Happy Wednesday. I'm afraid I'm going to have to dial back my writing yet again, though this time it's not by choice. My husband and I are moving and we just found out our timeline is much shorter than we initially planned.
I know. Moving during a pandemic. How fun, right?
Anyway, I'm going to be doing a lot of packing, so from here on out, you can expect updates on Wednesday and Saturdays. I'm sorry. I know it's a step back. Hopefully we'll get packed up and organized quickly and I'll be able to get back to posting more often.
Tonight I'm going to do a silly little piece about being trapped inside. Because, well, we're all trapped inside. It's #relatable.
Ready? Set? Here we go!
Spending the winter in Hateno seemed like a marvelous idea, right up until a blizzard rolled through and took out the bridge connecting Link's house from the rest of the town.
Oh, sure, they weren't entirely isolated. They could trek (on foot, through the snow, up and down hills) into town in a roundabout way, but it took close to 90 minutes, and even though Zelda had been building her stamina back up after so long spent unmoving, she still wasn't quite up to that trek on a regular basis. So mostly she lounged around Link's house, crashed out in front of the fire, wearing Link's warmest clothes and chattering Link's ear off.
"I have to admit," she admitted one evening, "It seems time passed much more quickly when I was trapped inside the Calamity. I'd forgotten how slow boring-ness is. Not that I'm complaining," she added at the skeptical expression on Link's face. "I'd rather be bored than… That." And she gave a little shudder. Truthfully, the Goddess had protected her mind from the Calamity's savagery. Zelda had spent a century in a dreamlike trance, aware of very little outside of the pulse of her powers, the ferocious determination to hold the beast back, and— distantly, far away, so faint it might have been her imagination— the warm, comforting glow of Link's soul, slowly (but steadily) recovering from death.
The battle was over, now. Had been over for six months. Her connection to Link was gone. And after a century of struggle, she found that after two weeks of nothingness, she was bored.
Really, really bored.
By the end of the first week without the bridge, she'd attempted to teach herself to cook— which had, of course, resulted in Link banning her from using the cook pot while they were snowed in. ("Not that I don't want you to learn to cook, but we only have one more cook pot and if you melt through it too, we won't have anything to cook in." It was a fair point.)
By the end of the second week without the bridge, she'd tried to figure out how to juggle. That hadn't ended quite as disastrously as the melted pot, but she had nearly knocked over a candle and nearly started a fire. Twice. Fortunately, Link had been out chopping wood during those incidents, and if he'd noticed the smell of smoke or the slightly singed Gerudo scarves hanging half-out of a trunk, he hadn't said anything.
By the end of the third week, she'd set up a miniature archery range behind the house and had become a halfway passable shot. She was prevented by spending too much time outdoors by the snow, though, and because her fingers often went numb on the bowstring.
Once a week, Link would make the long, long trek into town to pick up supplies. He always offered Zelda the option to come with him, but they both knew it was still too physically draining for her to tromp through the cold for that long. She'd put plenty of fat back on after her century of motionless starvation, and she'd built muscle back up, but it was a hard hike down the mountain, around, and then back up into Hateno, and she didn't want to be a burden. So while Link was gone, she'd nap, or reread his books (he didn't have many, and she'd gone through them even before the bridge went out), or sometimes she'd even sing to herself. Never holy music, never hymns; folk songs, childhood ditties, things half-remembered from lifetimes ago.
On the fifth week, Link came back from his excursion to town with a thick ream of paper, several brushes, and a few cakes of dried, colored ink that had been poured into a compact.
"I remembered you liked to draw and doodle back before," he'd explained lamely. "So I thought maybe this would help you."
She'd been so delighted at the sight of the art supplies that she'd thrown her arms around him and kissed him full on the cheek. Link had blushed but hadn't pulled away; had even tentatively rested his arms around her waist. The gentle contact had caused nearly as heady of a rush of delight as the art supplies had; although Link wasn't nearly as reserved as he'd been a century ago, he was still shy, still uncertain of how to behave around her, even though she'd made her interest in him plain.
So he touched her. And that was nice. And he brought her art supplies. That was nice, too. Except Zelda found, when she sat down to paint, that the things that came from her brush were dark things, unhappy memories from her century of isolation. Even when she attempted to do watercolor studies— of, say, the snowy forest, or Link's cozy cabin— the art still turned out wrong somehow, leaving her frustrated and angry.
On the sixth week, she stored the art supplies under the stairs, and Link didn't comment on it, although he did make her fruitcake for dinner. She rattled around the house all the next week, trying— and failing— to find something, anything, to catch her interest.
On the seventh week, Link came back from his run into town and dropped his pack in dismay.
"Zelda," he said, horrified, "your hair!"
"I couldn't deal with it anymore," Zelda said with forced lightness. As soon as Link had left, she'd grabbed Urbosa's scimitar from the wall, gathered her hair into a long tail, and sawed it off at the base of her neck. She'd immediately felt lighter, stranger— both freer and naked, vulnerable.
To make the point to herself, she'd gathered up her hair, taken it outside, and burned it on the cooking fire. The hair, like her friends, like her old life— like her old identity— was gone.
She didn't bother trying to explain it to Link.
Some of the defiance and pain must have shown in her face, because Link quietly sighed, sliding his pack out of the way and striding forward.
"At least let me tidy it up for you," he said, crouching before her and putting his hands on her knees. "The ends are all jagged."
So she sat still, her eyes shut as his fingers ran against her scalp, straightening and tugging at her hair, which he trimmed carefully with a very, very sharp knife. She was glad he was behind her, and couldn't see the two stray tears that leaked from her closed eyes as he worked.
On the eighth week, Zelda began to wonder if the snow would ever melt, if the bridge would ever be repaired, if anything would ever go back to normal. She decided to teach herself structural engineering to figure out how to make a bridge up on her own. She'd always had a head for numbers, and she could remember just enough advanced mathematics to start calculating weights, pressure tolerances, and how many trees exactly she'd need Link to chop down.
On the ninth week, Link kissed her.
She'd flat-out given up and was lying spread-eagle atop a pile of blankets on the floor, staring sightlessly up at the lanterns hanging from the ceiling. She'd spent a lot of time staring at those lanterns lately. Sometimes the flames inside of them flickered. There was something that changed, unlike the snowy white landscape outside, or the endless winter that yawned before her like the Calamity's maw.
"Did you know," Zelda said in the direction of the lanterns, figuring Link would overhear her and listen— or not, and that would be fine, too— "that it was the Gerudo who invented liquor, and not the Sheikah, as everyone believes?"
"It was?" The lanterns asked in Link's voice. Zelda nodded. A smell wafted up to her. Was the blanket she was lying on clean?
Probably not. Oh well.
"I read it in an old archaeology journal once. During an excavation of the Arbiter's Ruins, foundations were discovered that significantly predated the prison. Several thousand years, at least. And there was an empty bottle that contained very faint traces of fermented alcohol."
A Link-shaped blob appeared above her, backlit by the lanterns.
"I bet the booze was potent after twelve thousand years."
"There wasn't any booze left," she responded. "Just residue. Like the way that salt water will leave traces of salt behind."
The Link-blob seemed to consider this for a moment.
"But if it was ergonomic, wouldn't it have decayed?"
"Organic," Zelda mindlessly corrected. "And not necessarily. The bottle was preserved in situ."
"Whatever that means," Link muttered. He plopped down next to her and began finger-combing her shorn locks. She thought about educating him about what in situ meant, but she didn't feel like it. She was too tired.
They lapsed into a companionable silence, and she felt her eyes fluttering shut as he ran his hands through her hair.
"I've been thinking about what to do once the spring comes," Link told her softly.
"Rebuild a bridge?" Zelda asked dryly.
"Bolson can handle that," Link siad. He inhaled deeply, then sighed. "You said you wanted to see more of the world. So let's go exploring. There are plenty of old ruins to dive into. Things to discover." He stopped playing with her hair and settled down beside her. "I think you'd enjoy it, doing something unlike anything you ever did… you've ever done before."
Well, he was right about that. None of the interests from Zelda's old life held any pull for her anymore. The memories were all tainted, too painful. Like her art.
"Exploring sounds fun," Zelda said. "Where would you like to go first?"
"Well," Link said, shifting, "We could try exploring here, first."
"What do you mean?" Zelda asked.
She turned her head to look at him, and he was right there. He raised a hand slowly, laying his fingers on her cheek. When she didn't flinch away, he leaned in, closer and closer. His breath ghosted against her skin. His blue eyes were all that she could see.
And then he kissed her.
It was sweet, and tentative, and gentle. It sent sparks exploding behind Zeldaa's eyes, made her heart double-thump, caused the sappiest music to start swirling through her ears.
She grabbed him and kissed him back, surprising herself with the fervor with which she did so. He was surprised by it, too, but gave in quickly enough, pressing more firmly against her, sliding his body over hers, heating her all the way through.
He gave her one last kiss, nipping gently at her lower lip, and then pulled away. Zelda regarded him with breathless wonder and delight. She caught the collar of his shirt with fingers that trembled only a little bit.
"What was that for? Not that I'm complaining."
"Because I wanted to," he said. "I've been wanting to for weeks."
"Why didn't you do it sooner?"
He grinned, looking a little bashful.
"Took me a while to work up the courage," he confessed.
"You? The one who's courageous to the point of recklessness?"
"Maybe it took me a while to decide to be a little reckless," he admitted, and leaned in for another sweet, lingering kiss. When he pulled away, his eyes were serious and concerned. "Is this alright?"
"It's more than alright," Zelda said breathlessly. Then she laughed a little. "You should've done this when the bridge went out. It would've made this past few weeks much easier."
He laughed a little bit, then settled into a welcoming seated position. She crawled over and leaned against him, basking in the warmth of his affection— his romantic affection.
"Yes," she said after a moment.
"Yes?" Link asked her. He'd been running his fingers up and down her arm, and she shivered a little in how delightfully delicious the sensation felt.
"Yes, let's go exploring. Let's go see the world, and discover ruins, and have an adventure."
He leaned his cheek against her crown.
"That's just what I was hoping you'd say," he told her, and kissed her shorn hair. "You'll see. It'll be wonderful."
Zelda rested her hand on Link's knee.
"As long as I'm with you, it will be," she said, and meant it.
That's it! Not a pandemic, not a quarantine, but definite stir craziness. I also wanted to tee up for the next Zelda game, which CM and I are SO EXCITED FOR (basically texting each other in caps about it 24/7). Hopefully my silly little fluffy piece overlaps at least somewhat with canon. GIVE ME ONSCREEN ZELINK OR I RIOT.
Anyway. As I mentioned in my earlier A/N, while my husband and I prep/pack/figure out moving logistics, I'll have to drop down to two posts a week. (Booooo!) I'm not sure what I'll do for our next update, so we'll see what sort of tomfoolery I come up with. Until then, stay safe, stay inside, and WASH YOUR HANDS! Air smoochies to all, and to all a good night.