Author's Note:
Some additional info before entering this fic! Firstly, Link and Zelda are in a committed platonic relationship, and refer to one another as partners. Secondly, although Zelda's human form was restored at the end of the game, she has retained some draconic characteristics. And finally, Link's arm was not restored at the end of the game; and as realistic to many people irl with limb differences, he is currently choosing not to wear a prosthetic arm.
Once a year, they travel to Mount Satori.
The tradition began years ago, when they'd only been free from Calamity's grasp for six months: enough time for their mental and physical wounds to begin to heal, and for Link to begin to develop cabin fever, accustomed as he was to the whisper of branches in the breeze and the feeling of rocks bruising his back through his bedroll. On their way to visit the rito in Medlir that autumn, Link had suggested the detour, and despite the scrapes on her hands and her long hair knotting so awfully in the wind that it resembled a woven mat by the end of the hike, it had been a resounding success. They'd descended the mountain with smiles on their faces, another five pictographs in the Sheikah Slate's overstuffed album, and the mutual agreement to return the following year.
Still, she's glad that her hair is now too short to get snarled in every gust of wind and low-lying branch she forgets to duck beneath. And there's more of those low branches than ever, it seems: Zelda may not have been a dragon for nearly a year at this point, but her body still misplaces its sense of self for that of a magical skybound reptile at times. At least she always remembers her tail.
(Well, almost always. The Great Kakarikan Tea Set Incident would probably beg to differ.)
It's after she soundly thumps her forehead into another branch on their trek through Dalite Forest that she suggests they take a break. This time, the draconic crest atop her head tangles in the branches, a spiritual successor to her long hair. When she feigns nonchalance, that her desire to stop obviously has nothing to do with the twigs she's become enmeshed in, Link giggles softly.
"It's a nice day anyway," she says, and it is. Late summer sun shining onto the trail, occasional breezes that feel like her body is being wrapped in a hug. A peaceful afternoon in a peaceful land.
"It sure is," Link signs easily.
He reaches towards her to help her extricate her crystalline horns, and she gladly moves her hands out of his way. Her partner's gentle, one-handed touch is more effective than she can manage with two. Although he does have the distinct perks of being able to see what he's doing, and normal fingernails instead of inch-long, diamond-hard claws.
"Perhaps we could picnic off the trail," she muses. When Link's gaze flickers from where it's trained above her head down to meet her own, lips quirked in an amused grin, she flaps a hand at him. "Yes, yes, we had lunch an hour ago, but—" her own lips curl up into a teasing smirk, "—since when have you ever turned down a chance for a meal? I'm surprised your stomach isn't already growling."
He laughs, and after one final fiddle, the twigs fling themselves free of her crest. With his task now completed, his hand hastens to reply: "You got me there."
Zelda watches the branch dance in the air with the force of its liberation, and winces when she sees that her crest has stripped it bare of bark. Link never chastises her about being more careful—he never is, either, so it would be hypocritical—but she wishes she were a little more conscientious sometimes. For the sake of the world around her, if not her own.
…Still, best not to dwell on her frustrations. If Link can treat her with compassion and accept where she is on her journey, she can do that for herself, too.
"We'll just have a snack," she decides, glancing around to determine which nearby patch of trees has the softest-looking grass. "Maybe there will be some apples around that are in good shape. Do we still have the cheese from—" She snaps her fingers. "Oh, what was her name…"
"P-A-R-G-A," Link fingerspells. In lieu of answering her initial question verbally, he simply pats the leather pouch at his waist.
"Parga! Of course. With the unique cheese variety she named after herself." Zelda sets off to the right of the trail, where a big old tree has caught her eye.
Link jogs a bit to catch up with her, and Zelda turns more towards him so she can see his signing in more than just her periphery. He grins. "P-A-R-M-A is a good cheese."
"It is, isn't it!" Food isn't Zelda's passion, not the way it is Link's, but any innovation the people of Hyrule create as they learn and share their learning with one another thrills her. "I like the dryness of it. Certainly helps it to keep longer while on the road. It's been…what, two days now? Three? And still no sign of spoiling!"
Link lets out a noncommittal hum. When she turns further towards him, curious, she catches him glancing over mischievously.
Zelda gently bumps him in the side with her elbow. "I know, I know, you would still eat it even if it got moldy. Reckless gastronome."
"Don't act like you wouldn't benefit. You love a lab specimen." Link flumps down onto the thick grass beneath the large tree Zelda had aimed them towards. Contrary to the teasing tone of his words, the smile he beams up at her is genuine and sunny.
She can't help but to return it. "I do. And one—" She drops down to her knees beside him, just to flop her own torso overtop his own; Link's breath wheezes out from impact and laughter combined. "—happens to be my favorite."
Her partner's hand reaches up to cup the back of her head, fingers twining themselves into the short strands of her golden hair and just barely reaching up far enough to graze the base of her horns. The fondness of the gesture speaks for him: You're my favorite too.
She basks in his affection for a moment, although with his hand on the back of her head, leaning further into his touch like she wants to is awkward at best. Her spine and core tire immediately of the stretch backwards. She opts instead to dart forward; plant a smacking smooch on Link's right cheekbone; and roll off onto the grass, careful not to crush her tail beneath her.
Link reaches up to rub his cheek, a dazed smile on his face and his eyes slightly glazed over. She snickers as she reaches into the satchel at his waist and extracts what remains of their wedge of parma cheese.
While Zelda retrieves her belt knife—far more wieldy to cut cheese with, even if she and Link have gotten plenty of laughs in the past from either of them attempting to cook using Link's broadsword and even her own trusty claymore—Link's eyes come back into focus, and he props himself up against the trunk of the tree behind him. He signs something, but between his relaxed, loopy motions and the mental adjustment of comprehending one-handed signs rather than two, she misses the meaning.
"If we only eat a few slices, I think we might have enough to use in risotto tonight," he repeats, taking care to sign more deliberately.
She pats his thigh in a silent gesture of gratitude for accommodating her, and passes him two thin slices of parma cheese before stowing it back in the satchel. "Oh, that sounds delicious. Mushroom?"
"If you like." He taps his chin in thought. "We'll see what we can gather at Rutile Lake. I'll need something to make the broth with, but that can be veggies or extra mushrooms if we don't want poultry in it."
"I would welcome that as well! That duck and mushroom risotto we had last winter solstice was divine." She pats the bow slung across her back with the back of her cheese-occupied hand. "If a good shot presents itself, I'll take it; if not, we'll just go foraging! Speaking of…"
She cranes her neck back to gaze up into the canopy, chewing her own slice of cheese thoughtfully. The big tree they're resting beneath appears to be an old oak, but several of the surrounding trees sport early-season apples in reds and pinks. Under the dappled sunshine filtering through the broad oak leaves, the dew on their skins makes them look glazed by Hylia's own light. Saliva pools under her tongue at the thought of honeyed apples, but she stifles the craving; neither of them have courser bee honey at hand, and that's one ingredient she could go without attempting to gather. Dinner would be far less enjoyable if one or both of them suffered bee stings.
One particular apple catches her eye. Of all the young fruits spangling the trees that surround them, this one seems to be the most developed: rich and red and large, its surface glittering in a sunbeam so perfectly situated that it reminds her of the lamp-lit spotlights in the stage plays she'd viewed in her youth.
That one. She wants that one. She can practically feel the crisp crunch and taste the sweet earthy juices from where she sits, only a few paces away from this perfect apple. Her mouth waters.
Beside her, Link seems to have had a similar idea. He pushes himself to his feet with an airy huff of effort, not bothering to dust off the seat of his trousers or adjust his weapons where they've jumbled on his back from him collapsing onto them. She watches his loose, ambling stride with a fond smile—it's a treat to see him so relaxed—as he approaches the tree.
"Can you even reach that?" she teases, as he stretches onto his tiptoes.
Link turns to face her, still poised to pick the apple. His face squinches into a mock scowl in reply—
The tree jolts. The earth shakes.
Link tumbles to the ground with a wordless shout.
Zelda attempts to scramble to her feet, but haste and alarm make her body blank on how to function with two feet. Unsteady and fumble-footed, she falls back to the forest floor. The pinning of her tail beneath her weight shoots sparks of pain up her spine, and she hisses.
By the time she's clawed herself upright, relying on the sturdy old oak for balance, Link is still on his back. His eyes are wide with shock. Beneath him, the evermean's roots twist and stretch and and writhe and mangle the earth as they heave its bulk forward. Like spiders' legs. Like grasping fingers.
She sees panic overtake him as the threat looms ever closer, branches whipping to and fro in the air. When he goes to scurry backwards out of the evermean's reach, she watches as the instinctive need to get away wipes his mind of the fact that he no longer has a right arm to aid in his escape attempt. Both shoulders swing back, but only one hand connects with the earth to propel his body onward. Unbalanced, he buckles, crashing to the ground once again.
She can't watch this anymore. Her hand grasps over empty air where her claymore's handle usually juts over her shoulder, and she lets out a yell of frustration: she'd left it with the horses at Outskirt Stable. She freezes and claws the air with indecision. No claymore, no axe, no fire fruits or flame-gleeok reaper. Link is the one who kept his blade on him for their hike, and he's lying on it. What can she do to hurt a tree?
The evermean whomps its biggest, heaviest branch onto the ground where Link had been only moments before. Wood cracks loudly but holds firm, with only the smallest, most fragile twigs splintering off from the force of the blow. On a nearby limb, the apple that started it all sways violently.
A zonai light flickers on inside her head.
She yanks her bow free from its strap with an ease that speaks to her hundreds of hours of practice. Her left hand wraps around the grip, slotting into the groove where the wood has molded to the shape of her palm and fingers. In one smooth motion, she nocks the arrow, raises the bow up to the proper angle, and pulls back the string. She holds position for just a moment, feeling the burn in her arm and between her shoulders from the full draw weight of her dragonbone bow.
She knows from the millisecond the arrow looses that the shot will be good.
The arrow pierces the apple's crisp flesh, and though she cannot hear it over the din of the evermean's thrashing and the thrumming of her bowstring next to her ear, she imagines the satisfying thock it must have made. Despite the hearty green stem holding the apple to its branch, the force of her shot snaps it free instantly. Apple and arrow shoot off together before impaling the trunk of a non-carnivorous tree across the way.
The evermean freezes. It swings to face her, menace oozing from its aura like sap from its branches.
Zelda's brain thinks: It's a testament to the strength of young Molli's fletching that even with the weight of the apple and the forceful shuddering of the arrow post-impact, its shaft has hardly even bent. She'll have to purchase more from the young rito the next time they visit Medlir.
Zelda's mouth says: "Sword, Link!"
The evermean's new preoccupation with Zelda has given Link the second of reprieve needed for him to respond with intention, rather than pure instinct. He launches to his feet with the velocity of a zonai rocket. One quick, appreciative glance flashes her way, and then he unsheathes his sword.
It would take far more than a single strike for Link's broadsword to fell the evermean, no matter how sharp and sturdy its lynel horn blade may be. Instead, he slashes fluidly: a glancing blow off the trunk that he can recover from swiftly, without the recoil shocking his arm up to the socket, or extraneous force biting the blade too deeply into the wood to retrieve. It's just enough to send the evermean swaying backwards, roots frantically churning for purchase in the loose soil.
The sword wmbles back into its leather sheath. Link grabs Zelda's hand, taking a split second to squeeze her fingers with his own. They run.
Her balance is unsteady, and so is Link's. Breathless, they charge between tree trunks and through undergrowth and under Zelda's beloathed low-hanging branches. Miraculously, though she repeatedly raps her horns and tail against random foliage, they never tangle; despite Link tripping over more roots and fallen branches than she can count while trying to keep up with her longer stride, he never trips. Together, hand in hand, they hold one another up. Keep one another going.
Eventually they hit the path and stagger to a stop. Zelda doubles over and braces her free hand on her thigh, panting loudly with lungs that burn as though she's filled them with campfire embers. Beside her, Link is silent, but she can tell from the heaving of his chest that he's just as winded.
"You…good?" she gasps.
He still doesn't let go of her hand. Instead, he gives it a deliberate double squeeze.
"I'm…glad."
Link's thumb smooths back and forth along the scales on her knuckles, and she tries to match her breaths to his speed. Slow. Deep. The frantic racing of her heart calms bit by bit, and where her wrist presses against Link's, she can feel his thundering pulse begin to steady as well.
After a few more moments, she straightens up, but keeps her feet planted wide for balance's sake.
"Well, that was eventful."
She keeps her face neutral for a moment, but when Link's mouth crinkles upwards at the corners even infinitesimally, she breaks. They laugh together, joined hands shaking in the air between them.
Link reluctantly squeezes her hand one final time, and then releases it. "I forgot there were evermeans in Dalite Forest."
"Evermeans, plural?" Her eyebrows shoot up. "So we weren't just decidedly unlucky in our choice of picnic spot?"
"No." The definitiveness of his thumb, pointer, and middle fingers snapping together reminds her of the jaws of a trap. "It doesn't count as being unlucky when I should've remembered the danger. And handled it correctly."
She doesn't like the way the mirth has bled from his eyes and left only flinty chagrin in its place.
"Hey." When he doesn't meet her gaze, she says it more forcefully. "Hey. What happened the first time you came through Dalite Forest?"
Link stares up into the canopy, recalling. "I was looking for koroks, and somehow managed to run into every evermean in the area before I found the only one in the woods." The lopsided little smile he gives the leaves above eases the worry in her chest. "It was right next to the path the whole time."
"And did you cut them down?" She cocks her head to the side.
His eyes flicker down from the trees to meet her own, and a true smile breaks across his face like sunlight through thick grey clouds. The remaining worry in her chest melts under its warmth like ice in the spring thaw.
"No way. I ran away all four times. I don't like killing them if I don't need to. And it would've been a waste of a perfectly good boss boko axe."
Zelda laughs. "I can't believe you remember all that."
"If I didn't, I wouldn't have any stories my partner could laugh at me for when she got home."
She thinks she may drown in those deep pools of affection he calls eyes.
"Well, we certainly couldn't have that."
His hand hovers, fingers twitching ever so slightly, and she can't help but smile. Hesitation in a moment like this usually means only one thing: he can't decide if he wants to sign or squeeze his I love you.
She snags his hand out of the air—careful not to accidentally scratch him with her claws—interlocks their fingers, and squeezes thrice. After a faux-miffed pout, which she finds absolutely adorable, he squeezes back: I love you.
Of course, it only logically follows that they would get into a squeeze war after that, pumping with exponentially increasing vigor, until they're nearly out of the forest. As the sun brightens beyond the final barrier of the trees, Link wrests his hand from hers dramatically, shaking it as if her grip had made his fingers go numb.
"So you shot the apple," he signs. The words themselves are neutral, but between the smirk on his face and the way his hands give an extra little flick, she can tell he's teasing her.
"Well, shooting it in the trunk wouldn't have been particularly effective," she volleys back. "It's a tree."
"I'm just surprised you went for it. You'd been staring at that apple so longingly…"
"Pardon me, but which one of us was so mesmerized that they got soundly thumped by a tree in all ways but the literal?"
"Me!" The pointer finger Link jabs into his chest is enthusiastic. Zelda snickers.
At last, they emerge from the cover of Dalite Forest, blinking rapidly in the sudden brightness. Mount Satori juts up, up, up from the earth before them, robust and resplendent. Honey-hued midafternoon light gilds the tan granite, and the great pines stretching up from the mountain's crags sway gently in the breeze. Despite the majesty of the peak itself, Zelda's gaze is drawn to the swath of green daubing its southwestern edge like paint on a masterwork: Lake Rutile.
"I do have a confession," she admits. "Pertaining to the apple."
Link turns to her expectantly, eyebrows raised at the sudden seriousness of her tone.
"Because I was forced to shoot it, rather than consume it…" She pauses for the ultimate dramatic effect on her delivery. "I am positively starving." As if on cue, her stomach rumbles loudly. "You will have to fight me for the lynel's share of risotto tonight. If I let you have any."
She breaks off into a sprint. Behind her, Link lets out a startled laugh, and then whoops as he follows her, gravel and soil crunching beneath his boots.
From their years of practice, she knows that Lake Rutile is another hours' hike from where they stand, and that foraging for ingredients will take an additional half that. No matter how speedy their strides, they inevitably will slow from their dash, and clutch stitches in their sides, and by the time they've reached their destination they'll complain that they never should have run at all.
But for now, there's a blue sky above her and a huge tree she would bet holds a korok puzzle ahead. For now, she has a human digestive system that she'll relish in filling with her favorite dish later that evening. For now, Zelda is running with Link, for the sheer joy of being alive and at her partner's side. And there's nowhere she would rather be.
Author's Notes:
This fic was a gift for the ever-lovely cetaseok (on tumblr) as part of the TP Zelinkers Discord server's Secret Santa! (Yes, I wrote a TotK fic for a TP server; my contradiction knows no bounds.)
This year I hope to write more variations of zelink that depict kinds of relationships that get less time in the spotlight. As a person in a platonic partnership myself, I've started here! I hope that anyone out there who is inclined to this sort of relationship has felt seen, and that any reader reading a queerplatonic relationship for the first time with this fic has enjoyed it and learned something new about all the forms human relationships can take!
On another note, while I most certainly headcanon Link as mute and having a limb difference, and Zelda with balance problems and occasional dissociation, and have done my best to research and depict them positively, I don't have any of the disabilities depicted here myself! If any reader has constructive criticism for me, please do leave it in the comments-I am eternally grateful for the opportunity to learn.
Also, yes, parma cheese is in fact a reference to parmesan lol
Thank you to my beta cooking-with-hailstones (on tumblr), and to you, the reader, for getting all the way down here! Happy 2024!