Bright sunlight and the trilling of birds conspire to wake Link. That and Zelda, who can be fifty percent elbows by volume when she wants to.
"Mrrf," he mumbles into the pillow, by which he means "why," and also, "no."
Zelda finishes her stretching, and sits up. Her loosely-braided hair drapes over one bared shoulder where her nightdress has slipped down. "Hey, sleepyhead. We need to get up."
"Nrh," he responds, eloquently.
Zelda rolls her eyes, and comes in for a jab into his side with her bony fingers. He grabs her wrist and rolls them, until she's lying atop him. He shifts his hips minutely, and enjoys her stifled squeak and suddenly-pinked cheeks.
"I have some better ideas of how we could spend this unholy hour of the morning," he smirks.
"Not that I disagree, but you did say you'd help with painting the window frames on the new Town Hall today," she reminds him. "And I have a delegation from Lurelin to meet with."
Link sighs dramatically in defeat, and sits upright, spilling Zelda into his lap. She glares at him, but there's no heat to it.
"I'm sure Bolson could wait," he says, only half joking.
"Perhaps, but Paya will come looking for me if I'm not there on time." At Link's suggestively raised eyebrow, she hits him lightly in the chest with the back of her hand. "And unless you want to invite Granté to this imaginary situation as well, you can put that thought out to pasture."
Link pretends to mull it over, and Zelda makes an undignified snort. Of all the many things he loves about being with her, getting to see this side of her that few other people do continues to be one of his favourites.
"Good luck with your meeting," he tells her just before she ducks out of the door, pulling her in for a - only slightly dirty - goodbye kiss.
"Good luck with Bolson," she calls back to him as she leaves. He watches her go, because - well, the leggings of the field outfit Claree made her do just as much for her figure as the old one did. Can you blame him?
For all Zelda's joking, Bolson's expanded crew have done a fantastic job with the rebuilding of Castle Town. The Castle itself has been left to ruin; some further destruction work with Vah Rudania to make it safer is all Zelda proposed, and the other representatives agreed easily enough. None of them remember the Kingdom as it was (except Dorephan, though he's delegating a lot more to Sidon these days), and weren't especially interested in recreating the past when the prospect of forging something new was on the table. Link's glad; while he would have supported Zelda in a push to restore the Castle and the monarchy with it, there's no denying he and Zelda are both much happier this way.
He just hopes their fledgling Council will work out long-term. He's aware they've been coasting on goodwill and novelty, so far. Whether that will hold once they establish things like a proper tax system to fund road building and guards, remains to be seen. Zelda's been financing everything from her own pocket in the meantime. Or rather, from the hidden treasure vault he'd led an expedition into the Castle ruins to find based on her descriptions. The stockpile is starting to get low.
"Two guesses where your thoughts are," Karson says, nudging him with an elbow.
"What, taxes?" Link laughs, and Karson shakes his head fondly.
"Head out of the clouds, Hero, there's still a dozen windows to do."
"You have no romance in your soul, Karson," Bolson tells him, waving his own paintbrush around.
"Speaking of romance, you coming to the wedding this summer? Sidon's coming and he's an actual Prince, so you two shouldn't be too busy to haul ass over to Tarrey Town."
"We'll be there," Link promises.
Sidon had spoken to him about it, when Finley and Sason announced their engagement. He'd been full of enthusiasm about a Zora-Hylian marriage.
"It's a shame you and Mipha couldn't have been the first, of course," he'd said. "But I know she would be pleased to see you living your life. She wouldn't have begrudged you the happiness you have found with Princess Zelda, and nor do I."
"Thank you," Link had told him, sincerely. "That means a lot."
Sidon had sent him a sly glance. "When shall we expect an announcement of your own, hm? A wedding of that magnitude is going to take quite some planning, you know."
He'd laughed himself fit to burst at Link's panicked squawk. "I only tease. But you should consider it; it's obvious to anyone with eyes how perfect the two of you are for one another.
Karson's still talking. "Just don't upstage me with your gift, alright? Not all of us are on saviour-of-the-world salaries."
"It's really more of a volunteer position," Link grins. "But speaking of gifts, I do have somewhere else I need to be. You guys will cover for me?"
"Always do," grunts Hudson. "Always will."
His first stop is the new bakery in Castle Town. It may not quite live up to the 'town' name just yet, but a steady stream of Hylians - and a few scattered Rito, Gorons, Gerudo and Zora - have already made their homes here. In addition to the bakery, the new market square already holds a grocers, a butchers, a fishmongers, a haberdashers-and-tailors, and a general goods store. And a library. Zelda had been heavily involved in that last one. When they'd discovered the remains of a printing press in the rubble of the old town - and Robbie had managed to fix it - Zelda's excitement had been so expansive it had spilled over into everyone else. She'd quickly arranged expeditions into the Castle Library ruins, to salvage anything of use, and press-ganged Kass into putting together a team of Rito to bring folklore and poetry from all over Hyrule to be printed.
Fyson waves at him as he passes the general goods store. "Got some new arrows in today if you're interested?"
Link shakes his head. "Not today. I'll come back though."
Inside the bakers, Gotter is busy measuring out flour. He stops and wipes his hands on his apron at Link's approach.
"Master Link! What can I do for you?"
Link fishes a yellowing page out from his tunic. "I have a partial recipe here, for a cake they used to make in the Castle kitchens. Would you be able to work out the rest, and try making one?"
Gotter takes the page, scanning through it. "Hmm. I can definitely make some educated guesses on what's missing, based on what I know of other recipes from the time. When do you need it for?"
"Next Saturday, if you can?"
The baker nods. "I'll see what I can do."
Next, he warps to the closest shrine to Outskirt Stable and enjoys a brisk walk the rest of the way in the afternoon sun. Botrick and Brigo are lounging on one of the table and chairs set outside, presumably just finished with a patrol. They struggle to their feet at his approach.
"Master Link! Are you here for a report?"
He waves them off. "I'm not here, officially. Just some personal business. Though I'd be interested in hearing it all the same."
"One bokoblin camp, we killed two and drove the rest off. But we saw moblin tracks too. They're on the rise again."
He files the information away. "If things pick up beyond what you can deal with, send me a message and we'll get some more reinforcements your way. Though it's the same everywhere, really. They're finally bouncing back from the trouncing we gave them last year, it seems."
"At least with the Blood Moons gone we don't have to fight the same damn monster every other week. Just the new ones they keep popping out."
Around the back of the stable Toffa and Haite are standing by the fence watching Trott take the white stallion through a careful circuit of the paddock.
"How's he doing?"
"He's only thrown Trott off once so far today!" Haite tells him.
"Well, that's an improvement," Link laughs. The wild horse had taken three people several muddy hours to catch, and almost trampled Link in the process. He prefers a less high-strung horse himself, but this one will be perfect for Zelda's upcoming birthday if they can only get it well trained. It looks so alike to her old horse it's almost uncanny.
"Can I have a try?" he calls to Trott.
The stablehand brings the stallion to a halt and hands over the reins. "Be my guest."
Link swings up into the saddle, smoothing his hand down the white neck to calm it. The horse dances sideways a little, but doesn't buck, which he takes as a good omen.
"Let's take a turn shall we?" he asks it, nudging with his heels. The horse obediently sets into a walk, then a trot and a canter. Feeling more confident, he calls out. "Open the fence, I'm going to try him on the jump course!"
Trott shrugs. "Your funeral, man."
Link digs his heels in and the horse bursts into an explosive gallop. They swing in a wide arc, lining up to the first jump.
The stallion reaches the fence and slams to a stop. Link is flung over its head, and lands, winded, in the mud. The stallion peers over the fence to snort in amusement at him.
"Alright," he wheezes at it. "You win this round."
"I'll take him around the paddock some more," Trott says, barely stifling his laughter. "Come back tomorrow, we'll try again."
"I will. We're not through yet."
His last stop is Ordorac, and the tack shop by the stables. The proprietor smiles as he ducks through the doorway.
"Master Link, good timing. Your order's ready."
The owner heaves a full set of tack onto the counter; purple-dyed leather with gold detailing and tiny jangling golden scales. Link runs his fingers over the pommel of the saddle, pleased.
"This is good work." He tosses over a coin purse full of rupees, and the owner discreetly counts them before nodding in satisfaction. The purse disappears.
"A pleasure doing business with you. Please do pass our regards to the Princess."
Link hums. "She's not technically a Princess any more. The monarchy's over."
The owner doesn't roll his eyes, though Link can almost hear him thinking about doing it. "Nevertheless. She is in all our thoughts, as are you."
On Saturday, he holds one handle of the Slate out to Zelda, who has dutifully dressed for the outdoors as instructed.
"Are you going to tell me where we're going?" she asks, smiling.
"Nope."
They appear in a haze of blue at the shrine overlooking Sandown Park. Zelda looks around at the landscape, in late-spring bloom, with interest.
"Do you remember the last time we came here?" she asks. "It wasn't long before my seventeenth birthday.
"I do. I wanted to pick somewhere that we had memories of together, that wasn't too - "
"Tainted?" she suggests.
He nods, and waves the slate vaguely. "If you'd prefer somewhere else, just say the word and we'll go."
"I'm sure this will be fine," she says. "It's a nice day for a walk."
"Actually, I had a better idea."
He heads around to the back of the shrine, where Epona and the as-yet-unnamed white stallion are loosely tethered. Epona nibbles his hair affectionately. The white stallion eyeballs him resentfully.
Zelda's eyes widen like saucers when he leads them back around. She gloms onto the white horse instantly, running her hands reverently over his neck down to his withers. The horse, the contrary creature, is like putty under her hands.
"Is this - you found my horse? I mean, not my actual horse, of course, he would be long dead by now I suppose. But this must be a descendant of his! Look at the coat, the colouring! It's all so exact. And you even replicated the royal livery? How did you find him? Oh, I - thank you so much!"
She turns away from the horse to fling her arms around Link's neck in a hug, still making small squealing noises.
"Happy birthday, Zelda," he murmurs into her temple.
"He's perfect, I love him. Does he have a name?"
"I thought you could name him."
Zelda looks thoughtful. "Is it too on the nose to call him 'Royal'?"
Link laughs. "Zelda, he's your horse. You can call him whatever you like."
'Royal' huffs, and Link smirks at him. But then Zelda's back beside him, stroking his nose and feeding him apples from the picnic basket, and his eyes half-close with contentment.
Later, they lie on the picnic blanket and watch the sky darken with dusk. Link has one arm tucked under his head. Zelda's head rests on his shoulder.
"I can't believe you found the recipe for my favourite fruitcake," she says, sighing contentedly at the memory of it. "This has been a wonderful birthday. Thank you."
The comparison to her last two is obvious. Zelda's fateful seventeenth, in which she'd lost everything and everyone she cared about - even him, in a manner of speaking. And her eighteenth, barely three months after the battle. They'd visited Impa and Paya for a small celebration, and then spent a short break with Riju in Gerudo Town. To see her so vibrant again is more than he could have hoped for, back in those early days.
"I thought you deserved a happy one, for once."
Zelda tucks her face into his neck, and he feels her smile against his skin. He brings his arm up around her and takes a slow, deep breath. The night-blooming flowers are starting to open up, and the air smells wonderful. They'll have to go home soon, but for now Link watches as the sinuous form of Dinraal emerges from the clouds to wind across the sky, and feels more at ease than he can ever remember being.