The first few days were awful.

Zelda had spent a lot of time envisioning her eventual release from Hyrule Castle, but none of her conjured fantasies had included the almost suffocating weight of awkwardness that now encompassed them. The rational part of her brain regularly asked her what else she could have expected. They had been apart for more than a century, and he still had very little grasp on his own identity apart from being Hyrule's Champion. Of course things were going to be strange between them.

But that did not mean she had to like it.

Zelda was a stubborn girl. If she wanted something, she would get it, no matter how many brick walls she had to flatten or people she had to tell off. It was this stubbornness that had eventually forced Link to open his mouth and really speak to her beyond one-word answers, grunts of acknowledgement, or a subdued "Yes, milady." She had been understandably proud of herself when she made him speak to her in complete sentences. Having that taken away, even if it was from perfectly understandable circumstances, did not sit well with her.

But what was she supposed to do? It was not as though she could sit him down and royally command him to be friends with her again. And if she started smothering him with affection and overt friendliness, she would probably scare him. She still distinctly and painfully remembered the first time she ever gave him a hug. He had given her a potted Silent Princess. How he managed to tame it and keep the stubborn thing alive was beyond her, but he had managed it somehow, and bashfully handed the softly glowing plant to her on the morning after her father had forbade her from studying the Guardians further. It was not much, but it was all he could do within the realm of propriety. In a fit of ecstatic gratitude, Zelda grabbed his shoulders, yanked him flush against her, and squeezed him like a pillow. He actually yelped, like a frightened puppy, and flailed around for several seconds, clearly uncomfortable, before she gathered enough sense to let him go. He religiously kept a distance of at least six feet between the two of them for several days afterward. Needless to say, Zelda had learned her lesson: Link did not care for overt displays of affection.

He also definitely did not care to talk about his feelings. Getting him to admit the reason for his borderline muteness was the closest she had ever gotten to gleaning any real personal information from him. He was slightly more conversational with her afterwards, even offering a half of a smile every now and then (which was a significant improvement from his usual, cold, and professional facade), but he never spoke about himself again. She had wanted him to, and she got the feeling he knew she wanted him to, but he still refused to open up, all the way up until their one-hundred-year separation.

So that left her without any options. The awkwardness between them remained, stale and unwelcome, but still going strong nonetheless. What was worse was that every inch of ground she had covered to get closer to him before had gone back to uncharted territory again. She had not seen his adorable, lopsided, barely perceptible upturning of the left corner of his mouth that was his version of a smile since the day they had defeated the Calamity. He was as distant and professional as ever, and what made it worse was the fact that there really was not anything to keep them apart anymore. Hyrule was in shambles, very few people even knew Zelda was a princess, even fewer knew Link's role in saving the realm, and no one was keeping an overly-critical eye trained on the two of them at all times. Link had already fulfilled his role. Presumably, he should have no reason to be so stiff and militaristic around her.

It also confused her to no end, because although their relationship status as Princess and Knight was now completely dissolved, Link had never seemed to consider leaving her. It hadn't occurred to her until after they reached Zora's Domain, but he technically no longer had any obligation to stay with her. At least, there was no one around who could stop him from abandoning her. And with the way he kept her back at arm's length all the time, one would have thought that was exactly what he would want to do. But no; he continued to doggedly follow her all over the kingdom, always on the watch for danger, and always mindful of her physical needs, especially since that was something she often forgot to be mindful of while in the midst of her travels and studies.

All of this was bubbling and churning like a vat of dubious stew in Zelda's mind as she lay on the Deluxe bed prepared for her at the Domain Inn. She knew it was late, but she could not sleep. Not only was she worried about restoring Royal connections with Dorephan and Sidon, and figuring out how to get Vah Ruta up and running again, but she also had the issue of her stagnant relationship with Link to ponder. She turned over for the umpteenth time and stared at the bed across the room, which was of course, empty. Link had been acting as vigilant sentry ever since she had first gone to bed. She had hoped his exhaustion would catch up with him at some point, and she could surreptitiously move him back into his bed with the aid of an attendant. Now, at two-thirty-five in the morning, he was still sitting in the doorway, legs crossed and sword across his lap, tirelessly watching the water cascade from a fountain outside.

"You know you don't have to do that anymore, right?" Zelda heard herself say before she could stop herself. She immediately regretted it, because he visibly jumped and turned wide, confused eyes on her as his hand gripped the hilt of the Master Sword a bit tighter. She hated that the sound of her voice always seemed to startle him now. It did not used to be like that. She used to ramble on for hours about her latest scientific findings, and he would listen to her with an amused glint in his eyes as he polished weapons or practiced swordplay. It sent a tight sensation flashing through her chest when she realized just how long he had been all alone. Of course he would not be used to people addressing him out of the blue.

"There's nothing out there," she continued in spite of herself. "Everyone's safe, thanks to you. You can go to bed." Her voice was weary, as though this were the dozenth time she were telling him this. And with a jerk in her stomach, she realized that it was. He used to balk at sleeping while he was on duty all the time. She actually could not count the number of times she had ordered him to leave her and get some rest.

"M'fine," he grunted, looking back at the fountain. She waited, hoping he would say more, but of course, he did not.

"I didn't ask how you were," she said a little hotly, because honestly, she already knew how he was, and was very unhappy with the state of things. "I told you to stop worrying."

"You don't," Link shot back unexpectedly, still not looking at her. She was too startled to say anything, and was even more startled when he continued a moment later. "You still dream about him, worry that he'll come back. You check every shadow on our path to make sure it's not a remnant of his Malice that could spread and corrupt the rest of Hyrule." Apparently, he did understand that their relationship was no longer fettered by the expectations of their societal roles. He never would have called her out on such behavior before.

"How do you-"

"You know, you scream at night," he said softly, effectively cutting off whatever she had been about to say. "I don't think you realize it, but everyone who listens can hear you fighting him in your sleep." It was not quite an admonishment. He said it more like it was an idle observation. But it sent a lightning bolt of shame through her body all the same. Princesses were not supposed to be phased by a little trauma. At least, nobody was supposed to know they were. "I can't sleep as long as I know you're still fighting. So I may as well keep watch."

And that was that. He said nothing more, and did not look to her for a response. His tone of voice was still very factual, devoid of emotion, exactly the way a knight should be. She wished he had yelled at her instead. She hated that he never seemed to resent her, even after the horrible way she treated him before. She hated that he never called out her faults, while everyone else was more than happy to do so expediently. She hated that he never demanded the best from her, but simply accepted her the way she was. He should have despised her. She was a failure. She was slow. But here he was, calmly accepting that he was not going to sleep tonight because she was scared, and he did not even have the humanity to be irritated by it. She would have welcomed it from anyone else, but not from him. He was the embodiment of everything she was supposed to be; the perfect specimen. She wanted him to respect her for a reason, not just tolerate her because she was a princess. Out of everyone in Hyrule, he was the one she most wanted to prove herself to, and yet he would not let her.

And then a new thought broke through the dreary fog of her mind: What did she have to prove? Hyrule was safe. Calamity Ganon was gone. In Link's darkest hour of need, she had awoken her powers and protected him. They had won. The analytical part of her mind marveled that the thought had not occurred to her before. She would not have dared to accept this reality when she was younger, but after a century of coming to terms with her own limits, it was surprisingly easy.

Bearing that in mind, she found herself getting out of bed, crossing the room, and sitting down next to him, careful not to touch him right away, as she noticed he was warily watching her out of the corner of his eye. They sat like that for a minute, neither one of them moving or speaking. Carefully, delicately, as though he were one of her beloved Silent Princesses and could easily be crushed by her weight, she leaned against him. She felt him stiffen, but it was a mild reaction compared to when she had first hugged him all those years ago.

"I feel better with you," she murmured. He shifted, but did not try to move away. "I can deal with the nightmares because I wake up every morning and see you near me, alive and unhurt, and we can get up and explore Hyrule together. You don't need to stay awake to make things better. You already do." She felt him relax a little, and a ghost of a sigh passed his lips.

"I don't like it when you scream," he admitted quietly. It was a shock to hear. This was the first time in countless years that he had actually revealed something about himself to her. In her mind, victory trumpets were blowing and she was patting herself on the back for a job well done. But she contained herself for his sake.

"I'm sorry," she said simply.

"Don't." he demanded sharply and suddenly. She pulled back and looked at him in surprise. "Don't apologize," he elaborated, still refusing to meet her gaze. "You apologize all the time for things you can't help, and I hate it." Another personal revelation. Zelda was almost beaming with triumph.

"Sorry," she said again, hoping to get another reaction. He finally looked at her with narrowed eyes, and she could not help breaking character and laughing. To her utmost joy, the corner of his mouth tipped up just a little bit at the sound. "How about we make a deal," she suggested after she had calmed. She waited for him to turn attentive blue eyes towards her, as though he was waiting for an order. "I'll do my best to stop apologizing for things I can't control, if you'll get some sleep. And if I start screaming again, you have my permission to wake me up. In fact, I'd much rather you did that anyways."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive."

Still somewhat reluctantly, Link nodded and stood up, before helping her to her feet. They both stretched and yawned, the reality of what time it was finally settling in and calling both of them to bed. Link waited until she had properly tucked herself in before retiring to his bed. He kept the Master Sword on a table nearby, but other than that, he looked blessedly peaceful for once.

"Goodnight, Link," Zelda said quietly. There was a beat of silence, and then, another surprise.

"Goodnight...Zelda."

Finally, they were making some progress.