When Link was ten, he remembered attending a royal function at the palace with his father. He put on his finest doublet and the nicest, tightest shoes possible, and followed his dad into a magnificent ballroom. It was the biggest room Link had ever seen, with a gorgeous sparkling chandelier and grand, sweeping staircases. There were banners strung up all along the ceiling and banquet tables lining either side. In the middle, couples dressed in all different colors whirled around each other in an intricate dance to music lilting from the string quartet that sat neatly in the corner. He remembered hoping he would never have to join the spinning.
He remembered a man at the top of the staircase gladly shaking hands with his father and announcing the two of them before they descended into the mess of swirling silks. It had been the most interesting thing he had ever seen, and certainly the most decadent. He had to bow to everyone he met, stay quiet unless he was spoken to and be on his absolute best behavior. He spent most of his night as a wallflower, or eating the delicacies off one of the grand tables, or dancing awkwardly with one of the young ladies who took a shine to him. He wasn't allowed to drink anything other than water.
But the thing he remembered most was the young girl that ran around ladies' skirts and danced on the feet of the men. She was the only other person remotely close to his age there and he didn't get a chance to talk to her once. But she looked so happy, laughing and smiling as she played, and Link was desperate to join in, to do something more than just be proper and polite. Unfortunately, he had promised his father that if he was going to attend the royal celebration, he would behave, and so he watched her smile and squeal with glee as she danced and enjoyed herself, her golden curls bouncing along as she went.
He couldn't explain it, but there was some primal part of him that wanted to watch her dance everyday.
Princess Zelda, he learned later, was the one the entire ball had been thrown for. For her ninth birthday.
When he was twelve, his father died and he was left at the castle. Because he was the son of a royal knight, he suddenly became a page and was sent about doing important pagely things. As it turned out, he was quite good at being a page. There was no mission he couldn't fulfill, no task too daring or too great. And while he really didn't do much other than simple chores around the castle, he felt like he was doing something worth his while. And so he buried himself in his work. And when he didn't have his work, he wandered around the gardens or tried desperately to read something in the library.
It was one such evening, early into his stay at the castle, that he ran into the princess in the gardens. It had just started getting dark, the sun dipping behind the horizon, when he'd turned a corner on his walk and there she was. She sat on a bench, her nose buried in a book, tongue peeking out from between her lips. Her right hand held a charcoal pencil that hovered over a notebook sitting next to her and occasionally, she scribbled something in it furiously.
He ached to know what had her so enraptured.
Link stood there and watched her study for a little. It was sweet and inspiring and made him wonder if perhaps he should be working a little harder to study too. Maybe he was letting his education slip in favor of becoming a knight. Granted, he wasn't really sure what else he could be studying so that seemed a rather stupid thought.
The Princess's guard, who was standing stone still behind her, cleared his throat. Link jumped and turned bright red as the princess looked up and met his eye. She smiled gently and then bent back over her reading. Link smiled too, turned neatly on his heel, and ran back to the barracks to bury his head in his pillow.
When he was 14, Link became a squire. He was overjoyed, absolutely ecstatic at the idea. Usually one had to wait until 15 or 16 to move up in the ranks, but there he was, a squire. He got a better bed in different barracks, he now followed Sir Sadon around almost religiously, and the king had requested an audience with him.
If Link were to be completely honest with himself, that last one was utterly terrifying.
Regardless, he put on his cleanest uniform, ate an entire grape for breakfast, and went to stand outside the door to the King's study. He was meant to be there at 9 o'clock sharp but Link, being altogether too nervous, had overshot a little and landed himself there at 8:15. And so he stood and he waited and struck up an interesting conversation with Sir Maddick, the guard posted outside the Royal Study. He had considered simply going in but Maddick informed him that the princess was there with her father and it was probably best not to interrupt them.
It was around 8:37 that the yelling started. There was a decided squeal from the inside of the room that sounded something like "father" followed by a bellowing "now see here." Link and Maddick's conversation understandably stopped. There was a deal more arguing, before the great doors banged open, Link jumped, and the Princess' heels clicked out of the door, hands balled in a fist and lip caught ruthlessly between her teeth. She barreled between the two startled soldiers without even glancing at them.
He wanted to follow her and ask her what horrible nonsense her father could have said to her. Instead, he took a deep breath, knocked on one of the doors to the study, and bowed to the king.
"You sent for me, your highness?"
When Link first learned he was to be returning to the castle after removing the cursed sword from its pedestal in the forest, he had been terribly excited to see all of his friends again. He couldn't wait to wander the halls of the great building, exchange blows with the other squires, or go down to the tavern in Castle Town to grab a few drinks with the guys from his old barrack.
His actual return was nothing like that.
He was greeted with a big festival in Castle Town Square that he and the other members of the guard had to trot awkwardly through. This was followed by an equally extravagant welcome in the throne room from the King himself. Princess Zelda was seated blankly to his left for the whole thing and she didn't once look at Link. Afterwards, he was ushered to his new chambers which he soon learned were right next to the princess'. They were huge, he had never seen a larger bed or a more spacious wardrobe. He had a desk with a small flower pushed up against the wall and a balcony. Link had never had a balcony before.
That evening held a great ball, supposedly in Link's honor although he wasn't really one to partake in such events. Although it was accompanied by a decadent feast, which Link did most heartily partake in. He retired to bed as soon as he could, completely overwhelmed by all the praise and the excitement of the day.
Link had yet to figure out exactly what was so important about the blade he now carried around on his back or why he, out of all the soldiers who had tried, was the only one to be able to pull it out. It had been a joke, he wasn't supposed to succeed. And it hadn't even been that hard.
A soft sob pulled Link out of his thoughts. He lay on his giant bed for a moment longer, listening, before he heard another. Slowly, Link sat up, listening intently to the strangled noises coming through his wall. From Princess Zelda's room.
Gently, Link stood and padded over to the stone separating their two rooms. He placed his hand on the wall and sighed. What was he supposed to do? Should he go comfort her? He was her neighbor now after all, maybe that meant he was expected to do something. But that likely would be improper and they didn't really know each other that well.
Link ended up settling for standing at the wall awhile, puzzling over what to do, before her sobs faded away and he wandered back to bed.
He hoped she felt better in the morning.
Princess Zelda's hug was anything but expected. It had pulled him down next to her in the sand which slowly began to stick to his sweaty skin and her body heat had made him feel even hotter. Yet, she didn't seem to mind his dirty and disheveled state, nor did she have any regard for the sword in his hand - she was too busy clutching at his shirt and covering him in tears. Certainly not what he had been expecting but maybe near death experiences made some people go nuts. He was not going to think about how relieved he was to feel her tears soaking his shirt. His head was still too busy spinning to really think about anything.
Ever since he had been appointed the princess's personal knight, there had been nothing but bitter animosity between the two. He was fairly certain Zelda hated him, which made him undeniably sad for some reason or the other, but it wasn't one Link could put his finger on. It was strange too because the few times he had seen her while he had been living at the castle before he had been reassigned to guarding the forest, she had been nothing but kind. After, she was nothing but rude, and now she was clutching at him like absolutely nothing else mattered in the entire world.
He found himself placing his sword next to him, positioning his weight so he was solidly seated, and wrapping his arms tight around her.
"Thank you," he heard her gasp through her sobs, "Thank you."
Link winced - removing the bandage had been a tad more painful than he had expected. Zelda seemed to notice, glancing up from her notebook.
"Here, let me. I wrapped it for you after all."
With no hesitation, she stood and crossed to him. Link said nothing, still not quite used to the change in relationship they shared, but very glad for it. There was very little that had not been improved for him with this shift - it was easier to guard her, because she told him where she was for instance. The only issues he had noticed occurred anytime she was near - the increased sweat, the flush of his face, the shallowness of his breath. He was terrified she would notice one day.
Luckily, today was not that day it seemed. It did make sense for him to be flushed and sweaty, as they were back in Goron City and it was indescribably toasty there by principle. They were supposed to be headed back to the castle, but Zelda had insisted they return and ask Daruk if they could stay one more night. He of course had boisterously agreed and though Link would never admit it, he was relieved they would not be camping that evening. Turns out, fighting dozens of powerful monsters all at once takes a lot out of a person.
Zelda continued peeling off the bandage she had fastened around his arm in the field. The blood had stuck to it and a jolt of pain went through him each time some of the wrap was removed. Link did his best to hide the pain - he had had much worse, after all.
"It really isn't that bad," Zelda muttered, almost as if to herself. She pulled over the bowl of water Link had been prepared to use to cleanse the wound. He had steeped some Hyrule herb and swift violets in it ahead of time. It was Zelda's own recipe, designed to help one heal swiftly and without infection. Link found it worked quite well.
They sat in amicable silence as Zelda tenderly cleaned and rebandaged his arm. There was something methodical about the way she worked, and yet something so unimaginably gentle. As he watched her work, it struck Link how cared for he felt, something he hadn't truly experienced since his father's passing. Each time she brushed the cloth across his skin, each gentle but firm circle of the bandage, Link found his breath ease.
When she finished, her hand made its way to Link's and gently rested palm to palm, fingers barely criss crossing over each other. As a thank you for the help, and strangely something else, he found himself giving her hand a slight squeeze.
She squeezed back.
Silently, she rose and returned to her book.
Mipha and Link had returned to Zora's Domain a little over an hour ago, and Zelda had yet to say a single word to him. When they had first entered the village, Mipha had gone over to her first and Link had been ushered over to update the King on their mission. When he had seen her only a few minutes later, the princess had been a few shades of red darker than usual and she had abruptly changed course as soon as she saw him. That evening, they were all seated for dinner as usual - all being him, Zelda, Mipha, and little prince Sidon - and Zelda was strangely silent. She did not once bring up any interesting new discoveries or theories she had about the Divine Beast. Not once did she mention an interesting fact about the meal they were sharing or the rain patterns she had been blabbering about just that morning. As soon as she had finished her meal, she stood and left.
To say Link was confused was an understatement. It wasn't like he expected her to be happy all the time or anything, in fact, he knew she wasn't. But this behavior was so similar to when he had first been appointed her knight. He had thought they were closer now, or at least close enough for her to let him know when she was upset. She was acting as if they barely knew each other at all.
After dinner, he ventured just outside the city to run some drills. Mipha asked him to skip tonight and rest, reminding him he had been injured earlier that day, but he brushed her off. He was more interested in burning through some of the confused mass of emotions that had bubbled to the surface at dinner than really working on his sword skills.
Block left, counter right, parry 4 -
What could have changed? She had smiled at him when he had entered the town with Mipha. What could possibly have happened to change her opinion of him so quickly?
Step forward, step back, hanging parry -
She couldn't still resent him for pulling out the sword, could she? He had thought they had talked about that. It wasn't as if he was perfect just because some weapon liked him and she knew that. He had told her that he was scared.
Swing right, swing left -
If she was going to be like this, why would she have held his hand?
Link stopped swinging and laid back on the ground, exhaling the contents of his lungs in an exasperated huff.
In the past few weeks, he had done everything he could to avoid thinking about that moment, even though it cropped up at least once a day anyway. Just earlier that day, as he sat with Mipha on Vah Ruta, he couldn't help detail every time Zelda had adjusted the bandages around the same arm. He would stand with her as she read through a book, or wrote notes on a fascinating flower, and couldn't help but notice the same tenderness and care that she had used when cleaning his arm. Sometimes, she would just walk in the room, and it was all Link could do to stop from getting swept up in the way it felt for her hand to be in his - palm to palm, fingers intertwined.
He knew it meant very little, hand holding. He was 18 after all and had grown up in the barracks with other rowdy soldiers. It wasn't as if he didn't have an extensive knowledge of all the things that probably meant more than hand holding did. And yet, something about Zelda's soft skin against his and the comfortable silence was so much more intimate than anything else he had experienced. They had never talked about it.
And now, for some unknown reason, she seemed to hate him again.
Flustered and annoyed, Link stood and sheathed his sword. He had been out training for quite some time and it clearly wasn't helping, so he headed back into town. Zelda never left his mind.
He was just about to turn down the hallway to the guest chambers when he heard a large splash and an irritated string of choice words came from the opposite direction. Link stopped and turned toward the noise. Zelda was the only one he had ever heard put those particular words together in that particular order before. He should go talk to her - he wanted to. But part of him was scared she wouldn't want him intruding on her, not after the way she had behaved at dinner. He began heading toward his room, deciding to let her be, when another splash met his ears. This one was much louder though, as if she had fallen.
Slightly frightened, Link turned around again and rushed off in the direction of the noises. He found her, the crown Princess Zelda, sitting in a pool of water at the Goddess' feet in the middle of Zora's domain in her nightgown doing what could only be described as pouting. Linked slowed his gait and approached slowly. She looked up, met his eyes, and turned back to stare at the Goddess. He took this as an ok and he gently sat down next to her in the water.
It was freezing.
"Link, are you really going to come live here with Mipha after we defeat Calamity Gannon?"
"What?"
"It's just Mipha said that - well she said that you said that - what I mean is that she told me that while you were at Vah Ruta today you - oh, nevermind." Zelda stopped and buried her face in her arms, "It's really none of my business anyway."
An uncomfortable silence ensued, not at all like the one Link had been fretting over earlier. Eventually, he gathered his thoughts enough to break it.
"If Mipha told you that, she probably thought that's what I said. But I didn't mean to imply anything, I just said we could still hang out. I haven't really thought about what would happen after. I don't really like thinking about it either, though. You know, the whole 'save the world' thing."
"Oh."
Link had never really looked at the Goddess Statue, he realized. But sitting there in the cold, wet puddle, he discovered a strange fascination with the Goddess' image. It felt strangely grand for some reason, although the statue itself was one of the smaller ones he had seen.
"Link?" Zelda whispered. He turned to show her he was listening and met her gaze. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were a bit puffy, as if she had been crying. His brow crinkled.
"Link, I'm sorry about dinner. And this afternoon. I was just processing something, but it wasn't fair to treat you like that."
"It's ok."
"Really?"
"Really."
It was rare that Zelda and Link had a moment together in the castle. So often, people were surrounding them, either bringing them reports or food or some other supposedly important piece of information. Zelda had maids and Link was still a knight, even if he had been appointed to her. To find himself standing guard inside Zelda's room as she finished writing in her diary, just the two of them as it often was on the road, felt normal. It didn't feel stuffy and overly proper. It just felt like Link and Zelda.
"What's wrong with me?"
Link turned to look at Zelda, his heart aching and worry scrunching his face. He watched as Zelda - beautiful, brave, strong, brilliant Zelda - started to sob. His heart twisted. What was wrong with these idiotic goddesses? How could they not see that there was no one in the world more deserving of anything than her?
Gingerly, Link placed the Master Sword on the ground, then ripped off his boots and stockings and waded out to meet her. He enclosed her in her arms and they stood, staring at the Goddess, Zelda's shoulders shaking. Link found that he too had tears streaming down his cheeks. Tears of anger and utter hopelessness. They were up against an impossible task that Zelda had not been blessed for and Link was wildly unprepared for.
He understood her terror more than anyone else ever could, and she understood his.
Link swayed on his feet, grasping at the helm of his sword for support. Something was flashing and bright in front of him but his side, his side ached. His ankle felt as if it were nothing more than throbbing pulp and his head was spinning, spinning, spinning.
"Link! Get up!" He knew that voice. It was kind and soft and filled his heart with warmth. He felt arms shake him and turn him over, coming to support him so he could lay on a lap like a pillow. Soft, delicate arms.
Coughing slightly, he peeled his eyes open and glanced upward. Someone said something to his right, so he turned his head gently to look at its source.
Zelda.
There she was, snarled blonde hair, dirt smeared over her face, all sweaty and tired and beautiful. So beautiful. And kind. She looked terrified.
He tried to tell her it would be alright. He wanted to make sure she was safe and sound. How he longed to reach out and hold her, to tell her it would be alright, but he wasn't even sure who he was anymore. He was just pain and darkness. And wet, or slimy? And there was a light shining just in front of his eyes, sort of pulsating.
He could hear someone's voice, muffled and distant, but so kind. He could feel his pulse spike and his cheeks flush slightly as the voice became clearer.
"Open your eyes," it said. So he did, and slowly the light became a blurry blue color, "Open your eyes."