game: Spirit Tracks.
summary: S
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Link hates the Snow Realm.
Zelda realized it the first time they were here more than a year ago, trying to restore the fragmented Tower of Spirits. It was worse then, she remembers; between the howling blizzards and the horrifying insect-monster that kept chasing them, it was a miserable place to be. As a spirit, she didn't have to suffer the cold then, but Link did.
Now, she is beginning to understand his irritation. Alfonzo—unbothered by the weather, apparently—is conducting the train for now, and Zelda huddles next to Link, leaning against a crate in front of the firebox, trying to hide from the cold that seems to pierce through the train's walls, through her thick winter cloak and into her bones.
"Spirits," Link gets out through his chattering teeth. "I'd give anything to be home."
"Even the Fire Realm seems cozy right now," she agrees, shoving her hands into the folds of her cloak. At the train's front, Alfonzo is humming some bawdy bar song, and Zelda squints through the window at the snow-covered hills that roll past them, frowning distastefully.
"The next time the Anouki need help, you should send Teacher," Link tells her.
Zelda gives an unladylike snort that her handmaidens would hate, imagining her tired old mentor resolving petty neighborhood squabbles. This trip is not really necessary, but it will frustrate the snotty lords and ladies on her council to no end, which is reason enough. They'll tell her that she is fourteen now and a true queen; too important to bother with such tiny problems. Zelda doesn't think any problem is too small for a queen to solve—Link was the one who taught her that.
She watches him get to his feet, stiff and shivering, to open the firebox and shovel in a few loads of coal. Heat watches over her momentarily, and Zelda relishes it, letting the air sweep over her, blowing loose strands of hair away from her face. But then Link slams the door shut, and cold comes creeping in again, making them both sigh in disappointment.
"I'm still glad," Link says hesitantly, looking at her from under his shaggy blond bangs. "You've been so busy. We haven't gotten to travel together since the…" He leaves the sentence unfinished, but Zelda knows the rest—since the day we killed Malladus.
It is not a day that either of them remember fondly, despite the victory; they lost Anjean and Byrne and all the Lokomo. And there are other things that still wake Zelda up in the middle of the night; the way Malladus screamed as they dealt the final blow, the sight of a demon staring through Zelda with her own eyes, the injuries that nearly killed Link.
"I miss the Spirit Train," she admits, listening to the engine's clunking and banging. The Spirit Train was always quiet and smooth, and all the home the two of them had for a time. "But it's good to be out of the castle."
Link mumbles his agreement, his breath making clouds in the air. Zelda unclasps her cloak and drapes it over them both, edging closer to him to share his warmth. Link's head tilts to the side, and she realizes he's dozed off. She thinks of the nights she spent awake when they were here last winter, of how he'd curled up in the dark passenger car and shivered until morning—trapped as a spirit, she was never able to help him. Zelda grimaces at the memory and pulls the cloak more tightly around Link's shoulders.
"It's good to be with you, too," she whispers by the light of the fire.
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