he made no move to go back to their room or even to take her hand.

"Then why won't you come with me?"

"I just can't," he said. He was quiet for a moment, and finally whispered, "I don't want to hurt you again. I can't."

Zelda's face softened, and she longed to take his face into her hands and smooth out the worry lines that had already begun to mar his youth. "I don't think you'd hurt me, Link. Not now, not ever. I trust you. Why can't you trust yourself?" Her urge to reach out and reassure him finally got the better of her. She reached her hand out, fingers just brushing against Link's, hoping to convey how much she wanted to move past this with him.

Link jerked his hand back. "I can't," he repeated, pulling his hand against his face—his fingertips tightly pressing into his forehead as if he was trying to force back a headache. "Why don't you see it? I can't be close to you!"

The sight of her husband—her hero, her beloved—so distraught was enough to get her to act. Better judgment or not, she needed to get that expression off his face. So she guided her hand up to his again, slowly, tentatively pulling it back from his face. "Link," she instructed. "Look at me."

He kept his eyes closed and shook his head. Zelda was alarmed to see tear-tracks, and she gently brushed them away.

"Look at me. Please. No matter what it is you're going through, I want to help you. That won't happen if you keep pushing me away."

"I can't help it," Link said, the words almost forceful, but Zelda knew it wasn't anger driving him. If anything, it was fear. "I can't help it if I push you away. I can't… I don't want to be touched."

"This isn't about affection," she whispered. Out of the corner of her eye she spotted a few castle maids and guards, but she ignored them. If they wanted to gossip, let them. This—Link—was more important. "This is about you needing to learn that you're safe now. That you're not on a battlefield anymore." She wanted now more than ever to pull him into a hug, but she knew she needed to respect his space. So she just looked up on him, mustering up as tender an expression as she could. "This is about you healing from your journey."

Link finally looked at her—really looked—and slowly, his posture relaxed, shoulders becoming less rigid, legs no longer poised to make a run for it. Soon after, though, he noticed the castle servants eyeing him, and he grit his teeth. "I'm not going to be a spectacle," he said, already turning on his heel to get back into their room. Zelda followed close behind, shutting the door for some privacy.

When she turned, Link was already sitting on the edge of the bed—their bed, or what was supposed to be. Zelda watched him for a moment, then slowly walked forward, still not sure what level of conversation or closeness he might want right now.

After a few minutes of silence, Zelda finally spoke up. "Link?" She laid a hand on his shoulder, watching for a flinch, but found no reaction. "It's… it's late. Do you want to sleep?"

He didn't look at her when he nodded. Zelda took the hint and made a move to grab her bedclothes, but a hand on her wrist stopped her from actually going anywhere.

Though Link still wouldn't look at her, his voice was unmistakable. "I want…" he started, pausing for a moment to catch his breath. "I want to try. Sleeping next to you, I mean."

"Alright," Zelda said softly, taking his hand properly and gently kissing the back of it. It wasn't much, and nothing close to the amount of tenderness she wanted to give him, but it was light enough that Link didn't pull away. He didn't even flinch. Zelda counted it as a victory before letting his hand go so she could finish changing into her nightgown.

A few minutes later found Link in clothes so similar to his regular under-attire that Zelda wondered if he'd changed out of anything but his grey knight's tunic. Still, she wasn't going to police his dress-habits, though she knew it must be uncomfortable to sleep in.

Deep down, she knew it belonged in the same category as his aversion to touch. She knew he never wanted to be caught unaware—hence his adverse reactions to being startled. She supposed it was also why he kept his sword by his bedside.

At least he hadn't brought it to their shared bed—though Zelda had a feeling that Link wanted to, but was afraid of an accident. He could pull it on her in the confusing aftermath of a nightmare. And unlike this afternoon where he was unarmed, there wouldn't be a chance of her getting out of it unscathed. Link's reflexes were even faster with a sword.

She wondered what nightmares would prompt him to sleep so dangerously in the first place.

Her heart broke a little at the reminder, but she put it back deep, deep inside her and climbed into bed. Link took his spot beside her, though there was a fair distance between the couple.

But it was progress. It was progress, she told herself as she hugged a pillow to her chest.

"Goodnight," Zelda said softly, making no move to get closer. "Sleep well."

Link nodded, likely indicating the same, and turned on his side so that his back was to her. It may have been isolating, but, again—baby steps. Zelda slowly drifted off, her husband's back radiating warmth even from a few feet away.

Zelda supposed that day had helped her understand what her husband was going through more than anything.

Nothing was really fixed that day, no. But Zelda understood better now.

And, something about yesterday might have helped Link, too, because when Zelda woke up, Link was still sleeping next to her. And she'd never—not once—woken to him lying beside her before. It was actually rather nice, she decided.

If it weren't for her fear of waking him—and she certainly didn't want to startle him—she might have cuddled up close and enjoyed spending a morning in bed with him.

But she wasn't going to risk it because she knew better now.

Besides, she thought as she turned on her side and watched the comfortable rise and fall of his chest, it was nice to see him so relaxed.

Zelda watched him sleep for a while, then finally turned away to get in some early morning reading. If she was awake, there was no real point in attempting to get back to sleep—especially if there was work to be done.

Besides, she thought as she finally looked away from her husband, it was… nice. Link could be quite a comfort even when he was just lying next to her.

Late morning was fast approaching, though, and just as she was debating whether or not to wake him, Link finally began to stir.

He looked just as bleary-eyed and comfortable as he had the times she'd caught him napping in the orchard. The memory of him nearly falling out of a tree the first time she caught him came to mind, and Zelda couldn't help but smile. "Good morning," she whispered, wishing she could brush some of that bed-hair out of his eyes.

Quiet as ever, he simply nodded and turned to lie on his stomach, face smushed into the pillow.

More than ever before, she wished she could trace her hand down those strong back muscles, lie down close to him and appreciate a warm body that was still too firm from battle and training, still too thin from roughing it for months, but a body that she loved nearly as much as the soul that came with it.

Still, for all the closeness she desired, it would never be enough if she pushed him before he was ready.

So she closed up her book and set it on her nightstand. If she couldn't touch, she might as well look. Who knew when she'd get to see it again?

Of course she hoped to be able to see it again—every night, if Nayru willed it—but she had to think realistically, not optimistically. Whatever he was still dealing with, he wouldn't be changed overnight.

And she had to be ready to deal with that.

The subject wasn't brought back up for several weeks. Several blissful, relaxed, comfortable weeks, where Link slept in her bed almost half the time. He'd even gotten more affectionate, and accepted her affection easier: hand-holding, kisses on cheeks, even proper kisses—all more commonplace than they'd ever been before, even if they were still rare compared to most couples.

Link seemed to honestly be doing better than before.

And then it all had to go horribly, painfully wrong.

To celebrate a year free from Ganondorf's Monster Infestation, Hyrulians wanted a festival.

And, naturally, they wanted to celebrate the Hero that had defeated the hordes of monsters camping across Hyrule. The Hero that had slain Ganondorf. The Hero that had driven back evil and had lived up to the honor or the Heroes of Legend.

They wanted to celebrate Link.

It was natural, of course, for the people of Hyrule to want to thank the Hero that had saved them, and now the King that was fairly governing them, and the warrior that was helping to train their troops—still keeping them safe though he'd never once been asked.

And Zelda knew Link understood that. The need to express gratitude was one that Link knew well, after all. Zelda had seen him go out of his way to reward those who'd aided him in his quest, and even after. Good deeds went rewarded in Hyrule Castle Town, these days, and Link was a huge part of that.

Yet, even for his understanding that the people wanted to thank him…

"I can't participate."

…Link still had hesitations.

"It's just going to be a festival, Link. They just want to see your face, see how you're doing," Zelda said. She rested her hand on his shoulder, but for the first time in weeks, he flinched away from her.

"They're going to ask me things, Zelda." Link looked away from her, eyes trained on the wall as if there was an enemy nearby, and he was just hoping he wouldn't be seen.

Zelda sat down next to him, giving him a bit of space but offering him her hand all the same. When he finally—hesitantly, with sweaty palms and a racing heart—took it, Zelda gave it a gentle squeeze and patted it with her opposite hand. "I'll tell them not to ask, then. I'm the Queen—and you're their King. They have to respect your wishes."

Link closed his eyes, and after a few minutes of silence, Zelda finally felt Link's pulse slow. "If they ask anything, I'm going back home. I can't tell you anything yet, let alone…"

The word 'yet' surprised her. Did Link really plan on telling her eventually, once he could manage it? Her heart skipped a beat, overwhelmed with happiness that he really did plan on sharing everything with her someday. But his tone prevented too much celebration. After all, he looked frightened of the very concept of a realm-wide celebration in his honor.

"You won't have to," Zelda promised, then gave his hand another squeeze. "I'll make sure of it."

But though she planned on keeping her promise, there wasn't a thing she could do about the memorabilia being paraded through the festival, and the constant memories of Link's adventure.

She had a feeling the questions wouldn't be the problem in the end.

The morning of the celebration started with Zelda waking up to find Link in his own bed, despite having started the night in Zelda's.

That alone was telltale of a nightmare—a miracle that he hadn't woken her with his thrashing, but she supposed he'd gotten quieter about his distress—but his hand was once more wrapped around the hilt of his sword.

Zelda sighed, then got out of bed to rouse Link before the maids came in.

It wouldn't do for castle attendants to realize their royals had separate sleeping quarters—especially not this morning of all mornings, when there was to be a parade in Link's honor. So she sat on the edge of the bed, carefully out of range in case he drew his sword in surprise—something she knew he was scared of doing on reflex—and gently called his name.

He woke with a start, and she didn't miss the sweat trickling down his forehead, but he didn't make any sudden moves past sitting up too quickly.

Before she could remind him, or even get him out of bed, there was a knock on the door. To her relief, by the time the maids had entered, Link was already up with his bed made back up.

The morning was hectic, but aside from attendants' insistence on fixing their hair for them, Zelda counted the morning as a victory.

That is, until it came to the clothes laid out for them.

Zelda's best ceremonial dress, and the clothes Link had worn all-throughout his quest.

If anyone but Zelda noticed Link's clear discomfort being fitted into his old tunic, or his outright aversion to being helped into it, or the way he'd flinched when they'd so much as touched his skin, they didn't say a thing.

As much as Zelda liked to believe that, rationally, her goal was to keep up appearances and keep Link's secret safe, it was with some force that she shooed out the attendants.

Zelda watched as Link tugged at his collar, adjusted and re-adjusted his tunic and the leather straps that held his shield and sheath in place—the sword within it but a pale copy of the now returned Master Sword.

He looked like he'd rather be in anything but those clothes.

"Are you ready?" Though she wanted to help him, to pull him close and force back the memories that must have been resurfacing, he wouldn't want it. So she kept herself in check, merely putting a hand on his shoulder to remind him that yes, she was still next to him, still standing by him.

She wore a small smile on her face, feigning obliviousness to his unease.

After all, they needed to keep up appearances today.

…Didn't they?

Link nodded, once more dressed out in the very same outfit he'd worn on his quest, right down to the well-worn boots and patched-and-repatched tunic and pants. It took Zelda a year back in time, to the moments before they'd taken on Ganondorf—together.

She'd asked him to once more put his life on the line, to finish what he'd started—to help Hyrule in its time of need.

And he'd wordlessly given her his hand.

She wished for nothing more than to be able to give him the same comfort that he'd given her then.

So she offered her hand, and tried not to sigh when he gave her an uncomfortable smile and neglected to take it.

"We ought to get going. The parade can't start till we get to the carriages."

It was a good thing no one was watching their entrance to the carriage, because the residents of Castle Town might have been wary if they'd noticed that their royal couple weren't even looking at each other, let alone holding hands. Of course, no one was there because it was still too early in the morning for anyone to want to be out and about and spying on the King and Queen—and Zelda certainly wished she could still be among those still in bed—but all the same, she was glad to be in the carriage as soon as possible.

Above all else though, she was glad that Link was inside the carriage and looking out the window rather than at her. The look on his face could freeze fire; she'd never seen him look so distant in her life.

But it would be pointless to ask what was bothering him. It was obvious enough, after all. The clothes, the confinement, the possibility of being questioned—even the theme of the celebration itself. It all came back to him.

Once upon a time she might have just blamed his humility. But now that she knew him better—now that it wasn't just a crush and amazement that someone so brave was saving her kingdom—she knew there was something much bigger at work on his psyche than humility.

Zelda stared out the window, determined not to make her husband more uncomfortable than he already was.

The ice between them, thick as it was, didn't start to thaw till midmorning. That was when they were finally forced to exit the parade carriage and walk amongst their people. Not a hardship in and of itself, no, but Link's utter silence during their ride together was proof that he wasn't ready to be around people right now.

Zelda didn't have the Triforce of Wisdom for nothing. She knew they had to keep up appearances around their people, but she couldn't bear making Link more anxious than he already was. So she took a handkerchief out of her neckline and handed one end to Link, keeping hold of the other end herself. The gap between them was bridged, metaphorically, by her handkerchief. The gap still existed, of course, but the gesture of holding hands still stood. Some of the people looked ready to fawn over such an affectionate gesture—not to mention the relieved smile on Link's face. Zelda counted it a victory.

The crowd whistled and cheered for their star couple, and Zelda was pleased to note that no one seemed to mind that Link was ducking from the applause, humble as ever. If anything, they seemed respectful, even grateful that their hero was just as unassuming as before. Conversely, Zelda remained regal, smiling and waving to the crowd in the way she'd always been taught—gentle and reserved and distant. It seemed to tide the crowd, and they were as excited as ever as she got to the entrance to the day's event.

It was no small affair; a bigger festival than had been seen in Hyrule for centuries. Food, games, music, and the presence of royalty; not to mention the personal testimonies of the people Link had helped along his journey. They were what the crowd really wanted to know, now a year after Link's final victory, and those storytellers were about as close to the whole of the story as they were going to get.

Some of the storytellers were personal friends of Link, as well. When they walked inside, she didn't miss the look on his face when he saw a few familiar faces in the crowd of entertainers.

In fact, he looked like he was going to be sick.

Zelda wished she could pull him close and calm him, but he wouldn't want it. Not to mention they were in public, and she knew he had too much pride to let himself be consoled in public even if he might accept the affection at home.

So she did what she could and instead pulled him by their shared handkerchief back a ways, to let the swarms of people rush into the carnival so no eyes would be on them.

Now that the people weren't paying attention to them, she leaned over and whispered, "Do you need some time alone?"

Link shook his head. However, when he glanced back to the crowd of people, and to some of the familiar faces within the festivities, he seemed to change his mind. He shuffled his feet, scuffing his boots up yet again with the dirt they'd once been so caked in. "I wouldn't mind walking with you for a little while. Just a little while."

Zelda nodded and kept hold of the handkerchief, already starting to walk with him away from the carnival. She was quiet for a while, letting their pattering of footsteps fill the silence between them. But when they'd nearly circled the carnival grounds, she decided she had to ask. "What set you off?"

Link looked a little startled by the sudden question, but after he'd looked at her for a moment, he seemed to relax again. "I hadn't seen some of them since…" He trailed off, staring off into the distance. Zelda could only imagine what he was seeing, so she simply held onto their shared handkerchief and let him take all the time he needed. "It's just been a while. That's all."

Despite being a little disappointed that he hadn't given her any details—details that might have helped her help him—Zelda nodded and feigned understanding. "I see. Are you prepared to go inside yet? We're expected to participate in some of the events and, ah… I believe they want us to 'mingle' with our citizens."

"I know." Link sighed and shook his head, taking off his cap to muss his hair. He looked almost content while it was off, but with a bittersweet smile, he put it back on.

Zelda wished she had the courage to tell him that he might as well keep it off, if he was happier without it, but she only had the Triforce of Wisdom. She knew that if he kept it off, someone would point it out and comment on it. And she knew a questioning would make him feel worse than just keeping it on. So she didn't say a word.

"Would you like to walk around alone for a bit?"

"Oh," Zelda said, looking back up at him. "Whichever you'd prefer. I don't mind if you want to do something alone for a bit, if that's what you'd like."

If anything, Link looked a little troubled by her suggestion. "No, no—I just." He looked into the swarming crowds, the mass of people with semi-familiar faces, and he seemed a little overwhelmed. "I just… It might be better not to get lost. Keep you with me. This would be the perfect time to try to attack the Queen, wouldn't it? So I ought to stay by you."

Zelda furrowed her brows, turning to face him. "Is that really what you're worried about?"

Her intense gaze seemed a bit too much for him; Link looked away. A moment later, he relented, looking back at her with an almost forlorn expression. "…No," he sighed, seeming to regret telling the truth even as he said it.

"No?" Never before had she so wanted to take his face into her hands and hold him, but the thought of him flinching away was too much. "What are you worried about, then?"

"Nothing," he said quickly. "Nothing, it's—it's nothing, Zelda. Honest. I wouldn't—I'm not… there's nothing here that should make me freak out, so it's fine, okay?"

"Just because nothing should upset you doesn't mean that nothing will." Zelda bit the inside of her cheek, debating what would be the best course of action. He was definitely worried about something, and she was half sure she knew what that thing was. "I know it's crowded, Link, but…"

"But what?"

The panicky tone in his voice made her take a step back, alarmed at how quickly he'd gotten defensive just at the mention of it being crowded. "But I'm sure even if someone bumps into you, you won't hurt them. You're not this on edge when you train, are you?"

He appeared every bit as trapped as she feared he would be. But he didn't move away or try to leave, so Zelda considered it a good sign. "I just," he stopped, hesitating, "I just don't know. I can prepare for it in practice. In practice, they have swords so if I—if I accidentally get lost in my head and hurt someone, at least they'll be armed. At least they can defend themselves."

So that's what he was worried about. Zelda glanced at their hands, still connected to the handkerchief, and removed it.

Link's eyes widened and he reached forward as if asking for it to be put back. "I'm sorry, Zelda, I shouldn't have said that—I'll keep out of crowds with you, if I have to, but, but don't be angry."

"I'm not angry with you," Zelda said softly. Before Link could ask anything more, she reached out and took hold of his wrist, touching as little skin as possible, and tied the handkerchief around his it. "You don't have to worry about hurting anyone this way. I'll be with you, and if something happens, I can just pull you back without setting you off further."

Link looked at his wrist, then back up to Zelda. "But what if I—what if I hurt you?"

"You won't."

Link's expression practically crumpled, and he shook his head, already trying to untie it. "I can't risk it, Zelda. Why else would I ask to walk alone—"

"—You didn't ask to walk alone, you asked if I wanted to walk separate, and I said I didn't care either way—"

"—I can't risk hurting anyone but especially not you, why did you think I didn't want to come here—"

"—I'm no more important than any of my other people, and if you were so sure something would go wrong then why come at all, you could have said no much earlier on—"

"—So now you're blaming me?!"

"I'm not blaming you, I'm saying that this could have been avoided if you'd spoken up ahead of time!"

Link took a deep breath, and Zelda realized—a bit late—that she probably shouldn't have been agitating him when he was already worked up. Finally, he looked away and breathed out slowly—controlled—through his nose.

Zelda was prepared to hear the worst, so she was quite surprised when she heard "Fine" instead.

"Pardon?"

"You heard me," Link said evenly, looking at her. If she didn't know what his thinly pressed lips meant, she might have been convinced by his even stare. "I'll walk with you—though the festival. Just," he hesitated, looking back at the massive crowds. "Just try not to walk where there's a ton of people."

Zelda nodded. "I'll make sure to keep us out of the worst of it. I can't promise much more than that, though. There are a lot of people here."

Link shrugged, and it seemed that was that. Zelda took a careful hold of their shared handkerchief and started the trek into the carnival.

All she could do was hope for the best.

"Are you almost done?"

"Yeah, yeah, almost," Link asked after what had to have been his thirtieth attempt at bobbing for apples.

Honestly, Zelda had no other real plans, but people were starting to stare, and she knew Link was just stalling for time. They'd finally found a quiet place, but if they lingered for too long anywhere, it ended up getting crowded with people just hoping to see them.

Of course, the person running the booth seemed to be having a good time. They'd be popular with friends later, Zelda could only imagine, what with the royal couple spending half an hour at their stand.

Once Link finally pulled up again, Zelda took a good look at his face and hair—both sopping wet—and she had to hide a smile. "You goof. It's going to take a while for that to dry. So much for the hair stylist this morning."

"I didn't like the style anyways," Link retorted, smiling and murming a "thanks" when he was passed a towel to dry his face with. "They made my hair too straight. It's not like that normally."

Zelda rolled her eyes and tugged on the handkerchief. "Come on. I think I see a less crowded area over at the—" The area came into view, and she quickly pulled Link in the other direction upon noticing they'd have to go through the storytelling section in order to get to it. "This. The festival food is good, and now that it's long past lunchtime, it's not as crowded!"

Link, not at all deterred by her abrupt change in direction, furrowed his brows. "It's completely packed there, Zelda. That far corner looks much less crowded," he said, pointing to the area she'd just been about to take him to. "Come on, please?"

Well, if they were only passing it… "Alright, alright. But let's not linger. It'd be too easy to get trapped in a crowd on the way there."

Link shrugged a shoulder and kept walking, seemingly oblivious to the festivities around him. Zelda supposed it was his way of coping here, and she had to say, it was working fairly well. He'd managed to not get stuck on any of the attractions, even the ones that were quite specific to his quest. (The sword fights and dungeon maze were creative, she had to say.)

However, as they passed the storytelling section, a shrill voice called out from her stand.

"Link!" she cried, and Zelda watched as her husband tensed up. "Link, is that you?! Come here! I haven't seen you in ages!"

"Who is she?" Zelda whispered, lips scarcely moving so her question would go unnoticed by anyone other than Link.

"Michi. Saved her. Prison type dungeon. Helped her escape. I was… she disappeared at the end. I fought the guard that oversaw the place. Alone."

Zelda glanced between Link and the girl now rapidly approaching the pair. There would be too much commotion if they suddenly walked the other way, so there was no chance of an escape. All Zelda could do was keep the conversation between them and leave Link out of it.

The young woman quickly caught up to them and smiled at Link with the brightest, most sun-shiney smile Zelda had in a long while. It rubbed her the wrong way, seeing this woman with such a positive memory of Link while his face was rapidly greying at the mere sight of her.

"Hello," Zelda greeted with a polite smile. "And you are?"

"Michi! I'm surprised Link hasn't mentioned me… Or maybe you just needed a face to put to the name." She smiled again, that sickly sweet smile, and Zelda tried very hard to look patient while the woman bobbed up and down on her heels, as if desperate to keep talking. "Link rescued me from a prison Ganondorf had set up to keep me trapped, you know. I'll be eternally grateful to him for saving me."

Zelda wondered how many times she'd said that today.

"I'm glad to hear he helped you so much," the Queen said smoothly. "And that you have such a good memory for it. I'll have to hear the tale someday."

Michi looked somewhat taken aback. "He doesn't talk about it?"

"He's so busy training the knights that I hardly hear anything about his adventures." It wasn't until the words left her mouth that she realized how that might have sounded; Link knew that she understood his hesitation in telling her, but Michi probably wouldn't.

Indeed, Michi's eyes shone at the possibility of talking to the Queen herself about her short-lived adventure with Link. "I'm supposed to be talking about my story for the carnival anyways, but I never thought that the Queen wouldn't have already heard it! I have to tell you now, no ifs ands or buts about it, your majesty!"

Zelda glanced at Link's face out of the corner of her eye. He looked guilty, agitated; she couldn't imagine how uncomfortable he must be at the thought of hearing someone retelling a tale he'd lived through himself. "Really, I think we're fine. He can tell me when he has a chance, I'm sure."

"No, no, I insist," Machi said, waving off Zelda's concern. The Queen had half a mind to pick up and leave, but—of all the times for pigheaded pride to come through—Link was stubbornly staying in place. What, exactly, was he trying to prove? That he could handle this? It didn't matter—Zelda didn't care whether or not he was ready to 'prove his courage' and she had half a mind to tell him so, but they weren't in private and she didn't want to make a scene. So she resigned herself to the bench Machi led them to and took a seat beside her husband.

She'd be having words with him later, though. She was sure of it.

"Well! I guess everyone knows by now about how he had to brave ancient temple after ancient temple in order to find the artifacts that would let him open up the Great Temple—and how after that, he had to seek out several people that had been captured so that they could be the defender of their hometown and help in Ganondorf's ultimate end. A sage, you know? I, of course, was one of those people. I organized my people, made sure everyone had food, helped to drive back the hoard of monsters that was threatening my people. It was so scary sometimes, you know? Having to gather all the food and organize it and make sure people weren't starving—"

Zelda zoned out as Michi went further into depth with how much she'd helped her people throughout Ganondorf's takeover. The longer Michi emphasized those points, the more Zelda was starting to wonder what any of this had to do with Link's adventure. The cynical part of her wondered if the young woman was just feeding her ego. But just as she held up her free hand to cover a yawn, Michi changed her tune.

"—But of course, no matter how much I got to help my people in the end, I wouldn't have been able to do any of it without Link's help."

Should she encourage her to elaborate? As curious as Zelda was, she certainly didn't want Link to think she was trying to pry the woman for more information.

But, as it was, she didn't have to try very hard. Michi seemed happy to continue with or without Zelda's encouragement, questions—or even her interest, if she wasn't dissuaded by her yawn and general expression of disinterest.

"So all of us Sages are captured shortly after Link obtained the old stones to let him open the Great Temple. We're taken to separate locations, some of us to the desert, some of us to a jungle, some of us to a forest—you get the picture. I didn't know much about where I was kept until Link saved me—it wasn't until we were even out till I noticed the sound of the wind all around! I'd been taken to the middle of the desert, in some prison hundreds of feet below ground, and Link managed to not only find me, but save me after days of searching in the desert! If it had been anyone else, I'm sure the heat and dehydration alone would have killed them. I'm absolutely sure Link's superhuman, you know—"

At this point, Zelda tuned out. She could practically feel the tension in Link's spine, his knuckles, his thighs—she wondered if he'd react too poorly if she stood up and pulled him away without a word right then. His eyes were closed, his brows furrowed and nostrils flared with how deeply he was breathing, how tightly he was controlling his breaths.

As easy as it was for Zelda to tune out, it seemed impossible for Link.

After all, he was the one that had to relive the words she spoke. And if Link was going to suffer throughout the story, Zelda felt obligated to listen, too. So she tuned back in, realizing a bit too late that she'd missed a few crucial notes even in the short time she'd stopped listening.

"—managed to get captured again halfway through the dungeon, can you believe it? We're in a cell together, and I'm sure he was bleeding pretty badly—they got him with the pointy end of their spear when he tried to fight back—but he kept such a cool head, it was crazy. Once the guards stopped looking our way, he managed to find a secret passageway out of the cell! Then he just grabbed his stuff and tossed a bomb at the guards. They never had a chance, really. Still not sure how he managed to heal his side, where he'd been hurt, but he made it through to the end of our dungeon, so I guess he wasn't as badly hurt as I'd thought!" At this, Michi paused, seeming to notice the almost queasy look on Zelda's face. "You alright, Princess?"

"Fine," Zelda said quickly, shaking her head. If her knowledge of Link was at all correct, she knew that her husband couldn't handle too much more of this. So she added, "But Link and I really were on our way over to another section, and we really must be going—"

"Oh, but I'm almost done," Michi said with a pout. "Link, don't you want Zelda to hear how it ended?"

If anything, Link tensed up more, but his nerve must have been made of steel, because he managed to speak with a completely even tone. "She ought to hear it since you're already telling it, sure."

So much for helping him out of it. Did Link really think he was doing her a service by listening to it with her? Zelda tried to hide her frown but she found she couldn't manage it without gulping down her nausea and tuning out of Michi's continuation. By the time she finally got to the neutral, disinterested expression as before, she'd missed yet another chunk of the retelling.

"—took another hit from one of the guards, but by now he'd gotten back behind the biggest one. One of the smaller ones took a swing at him from behind and I think they hit him, because he sounded like he was in pain next time he swung his sword, but after that it was like he'd just brushed it off. By the next time one of the ones behind him tried that again, they were in for it. The biggest one was down by then, so when the one behind him lunged to grab him from behind, he just grabbed it and swung it against the wall, pinning its arm with one hand and running his sword through it with his other hand. I think he killed it without even thinking—just thrust its sword into its abdomen—"

Zelda took in a sharp intake of breath at how familiar the situation sounded.

"Then of course, we got to a room where I was trapped outside, and he was forced to remain inside. I couldn't hear what all was going on in there, but there was a lot of banging and sometimes a shout of pain—surely not from Link. But Link eventually got out, so I didn't have to be alone for too long. I was too distracted being happy that he'd survived that I didn't notice the guard coming after me. He grabbed me around my waist and I tried to break free, but Link was there in a flash! I couldn't see what all was happening, but I guess Link must have been pretty successful there, too!

"And when he grabbed my hand and started to lead me forward again, he was running around with something insanely heavy, I think, a ball and chain? He must have stolen it from the one he was locked inside to fight, but it was very useful for the next part of the dungeon. He broke half the wooden obstacles in our path with the ball and chain, and sliced away the other half with his sword. I've never seen anyone look so concentrated. I thought for a while he was a zombie or something, he looked so disconnected from me. Even when it was all finished, after he'd managed to destroy that gigantic Golem that had risen from the sand, he still looked so out of it. I guess you were trying to stay focused on the task at hand, huh, Link?"

Link met her eyes with such a pained look that Zelda couldn't bear to watch. His expression seemed to be frozen on his face, and even when he managed a smile, there was a distinctly haunted look to his eyes.

Not even Michi missed it. It seemed to have shut her up for a while, she was too distracted by the look in his eyes; Zelda wondered how oblivious she'd been up till then, to only notice it then. Michi seemed to be deciding whether or not to continue, and Zelda was quite tempted to sway her to drop the story there. Link, however, had different plans. That stubborn pride from earlier reared its ugly head, and Zelda had to fight back the urge to throw something.

"Continue?" he prompted, and there was something forced in his voice, but it was consent nonetheless. Zelda hated him for it, hated that he was so willing to hurt himself to prove himself, hated that she didn't know how to leave this mess of a festival, hated that she wasn't brave enough to stop things before they got worse. She hated that she let Link verbally consent to continue even when she knew he didn't want to.

If only Michi knew that, from Link, consent wasn't always consent. If only she knew that, from Link, consent was sometimes a bravery test. If only she knew that, from Link, consent was a way to prove that he deserved his Triforce of Courage, that he hadn't faced enough already and somehow needed to go through even more pain.

Zelda closed her eyes, unwillingly remembering the night she first realized something was wrong—the night that she'd tried for the last time to sleep with her husband.

She never wanted to hear that panic in Link's voice ever again.

But, she also knew that if it weren't for that moment illuminating his problem, it might have taken her years to figure out that Link needed help.

She just wished that afterwards she would have made better choices. Maybe if she'd been more considerate of him, they wouldn't be here now, at this carnival, with Link having to relive his battles.

It occurred to her that Michi had started talking again, but honestly, Zelda couldn't take much more of this. Though Link's body language wasn't the most panicked she'd seen it, she didn't want to see it get to that point.

Zelda let her eyes wander, trace over Link's physique, and found that the more that was added to the story, the worse he seemed to be feeling.

White knuckles clinging to the bench finally prompted Zelda to action.

"I hate to interrupt," she piped up, hoping she sounded more genuine than she felt, "But Link and I must meet with guards soon. We agreed to meet up around this time so that they'd know we were safe. I hope you understand."

Michi seemed surprised—perhaps even a bit offended, considering others had happily listened to her talk all day—but nonetheless nodded her assent. "I understand," she said, that sickly sweet smile on her face. "It's been wonderful catching up, Link. I live in Castle Town now you know, so visit me sometime! It's been too long since we last talked."

It took Link a moment to nod—was he really having such trouble focusing on the present?—and he didn't bother with a verbal confirmation before he stood.

Zelda bid one last polite farewell and a vague promise of visiting her sometime before she led Link off to the walls outside the carnival.

"You look terrible," she said, untying the handkerchief and letting Link slide down to the ground. "You should've spoken up earlier, love. I'm sure she wouldn't have minded too much. Why didn't you say something?"

She was met with silence; Link didn't even look up at her. His face was too carefully neutral for her to even gather what he was feeling, much less find an appropriate response. So she stayed quiet. However, quiet or not, that didn't mean she wanted to leave him alone.

She stepped back a few paces, then joined him in the dirt. At this rate, it looked like they'd be going home—failing to show for their promised role in the festival later this evening—so there was no point in keeping her dress tidy.

It took Link a while to calm, but finally the tension melted from his shoulders. What caught her by surprise, though, was when he stood and offered her a hand. Zelda—not one to look a gift horse in the mouth—accepted to contact and contentedly grabbed his hand.

"Ready to go?" Zelda asked, referring to going back to the castle.

Link nodded, not looking at her despite keeping her hand in his. However, to her surprise, he started back inside the carnival. Once she realized where they were going, Zelda stopped in her tracks.

"Wait—I thought—you want to go back inside?" she asked, furrowing her brows. "Link, we can go home if you can't handle this. No one can fault you for not wanting to be here today."

To her surprise, she was met with stony defiance. "I can handle it. We promised to be there tonight, didn't we?" He glanced away, a guilty look giving away his lie that he was fine, but he stuck with it nonetheless. "You don't need to coddle me, Zelda. I just need to get through today."

"I'm not coddling you," Zelda said, voice raising a notch. "You don't need to be here if a storyteller can set you off so easily." At Link's offended expression, she tried to smooth out her request. "Let's just go home, okay? Or you can go home and I can stay and perform for the both of us. Either way, there's no need for you to stay if you—"

"I do need to stay."

Zelda rolled her eyes. "No, you really don't, Link. Like I said, I can perform for both of us if need be."

"That's what you don't understand, it's like you just don't get it at all!" He was getting frustrated, more visible in the rough way he tore off his hat and raked his fingers through his hair than his tone. "You just don't get it, Zelda, you really don't."

"You're right. I don't. What am I not understanding, exactly? You're not mentally prepared for this, I get it, really. What I don't understand is why you're so insistent on staying when you don't need to." Zelda breathed harshly through her nose, trying to stay calm so as not to make a scene. "What don't I understand, Link. Tell me."

"I saved Hyrule, Zel. I saved all of these people! They depend on me!" The hand holding hers was trembling, and Zelda could tell that there was nothing more he seemed to want than to let go. But he kept holding on, as if…

As if he had something to prove.

Zelda pulled her hand away from his in a flash. "No. No, Link, you don't get to do this—this thing, what you've been doing for the past year! I didn't even know you were struggling with this till recently!" The anger was rising, and she couldn't help but raise her voice. "I didn't know until we were in bed together last time, Link. Is that how you wanted me to find out? If I'd kept going and only found out you were having problems later—what then, Link? Do you really think I could have lived with myself if I'd done that to you?!"

"But you didn't! You didn't, so it's fine!" Link had raised his voice to match hers, and Zelda knew that they were making a scene, and at least a few of their citizens were probably listening. All of that faded away when she saw such raw emotion on his face, though. She'd never seen him so angry and open and vulnerable before, and it left her breathless—in the bad way. "I would have managed to be okay with it eventually, so even if you had it wouldn't have mattered, alright?!"

Blind fury overtook her, and Zelda practically saw red when she looked at him. "Don't you dare try to tell me that it would have been okay. You don't know what it's like to know that I almost unknowingly coerced—"

"Unknowingly?" Link's eyes narrowed. "Unknowingly? Zelda, I flinch when you touch me! I did from the start, when we first started dating, and I know you noticed because you stopped touching me almost immediately! So if you noticed then, how can you try to tell me that you didn't know?!"

"You didn't say a damn word, Link. I thought you didn't want me to say anything, that you just weren't as affectionate, that you just wanted to save those things till we were more committed-dammit, I'd just hoped that if it was serious that you would have spoken up! Goddesses, Link, you have the Triforce of Courage! Are you such a coward that you couldn't just tell me?!"

"Don't you dare bring that into it! With your Triforce of Wisdom I thought you would have figured it out sooner! You didn't even start bringing it up until just a bit ago, and you're trying to tell me you've known since that night?!" Link stared at her, angry as before until realization flashed into his eyes. There was a sudden hurt to his tone, and Zelda felt guilt twist in her stomach just from his voice. "You knew, you knew, you had just found out, and that was when you started asking me such—such invasive questions?! Right after you find out that I have a goddesses-damned problem?"

"I didn't realize it was so serious!" Her voice raised to drown his hurt out, to pitch it back to the shouting match they'd started before. Because anything, anything, was better than acknowledging that she'd screwed up. "You made me figure it out on my own! How was I supposed to know it was that bad?!"

"We sleep in separate beds! I can't talk about my quest—I can barely even hear about it from someone else—I still flinch when you touch me! How did you not put it together?" The hurt was still in his voice, but there was a fierceness to his eyes—as if he was outright angry that she hadn't understood. "How could you just—just not get it?"

Zelda opened her mouth to speak, to match his argument with anything—anything—to get him to understand that she couldn't change when she'd understood, that he hadn't left enough clues for her to make the connection—but before she could speak, a guard interrupted.

He cleared his throat, shuffling his feet before he finally spoke up. Zelda realized too late that she didn't know how long he'd been standing there. "Is this a bad time, your majesties?" he asked. Not waiting for an answer, he continued, "The people expect you up on stage in five minutes."

Zelda watched the guard bow his head and leave, presumably to give them privacy to finish up their argument. However, when she turned back to Link, she was half surprised to find that he'd tensed up again.

Normally she'd drop everything—her anger, her frustration, her obligations—to make sure he was alright. But right now she was absolutely furious from their argument. Cool and calculating as she was, she found it wasn't so difficult to be cruel.

Deep down, she knew it was just the argument speaking. She knew she'd never do something so vindictive if it weren't for their fight.

But right now she was angry, and she knew what would hurt him the most.

"Let's go, then. You say you're so fine, prove it." At Link's sudden hurt expression, she steeled her gaze and stared him down. "I was going to go home with you, but if you're so insistent that you can handle it, then prove it. Go up on that stage, Link. I dare you." With that, she grabbed his hand—squashing her conscience down when Link's involuntary flinch caught her attention—and gracefully made her way to the stage overlooking the festival.

To his credit, Link didn't back away. He didn't try to leave. Instead, he steeled his expression and followed beside her, hand in hers no matter the panic trembling in his fingers.

"Relax," she said, voice like ice. "Everyone here just wants to talk to us. Besides, you can handle it, right?"

Link stayed silent, but he seemed to be quietly seething. Zelda was glad for that; if he was angry, not hurt, she didn't have to deal with such a guilty conscience.

Once they'd mounted the stage, Zelda proudly held their joined hands up high, smiling her most winning smile at the audience. Never one to shy from her people, she was all the more determined to pass off their relationship.

It seemed Link was up for the challenge, because a smile appeared on his face.

It was forced, pained even, but none save for the first row could see clearly enough to notice—and most weren't paying as much attention to their expressions as their hands held tight.

"Welcome!" Zelda said, raising her voice above the roar of the crowd. As they quieted, she smiled all the more earnestly, hoping to give a good show if just to distract her conscience. "As I'm sure you know, this day marks the one year anniversary of Hyrule's victory!" Another roar of applause. "A year since the eradication of the evil that plagued this land!" A louder roar. "A year since my husband defeated Ganondorf!" The loudest applause yet. Zelda felt Link tense up at being called out so specifically, but Zelda wasn't backing down.

"It was a long journey for him. A quest just as demanding, just as painful as those of the Heroes of Old. Though their names were lost to History, their deeds kept Hyrule standing till even today. And Link proudly continues that tradition." She raised their joined hands to her lips, placing a gentle kiss against her husband's knuckles. A flicker of a wince passed his features, but Zelda ignored it and kept on, keeping their hands joined as she continued their speech. "I am proud to say that even since his success, even since his return, he has not stopped aiding Hyrule. As many of you know, he's been training our armies to be stronger, so that if evil ever rises again, we will be more prepared to face it."

The crowd practically rioted; their applause roared, their voices and chants loud and clear. Zelda took the opportunity to survey Link's reaction out of the corner of her eye. Somewhere between when she'd started talking and now, he'd removed his cap and had started fidgeting with the collar of his undershirt. His body language alone marked him as uncomfortable.

Before the crowd quieted, she leaned over and whispered in his ear. "You need to relax."

Link squeezed his eyes shut, voice strained when he replied, "Finish this quickly and I might be able to."

"Are you admitting defeat so easily? I thought you held the Triforce of Courage," she sniped. And goddesses, it was cruel and she knew it. Perhaps it was through the guilt of such a vindictive statement that she strayed from mentioning her husband in her next segment.

"Guests! Honored citizens!" she began when the crowd quieted once more. "You know that this festival is meant to honor not just my husband and our beloved hero, but all of you. Since the rise of Ganondorf, this land learned pain and suffering in a way it hadn't known it for centuries. We saw death, we saw destruction—hundreds died in his initial takeover, thousands in the aftermath. This festival is meant to be an honor to the dead, but a thanksgiving for the living. A festival of gratitude—gratitude that we were able to aide our friends and families in what ways we could. Gratitude that we could honor our ancestors by continuing to work the soil that they claimed so long ago. Gratitude that we lasted long enough to see victory in our own time."

Cheers started to break out again, and after a moment, Zelda waved a hand to call for silence. "That being said," she continued, "Some personal honors are to be awarded this day—and we are grateful that the recipients are still among us. We are grateful not just for our own survival, but for the sacrifices some have made in order to keep us alive." She paused for effect, then bowed her head. "The seven sages, called to protect their people, and the Sacred Realm. We wish to honor them."

Zelda bowed her head, then slowly rose to her full height. "Come forth, Sage of Light, Oara." An older man came forward, hair white from age and stress. Zelda watched with a smile, but from the corner of her eye, she watched Link's shoulders square just a bit more. Once the man arrived, she pinned the Hyrulian crest over his heart. "For your services to our kingdom. It cannot make up for the sacrifices you have made, and your time spent locked away by Ganondorf, but we want to honor you nonetheless." He saluted at her, bowed to the people then went off to the side, forming the first in a line of Sages across the stage.

Zelda kept her smile bright on her face. "Come forth, Sage of Fire, Ederos." Link's posture strained and tensed as the tall, stocky man came through the crowd. There was something about the way he held himself and the pride in his smile that reminded Zelda of the long extinct Goron tribe. She wondered at his story more-so than the others; had he been of aide to Link? She couldn't imagine that a man that looked so strong would have simply tagged along after being free. Someday, she'd have to ask. But she couldn't right now; not when Link was trying so hard to be strong, and so stubbornly refused to share any details of his journey with her. As with Oara, she pinned a triangular medal to his outer clothes. "For your service to our kingdom. This medal represents the valor you expressed when you stood by your people and didn't give in to Ganondorf's oppression, even when you were made a captive. It cannot replace the pain they may have caused you, but I want you to know that Hyrule recognizes your strength." With that, he nodded, saluted, bowed at the crowd and joined Oara in the line.

"Come forth, Sage of Spirit, Terene." A woman with long, dark hair and tanned skin crossed the crowd, mischief in her eyes as she winked at Hyrule's Hero. Zelda could only imagine why she seemed so flirtatious, if Link had been as stoic and duty oriented when he'd saved her as he was now. To the audience, it might have seemed that her obvious flirtation was the reason for him tugging on his collar, but Zelda knew he was simply getting more and more uncomfortable. But the ceremony wasn't even half over, and unless he had an extreme reaction, she couldn't see herself prematurely ending the ceremony. However, her guilt was increasing, and she half fumbled with her speech while she pinned the medal to Terene's dress. "For—for your services to our kingdom. As with everyone, we cannot give you back the time you spent held captive by Ganondorf, but we honor your bravery—and in your case, for bravely assisting the Hero after he freed you. You have my sincerest gratitude."

The sages after Terene seemed to blur together. Another medal, another speech, another heartfelt declaration that Hyrule honored them beyond measure for the ways they had aided their kingdom. In the end, though, Zelda started to focus more on Link's increasing anxiety than the ceremony itself.

"Come forth, Sage of Water, Larenna." A sheen of sweat appeared on Link's forehead; he wiped it with his arm and tried to ignore it. "Come forth, Sage of Shadow, Medre." Link's eyes squeezed shut for a moment before he composed himself enough to keep watching. Zelda wondered if he felt like he was watching a disaster and just couldn't bring himself to look away. "Come forth, Sage of Forest, Machi." His breathing quickened, pulse speeding with it. The memory of that dungeon must have been freshest, given the earlier story; Zelda couldn't blame him for his panic. "Come forth, Sage of Time, Edina." A tremor in his hands that he disguised by crossing his arms behind his back. He was shaking, then. Zelda knew she had to wrap this up quickly.

But it was over—mostly over—and they could go home soon. Link wouldn't have to endure too much more of this. She tried to communicate with her eyes, 'I'm sorry, I shouldn't have pushed you, it's almost over, I'll hurry this,' but Link only seemed to be present physically, his mind miles away.

Zelda found she didn't even care if the audience noticed. She just wanted Link to be alright.

"And finally, to conclude our medal bearing ceremony, we have a special honor to give our Hero of Honor, Link." She gestured for him to kneel, and though it took a moment for the task to connect, Link lowered himself onto the ground. Zelda hoped no one noticed how much his knees were shaking. "To our new King and a Warrior that will live on through time, I present…"

"A kiss!" someone heckled from the audience.

Link's sudden stiff posture didn't go unnoticed, so Zelda was quick to smile at the audience and laugh it off. "I present his crown, and an arming worthy of his title," she said, tone gracious as ever. Zelda carefully picked up the crown from the table, gently placing it atop her husband's head—no hat removal needed, as he'd taken it off mere minutes into the ceremony.

Link kept his head bowed, but there was a trembling in his shoulders, and Zelda knew she needed to speed this along before he became too overwhelmed. She discovered, a bit too late, that her anger had faded into nothing. Instead, shame let her realize just how cruel she'd acted earlier.

If her hands shook as she took hold of the gold-encrusted sword, no one seemed to notice. She tapped each shoulder once, twice, three times, before finally holding the sword with palms flat under the sheath, offering it as a gift.

When Link rose, it was onto shaky legs and with a smile that simply wouldn't go past his lips.

"I, Zelda, Queen of Hyrule, pronounce Link of the Forest Tribe," she paused for effect, "A Hero of Hyrule."

As the crowd erupted into cheers, a chant rose with it.

"Kiss! Kiss!" they repeated, over and over. Zelda supposed it was better than them demanding to ask questions of them about up-in-the-air parts of Link's adventure, but it was still far too much to ask when Link was already so overwhelmed.

Zelda smiled serenely at the audience and stepped away from her husband to speak.

"The festival has been a treat for us all," she said, tone firm and conclusive as she ignored the audience's heckling. There were a few sighs of disappointment among the crowd, but Zelda pressed on, clearly on her way to ending the ceremony. "And perhaps it will return on our five-year anniversary of Ganondorf's defeat. Until then, we shall strive to maintain honor, to fight for our friends and for ourselves, to keep on a tradition of courage and valor—much like our Hero of Hyrule. Peace be with you."

With that, she spread her arms and bowed her head, the traditional queen's pose. Scattered applause broke out throughout the crowd, then grew to a dull roar as the audience grudgingly accepted that the ceremony was finished.

And then, at the height of applause, the curtain dropped.

Link couldn't get away fast enough.

As if in slow motion, the crown and sword that had been crafted so intricately clattered to the ground, and by the time Zelda had gathered them up, Link was long gone.

The stage itself was small, but it was built over the top of a secret tunnel. As far as Zelda knew, they'd put the stage here to keep children from wandering into the mines, but it seemed to have provided an easy getaway for Hyrule's newest hero of legend. Zelda sighed, picked up her skirts and Link's fallen items, then followed.

Between carrying Link's discarded items and having to hold her skirt to ensure that she wouldn't get caught on anything, Zelda wasn't having an easy time of it. After a half-hour, an hour, an hour and a half of searching, she was starting to think that she'd never find her husband.

The enclosed space was bad enough—damn her captivity—but the notion that she'd never find Link, that she'd be unable to help him, was all too familiar to her. It wasn't until she reached up to wipe her face and pulled away with wet mascara that she even realized she'd started crying.

"Pathetic," she muttered, wiping underneath her eyes again. She wiped the black smudge on her dress, no longer concerned with keeping it tidy. She had half a mind to tear off her skirts so she could search easier—and perhaps if she did, she could just carry the crown and sword in a sling.

Before she could, though, she heard a sharp gasp from nearby. –Had Link heard her voice? She wiped her eyes again, trying not to groan because of course, of course that would be what he heard, her saying 'pathetic.' He wouldn't know the context, wouldn't know that she was talking about herself. It was hard not to feel irritated, but she was such a mess of emotions inside her right now that it only felt right to add yet another to the mix.

She took a deep breath to try to get herself under control again.

"…Link?" she called. She got no response, but she wasn't really expecting one. Still, she was certain she was in the right area now. "Link… It's just me," she said softly. "I've been looking for you. Please come out. I just want to talk."

There was yet again no response. As Zelda turned from corner to corner and Link was nowhere to be found, she was staring to lose hope.

She was just about to admit defeat and say that if he was so against talking to her then she'd just go ahead to the castle, when she heard it.

Another gasp, this one softer, but more distressed—as if it was something that wasn't meant to have gotten out.

It was closer now, just to her left. Zelda furrowed her brow in confusion—there was no way he was there, she'd already looked in this room—but found a small space wedged between walls, just big enough for a person to fit if they were thin enough.

"Link…?" she asked, leaning closer to the space.

A few beams of wood slotted the opening, functioning as a door of sorts. It must have been able to open from the outside somehow, but Zelda didn't see any sort of handle. It made the perfect hiding spot.

Sure enough, when Zelda leaned over to inspect it, Link was waiting inside.

(Zelda tried not to wince at how small the cell was, how cramped he must have been.)

Once he saw her, though, he hurried back further into the wall, presumably until he hit a dead-end. The unrest on his face, though, was what really startled her. He looked downright afraid of her, afraid of even being around her.

Zelda was suddenly quite sure that, though she'd never known true heartbreak before, this was what it felt like.

"Link," she called softly, voice cracking half through his name. "You don't need to hide from me. I'm—I'm sorry if I'm intruding. I should have—I should have… If you really want me to go, I will, but…" She closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths to steady herself. "I didn't think you'd be this shaken up about—about what happened. I came to apologize."

Link said nothing, just staring at her. There wasn't much light to be found inside—only the light that filtered through the slots—but she could see the whites of his eyes, see how panicked he looked even an hour after the show.

He didn't have to say a word for Zelda to realize just how badly she'd messed up.

"I'm sorry," she started, coming closer to the door and pressing her palms against it. "I'm so sorry, Link. I don't mean what I said before—I don't even think I meant it then. I don't know why I got so angry. You deserve so much better than that, Link."

He still didn't say a word. Zelda took that to mean she had much more to apologize for. And she did—she knew she did—but she just wished she could know that Link was listening, could know if he even accepted her apology so far.

But whether he accepted it or not, she knew she needed to apologize.

So she closed her eyes—she couldn't bear looking at him right then—and continued.

"I don't know what you've been through. I wish I did, you know I do, but I don't know what you've been through. I should've been okay with that, Link, I really should've. The rest of the kingdom knows even less than I do about your adventure, so I should feel privileged to even know what I do. But I thought…" She sighed through her nose, counting to five before feeling composed enough to continue. "I thought you would want to tell me, eventually. That you might get better if you did. But I shouldn't have pushed you. You're right. It was completely wrong to—to have just then pieced a few things together about your health, then immediately pressed for details. I'm sorry.

"And I'm sorry that I didn't figure it out sooner. I should have. I really should have. I thought—for the longest time, I thought that you just weren't a very touchy person. That you wanted to save sex till we were married. I was fine with that, honest. But then—then we actually got married, and… and you still wouldn't." Ashamed, she looked away. "It was… it was only then that I started piecing together other things, but… It wasn't until you had a real panic that night that I realized it was something that might have been big, especially since you'd react so strongly even to small things. I'm sorry, Link. I should have realized."

Her voice softened towards the end, practically pleading with him. Finally she pulled her face away from the door, pulled her hands free, and said, "I understand if you won't accept my apology. There's no reason you should. I've pushed you so much. There's no excuse for it. But I just… I want you to know that I'm sorry."

Zelda was quiet for a while, waiting for a response, but when she heard silence for too long, she straightened up and turned away from the door.

If Link didn't want to accept her apology, he almost certainly didn't want to see her. She'd just have to respect that. So without a word, she bowed a nod to him, then started to leave.

"Wait."

Zelda stopped.

Not daring to turn her head, she simply responded with a quiet, "Yes?"

She could hear Link sigh, could practically hear his indecision. Then, she heard the door open with a creak. Not daring to hope, she was slow in turning, not daring to hope that Link had followed.

It was right that she hadn't hoped, though. Instead of following, it seemed Link was waiting inside the hollowed section of the wall for her to join him.

"You—do you, do you need help getting out?" she asked, hesitantly approaching her husband. "I can help pull you, if that's okay with you?"

"No, I don't need help getting out." Link watched her for a moment, a small smile working its way onto his face. "Thanks for asking, though. Sweet of you." Noticing that she still hadn't come inside, he scooted closer to the far side, inviting her to share the space with him. "I—you like me to be close to you, right? I figured… This might be a good way to help me get used to someone being close. I used tiny places like this a lot, you know. For hiding spots. They were some of the only places I could count on, because most of my enemies couldn't fit in little areas like this."

That explained a lot. Maybe that was why she'd never been able to find him after most of his panic responses; he must have hidden in tiny areas like these, and she'd never bothered to look. It also explained why she'd found him in that tiny shed the evening after he'd accidentally attacked her.

"I see," she said, still not stepping inside. "I—I appreciate the offer, but you don't have to force yourself, Link. Really. Even if you're not outwardly affectionate… even if you're never outwardly affectionate, it's fine. You don't have to change anything about yourself for me. I love you, and you love me—that's enough, isn't it?"

For the first time all day, she saw a real, genuine smile on his face. Not a show-smile, or a timid smile that was there to keep from showing what he was really feeling. Zelda sighed with relief. She'd missed that smile more than she cared to admit.

"Now come on out of there, Link. Let's get home, okay?" She offered a hand to him, hoping she could help pull him out. To her surprise, though, she was suddenly pulled in. Her eyes widened for a split second before she forced them shut, trying to blot out the narrow walls around her. But it was already too late; she knew she was inside, and no amount of closed eyes would keep her brain from remembering that little detail until she was out of there.

After a few seconds of staying absolutely still, frozen in the tiny cell, she felt hands on her shoulders.

"Zelda?" Link said softly. "Hey, it's just a little dusty in here, that's all. You get some in your eye?"

She mentally cursed but tried to keep a level head. He'd offered a perfect cover, so Zelda slowly blinked her eyes open, faking dust in her eye as best she could. However, even short looks were enough to make her wish she'd kept her eyes shut. The cell was just as narrow as she thought—if Link was any bigger, if she were any bigger, they wouldn't have been able to fit here at all. If the walls were even a little narrower…

"No, I'm fine. Just the dust, promise," she said quickly. "But right, you saw, I fit, we're in here—we can get back home soon, can't we?"

"Zelda, you just got in here with me. You don't have to be scared of me, I'm not mad at you anymore, alright?" He cupped her cheek, his thumb tracing over the soft skin. "…Really, Zel. I'm not."

Zelda tried for a smile, because goddesses, he hadn't touched her so affectionately in what felt like forever. But she couldn't really enjoy it right now—not while she was in this tiny sliver of a cell. So she distracted herself with puzzles, pieces falling together. If Link felt comfortable in places like this—comfortable enough for him to be physically affectionate—then clearly there was something important about these. That would require investigation, prompting. Zelda took a deep breath and steadied her voice. "You… you must really like it in here, don't you?" she said, voice wavering as she focused the topic back on him. "You feel… safer, in places like this? Do you think it might help long-term if you visited these whenever you needed to unwind?"

Link nodded, keeping his hand right where it was. Zelda wished she could press herself close to him, just this once—but this time, only to make them a smaller object together. To make them take up less room in this place. "Maybe," Link was saying, voice distant to Zelda's ears. "I used to hide in closets and broom cupboards back when it was really bad, just coming back from everything. Used to take my sword and shield and just find the smallest place possible to fit into, then stay there till I felt ready to come out. I stopped doing it when we got married, 'cause I didn't think you'd appreciate having me run off like that. Maybe I should've just done it anyways…"

His voice was soothing, and had he kept talking, Zelda might have slowly started to feel better. But once he trailed off, his voice didn't pick back up, and she felt her heartrate starting to elevate. Link's hand was still cupping her cheek, and his ring and pinky fingers rested just under her jaw, right where her pulse-point was located. Zelda squeezed her eyes shut and prayed he wouldn't notice. "I'd like to get back to the castle, Link," she said, voice a little more breathy this time around. "You don't know how confining corsets are, you know. I've wanted to take this off all day."

"Then take it off, Zel. You know I don't mind." He smiled at her, then reached around and started unlacing it for her. "You don't need to wear something that confining around me. You've got a great shape anyways, I dunno why you wear them."

"It's just—it's tradition," she mumbled, realizing all too late that one of her last excuses had left her. The corset fell to the floor, no doubt collecting dust, and Zelda tried to steady her breathing so she wouldn't get any more worked up. "You're sure you're feeling better?"

Link nodded, and, as if to prove it, he wrapped his free hand around her waist and pulled her closer. "I don't think I've felt this good in a long while, actually. No one can find me here, nothing could possibly attack me here, and I've got the person I love right next to me."

At least Link wouldn't be able to see her face, now that she was pressed so close to him. "That's good. I'm—I'm glad you found something that worked. How… how long do you want to stay here?"

"As long as you want," he said, and she could practically hear the smile in his voice. Before she could protest—or say anything, really—he continued. "I know you said you'd love me whether or not I was affectionate, but… It's not like I used to be that sensitive to touch, Zel."

"You… didn't?" Zelda asked, trying to keep her voice calm. "But, I thought—"

"No harm done," he interrupted, then gave her a quick peck on the cheek. Zelda treasured it away, thoroughly distracted from the walls around her if just for a second. "I wasn't the clingiest person in the world, no, but I liked hugs. So there is something that needs to be fixed, you know? So I… I want to be able to give you the affection you need where I can. And if it means we can only be affectionate in places like this for a while, then so be it. I'll work myself up to being able to be affectionate with you anywhere." She felt more than saw him cross his heart. "Hero's honor."

The thought of willingly stepping into such a narrow place ever again twisted her stomach, but she kept the smile on her face. "Really?" she asked, leaning back just enough to see his face. Oh, goddesses, bad idea—she nearly bumped her head on the narrow surface, and now she could see the walls again. She spoke quickly to keep him from noticing the split-second of panic that had etched into her features before she could mask them with another smile. "You don't have to, honest. I'd be happy even if we never—even if we never were affectionate again. But… if it really is a problem, and you want to fix it, then I'd be glad to support you."

Nayru, that sounded rehearsed. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, realizing too late that she was being obvious again.

Link came close to her again, now trapping her against the already narrow walls. "Hey, Zel—are you alright? You look kind of pale…"

"Fine," Zelda said quickly. "But I think it's been a while since I ate last, maybe that's it. We could grab something at the castle, if that's alright with you?" The last bit came out a bit harsh, but after his quick retaliation against any suggestion of leaving she came up with, it was with near panic that she was suggesting this one.

A frown settled onto Link's face for a moment as he studied her—her tense posture, the way she was avoiding looking around, how startled she'd been when she was first pulled in. Suddenly, it dawned on him. "You're claustrophobic?"

"I just want to get out of here, please, Link, I just need to get out. I'm sorry, this was about me apologizing to you, you didn't need to find out, I'm sorry I didn't just leave this cell earlier but—"

"Cell?" Link furrowed his brows. "Zelda, this was where they used to store mining supplies. It's not a cell. That'd just be cruel, to keep someone in such a narrow space. Not even enough room to lie down." Zelda set her jaw, and comprehension dawned on him once more. "…Let's get you out of here, okay?"

He was closest to the door, and there was only room enough for one to move at a time, so Link carefully edged out and pushed the door wide open for her.

She nearly hit her head she edged out so fast, but Link pulled her against him and held her there for just a moment before releasing her. "I've got you," he assured her, letting her get reacquainted with open air. "Sorry for not catching on sooner."

Zelda smiled nervously, tucking a strand of hair behind her ears. "No, it's not your fault. I never mentioned it, you never asked… it's fine."

Link nodded, then seemed to brace himself before offering her a hand. "It was dark in there, but I really thought I knew you better than that. I should've figured it out."

Zelda looked at his hand for a moment, unsure whether or not to take it. "Are you sure? Because we don't have to, you know." Her nervous smile turning mischievous, she pulled out her handkerchief and held it out for her husband. "I mean, we always have this, if you'd prefer that."

Link laughed—really laughed—and Zelda found that it was contagious. She couldn't help but feel good, like she had truly gotten Link back—and that they could overcome their problems together, bit by bit, till there was nothing holding them back from loving each other the way they wanted to.

As they walked from the mines together, hands separated only by a few inches of embroidered cloth, Zelda couldn't help but think that they were already on their way.