a/n; probably my favorite chapter to write so far, not gonna lie. i may also bump up the rating, just to give me some room to be naughtier and more hormonal. hope you all enjoy and happy reading!

xi. In which Zelda teaches Link how to dance

"I love salmon," little Kheel states, sitting poised and ready to launch her beak into the pond. "My favorite meal is salmon meuniere. Have you ever tried it?"

Zelda sits beside her, watching the salmon dart, then relax, then dart again.

"I haven't," she says, distracting herself by watching Kheel. Zelda knows her time is limited. Even now, she's not sure Link heeded her words. He may be hiding behind a rock for all she knows, or perhaps watching her from above on a cliff or treetop.

"Oh, you need to, miss!" Kheel exclaims. "It's so delicious and wonderful, and it'll cure whatever ails you!"

I highly doubt that, she thinks wryly.

"Maybe I'll try it before I leave."

"You must!" Kheel says, before she dives into the pond. Zelda observes as Kheel struggles to grab a fish, chasing it around until she comes up for air. Exhausted, she floats along the surface of the water. "Foo," she mumbles.

Zelda aches to join her—to float along the water and away, sinking into the depths of the cool pond and hiding forever. She's being childish and cowardly, but she lets herself be selfish for this moment of time because that's all she's going to get before marching into confrontation. She wishes she could have confessed on her own time, with her own courage. It's still too soon, she thinks. He still needs to recover more of himself, to know himself. There are so many pieces missing. It's selfish of her to place the burden of her love upon him so presently.

He heard the song before, a part of her mind reminds her. He knew this whole time.

Still, another part of her argues. It doesn't matter. It should not be a concern to him.

But it's difficult to ignore it, in all aspects. It's such a vital part to the story. She huffs, bringing her knees up to her chest. She imagines how the conversation will go.

Please, don't concern yourself about the song, Link. It just so happens that my love for you saved the entire world. It's no big deal.

Kheel tries a few more times to grab the salmon before she glances up into the air. She squeaks. "Oh, it's starting!" she says, coming out of the pond and flicking the water off her feathers in a quick shake.

Zelda looks around and, seeing nothing out of the ordinary, asks, "What's starting?"

Kheel is already halfway up the bridge toward the village. "The celebration!" She continues running, and she's out of sight before Zelda can ask anything else.

"Celebration?" she says, looking towards the village. She glances up to one of the fly platforms, but the angle makes it hard to distinguish any of the figures present. She doesn't see anyone around the lower levels of the village, either.

The music filters down, hitting her ears, first. The echo of conversations follow, leading into long shadows of Rito flying above her. She glances up to them, and they fly like they're dancing, in a lackadaisical, rhythmic motion. They loop-de-loop and spiral around each other in pairs or singles. The actions are joyful and happy, carefree against the falling sun.

She hears his boots before he fully crosses the bridge to the landmass. A weighty sigh leaves her body, and she resigns herself to what may be a hopelessly awkward and broken friendship.

Don't be so dramatic, she thinks, but a bundle of nerves flutter up her stomach nonetheless.

"There you are," he says. His tone is…upbeat and genial. It wouldn't surprise her if he tries to distract her from the obvious. If he does, it will be a sweet mercy on his part.

She stands, threading her fingers together as she manages to look upon his face. He looks for all the world unconcerned. Relaxed. The way she wants him to feel. It almost seems too good to be true, so Zelda doesn't believe any of it.

"A celebration is starting?" she asks, gesturing above them.

Link nods. "Since Calamity was vanquished, they celebrate every evening beginning at sunset. Kass leads with music while everyone dances or flies or celebrates in their own way." He motions toward the village. "Would you like to join them? The music is heard much better over here."

It's a wonderful diversion. Zelda glances from Link to the village, and she can see more Rito along the lower levels, now, dancing along to the beat.

"Why not," she says, and Link leads them back to the heart of the Rito Village. Zelda is taken aback by how many Rito are contributing to the celebration. Couples nuzzle their necks, while many others bump into each other in good spirits, laughing and carrying along, some holding mugs full of drink.

"Kass told me you're a great dancer," Link says when they stop in the landing of the main rock of the village. The music is very alive in this location, and it soothes her in a way that only music can.

"I know how to dance, but I won't win any awards," she says.

Link smiles at her. "Who's being modest, now?" he asks, and Zelda only shakes her head at him.

"I was forced into dancing lessons, but it's not like I ever got to use the skills."

"Well, how about today? Right now?" Link takes a step toward her. "I don't think I ever learned, but I'm becoming inspired by the atmosphere." He tips his head. "I want to learn from the best."

Zelda doesn't hide her suspicion. This reeks of an ulterior motive, and she knows the song is fresh in both their minds. But…

But.

Zelda glances up at all of the happy, cheerful, untroubled faces around them, and she thinks, what could it hurt?

"Alright," she says. Link grins at the answer, obviously delighted. "Just try to follow me the best that you can."

"Got it," he says dutifully.

"So, for the general position," she says, coming to stand in front of him. "You'll put this hand on my hip." She takes his right and places it. "I'll put mine on your shoulder. And then we put our free hands together."

There's a wide, manufactured rift between their bodies with Zelda's arm fully stretched out, and she is quite happy with that.

"Kass is playing a waltz," she says, listening. "Do you hear the three-count beat? The one-two-three, one-two-three underneath the main harmony?"

Link takes a moment before he nods.

"What we'll do is follow that beat. When I step forward, you step back, okay?"

"Okay," he says, focusing on their feet.

"So, one," she steps forward, and he follows her back. "Two…three. Just like that, but we keep it continuous."

"Then let's try it," he says. They begin, Link following the beat very well. He catches onto the music quickly, and she doesn't know why she thought it would take him longer than a few minutes to get. It's kind of disgusting how good he is at everything, but it's also very attractive.

"Alright. So, one-two-three, one-two-three…" she says, trailing once they fall into an easy rhythm. "I'm impressed. You haven't stepped on me, once."

"Of course, I haven't," Link says, smiling at her. He occasionally looks to their feet, as if he's concentrating. "Kass played this song all the time when I ran into him during my travels. I've always enjoyed it."

"It's soothing," she agrees. "And lovely. I could listen to him all day."

"Does he play as well as the royal family's bard did?"

Zelda blinks at the question. She reaches far back into her memory for the answer. Eventually, she says, "It's hard to say. They're both wonderful musicians, but they're also both different in the way they strike their notes and how they play. Either way, he would be very proud of Kass."

They continue dancing in silence until Kass's tune takes a slower dive into another song, one Zelda doesn't believe she's heard. It's soothing and romantic, like a dewy balm in the night.

"I can't remember your bard," Link says. "What was he like?"

"Oh," Zelda says, being yet again assaulted by a strange nostalgia—the song Kass plays and the memories of her musician rising to the surface. "He was…kind. Knowledgeable and artistic. He was good company, and someone beside Robbie and Purah to talk with about the guardians and research."

"Was he around often once I became your guardian?"

"No…not often. Sometimes—I think you met him once or twice. We spent most of our time together before you came along, Link," she says.

"Did I like him?"

The question makes Zelda laugh. "Oh, Link, I don't think you cared one way or another about him. You were so severe and unreadable, then. I didn't even think you liked music."

"I must have been very serious if you couldn't tell that."

"You were," she says. "But I'm glad you like it. It's one of the things in life that I take much joy from."

"You've finally danced, too," he says. "Are you enjoying it?"

The dancing has taken a backseat to conversation, and the sun is fully set now, covering them in a haze of torchlight. But the mixture of it all—the movement, music, the intimacy, and the company—is so pleasant, Zelda isn't sure how to describe it.

"Yes," she says, her eye falling to where her hand is placed near his neck. His hand on her hip and her other hand resting in his own are two natural points of heat and distraction, and she has yet to acclimate to it. "I love this very much."

She realizes, after the words have already slipped out of her mouth, how she could not have picked a worse line of words to say. Her tongue shrivels up in her mouth, and she feels her body go stiff. She keeps her eyes in line with her hand on his shoulder, not daring to look at his face.

"Good," Link says, low and gentle, in a way that Zelda deems too low and too gentle. It's as if he doesn't mind her word choice, and his simple affirmation soothes her like one of his horses.

Is he trying to tame me? she thinks abruptly. Then she rolls her eyes at herself. No, Zelda, you're not a wild animal. It's not like you're a skittish deer that's going to run away at the first inquiry of the song—no. Of course not.

But he is leading now, she notes, and she can't for the life of her figure out when that occurred. He's using the deeper tone of voice that's accustomed to calm people down. She's got to admit, however, that his voice is like a blanket—heavy and thick, and it wraps around her in a snug embrace.

Another glance at her hand on his shoulder, and it dawns on her that her elbow has bent, and they're standing half a distance closer. A nervous twinge pinches her stomach, and her heart flutters against it.

Thank Hylia he's wearing his bracer, or he'd feel how clammy and sweaty my hands are, she thinks.

"He's beginning to play my favorite song of his," Link says. The song change is at a significantly lengthier pace. Though it is beautiful, it's…well, it's slow. Zelda tries to let her face persists in a blank and indecipherable state, so that Link remains oblivious to her inner turmoil. She doesn't know why she tries. Her poker face is nonexistent.

"Oh?" she croaks. She clears her throat, peeking up at his face. It is closer than it was before, and Zelda swallows.

Link's expression is serene, his eyes never leaving her face. "We should dance to it properly, don't you think?"

"You mean…slow dancing."

"Yes," he says. "Only if you want to."

Zelda almost gets angry at him for that—leaving it up to her, allowing her to tell him no.

Not as if she will. Even if she feels like she's dying.

"Okay…" she says. "All that changes is that I have both hands on your shoulders," she says, releasing his hand and placing it onto his shoulder, where his tunic immediately dries her sweaty palm. "And you put both hands on my hips. And we sway."

When his hand grips her hip, she feels enclosed and surrounded in an increasingly agreeable way.

"Like this?" he asks her. It's unnecessary. He knows what he's doing. She can see it in the glistening of his eyes against the torchlight, the sheen of warmth lingering in them, and the gentle pull of his hands on her hips, bringing their bodies closer until they almost touch.

It's dangerous, this dance.

"Yes," she says softly. "Like this."

Because they're just about the same height, she can't hide. She can't hide from his stare, or duck her head, or shy away. She gets goosebumps when his breath touches her neck. She shivers when he looks into her, cutting through her. Her heart races, galloping up her throat.

Either it's the melody in the background, or the echo of life around them, or the gentle, chilled breeze that prickles her skin. Perhaps it's none of those things. Instead of hiding away from him, she takes a deep breath and attempts to uncover her most hidden form of courage. She stares back at him, as unabashedly as he does, and she does her best to memorize the lines his face creates in the moonshine and firelight.

Her fingers accidentally brush his neck, and he shudders under her touch. It surprises her—he's so calm and collected, but as she wraps her fingers behind his neck, she can feel how tightly wound he is, the flicker of his skin as tight as a bowstring.

"Zelda," he breathes. "About…about before…"

She fights against every instinct to run away. Instead, she glances down towards his chin and waits for what he'll choose to say.

"I wasn't sure what the words meant," he says. "If it was only something inspiring from the journal of a romantic, well-versed poet, or if—."

"It can be," Zelda says, latching on immediately. "You're right. They're just words to a song. It doesn't have to mean anything if you don't want it to."

Link smiles, but he shakes his head. "No, Zelda. It's always meant something."

The words strike her in a funny way. They make her feel immeasurably sad, filling her up to the edges—because after this, where will they be? Their friendship will be mangled by emotions, overshadowed by their proportions, and things will change forever.

He's all I have, is her first thought. I can run away to Impa, is her second.

"It's easy to ignore," she says, feebly.

He furrows his brows at her. "You want to ignore it?"

She bites the inside of her lip. Yes. No. She doesn't know.

"Oh, Zelda," he says, affectionate and warm. "Don't cry."

She doesn't know that she is until he says it, the one singular tear breaching the barrier of her eye. It falls onto her cheek, and Link lifts a hand to wipe it away with his thumb. His palm remains there, cradling her face with his fingers and the coarsened leather of his bracer. His eyes are a dark, violet blue as he looks at her, and his face is solemn as stone.

"I don't want to ignore it," he says. His thumb grazes her bottom lip. She can't breathe. The intensity of his stare shoots straight into her stomach.

"Link," she whispers. "I…I don't want to burden you with a problem that is mine, alone."

This seems to darken his eyes more. "You've never been, nor ever will be, a burden, Zelda. And your…problem is not a problem."

He shifts closer, tilting her head with his hand. "Okay?" he asks, and it comes out as more of a demand.

She immediately recognizes him—this part of him. It's who she saw frequently before, when everything was dire and stressful, and she felt inadequate and insufficient. It's the same as when he was being protective, the same as when he'd show no expression to any stimulus outside of his duty.

She is suddenly swathed in a rush of emotion, because Link has all of his pieces aligned, built into a similar structure. She sees it. There are variations in the details, sure, and perhaps they're rough around the edges, but he's so whole that Zelda feels lightheaded from the flash of insight.

"Okay," she says, and she means it. She is unafraid now, looking into his eyes, while the ballad plays with soft, lingering notes above them. Their hips bump each other. Her fingers curl around his neck, pulling him nearer until their noses touch.

"Link," she breathes, her voice hitching and the words pouring out of her like an overflow. "I love you."

She erases the half-inch between them, and she kisses him softly. Link kisses her back just as gently, and she thinks this is one of the most divine moments of her life. Her fingers feather into his hair, and his hand on her face twists into hers, cradling her head. The hand on her hip snakes its way behind her back, pushing their bodies until they're flush against one another.

She can almost feel his energy flow through her, his heat, the thrum of his heart, and she knows this like it's history, like it's happened before one million times. It comes in a rush, bombarding her in layer upon layer, and she drinks it all up, saturating her mind and body with him.

Her head tilts automatically, and it becomes different. It becomes more. She feels more of him, this way, and she finds herself pulling on the back of his neck, bringing him impossibly closer. He accommodates for her, gripping her back like that, and nibbling her lower lip just enough. Her mouth opens a little, and the experience builds on itself, because now she can taste him and explore such an intimate part of his body with her own. Her stomach pulls up and up, making her toes curl, giving her the impression of floating, of flying away, and all she can think—all she can do—

She moans.

It startles her so much that she breaks away from him. His lips chase hers until he realizes they've stopped.

"O-oh," she blinks a few times. Link looks very…heady, and his eyes are half-lidded. "I didn't mean to do that," she mumbles, swallowing at his expression.

"I wouldn't mind if you did that all the time," he says, and his voice is gruff and throaty. Zelda's never heard it that way before, and it's like a pleasant punch in the stomach. The nerves in her stomach pull across it like fingers.

"You wouldn't?" she says quietly.

Both of his hands find their way to her hips, except this time, he grips them like handholds. His thumbs press into their points, and she almost moans again. I'm losing my mind, she thinks.

"No," he growls, and he kisses her so thoroughly she forgets her name.

"You've done this before," she states, breathless, when they break apart. She rests her forehead against his.

She's thrilled to see that Link is breathing heavily, too, even though Zelda believed his endurance was somehow unlimited. "I haven't."

"But you're so good at it."

"So are you."

"Maybe it's just the novelty," she says. "Since this is…new."

"I guess we should continue, then. To see if the novelty will wear off."

"Mm," she hums. "I don't want it to wear off."

"Zelda, I don't think it can."

His voice is still thick as he says her name, and she kisses him again. She grips his face, and she has a mad desire to wrap herself around him, climb him like a tree as she had before in the labyrinth. She wants to lure out his innermost, uncontrolled self and unlock the rapture of what lies just underneath the calm surface. The things he'll only show her and her alone.

And the fairies, she thinks unconsciously and, albeit, sarcastically.

"I think you're right," she gasps between kisses.

"I'm glad you turned down your bard."

Zelda tilts her head away from him, looking at him with a slight laugh. "What?"

He brings a hand up, running his fingers through her hair, his thumb following her jawline. "I was jealous. Did you not know?"

She squints at him. "No. Why?"

He lifts a shoulder in a shrug. "Why not? He spent a lot of time with you. You enjoyed his company. He had a musical talent that I'd never successfully gain, and it was a talent you loved."

"No wonder you looked so sour when he was around."

"I thought you said indifferent."

"With you, it was always hard to tell."

He smiles. "I know what you look like when you're jealous."

"I was not—" she starts, immediately defensive, before she sighs. "Just a little bit."

He chuckles warmly, and he kisses her again, calmer and softer. When they break away, he glances up to the fly landing. "It sounds like the celebration is over."

Zelda realizes that the music has stopped, and she absently wonders how long they've been standing there, so absorbed and involved with each other.

"C'mon," Link says, taking her hand. "We can grab beds at the inn and have dinner, if you'd like."

Zelda agrees easily and looks at their intertwined hands. It's so surreal. She'd been waiting a hundred years to get the opportunity to hold his hand, and be allowed to kiss him, and now she's done both. She's been on the receiving end of his enthusiastic reception of it all, which is more than she could have dared to hope.

She walks beside him up the ramps around the column of the village, bending their arms and curling her other hand around his bicep. She sighs and presses herself against him.

Once they secure their beds at the inn, Link sets up at the cooking pot to begin their dinner, and Zelda comes up to sit beside him.

"Do you know what salmon meuniere is?" she asks him as he rummages through his pack.

He nods. "Yeah. I made it for Kheel, once. One of Kass' daughters. She wouldn't go to practice before eating it."

"She's the one who told me about it," she says. "She said I had to try it before leaving. Do you like it?"

"Zelda, I like everything," he tells her, and she smiles. It's true. He does. "I'll make it for us."

Once they tuck into their dinner, Zelda finds herself agreeing with Kheel. It's hot and silky, stretching out the edges of her stomach.

"It's delicious, Link," she says.

"I'm glad you like it." He ladles a second helping into his bowl. After a lengthy pause, he says, "I'm also…glad you told me, today."

She stares into her emptying bowl. Demurely, she says, "Me, too."

He bumps her leg with his own, and she bumps him back.

"You danced very well, today," she says.

"It's because you taught me."

"Oh, I barely gave you any cueing. You're a natural, like always."

He makes a noncommittal noise. "I wanted to impress my teacher."

She laughs. "Consider me impressed, then. You never stepped on my toes. Not even a little bit."

"What kind of student would I be if I did that?"

"A terrible one."

He looks over her, and she feels incredibly warm. I'm still wearing his Snowquill tunic, she thinks. I've been wrapped up in him all day.

"Slow dancing was my favorite," he says.

"Hm, I wonder why."

Link smiles at this, putting his bowl aside. He leans closer into her, his nose bumping her jaw.

"Because now I get to kiss you whenever I want," he says against her neck. Zelda exhales in a tremor, and he kisses the pulse in her neck.

"Oh," she breathes, automatically tilting her head to the side. She takes the bowl out of her lap and places it on the ground beside her, and Link reaches around to cradle the side of her head. He begins to suck on her, tracing the line of her throat and needling with his teeth, exploring her skin. She breathes out in a shaky exhale, turning towards him and tilting his head up to find her lips. She kisses him soundly, her fingers running down his chest and up his neck, exploring those hidden lines she remembers, created by the shadows of the night.

Link grips her hips and pulls her forward until she's seated in his lap, legs straddling his sides with her knees. The position rivals what she wanted before—except it's better this way. She can kneel, and she can lord above him. She can extend his head back and kiss him with the power of feeling like a queen with him underneath her, cupping her waist with his palms.

"Zelda," he pants, and she pulls back just enough to see his whole face. She's mussed up his hair, she notes. His eyes are glossy, and his lips are red, and it's all at the hands of her actions. Something about that thought makes her heated beyond measure.

"What?" she gasps.

A smile pulls at one side of his mouth. "Did you mean it when you said you think I'm handsome?"

The question is so ridiculous that Zelda can't help laughing. She sits back down into his lap, becoming level with him once more.

"Link, is that a serious question?"

"It was news to me when you said it," he says, still half-smiling. More like smirking, she thinks. And good grief, it makes him all the more attractive.

"You're alright, I guess," she says, giving him a mock examination. "Your hair could use some work," she teases, running her hand through it, realizing that his hair tie is nowhere to be found. She likes the length. It gives her something to grasp.

"It does?" he asks, frowning. "I wash it, sometimes."

"I think it needs more combing, like this," she says, dragging her nails against his scalp. His eyes flutter shut.

"Mm. Sure. You can comb it all you want, princess," he says, and he leans forward to kiss her again.

The name reminds her of an endearment instead of a title, suddenly, and she can't stop kissing him.

"Would you…" he pants. "Be opposed…to doing this all night?"

"You read my mind," she moans, and he palms her bottom, pulling her until their hips are aligned. The friction and heat is luxurious and devastating—and wouldn't it be wonderful if their bare skin came together like this? If she could slip a hand underneath his tunic and traverse the planes of his torso with her fingertips. If his hands could explore her in the same way. If her naked legs could fold around his hips. If she could make him moan just as effortlessly as he does her.

Zelda holds the thoughts in her head, and Link's hands remain in areas that are both decent and not so decent, cradling and touching. She contains her basic desires, and so does he. They revel in the newness of their actions, succumbing to a slow and steady pace. It is simultaneously frustrating and wondrous, and it drives Zelda crazy.

They make it to the bed, eventually, Link forgoing the extra one he had reserved hours prior. He looks so at ease lying beside her—it's a far cry from the other night in the Tabantha stable. The sight fills her with rampant bliss.

"You're smiling," he states.

"An astute observation," she teases.

"Your cheeks are rosy."

She squints at him. "Your eyes are dark."

"It's nighttime," he deadpans. She scrunches her nose at him.

"They've been dark all night."

"Your eyes are glassy."

"So are yours."

"Your hair is tangled."

"Your hair is tangled."

He smiles at that. "Your lips are swollen."

She thinks a moment, glancing over him. "Your gloves are still on."

"You're happy," he says, and Zelda's caught off guard by this. "I mean, you've been happy ever since Ganon was destroyed, but you're…happy. Full."

Zelda opens her mouth, then she closes it. "Of course, I am…" She looks at him closer. "Link, what are you trying to say?"

She can almost see the words stuck behind his teeth, hiding under the clenched muscle in his jaw. He might be deeming something unworthy, or he might be deciding on something else entirely.

He says, "You're beautiful."

She blinks. "Link—"

"Everyone thinks so. I'll have to keep my eyes on guard for any unwanted suitors."

Not sure what to say, she feels her gaze fall to his chest. "I'm sure that won't be a problem."

"I wouldn't say that," Link says. "If nothing else in history was recorded, your beauty is something that stood the test of time, by word of mouth alone."

She swallows, and she has no words for that, either. He brings up a hand, caressing her heated cheek with his thumb. She reaches up to it and curls her fingers in between his. She brings it down and begins to concentrate on unlacing his bracer.

When her fingers graze the skin of his forearm, he inhales sharply. "You used to do that—hold the laces of my bracer with your fingers."

"Yes," she says. "Yes, I did." She slips it off him, her hand following the shadow of his vein to the crook of his elbow. She kisses the crease of his wrist.

"Did you ever do that?" he asks, and his voice is quiet as he watches her. His attention never strays.

"No," she says. "This is new." She looks up at him through her lashes, and she sees how the simple action affects him. His face is calm, but his chest heaves with a deep inhale.

"Did you ever want to?" he asks.

She keeps his hand near her face, holding it and rubbing her fingers over his palm. She's never felt his hand so bare before, so vulnerable and free from any protection. He has calluses on his fingertips, roughened from his incessantly active lifestyle.

"I can't say that I've never wanted to," she says, smiling a little bit. "After a time, I was curious what holding your hand was like."

"We've held hands before."

"You know what I mean—your whole hand. And just because I can, and we want to."

He smiles indulgently, and a dimple appears in his cheek. Zelda sighs at the sight of it.

He brings her hand to his lips, and he kisses the top of it. "Princess," he whispers, his tone dripping like darkened honey. "Would you mind if I stayed here with you tonight? I don't feel up to moving to the other bed."

She widens her eyes in mock shock. "Dear hero, how improper of you."

"I'll stay above the covers."

"I'd prefer you under."

"And you call me improper?"

She shrugs, smirking at him. "I don't mind."

When they eventually do find themselves under the blankets of the bed, she rests her hand and head on his chest, curled around one of his arms. She can hear the relaxed thuds of his heart, lazy and slow.

"Link?"

"Hm?"

She closes her eyes, acutely surrounded by him. "Thank you."

"For what?"

She moves a shoulder in a shrug. "I don't know. Existing."

His chuckle rumbles through his chest and into her, coating her body with his vibrations.

"Then I should thank you for the same thing."

"No. I'll take your thank you's as kisses, please."

"So demanding."

"I'm a princess. I have needs."

"By all means, your highness, I'm at your beck and call."

She giggles, nuzzling further into his tunic. "Just what I like to hear."

After a few minutes, he asks, "Zelda?"

On the verge of sleep, she slurs, "Mm?"

"I…" he pauses. "Goodnight."

She smiles, sighing, "Goodnight, Link."

Zelda falls into the wonderful void of dreamless sleep not moments after, her last thought—as senseless and impractical and magnificent as most are when overcome with sleep—is that they should fall asleep like this every night until the end of time.