Link must have dozed off at some point during his vigil, as he woke when a ribbon of light from the crack in the shutter shone into his eyes. A couple hours past dawn, then, which was a couple hours past when Zelda used to be up and on the move.

During their travels, he'd usually been the one who wanted to laze about in bed, as Zelda was the early riser. She'd disliked this at first, using it as an excuse to leave him behind at every opportunity, but as their relationship improved, she'd found his sleeping habits amusing. She'd learned quickly to make tea first thing, as the aroma was generally enough to rouse him.

There was no tea waiting for him today. She was deeply asleep, curled up on her side. Link climbed off his pallet and shrugged and stomped his way into his tunic and boots, but the general noise was still not enough to rouse her. Even throwing open the shutters to welcome the sun and the sharp cool breeze didn't cause her to stir.

He considered her, and then went out to the kitchen to request a tray and a pot of tea. Worth a shot, right?

Unfortunately, the scent of the steaming tea was still not enough to wake her. He checked the Sheikah Slate, and seeing that the clock read half past nine, decided that he should take action. People claimed that too much sleep could cause even more exhaustion, so perhaps they needed to control the number of hours she spent asleep?

He tried to be gentle at first, but he ended up having to shake her to get her to open her eyes. Even then, the slow drag of her eyelids made him anxious, as did her unfocused gaze. "Link?" she asked, his name slurring into a yawn. For as long as he'd known her, she'd always been so alert in the early hours. What was going on?

"It's morning," he told her, releasing his grip on her shoulders. "If you need more rest, I can let you sleep, but you did ask me yesterday to keep us on a schedule."

She sat up in answer, lacing her fingers together and raising her arms to stretch, causing a sharp series of pops to crack into the air. She dropped her arms with an abashed smile. "It appears I've been sleeping far too long already," she said, kicking the covers down and swinging her legs off the bed. "But that food smells divine. Shall we break our fast?"

They ate quickly, and Zelda accompanied him to the kitchen, to offer her compliments to Lessa and thank Tasseren for his hospitality, and gently convince him that she preferred to leave the establishment without fanfare. She succeeded in her request, and within the hour, they were both up on Epona on riding along the road to Hateno.

"You know," she said as they rode along, shifting from side to side where she sat behind him. "This saddle was not exactly designed for two people."

He chuckled and glanced back at her. "I didn't hear you complaining yesterday."

"Yes, but that was then, and this is now. And if we keep this up for too long, I'm not going to be able to walk tomorrow."

Well, she did have a point there. He returned his sights to the road. "We'll need to take turns riding soon enough; there's some nasty terrain going into Hateno, and I don't want Epona picking up a stone. Next time we travel, I'll be sure to get you a horse."

She hummed in reply and then wrapped her arms around his waist, pulling her body close into his as she had done the day before. "I can't say I will be unhappy to ride next time, but for now, there are things to appreciate, aren't there? I should keep that in mind."

Link smiled and dropped one hand from the reins to squeeze her wrist. Indeed.

A cold drizzle was falling when he led Epona into Hateno, not enough to keep the kids out of the mud puddles, but enough to the keep their mothers indoors. A blessing, really. When Link bought and refinished the house, all the local gossips could talk about was him "feathering his nest," so they'd be curious about Zelda, princess or not.

She climbed off Epona when they neared the inn. "I need to get her boarded, which may take awhile," he told her. "Do you want to come with me?"

She shook her head. "It's alright. I'd like to walk around the village a bit before we turn in for the night."

"Okay. Come to the inn if I take too long or you get too cold."

She sent him a wry smile. "I can take care of myself, Link. I'll be fine."

He still hesitated, but there really was no need for him to hover. He started walking Epona up the hill to the inn, and glanced back once to see her wandering towards the shops. Hopefully she'd get to know the clerks a bit, as they'd need to get her some better fitted clothing soon. Maybe she'd charm them into lower prices. And speaking of saving money…

He got Epona fed, watered, and brushed, and then went in to argue with Prima. The lack of travelers kept her stable costs quite high. Despite Link's status as a resident, it took him quite awhile to knock her demands down. He grumbled to himself as he left; he needed to get Bolson to convert the covered hitching post on his property into a proper stable come spring. Maybe build some extra stalls for boarding horses and give Prima some healthy competition.

Zelda wasn't in any of the stores; it took some wandering and asking around before he tracked her to the tiny shrine to Hylia tucked behind the mayor's house. Her hands were clenched tight around her biceps, shoulders slightly hunched as she stared down at the statue.

He kept his footsteps quiet as he approached, not wanting to interrupt any reverence. She jerked her head to look at him when he stopped five paces from her, but then turned to focus back on the statue. "The dye shop survived," she said. "Not much else is the same, but that shop is. It's where I had the fabrics for the Champion's gear treated; they had the blue dye specially made. The owner's name was Pavel, and he made such a big deal over the pieces; I had to come back four times, remember? But his actions were really a kindness, as he knew I was happier traveling than I was at the castle, and so he made sure I could get out of there as much as possible.

"The new owner is his great-nephew. Pavel went to help build Fort Hateno, and got himself killed. His wife threw herself off a bridge two weeks after they received the news."

Link walked over to her, ground squelching under his feet. There was mud on her knees; she must have kneeled in front of the statue at some point. His mind raced, trying to decide the right course of action. Did she need comfort? Was it time to discuss Urbosa's insistence that none of this was her fault? Should he offer to kneel with her and pray?

"I'd like to see your home now," she said, cutting off his chance to try and help. "Please."

He took her hand in his own, wanting to at least offer physical touch, and led her through the village. "These houses were build by the company that restored the house," he told her as they passed through Bolson's model homes. "They've founded a brand new city up in Akkala; I'd like to take you there someday." Let her remember that not everything in this world was death.

She didn't respond, at least not until they reached the sign outside his house. She glanced at the landscaping, and her countenance lifted a bit. "I like the flowers," she said, admiring the fall blooms. "They're lovely."

"They're just for decoration, but we can put a garden in next year, to grow your herbs. It'll be nice to have a consistent supply."

She squeezed his hand, a welcome show of vitality. "You'd let me do that?"

He shrugged, ignoring the blood warming in his cheeks. "My home is your home." And may she never want to leave it. "Which means I should probably update the sign."

That earned a little laugh, and he pulled her to the door, quickly unlocking it. When he led her inside, a real laugh escaped her lips as she took in the decor.

"Oh goodness," she said, pulling her hand out of his grasp and lifting her fingers to her lips. "Oh, this is so typical."

He grinned as he let her take in the sight, focusing on locking the door behind him and shrugging out of his soaked hood. "Well?" he said as he tugged off his boots.

"How many weapon racks does one person need?" Her incredulous tone made him bark out a laugh, even as he helped her out of her coat. She barely seemed to notice, still focused on all the weaponry. "This looks just like your old room in the castle!"

Link stopped up short from where he was hanging the wrap on the pegs by the door. "What?" he said, voice flat.

Zelda didn't respond. Instead she flitted over to the shields mounted on the wall, tracking muddy water all over the floor. She didn't realize, as her eyes were glued to Urbosa's shield, shimmering in the dim light. Link chose to ignore the mess his Princess had just made, and pulled out the matches to start lighting the candles. "You never saw my room," he said over his shoulder as he climbed up on the table to reach the overhead lamps.

"Oh yes I did," Zelda said, tearing her eyes away from the shield and visibly wincing when she saw the puddle she'd left in her wake. To her credit, she immediately slipped out of her boots and started hunting for a rag. "It was a few weeks before you were appointed my knight. My father had just told me the news, and I was furious, so I snuck down into the barracks and tracked down your room."

Link jumped off the table with a thump. His lips were twitching into a smile, and he crossed his arms as he stared her down. She was still opening drawers in his little kitchen trying to find that rag. "You hated me. Why did you want to see my room?"

"That's exactly why I snuck in, silly. I was going to, I don't know, put spiders in your bed or a frog in your wash basin. I wasn't very fond of you back then, as I'm sure you recall. But then I looked in your room and saw this tiny bed and bureau and about seventeen swords and realized that perhaps starting a war with someone so dedicated to collecting sharp objects wasn't the wisest course of action."

Link collapsed into one of the kitchen chairs, shaking his head. "You really snuck in there? You never told me this before now."

"I didn't dare," she said, wiping up the muck, having finally found the rag. "At first I barely wanted to talk to you, but then I was nervous that the confession would affect what you thought of me and destroy what was at the time a very fragile friendship. And then after that, I was trying not to appear overly familiar to you. If my father had found out I'd been in your room, he probably would have had you flogged. No matter that it would have been my fault, or that you were the Chosen Hero, his anger would have superseded all reason."

She had a point there; the days leading up to the Calamity had been tense for more than one reason. And well… "I can't complain too much," he said, kicking his legs up on the chair next to him as she finally settled down as well. "After all, I did read your diary."

The look on her face at that pronouncement broke his composure, and he threw his head back to laugh. When he dropped his chin back down, her face was in her hands. "Oh, Link, you did not. Tell me you did not. Oh, merciful Nayru, why?" she wailed.

"I must say it was enlightening."

She peeked through her fingers, looking absolutely mortified. And adorable. "I cannot believe you did that. Does my privacy mean nothing to you?"

He shrugged, unrepentant. "At the time, I was desperate for anything that would jog more of my memory. I was getting back bits and pieces, but I wanted more. Your writing was so vivid; it helped fill in many of the gaps."

If anything, she looked more horrified at his explanation. "But I was so awful! How can you be so flippant about this?"

"Oh, are you referring to the fact that you couldn't even bring yourself to write my name for the first three years we knew each other? Or should we talk about the first time we were formally introduced? Where all you had to say was that you didn't see why I was considered such a prodigy, as I was short and my hair was too shaggy. You were not impressed. I have it upstairs if you want an exact quote."

"Oh goddesses," she said, hiding behind her hands again. "Why me?"

Link laughed again, but then took pity and stood to start getting dinner put together, giving her a moment to compose herself. He had rice washed and in a pot and butter melting in a pan by the time she finally joined him. He handed her a knife and an onion and she went to work. "I hope you realize," she said, slicing the top and bottom off and peeling off the skin, "that I do regret how much of a brat I was during that phase of our relationship. My behavior was abominable."

"I must say, I was surprised. I knew you didn't like me when I was appointed your knight, but I didn't realize how far back the animosity went. When we first met, I thought you just considered me beneath your notice. But I was wrong; you despised me from the very beginning."

"Oh, Link," she said, dumping her onions into the pan to sizzle and setting down the cutting board and knife with a clank. "I didn't hate you." The statement was made to the spice rack; she was avoiding his eyes again. "I was horrifically jealous of you. There's a difference."

Now that made no sense. "You were not jealous of me, not at the beginning." After all, she wasn't lying. For all his talent, he'd been short and scruffy as a squire. "I didn't get the sword until I was nineteen."

"It wasn't about the sword. Not at the beginning." She grabbed the dried beef he'd unwrapped and starting slicing it. "Link, your father was one of the kindest men alive. He was so proud of you; at that ball, it was all he could do to contain his compliments of his son. And then there was my father, who could barely bring himself to introduce me to you. There I was, in the first silk dress I'd ever had commissioned, desperate for attention, and my father couldn't even look at me. I was jealous of how much your father loved you. That's all there was to it."

Link took in her drawn face and teeth biting at her lip, and thought of the second journal upstairs, of the words of a man who loved his child, but failed miserably at communicating that to her. A man who couldn't reconcile his duties as a king with his duties as a father. "I don't want to upset you," he said, watching her throw the meat into the pan with an angry flick of the wrist. "But I know that your father loved you. Yes, he made mistakes," he said quickly, as her eyes flashed up at him. "I'm not excusing him, because his actions had dire consequences for us all. But he did love you. When you're ready, I'll show you how I know."

She swallowed, and looked at him, eyes still hard and flinty. "Very well," she said, and then retreated to the table, leaving him to finish their dinner.

They ate quietly, their levity weighed down by the ghosts in the room. Zelda finished first and stood to start the dishes; he joined her once he finished his plate and began drying what she washed, a long-standing routine. The rhythm of it relaxed them both. "Bath?" he asked as she handed him the last plate.

"Not tonight," she said. "Definitely tomorrow, but tonight, I just want to sleep."

She climbed to the loft as he finished putting everything away and doused the lamps, and when he followed, he found her sitting on the edge of the bed, working on her hair. "I hope you don't mind," she said, brandishing the comb.

"Not at all," he said, leaning against the desk to watch.

She worked from the bottom to the top, before braiding it and tying off the end. She set the comb on the nightstand and then fell backwards across the bed, feet dangling off the edge. "Blessed Farore, I am still so tired." She twisted to look at him, and he made himself focus on her face, not on the tempting pose before him. "Is this how you were when you woke up?"

He shook his head. "No. I was out climbing buildings within a few hours of opening the shrine. Barely slept those first few days."

"How very strange. Of course, you were asleep and I was awake for a century, so perhaps the explanation is simple. We both need what we didn't have. So perhaps in a few days, this exhaustion will wane. Your body seems to be back to normal, after all, so hopefully mine will follow."

"You're most likely right," he said, watching as she sat up and turned down the bed. "Well, if sleep is what you need, then sleep is what we'll give you. I'll be right downstairs if you need me."

"Oh," was all she said in return, but the sudden lack of warmth in her voice was enough to give Link pause.

"What's wrong?" he asked, uncrossing his arms.

"Nothing at all," she said hastily in reply. "I just… wasn't expecting to turn you out of your own room, that's all."

He shrugged. "There's a little alcove downstairs; it'll be more comfortable than the floor. We can get me something better to sleep on tomorrow. Tonight will be fine."

"Ah, yes. I see." But despite the words, Link could see that she was unsettled. She'd folded her hands in her lap, but her thumb was rubbing at her wrist and her feet were flexing beneath the blankets.

"Zelda."

Her spoken name was enough to still her fidgeting, and he watched her jaw clench before she spoke. "I don't..." She trailed off, her eyes trailing down to her hands in her lap. "I don't want you to sleep downstairs. I want you here with me."

Link took in her statement, barely daring to breathe as she twisted his blanket in her hands. "I suppose it is too forward of me to ask, and we both know my father would disapprove entirely, but he isn't here anymore and I'm old enough to make my own decisions, and for the past two nights I've woken up more than once in a panic because I wasn't sure where you were. I just…"

She glanced up at him, but then averted her eyes, ever shy. "I want you to be close. Please."

Link swallowed.

Time seemed to slow as he stepped away from the desk. The sound of his feet on the floor drew Zelda's eyes, and she watched him as he crossed the short room to the corner of the bed. He couldn't bear to look away, not even as his fingers gathered the hem of his tunic and drew it up and over his head. He dropped it on the floor and looked back at the Zelda, and found her still watching him. There was a hint of a flush on her cheeks, but her gaze was still intent.

As he rounded the corner of the bed, she pushed the blankets away from her and bent her knees to maneuver herself backwards to give him room. And Goddess Hylia, watching her slide across the bed, long legs stretching out as though begging for his attention, her expression uncertain but hopeful, roused his ardor like nothing else. He used his knee as leverage to climb on the bed, not wanting to turn away from her, and the squeak of the springs from his weight made this moment even more real.

He was going to share a bed with her.

This was not their first time sleeping close, as the sheer amount of traveling they had done together had necessitated more than one cold night spent huddling under a shared blanket. But sleeping back to back on cold rocky ground had nothing on settling down beside her on a soft mattress with a pile of quilts to share. She took the initiative to pull up the covers, reaching over his torso to tuck the blanket around him, and he took the opportunity to cross the barriers of propriety and pull her close against him. She didn't even hesitate to tangle her legs with his and rest her head against his chest. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and tugged her even closer.

She sighed, seeming to sink even deeper into him. "This is what I need," she said, her breath tickling his throat. "Thank you."

"You should have told me sooner," he said. "I would have stayed with you if it would have helped. You woke up last night. Is this why?"

"Of course you noticed," she said. "Yes. I was in a blind panic, trying to find you. In the blankets, of all places, and then I remembered we were in the stable and you were over on the floor, and I just relaxed, knowing I was safe. I'm sorry I woke you; the whole thing seems rather ridiculous now."

"Not to me," he said, pressing his head to her hair. "I understand."

He pulled away from her just long enough to blow out the candle, and shifted her to a more comfortable position slightly lower on his side, determined to hold her as long as she would sleep.

He woke in the pitch back night, hand fisted around a knife, only the realize that the cause of his sleep's disturbance was Zelda herself. She still clung to him, her hand clenching his shirt. She was trembling hard enough to rock him back and forth. He eased off the knife and brought his free hand up to press against her back. "Zelda?" he asked, wanting to confirm that she was awake and not in the depths of a nightmare.

She answered by tightening her grip on his shirt. "Zelda," he said, voice barely a whisper. "What's wrong?"

She drew a shuddering breath, tucking her head. "I'm afraid to move." Her voice shook, and she whimpered like a frightened child. "If I move, he'll overwhelm me, and all of this will disappear. You'll be gone, and I'll be all alone. I'll be back in the flames and filth, unable to even close my eyes, with nothing to sustain me except that bitch and her cursed power. I can't move; I can't lose you again."

Goddesses.

She was gasping out little sobs, and he had to do something, anything, to make them stop. But what to do? They'd already defeated Ganon. He couldn't infiltrate her dreams to defeat him there, could he? His fingers flexed involuntarily, betraying his helplessness.

He had to get her out of here, get her moving and break the illusion. To prove to her that she was no longer living that nightmare; she was safe in his home and in his bed.

"Can I move you?" he asked. "I promise that you will be safe. I'm not going anywhere."

He waited for a long set of minutes, until her fingers relaxed, and her head nudged his chest as she nodded. He swung his legs over first, gathering her in his arms and tugging her hips across the bed as he sat up. One hand scooped below her knees, the other squeezed her shoulders, and he lifted her up and against his chest.

In the kitchen, he lit the gas lamp on the table and set her down in a chair. He grabbed a blanket from the storeroom, and some of those herbs she liked in tea so much while he was at it, and had her wrapped up and the kettle on in quick succession. As the water heated, he knelt before her, sliding his fingers under the blanket to brace on her thighs. "Do you want to talk about it?" he asked, drawing her dull gaze from the door.

"What is there to say?" she said, shrugging one shoulder and sighing. "This reaction is illogical. I know that we defeated him, and that I am here with you, but there were so many times when I imagined such an outcome. It can be hard to realize that this one is actually real."

"You said he could overwhelm you. Did that almost happen?"

"Occasionally. We fought back and forth over the years; there were times when I had him almost totally suppressed, but there were also times when he had me clinging to the seals. Especially towards the end; I couldn't take much time to watch and guide you, because my power was waning and it was all I could do sometimes to keep him contained. That's why he was able to form the body you fought. I wasn't strong enough at the point to stop him."

And if he'd slept just a little bit longer, it would have been too late for them both. "But you did hold on," he said to assure her. "Hylia granted you enough power to survive."

She scoffed, a harsh sound in her throat. "Barely. And she begrudged every bit she offered me."

The words shocked Link to the core. He'd always thought that the light within Zelda, the Sealing Power of the Triforce she'd managed to awaken, had forged a link between her and the Goddess. He'd thought the two had fought in tandem, the Goddess guiding Zelda to her path fighting Ganon, helping her keep him bound to the castle. After all, the Goddess had been eager to offer him her aid. Surely she had extended the same grace to Zelda.

Was he completely wrong?

The whistle of the kettle interrupted that thought. He steeped her tea and brought it to her, once again kneeling in front of her and going as far as to lay his head on her knee as she drank. After she set the cup down, her hands tangled in his hair. "Well, this cannot be wishful thinking," she said, fingernails lightly scratching his scalp. "I don't think I ever dared imagine anything like this."

He pushed himself up until he could look into her eyes. "Zelda," he said. "I'm here. We both are. And nothing is going to tear us apart again. Ganon failed at permanently separating us, and nothing else in this world holds a candle to him. Know that. Know that I am here to stay."

She tried to smile at his declaration, but her lips quivered, and he could see the build-up of her tears. He gathered her up and carried her back up the stairs to the bed, marking every shudder. She was still crying once they were tangled back up together in the bed.

And all he could do was hold her tight and hope she'd eventually fall asleep.

Notes

Starting to see where I'm going with this?

I know Link's age may cause some head scratching, as I made him older than Zelda. Squires became knights at 21, and so I debated ages for quite awhile before settling on them making an exception and granting him knighthood when he got the sword at 19. This will come into play later, so just trust me?

Next time, Purah enter the scene! I'm actually pretty nervous about writing her properly, so wish me luck!

SJ