Author's Note: Yes, I'm three days early, I know. Enjoy the kissing.
Link's eyelashes were half-encrusted with frost when he cracked open an eye in the morning chill of their room at the Swallow's Roost. Fine ice crystals crackled, and he reached up and rubbed at his other eye, smearing chilly water across the back of his hand. This certainly wasn't the first time he'd woken up like this— the loft he and his siblings shared, back home in Akkala, was often chilly first thing in the morning in the winter and early spring. Especially on mornings he really needed to be up early.
Spring in Tabantha, it seemed, wasn't much different. He grit his teeth and reluctantly poked his head out from under the pile of quilts covering him, peering around the curtained space, his breath steaming gently in the air. The light filtering through the curtains to the outside world had that pale, translucently gold quality to it that spoke of a chill the heavy wool shielded them from, the kind that would burn off later in the day as the sun got higher.
Neither Zelda nor Dragmire had stirred yet, he noted as he sat himself up a little higher. Dragmire, on the far side of the space, was an invisible heap under the pile of blankets on his bed that shifted slightly with every breath. Zelda was closer to him, and had the blankets tucked up under her arm, leaving her shoulders, head, and neck exposed. She must have come back to the room after he'd gone to sleep the night before, because he didn't remember her returning, and the fingers that clutched the sheets were ink-stained. Her long hair was unbound, streaming darkly across the pillow.
He cautiously uncurled himself from under the blankets, then winced as his feet touched the wooden floor— it was icy, he hadn't thought about how cold it would be with air pressing up from underneath— and pulled them back under the covers, leaning his upper body over the side of the bed to grab a pair of socks from his pack. They were cool to the touch, too, and he sighed and leaned out again to grab his tunic and trousers and pull them under the covers as well. No sense in getting out of bed if he couldn't take some of his heat with him. He dressed under the covers, then slung himself out of bed and fumbled for his boots and his waterskin.
Neither of the other two had roused, by the time he finished lacing up, but one of them made a little noise when the floorboards creaked as he put weight on them to stand, and he paused again, studying the sleepers. Zelda hadn't so much as shifted, he noticed, and he padded his way across to Dragmire's bed, pausing near the curtain and watching to see if he moved.
The uppermost quilt, a pale, floral-patterned thing, twitched, and dark fingers emerged from beneath the leading edge to pull it down so Dragmire could peer out. His golden eyes were sleepy, but they fixed on Link's face with an intensity that made the tips of his ears burn.
"You're up early," Dragmire said softly.
"I didn't mean to wake you," Link replied, and crouched next to the bed so they were face to face.
"I don't mind," Dragmire murmured, sitting himself up a little and wincing. "I...didn't sleep well last night, anyway. It's fine."
"Sorry," Link said. His face definitely felt hot, and he couldn't keep from looking down, away from his gaze.
"You don't need to apologise," Dragmire said. "It had absolutely nothing to do with you...ah, you know," he said, and when Link peeked back up his cheeks had darkened in a blush.
Link immediately dropped his gaze back to the floor, feeling his cheeks redden further. "Oh, um. That's...good, I guess?"
"It was the nicest part of the evening, anyway," Dragmire said. Link could hear the grin in his tone.
"I— ah, I was going to head to the tea shop again for breakfast," he said hastily, tripping over his words. He couldn't look up, not with Dragmire's eyes on him. "Was there— can I get you anything?"
Dragmire chuckled, and the wood of the bed creaked gently as he shifted his weight. "Some kind of hot black tea, lightly sweetened, and whatever foods are hot when you get there," he said. "My wallet's in the outer pocket on the right side of my pack, take that with you when you get my calabash."
Link hesitated— Hyrule's crown paid for his and Zelda's expenses on their travels— but Dragmire's expression was insistent, if still sleepy, so he stooped and retrieved the wallet and the dried, hollow gourd casing most Gerudo favored over waterskins. He paused once he'd straightened, tugging at the drawstrings on Dragmire's wallet. "Just for your food, or…?"
"Zelda paid for my accommodations, I can buy the two of you breakfast," Dragmire replied.
"...Alright," Link said, and tucked the wallet into one of his pockets. "I'll be back soon, okay?"
"I'll be waiting," Dragmire replied, with a slow, easy grin, and Link felt himself blush all the way to the tips of his ears.
He ducked out through the curtain and into the main wing of the inn instead of answering, shaking his head and trying to get the cool air to disperse the heat of his blush, then glanced around the room a moment. Another set of curtains on the far end of the room were pulled closed around another bed, but aside from that— and the Rito in the entrance, a male with feathers like the sunrise— there was no one else around.
The air outside was bracingly cold, and Link had to shake himself again to remind himself where he was. There were no goats in the barn who needed attention during kidding, not here. He turned his face eastward, watching the sun creep over the top of the ridge and wash the sky pink and gold, painting warm shadows across the stone of the central pillar.
He turned again and headed up the shallow staircase towards the next level, taking the steps two at a time— Rito legs were so short in comparison to Hylians'— until he reached the next stretch of boardwalk, where a string of shops were. He passed the general store, with its orange banners and curtains, and ducked into the red-bannered tea house beside it, brushing aside the door-curtain and breathing in the smell of warm baked goods and tea. A Rito with dusky gold feathers stood behind the back counter, staring off into space, but he perked up some at the sound of Link's footsteps on the wooden floor.
"What can I do for ya this morning?" he asked.
Link dropped Dragmire's calabash on the counter with a hollow tock. "Black tea in here, please."
"Any specific varietal?" the Rito asked, his head cocking to the side. "We've got a bunch of blends, the list's in the book on the counter if you wanna look."
Link hadn't noted the book when he came in, but he turned his attention to the slim volume then, flipping the cover open. The first page was a bunch of herbal blends— mint, rosehips and dried apple pieces and wildberries, liquorice roots and swift violet blossoms, ginger and aspalathus bark and warm safflina— and he studied them a moment before flipping to the next page. Here were the black teas: a couple of plain ones with names he recognized from maps of Tabantha, and more blends.
"What does the black with warm safflina and cinnamon taste like?" he asked.
The Rito turned and snagged a tall glass jar off one of the counters behind him, then popped the cork lid off and offered it to Link. "Here, have a smell," he said. "It's sort of spicy— this blend's got cloves and allspice, too, and the safflina makes it perfect for cold mornings."
Link closed his eyes and breathed deeply, tasting the scent on the back of his tongue. Warm spice, almost like the mulled apple cider his mother would prepare on chilly evenings back home.
He thought of the way Dragmire had held his cloak tight around himself the previous evening, his complaints of a chill at the Tanagar Stable.
"This one, please," he said.
"Alrighty," the Rito said, taking back the jar of tea and scooping up the calabash. "Anything else I can get for ya?"
"I'll need two more teas, but do you mind if I keep looking before I make a choice?" Link asked, turning to the next page.
"No problem," the Rito said. "We're slow at this point in the morning, take your time."
Link hummed in reply, then paused, studying the next page. "...What are 'green' teas?" he asked, looking up.
"They're leaves from the same plant that makes the black tea," the Rito said. He'd moved back behind the counter, and Link could smell smoke now— a low fire, he guessed, for heating the water for tea. "When we harvest 'em, the leaves for the black stay out overnight and react with the air, so they're dark and more bitter, while the greens come in and get steamed or smoked or sun-dried to dry 'em out." He puffed up a moment, the feathers at his neck and shoulders rising and falling. "My flock runs the harvest at Gisa— that's our sling pellet green there in the book, and in the swift violet blend."
"I think I'll try that one, then," Link said. Zelda liked swift violets some mornings, always called them a 'pick me up', and the way the description in the book called Gisa green floral made him think of her. "And...a rosehip and wildberry for the third one?"
"Absolutely," the Rito said. He turned, snagging down two more jars, then held out his other wing. Link handed over his and Zelda's waterskins, then made his way a little further down the counter, studying the baked goods tucked into baskets.
The first two baskets were full of pastries the size of his hand, each overflowing with wildberry jam and cream. The third basket held nutcakes, baked in palm-sized rounds, each with chopped walnuts and what looked like a caramel drizzle over the top. The fourth basket had what Link took for personal-sized egg tarts at first glance, but at a second look had meat in them, and melted cheese in a fine, crackly layer over the top, and emitted a savory smell that had his mouth watering.
"Getting anything for breakfast?" the Rito asked, and Link looked up immediately. The Rito was watching him, brown eyes keen. He could hear the water beginning to dance in the background as it moved towards a boil.
"Yeah, I think...two of the wildberry pastries, a nutcake, and...what are these, egg tarts?"
"Sort of? They're egg, goat's milk and cheese, and Hylian smoked ham," the Rito said. The kettle rumbled louder, and he lifted it and poured deftly into Zelda's waterskin, the water filtering through a fine muslin bag containing the loose tea as it went.
"Three of those too, I think," Link said. "And one of the loaves of bread, please."
"Gearing up for an expedition?" the Rito asked, setting the kettle back down and letting the rumble start up a little louder.
"Probably," Link said. "We're supposed to be looking for a set of ruins up in Hebra."
The Rito clucked his tongue. "Better watch out when you head up that way," he said. "Basht and Namali's flock came in off the south slopes two days ago, and apparently there's a storm brewing up on the northeast face of Mount Hebra. That won't be fun for you Hylians on foot if you get caught in it."
"We'll keep an eye on the sky, then," Link said, and when the Rito bobbed his head at him, he unrolled the waxed cloth he usually packed their food in and selected his pastries, tucking and folding so nothing got squished or ground into the fabric. "So how much do I owe you?"
"Sixty rupees," the Rito answered, setting the waterskins and calabash on the counter.
Link took them back, slinging the waterskins over his shoulder and looping the leather thong on the calabash through his belt, then opened Dragmire's wallet and peeked inside. Mostly silver rupees— he hadn't been kidding about being able to buy them breakfast, it seemed. He probably could have bought out the entire tea shop. He pulled out a purple rupee and two blues instead, dropping them into the Rito's wing.
"Thank you," he said, flashing the Rito a grin.
"Hey, no problem," the Rito said. "Enjoy your breakfast."
Link ducked back out onto the main boardwalk, then glanced back at the eastern hills. The sun was fully up now, glittering on the water, and he turned and headed a little further up, the waterskins warm against his back. The Brazen Beak was only a door further up, and while its brown curtains were pulled shut still, he could see flickers of movement in the small gaps between them and the wooden frame of the building. They'd be open soon enough.
He turned and hurried back down the steps towards the inn, but stopped before he reached the entrance, listening. Dragmire and Zelda's voices carried clearly in the thin, cool air— not muffled by the curtains closing the inn's wide windows, but by distance. He took a couple more steps and rounded the corner of the central pillar, and the flight landing a staircase down came into view. Zelda was seated at the edge of it, her feet dangling off the end of the platform, with Dragmire perched behind her, a comb in his hands. There was a lump in Link's throat— the morning light made both of them beautiful, limning Zelda's loose hair in gold and setting Dragmire's ablaze, even with it still tied in a neat bun at his nape.
"—Why you'd leave it loose anyway, if you weren't planning to wash it," Dragmire was saying.
"Having it back all the time pulls at my scalp," Zelda replied, sounding irritated. "Don't tug, my hair's not nearly as thick as a Gerudo's, you don't need to rip the knots!"
"I'm not," Dragmire huffed back. "You're just tender-headed."
The wood of the flight deck creaked underfoot when Link put his weight on it, and Zelda jumped— and then yelped, when the comb tugged at a knot in her hair. Dragmire hissed at her, then glanced over his shoulder himself, his face lighting up. Zelda tried to turn as well, wincing as the comb tugged again.
"You know, this would be easier if you sat still," Dragmire said dryly. "How did breakfast go, Link?"
"Just fine," he replied, sitting himself back down on his bed and setting the waterskins and food down. "Got a couple of wildberry pastries, a nutcake, three savory egg tarts, and tea for each of us. What did you two get up to while I was out?"
"Someone called my hair a bird's nest," Zelda muttered.
"Well, you shouldn't have slept with it loose if you didn't want tangles," Dragmire said, and tugged at the comb again, finally managing to work it through the knot. "You're lucky I didn't make you wait until Link had time to take care of your mop."
"Oh, like you don't have...what, four feet of hair?" she retorted.
"Oh, but I know how to take care of it," Dragmire said evenly. "It comes down when I have time to wash it before I put it back up again, and stays up when I don't. Not all of us can depend on servants, even if we are nobility."
Zelda huffed and rolled her eyes. "I do think it would be easier to deal with if it were shorter, but Father would explode if his daughter did something so unseemly as to cut her hair above her shoulders."
"Yeah, there's something to be said for short hair," Link said. His own was just barely long enough to pull back in a ponytail— he'd kept it that length since he was a young teen, when he first started training with the sword.
Dragmire hummed, running his comb through Zelda's hair again and working through the tangles. "Shame you aren't Gerudo," he said evenly. "You could crop your hair to the scalp and no one would tell you off for it, if you really wanted it gone."
"Then why keep yours long?" Zelda asked. "You'd look more masculine with it short."
"I happen to like wearing my hair long, thank you," Dragmire replied. "So, Link, tell us about the teas."
"Got you a black tea with warm safflina in it," Link said, passing over the calabash. "And a green tea with swift violet for Zelda."
Zelda's eyes lit up as he passed her the waterskin, and she uncorked the top and inhaled the fragrant steam, her eyes falling closed. "My mother had a green tea imported once, when I was a little girl," she said. "I didn't like it very much back then— it just tasted like grass."
Dragmire snorted, taking up the comb again and beginning to divide her hair into sections to braid. "Was it out of the Rayne Highlands, by any chance?
"Yes, actually," Zelda said. She blew gently on the tea, and Link watched the steam curl off in the wake of her breath. "Why do you ask?"
"The last time I paid a visit to the Risoka tribe they'd traded with one of the Rito flocks for a crate of Rayne green tea," Dragmire replied. "It really does taste like grass."
Zelda chuckled, then took a sip, her eyes falling closed a moment. "...Thank you, Link," she said, and flashed him a smile that warmed him down to his toes.
"Hey, it's no trouble," he said.
She hummed in response, then leaned over again, ignoring Dragmire's yelp of protest, and snagged the food out of Link's lap before he could unwrap it. Link let her, leaning over to snatch up the nutcake before either of them could and flashing Zelda a cheeky grin. She narrowed her eyes at him, then blew a raspberry in response and picked up one of the wildberry pastries, pausing to lick the cream and jam off her fingers before digging in. Dragmire finished off Zelda's braid, flicking it forward over her shoulder, then reached over her other shoulder and grabbed the other pastry. He took a bite, eyeing Link contemplatively.
"Good choice, here," he said. "So, someone refresh me on our plan for approaching the temple. I went to bed well before the pair of you did last night, I'm sure I missed something."
"We'll talk to Medli and Komali again before we make any other preparations," Zelda said. She took a sip of her tea, then gestured towards her field journal with the waterskin. "I cross-referenced my grandparents' notes with Medli's map of the Hebra mountains, and at this point it seems likeliest that the temple is located somewhere in the Sturnida Basin." She paused again, turning her gaze north. "...And yet, somehow I can't shake the feeling that the avalanche on Mount Corvash is significant."
"Seems to me as if it would be another one of your signs," Dragmire said thoughtfully. He paused, as if he were going to say something else, and Link glanced up at him.
And stilled. Dragmire had paused to lick a rivulet of escaped wildberry jam and cream off his wrist, and he froze and met Link's gaze as he did in a way that sent heat directly to Link's face. He ducked his head again immediately, and Zelda burst into full-blown laughter. Dragmire joined her a moment later, chuckling quietly, and Link's ears began to burn.
"You two are horrible," he said.
"Thank you," Zelda said brightly. There was a thump— Dragmire had collapsed on the platform, laughing harder. His eyes were screwed tight, and his face was flushed.
He really did have a nice laugh. Link looked away from him adamantly, hands fisted in the wool of his tunic to keep from tackling him outright.
"Medli said we were supposed to meet up late this morning or early this afternoon, right?" he asked, looking up at Zelda.
Zelda held her hand up a moment, signalling him to wait, and took a sip of her tea before she answered. "Right, she asked that we meet her and Komali up on Revali's Landing later this morning," she said. She glanced east, to where the sun had begun its climb higher in the sky. "I'd say we have some time yet, but they should be back fairly soon."
The landing creaked as Dragmire sat himself back upright. "Well, then. Shall we take our tea and head to the landing to meet them?"
"It certainly wouldn't hurt," Zelda said.
She recorked her waterskin and slung it across her chest, then stood. Dragmire scooted back a bit to give her more space, and Link hopped to his feet as well, offering her a hand as she maneuvered around Dragmire's legs. Dragmire rose a moment later, dusting off his sirwal. His eyes met Link's a moment. Link glanced away, feeling his cheeks heat, and tried to ignore Zelda's quiet, amused snort. She let go of his arm and slipped past them, making a beeline for the walkway, and Link hurried to keep up with her.
"...So, out of curiosity, what was our plan for an approach to the temple?" Dragmire asked as he caught up on Zelda's other side. "The terrain's going to be rougher, and unless we're going to retrieve the horses it's going to be a long walk just to the foot of the mountains from here."
"Travel gates?" Link suggested, shooting Zelda a look.
"I know it's not your favorite, but I think it's probably our best bet," Zelda replied. "I don't believe there's manned stabling for horses at the Hebra trailhead lodge, and the terrain around Lake Kilsie is too rough for them anyway, so I'd rather not risk taking them and then having to leave them somewhere unattended—"
"Hold on," Dragmire said. "Travel gates?"
Zelda's eyes lit up. "Right, you don't know! So, you know all of those little glowing buildings—"
"The Shrines of the Trials, yes," Dragmire said. "There's one outside Parapa— Nabooru and I overloaded the entrance panel on it to get access once."
"Yes, those— how did you manage to—?"
"Levered a knife into the mechanism and ran an electrical charge into it until the gate opened."
"I wasn't aware they could be opened without the Slate— what was inside?"
"Some kind of electrical puzzle," Dragmire said, shrugging. "Someone had already solved it and all the gates inside were open, so we just took the lift back out again."
"Ah. Well, that would have been my grandfather, the Slate's log says he made frequent use of that Shrine—"
"Zelda, the gates," Link said, gently redirecting her.
Zelda rolled her eyes, but the look on her face was fond, and Link grinned back. "Yes, the gates." She turned back to Dragmire. "So I think we already explained that the Slate folds space enough to contain objects put into it, but I don't think we ever got into the other mode of folding space it has."
Dragmire's golden eyes narrowed, and he shot a look at Link over Zelda's shoulder. "...No, I don't believe you did," he said dryly.
"So the Slate is designed to interface with contemporary Sheikah technology, like the shrines and the sacred towers, and the Divine Beasts in some capacity, right?" Zelda said. When Dragmire nodded she continued, gesturing enthusiastically. "Once a given site is registered with the Slate's memory, it keeps a record of that site's location in its memory, and— don't laugh at me, it's real— there's a function available to its registered user that allows them to move through space to any registered site with a 'travel gate' recorded in its memory."
"...That doesn't seem possible," Dragmire said.
"It is!" Zelda protested. "It's proven to work— my grandfather made regular use of them while he worked to reclaim the Divine Beasts from Calamity's influence, we have so many records of it— we just….never proved why it works. My grandparents couldn't decipher it, and neither could any of the Sheikah researchers who have experimented with it since."
"So if it's so convenient and useful, why don't the two of you simply use these travel gates wherever you need to go?" Dragmire said. "Why take the long roads on horseback when you can travel to any gate registered on your Slate?"
"I don't think it's that convenient," Link said. "Maybe if you want to go somewhere instantly, but I honestly prefer travelling the long way. Gives you more time to adjust."
"I think it's because he puked all over his boots the first time he did it," Zelda said.
Link pouted at her, his cheeks heating. "You said you wouldn't tell anyone."
"You really aren't convincing me on this," Dragmire said wryly. He reached behind Zelda's back and patted Link gently on the shoulder, his gold eyes soft, and the tips of Link's ears burned.
"It really isn't that bad," Zelda said, rolling her eyes. "And anyway it's quick, efficient, and means we won't have to worry about horses— and there are two convenient shrines that should put us right where we need to go, Maka Rah on the shore of Lake Kilsie and Sha Warvo in Dronoc's Pass. It's a quick hike from either of them to the potential temple sites."
They'd passed several levels by that point, and the boardwalk spiral tightened as they got back up into the more residential areas of Rito Village. While the lower levels had been less inhabited, these ones were busy— downy-feathered Rito children darted past on the walkways, or shot past in quick bursts in the air like the cuccos Link's family kept for eggs. Clusters of older Rito mingled on the walks out to precariously hung wooden buildings, bright plumage and dark in separate groups, or clustered together on the main boardwalks. None of them paid any mind to the three of them in their midst.
The air was cooler up here, Link noted, and he shot a sideways glance at Dragmire. He'd pulled his cloak a little more tightly about himself, but he didn't seem to be shivering— and as Link watched, he took another sip from his calabash. The safflina tea must have done its job, then. The thought left a warm glow under his sternum.
Zelda glanced up from the boardwalk at that moment and met his gaze almost incidentally, but her emerald eyes widened, and Link felt the tips of his ears warm. He must have been making some sort of face, because those eyes narrowed again. She tilted her head ever so slightly towards Dragmire and arched a brow.
Link's mouth abruptly felt dry. He lowered his chin a little, just enough to be a nod.
Zelda's other brow shot up to join the first, and Link immediately redirected his gaze to the boardwalk. She was always good at catching him on a crush— every time one of the handsome young knights at the Castle had caught his eye, every secret flirtation with a stablehand or maid, one private dalliance with a young noble lady from Hateno— no matter how well he tried to hide it. Before Farore's temple it had been a game, really, but this felt...different. His stomach had begun tying itself in knots without his noticing.
He'd have to get her alone later, explain himself. Figure out why this one felt like a betrayal.
The boardwalk levelled out and the space opened up, and Zelda bumped into his side to direct him out onto another landing. This one had a white-washed symbol in the center— a crescent moon with a thin spike protruding from the center of the curve, and five irregularly-sized rectangles extending from the outer edges of the crescent's horns— stylized wings on a fantastical bird-form. Four platforms extended from the landing, one on either side and two off the end that faced the lake, and the well-kept wooden railings were hung with brightly colored ribbons that caught the breeze from the lake. It was blowing in from the north again today, Link noted, and turned his face towards the mountains. Distant storm clouds built up in the highest, most distant peaks—
— And, much closer, two forms winged their way across the lake towards the village. Fast forms, at that; within the minute Komali reached the landing and hit the railing, claws first, with a thump. Medli landed beside him more gently, then hopped down onto the boardwalk and brushed herself off. She placed weight on her right leg gingerly, Link noted, and he glanced back up at Komali and bit his lip. The owl-faced Rito looked battered, face scratched and bleeding lightly from a score along his side that had torn his clothing.
"Are you two alright?" Dragmire asked.
"Fine," Komali said tersely. The feathers on his neck lifted, filling out the disc of his face, then flattened again just as abruptly.
"We had a run-in with a pack of lizalfos up on Corvash," Medli replied. "The bad news is, the avalanche seems to have stirred up a whole nest of them— but the good news is, I think we've found your temple!"
"You did?" Link asked.
"Tell us everything," Zelda said, reaching out to touch Medli's shoulder.
"We did a flyover of Sturnida Basin this morning at first light," Medli said. "The lighting's best then to try and look for buildings under snow cover, but we couldn't see anything, so we turned east and headed back towards Corvash— and would you believe it? The avalanche cleared a patch of slope halfway up the mountain, on the southwest face, and there were columns and what looked like a door under an overhang there. We tried for a closer look, but—"
"That's when the lizalfos got us," Komali said. "They're not common on the southern slopes, but something's got them out of their usual range." He cocked his head slightly, shooting Link a ruby glare. Link ducked his head slightly to avoid it.
"Things up there are definitely getting weird," Medli said. "Are you three still planning to try for it?"
"Well, I don't see how we could turn back now," Zelda said. "If I wasn't sure whether or not the temple was up there I would wait and regroup, but since you've found what might be the last piece of evidence we need, we have to try for it."
"I think we should be able to handle a couple lizalfos anyway," Link said, crossing his arms and shifting his weight.
"Hopefully they'll have settled down some by the time you get up there," Medli said. "You should be fine as long as they don't spot you, but—"
Komali hopped down from the railing, leaving gouges from his talons in the wood. "Take the ascent up Rospro Pass and avoid the north face of Corvash. And wait til tomorrow morning to do it, so they'll piss off somewhere else."
Then he launched himself skyward in a flurry of feathers, spiralling up around the central pillar and away from them. Medli rolled her eyes, but her expression was gentle.
"Don't mind him," she said. "He's just mad because he feels like he should have spotted them before it became an issue— but he is right, you should take a little extra time getting up there so they'll disperse."
"We'll be careful, I promise," Zelda said. "And thank you— both of you— for the help."
"It's no trouble, really," Medli said, and swept out a wing, wrapping it around Zelda's shoulders. She let go and took a hopping step backwards, spreading both wings and shifting her weight. "Just let us know what you find up there, okay?"
"Of course," Zelda said.
Medli nodded sharply, then launched herself airborne, kicking the ribbons back into motion as she took to the sky. The sun shone sharply off her white feathers, wings throwing great gusts of wind— and then she was gone, rocketing up and away into the air. Link craned his neck to watch her go, then turned his gaze north again.
Somehow, the clouds hanging over the peaks looked much more threatening than before.
"...Goddesses preserve us," Dragmire said quietly.
"...Well, at least we know where we're going now?" Link said, and flashed him an attempt at a hopeful smile. It felt more like a grimace. "And we should be able to handle a couple of lizalfos if it comes down to it."
"Right," Zelda said. "Remind me to get some of my arrows out of the Slate before we start our ascent— and I'd like to check the general store's offerings before we head out, I think we're running low on fire arrows."
Link nodded. "And I think the Brazen Beak should be open now, so we can get outfitted."
"Shall we, then?" Dragmire asked, tilting his head. "It's nearly noon, and if we have to make part of the hike today I would rather do it in daylight."
He extended an arm— and Zelda took it preemptively, her eyes locking with Link's.
Link let her, turning instead to lead the way back down the walkway.
The Brazen Beak was a level below them, between the levels Link thought would be occupied by Hylian and Gerudo traders in the warmer months and the upper levels that, as far as he could tell, were occupied by Rito year round. It was a bit larger than some of the other buildings on the lower levels, and the view inside was blocked by heavy brown curtains embroidered in white thread, proclaiming the name of the business under the familiar tunic motif of Hyrulean tailors' shops. The entry curtain was open, tied up off to the side with a heavy, blue-dyed rope. A Rito with feathers of a similar shade occupied the entrance, knitting with surprising speed for someone with wings instead of hands. They looked up at the sound of boots on the boardwalk and set the knitting aside.
"Good morning!" Link said. "Sorry to catch you so early—"
"Oh, you're fine, we've been open for hours," they replied. "Come on in! You three are here for cold-weather gear, right? Medli dropped by early this morning to say we might have customers."
"Yes, we are," Zelda said, releasing Dragmire's arm to stand next to Link. "We're planning an ascent up the southern slopes of Mount Hebra, and we need clothing that can be ready today if that's at all possible."
The Rito sucked in a breath, and their grey eyes darted from Link to Zelda, and then back up to Dragmire. Beaks weren't made to grimace, Link thought, but they certainly made an effort.
"We have gear for Hylians in a range of sizes," they said, taking a hopping step back into the shop, and Link ducked in afterwards. "Lots of Hylians come through wanting to take the Hebra ascent, so we should have a couple of parkas and trousers available, but...I'm not sure what we can do for a Gerudo on such short notice, especially not one so tall…"
"How much of a concern will the cold be?" Dragmire asked. He did have to duck under the crossbeam over the entrance, but lingered uncertainly inside the door. "Colder than the Tantari Highlands in the winter?"
"Much colder," the Rito answered. "Even in the summer Hebra stays cold enough to freeze the breath in your lungs, and it's only just snowmelt moon."
They stepped back behind a shelf, feathers rustling, and Link paused and glanced around the shop. A pair of mannequins stood off to the left side, modelling a pair of snowsuits— one grey-and-cream waxed canvas parka, fastened up the left side of the body, over a pair of heavy tan pants of the same waxed canvas. The second mannequin was dressed identically, but the parka was unfastened, showing off an interior lined in red quilted broadcloth. The rest of the shop was occupied with shelves: rolls and bolts of cloth in neat racks, finished parkas and trousers and boots, a row of mannequin heads in the back modelling a line of hats.
The Rito emerged from behind the shelf, brown feathers ruffled. They carried a bundle of cream fabric under one wing, which they held out to Zelda.
"This set should fit you— canvas, wool broadcloth, and beeswax from our Hylian trading partners, filled with genuine Rito down. This one's been tested to the point where the breath crystallizes in your nose, and kept the wearer warm." They turned back to Link, inspecting him with those keen grey eyes. "I've got a second set that'll fit you in the back, and you—" this directed at Dragmire— "should follow me. We have a couple Gerudo parkas in storage, but I'll need your measurements in case they'll need alterations to fit."
They turned around with a little hop and headed for the back of the shop again, and Link hurried after them, trying to keep pace with their shorter, but more energetic stride— and failing, as they ducked behind the shelf at the back of the shop ahead of him. Link paused at the end of it, meeting Dragmire's gaze, and the Gerudo crossed his arms.
"If they don't have anything that fits me, I've already said you can leave me here," Dragmire said.
"And we've already decided we won't," Link replied. "We'll cross that bridge when we get to it."
Dragmire opened his mouth to respond, but at that moment the shopkeep popped back out from behind the shelf and thrust a bundle of warm brown canvas at Link.
"Try this set on, and let me know how it fits," they said. "If the pants are too long, I might have a second pair that will fit you better." Link took the bundle from them, and they snapped out a length of knotted cord and eyed Dragmire meaningfully. "You, back behind the shelf. I'll need height, wingspan, the length of your leg, and the size of your waist."
Dragmire shot Link a hopeless look, but stepped behind the shelf anyway, and the Rito pulled a curtain down between them and the rest of the room.
Link sighed quietly, then made his way back up towards the front, where Zelda had pulled on her parka. Unfolded, it was predominantly cream, with a muted red band of cloth across the right side of the chest, wrapping from the fasteners up to the shoulder. She was still fiddling with the fastenings as Link approached— the inner flap attached with buttons to the inside of the outer one, and the outer flap attached under the left arm with a series of leather thongs. It camouflaged the shape of her body, padding out her silhouette.
"Well?" he asked.
"It's certainly warm," Zelda huffed, strapping the last thong into place. "I'm sweating in this and my tunic, and that's without the trousers."
"How does it fit?" he asked. He dropped his set of trousers on the floor and unfolded the parka first, holding it out at arm's length for inspection. The flap that closed across the chest was a vibrant green, deepening the brown to the color of tree trunks in a sunlit wood, and the fabric smelled of beeswax and down.
Zelda stretched a moment, raising her arms over her head, then went through the motions— miming lifting a pack, folding her arms, drawing a bowstring— then nodded definitively. "It's bulky, but it doesn't get in the way," she said, sounding pleased. "No more throwing back a cloak for a shot and immediately losing all of my heat."
She began unfastening the leather thongs, and Link shrugged into his parka, holding onto his sleeve so it wouldn't slide up his arm. The heat enfolded him as he did the same with the other arm, but he ignored it dutifully to begin fastening the buttons. Zelda toed out of her boots to pull on the trousers.
"So, I've been meaning to ask," Zelda said, lowering her voice a little and shooting a glance towards the back of the shop. She shimmied her trousers up over her slim hips, and Link averted his eyes from the pale sliver of stomach where her tunic rode up. "You and Dragmire have been getting close, huh?"
"...I can stop if you want me to," Link said. "I know you were fine with it before, but something's different this time, and...I just don't want to hurt you."
"It's alright," Zelda said, dropping her tunic back into place. She pulled her braid forward over her shoulder, fidgeting with the end. "You and I both know how my father would feel about...us, and I can't chain you to me for the sake of my satisfaction."
Link bit his lip, to restrain the I'm willing to wait for you on the tip of his tongue, and fiddled with the last button a moment before sliding it through the eyelet.
Instead, he said, "I know you won't. I just want to be sure you're okay with whatever might come of it, before I make a move."
"I am," Zelda replied. She folded the end of the trouser leg against itself, trying to tuck it into her boot, then sighed and let it fall over the top instead. "If you want to chase him, you have whatever permission you need."
"You won't be jealous?" Link asked, arching a brow and trying for levity.
Zelda snorted. "Oh, terribly. You get to run around kissing whoever you please, of course I'm jealous."
Link snorted and flashed her a crooked grin, which she returned.
The parka, at least, fit nicely. It was broad enough in the chest without being too wide in the shoulders, and while Zelda was right— it was bulky— it didn't hamper him as he tested a few sword-forms. The trousers, when he tried them on, fit too— not too tight through the hips, enough flexibility there and at the knees, long enough to fall past the ankles of his boots when he rolled them down, which was always nice for keeping deep snow from falling in the tops.
He'd just finished stripping out of the gear when the curtain hooks rattled on the rod, drawing his attention to the back of the shop. The Rito had emerged in a flurry of ruffled feathers, hopping lightly from foot to foot.
And then Dragmire emerged, and Link felt as if the world around him had frozen.
The Rito had located for him a parka in deep, rich blue-black, in a shade that made his warm brown skin seem to glow in contrast, trimmed in ruddy crimson and deep violet. Unlike the parkas Link and Zelda had tried, this one fell to the middle of Dragmire's thighs, clinched in just enough at his waist to emphasize the breadth of his shoulders. The accompanying black trousers seemed a little short, falling a few inches above the ankles of his boots, but otherwise they seemed to fit well. Link found his eyes drawn back up, up the sweeping curves of the coat to Dragmire's shoulders, his neck, to the fiery wisps of hair escaping his bun to curl against the collar.
The waxed canvas of the parka in his hands creaked a complaint as his grip tightened.
Behind him, Zelda hummed her approval. "I guess there was something back there that fit after all," she said.
"Just barely," Dragmire said, his cheeks reddening.
"The trousers should be a little longer, but if that's not a dealbreaker I can discount them," the shopkeep said. They wove back through the room and over to the counter, flipping open another ledger. "Did your parkas and trousers fit, or do you need another set?"
"They're fine, thank you," Zelda said. "So, what do we owe?"
"Are you renting or purchasing?" the Rito asked, flipping over another page. "Hylian-sized gear, untailored, runs 500 rupees for each parka and 460 per pair of trousers, for purchase, and 250 and 230 respectively for a rental."
Zelda hummed thoughtfully. "I think I would prefer to purchase my parka and rent the trousers. Link?"
"Just a rental for me, I think," he said. "The parka's nice, but I don't know how much I'll need it after this trip.
"I'll make my purchase separately, but I would also prefer to buy the parka and rent the trousers," Dragmire said.
He and Zelda made their way to the counter, and Link heard the jingling of rupees exchanged. He headed for the door, drumming his fingers on the wooden frame and watching the boardwalks instead, his eyes drawn inexorably northward, to the line of mountains and the dark storm clouds pressing against the blue sky above them. There was a weight to the air, a feeling of expectancy he hadn't noticed before the other two temples.
The floorboards behind him creaked, and Zelda and Dragmire emerged, both carrying their purchases under an arm. Zelda brushed up against Link's side and paused beside him, turning her gaze north as well before glancing at him and Dragmire.
"Well?" she said. "Let's get our packs and go. The day isn't going to get any longer, and I'd like to make the trailhead lodge before sundown."
That was all the prompting it took. The three of them turned, almost as one, and headed back down the steps to the inn, ducking back into the eastern wing, and Dragmire threw open the curtains around their beds to let the others pass. Link pulled on the parka again, and slung his cloak over his shoulders, but packed the trousers away into his pack and hiked it up onto his back. He could see the others doing the same out of the corner of his eye— Zelda packing away her books, Dragmire pinning his cloak in place with his ruby brooch. Zelda slung her pack up over her shoulders, adjusting the straps again for good measure. Dragmire followed suit.
They emerged into the open air again, and Link led them up around the central pillar, higher and higher to the place the shrine was marked on his map, on the stone outcropping about halfway up, at the point where the commercial lower town began to transition to the more residential areas of Rito Village.
The outcropping was deserted when they reached it, and Link paused on the landing, taking in the view. Lake Totori sprawled in the background, blue water shining against the dark, metallic stone of the face of the shrine. The travel gate on the platform outside of it pulsed with lights, seeming almost expectant.
"Alright, so how exactly does this work?" Dragmire asked.
"This is where the travel gates get complicated," Zelda said. "A single user, coded to use of the Slate— in this case, that would be Link— can use the travel gates to move from any point in Hyrule to a travel gate. Two users, on the other hand, can only travel from one registered gate to another— we're not sure why, my grandmother theorized it had something to do with the increased amount of energy required to move two people."
"And what about three?" Dragmire asked. He stepped down off the wooden landing and into the grass around the shrine, pacing up to circle the platform without stepping onto it. Link followed him, but stepped up to stand on it instead, planting his boots over the glowing lines of the travel gate.
Zelda hopped up to join him a moment later. "It can't be used to move three people at once," she said. "My grandparents and other researchers tested it repeatedly, with different combinations of participants, but only two people can travel at once."
"So how are we going to work this?" Dragmire asked, pausing in his pacing to look up at them. His golden eyes were hawk-bright.
"I'll take Zelda first and drop her off at Dronoc's Pass, and then come back for you," Link said. "Is that alright?"
"I have no complaints," Dragmire said. He paused, then arched a brow and put a hand on his hip. "Just don't puke on my boots when you take me."
"Hey," Link huffed, shooting him a dirty look.
Zelda hooked an arm through Link's before he could say anything else, and he sighed and pulled the Slate out, navigating through to the map screen. It loaded immediately to their area, a golden arrow pointing in the direction the Slate faced, and Link expanded the map view and maneuvered it further north, until Dronoc's Pass came into view, and the glowing diamond of an active shrine gate with it. He tapped on it with a finger, then clicked through the following screens, ignoring the illegible Ancient Sheikah script and following the instructions Zelda had given him when he'd first been handed the Slate, three years before.
The world around him dissolved in a burst of cool air and blue light.
When the brilliance faded, Link squinted against the bright white light of sun on snow instead. He shaded his eyes with a hand, peering around him— snow-covered ground, craggy grey rock, pine trees sagging under the weight of the snow still lingering on their branches. Zelda released his arm and hopped off the platform onto the stone trail, glancing north towards where the map said the Flight Range lay, then south towards the walking path, to where it turned to the northeast and began the ascent towards the southern slopes of Mount Hebra.
"I'll scout ahead a little bit, and be ready when you come back," Zelda said. "My grandfather's field notes mentioned that in his day a troop of bokoblins set up a raiding party that controlled this crossroad, and I'd rather we didn't have to deal with them."
"Sounds good," Link said. "I'll be back as soon as I can."
He activated the Slate again, closing his eyes to feel his boots lift from the platform, and touched down again a moment later on the one in Rito Village, the warmer air stinging his face after the chill.
Dragmire was waiting for him, still standing in the grass. "...Well?" he asked, tilting his head.
"Well?" Link asked back, and offered his hand. "Come on."
Dragmire reached out immediately and took Link's hand, then stepped up onto the platform. He was warm even through his thick leather gloves. Link's heart stuttered. He bit his lip gently and pulled Dragmire closer, pressing himself against the larger man's side, then maneuvered through the map screen again. He could feel Dragmire's eyes on him, on the Slate.
His fingers found the shrine again and pressed, and the world dissolved again for a single blessed moment before they landed on the gate. The chill wind off Mount Hebra bit at the side of Link's face, and he felt Dragmire shiver against him, releasing his hand to pull the hood of his cloak up over his head. Link glanced up at him, then higher, to the dim clouds beginning to sweep in from the north.
Boots crunched on frozen ground, and a moment later Zelda surmounted the rise, pulling her own hood back from her face.
"The crossroads are clear," she said. "No sign of any foot passage, human or otherwise, since the last snowfall. If we go now we should make good time to the lodge— it's supposedly only an hour's hike to the northeast— and then we'll have the rest of the evening to plan our ascent."
Zelda's estimate was right, of course. The lodge was just over an hour up the trail, but they ate up the miles with a good, steady pace. The air was crisper than down at the village, cleaner, and Link marvelled at the way the sun shone refracted through the ice on the trees and glistened blue in the frosty grass and shadows on snowbanks. No birds called, and the air was hushed, broken only by the sound of their footsteps on the path and their breathing, which hung in the still air in plumes of vapor. None of them dared speak until at last they rounded the bend and the cabin came into view, a little low-slung wooden building tucked up against the base of a cliff. The snowbanks around it were lower, though, and the space around the front door— and a trail around to the side of the cabin, where Link presumed the woodpile would be— had been cleared.
Zelda tromped up to the door and rapped sharply on it with her knuckles. Then, when no response came, she shoved it open, ignoring the way the hinges squealed in protest, and stuck her head inside.
"It's empty," she said, poking her head back out.
Then she slipped inside, and Link hurried to follow her.
The inside of the cabin was dark— dark wood, windows blocked by curtains to keep out the cold, until Dragmire shoved one open and let a bolt of sunlight in to lance the gloom. It was exactly as small as it had appeared from the outside, too: a couple of beds tucked in one corner, a table and stools on the other side of the room, a fireplace on the back wall with a smoke-blackened cookpot and a pile of kindling stacked beside it. The flames in the hearth had been banked to embers, but Dragmire padded over to it and knelt, stacking some of the kindling over the coals. His shoulders rose, and Link heard him inhale deeply.
When he exhaled, the flames leapt up in response.
"That was banked early this morning, I think," Dragmire said. "Either someone anticipated a group like ours following them, or they intended to come back."
"Well then, they'll have to share," Zelda said with a huff, and dropped her pack down on one of the beds.
Link shrugged and made his way over, setting his pack down at the foot of the bed Zelda had dropped hers on, then looked it and the rest of the furniture over. Dark wood, the same as the cabin itself, carved roughly but serviceably. The mattress, from the sound it had made when Zelda dropped her pack, was straw-filled, but the blankets looked like good wool, and all three beds had quilts.
Someone had loved the idea of this place a good deal.
Dragmire dropped his own pack by the table, then shook out his cloak to straighten it. "I'll go and get some more wood for the fire, warm this place up a little," he said, then slipped back outside, closing the door behind him.
"Well?" Zelda said in Link's ear. "What are you waiting for, an invitation?"
The cold air was a shock, again, even after the mild chill of the cabin. Link shook himself and followed Dragmire's boot prints in the snow around to the side with the woodpile. He paused as he rounded the corner, taking it all in— the cool blue air, the grey cliff and white snow, Dragmire against it like a splash of flame and cinders in his dark cloak. He glanced up at the sound of Link's footsteps, and his golden eyes softened.
"Come to help me?" he asked.
"Yeah," Link said, and made his way over to the woodpile as well. He gathered up a few decent-sized logs, watching Dragmire out of the corner of his eye. "...And to check in on you, that's all."
"I'm alright," Dragmire replied, shrugging his shoulders. "A bit chilly, but that's to be expected. You?"
"Just fine," Link said. He hesitated, took a deep breath. "...Look, you've been talking a lot about Zelda and I leaving you behind, and I'm worried."
Dragmire heaved a sigh and set down the wood he'd picked up, turning to face Link directly. "To be frank with you, I'm worried I won't be of much use," he said. "Most mages are more skilled in some areas than others, and ice magics are my weak point— and this place is all ice. I don't want to slow you two down."
"You won't," Link said, setting his wood down as well. "If we didn't want you to come we'd have left you behind in the desert."
"You invited me along because of fate," Dragmire said dryly.
"Yeah, at first," Link said. "But, look. We want you here now, for you— I want you here—"
"You?" Dragmire asked. His eyes had gone wide.
"...Yeah," Link said. His pulse roared in his ears. "Me. I, um. I like you. A lot." He bit his lip— goddess, did he always sound so stupid when he confessed?
"...And here Nabooru called me a besotted idiot," Dragmire said. He reached out and cupped Link's cheek in one massive hand, pulling him gently closer. "I was just under the impression that Zelda was your partner."
"It's...a bit complicated," Link said. "But she's never stopped me from kissing a pretty boy before."
"...Would you like to?" Dragmire asked. His cheeks had reddened, and he glanced away a moment before meeting Link's eyes again, worrying his lower lip between his teeth.
Goddess.
"Yes," Link said, and leaned up to cross the gap between them.
Dragmire's lips were warm under his own, and slightly chapped, and when he opened his mouth into the kiss he tasted like ozone on Link's tongue. Link fisted his free hand in Dragmire's cloak, felt his arms encircle his back in turn to pull him closer.
They broke the kiss, and Dragmire pressed his forehead firmly against Link's.
"Was that what you wanted?" he whispered.
"...Maybe one more," Link said, and pulled him in again.
He surged up again, releasing Dragmire's hand to cup his nape and kiss him more deeply. Dragmire made a low, pleased noise in the back of his throat, and a hand dropped to the small of Link's back to hold him close. More ozone. A tingle of electricity danced across Link's lower lip, and he nipped at Dragmire's in return, threading his fingers through his hair. They fell apart again, clashed back together, and Link tugged Dragmire's hair free of its bun, clutching fistfuls of flame in his hands. Dragmire reeled back—
—And lost his balance, and the next thing Link knew they were in the snow.
Dragmire burst out laughing. Link couldn't help but join him, settling against his broad chest and shaking until the laughter subsided. The warmth of his cloak from the ruby brooch was incredible, and part of Link wanted to curl into him and never emerge.
"...Ah, I suppose we should actually get that wood," Dragmire gasped, and released Link to wipe away tears of laughter.
"Yeah, we'll need it," Link said ruefully, and stood, helping Dragmire to his feet. They were both damp, he noted with distaste, and he shook the clinging snow from his cloak.
Dragmire pulled him in for another kiss, this one much more chaste. "We will," he said quietly, but he didn't turn or pull away, his breath and Link's mingling in the frigid air.