Anon said: I loved the headcanons but I'd definitely also love to see what you were thinking prompt-wise with the gang during finals week (if I may request one)! I don't have any specific scenario to request exactly...but I'm looking forward to whatever you decide
Summary: Finals Week brings out unwieldy amounts of stress. One sweet boy tries to make his friends a little happier one dish at a time.
The words were swimming on the page. Goddess knows how long she had been staring at the text, and yet nothing was sticking. Zelda groaned, dropping her head in her hands. There was absolutely no way she was going to ace this final. Maybe she wasn't cut out for mechanical engineering. Maybe she had really bitten off more than she could chew. Maybe… maybe she should contact her adviser about what other majors she could take.
Zelda lifted her head. She glanced at the clock, eyes widening. Seven o'clock. She had been studying for hours now, holed up in her dorm room. She leaned back in her chair. She closed her eyes for but a moment, taking a deep breath. A sighed followed. An idle thought passed through her head: how were the others faring?
No doubt Mipha was on top of things. Mipha never seemed to let stress get to her. She was always focused, not worrying about things that were outside of her control. That was where the two women differed. Zelda was all too used to micro-managing everything down to the very last detail, hoping against hope that everything would turn out perfect in the end. And Mipha, well… Mipha kept her cool.
In that regard, Zelda and Revali had a lot in common. Eveyone knew Revali talked a big game, not that anyone would tell him that to his face. But Zelda was keenly aware of how he acted in front of others as opposed to how he was on his own. She, too, suffered from self-doubt. It was much easier to boast about your abilities in the presence of friends than it is to convince yourself that you're capable when you're alone. The two of them had a definite penchant for spending too much time on their own. Perhaps that was the real issue she was facing. As much as she needed to study, isolation was not the answer.
But then again, there was a reason she had secluded herself in her dorm.
Link.
Zelda clenched her jaw, gaze flickering briefly to her phone. She hadn't been too kind to the boy the last time she saw him. He had been doing nothing to really warrant her anger. She just couldn't stand having someone near. She needed to focus, and Link's very presence, his carefree, easy-go-lucky attitude had gotten to be too much. So she snapped. She knew she should be the one to reach out, to make amends. She knew she needed to apologize. And yet, here she had been for the past several hours, trying desperately to study and ignoring her responsibility as a friend.
Zelda sighed, standing up from her seat. This was something she had to do in person. A simple message was not going to suffice. She grabbed her phone, tucking it into her back pocket, and slipped into her coat.
If she hadn't already been looking down, she might've stepped on the gift left just outside her door.
There, on the welcome mat she had insisted on having to feel more at home, was a small white box. A thin string of twine wrapped around it like a present. Between the string and the box was a small card that read, "Zelda." She knelt down and gingerly took the box, pulling the card out.
"Zelda," she read. "Take all the time you need. Hope this helps. Link."
Zelda blinked, looking between the signature on the card and the box. Her brow creased. She stood and returned to her dorm, the door shutting softly behind her. She sat the box atop her now closed textbook. She stared at it for a while, perhaps for too long. However, with the Yiga House targeting both her and her group of friends, she figured it didn't hurt to be cautious. That and Link had been known to have a hand in a prank or two at her expense.
Zelda pursed her lips. She took a deep breath, sighing once more. String in hand, she gently unwrapped the white box. She lifted the lid, and a soft gasp spilled into the room.
A single slice of cake sat in the center of the box. A fruitcake nonetheless. Zelda would have bet her life that it was the same recipe used in her parents' home when she was little. It looked flawless with its delicate fruit slices wading in a pool of white whipped frosting.
Zelda smiled. She quickly closed the box, forgoing the string, and headed back for the door. She still had an apology to make. And she could think of no better way to do so than to indulge in some pastries with a friend. Studying could wait.