Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Hold still, Link."

Link bit down on his lip but did as he was told, the tree against his back a rough, grounding anchor as Sheik wound bandages around his injured ankle. They had made it out of Death Mountain easily enough, avoiding lava and flame and rock, only for Link to trip and fall down the stairs that led out of Kakariko Village.

In his defense, he still wasn't entirely used to the length of his own legs.

Still, it had got them here - Link propped up against the nearest tree, a comfortable fire going nearby, and his foot up on Sheik's lap as he attended to the injury. It wasn't bad, the Sheikah had confirmed - probably just jarred, but it would still be a good idea to ensure that he didn't damage it any further.

The next temple, he knew, was the one under the lake, and while that brought questions of its own - like how he was actually going to breathe - at least the weight would be largely off his foot.

"How is that?" Sheik murmured as he tied off the bandage, easing Link's foot off his lap.

Link wriggled his toes experimentally. There was a faint tug of pain, but nothing too serious, and he nodded in satisfaction. "It hurts a bit, but it feels better," he said with a nod, then gestured to his face with the hand that wasn't holding the compress to it. "What about this?"

Sheik crouched in front of him to examine the cut and the grazes and bruises he had gained down the left side of his face from the fall, and Link found his breath catching in his throat. With the fire just off to the side, the majority of Sheik's face was in shadow - but the hair escaping its wraps on one side were lit up in gold, and his visible eye was an almost vivid, glowing red. It unsettled him and caught his attention, and not in the way an impending monster attack would.

And the cowl had slipped down just far enough to show his lips, chapped and warm-looking, and Link bit down on his lip again.

He had seen the couples in Castle Town and in Kakariko, how had he not? He had learned what it had meant when they had kissed on the mouth, how it meant that they liked each other, how they probably had weird squiggly feelings in their stomachs like a whole lot of Tektites bouncing up and down, and the way Sheik's gentle fingers were dabbing the cloth over the wound was definitely giving him some interesting thoughts.

"It should be fine now," Sheik murmured, drawing away. "Try not to pick at it, and it should heal without scarring."

Link nodded, his mouth dry. "Sheik?" he ventured carefully, and Sheik glanced back up at him curiously.

"Mm?"

"I -" he started, faltered, then pressed on. "I bit my lip." It was true, wasn't it? He had been biting his lip for the last five minutes. "Will you kiss it better?"

Sheik's red eyes widened in astonishment, and Link found himself ready to offer excuses, apologies, anything. But instead, the Sheikah let out a chuckle, tugging the cowl down and pressing a very quick kiss against Link's lips before drawing back.

"I suppose you deserve a reward for saving the Gorons," he told Link with a faint smile curving his own lips, the simple gesture making his face light up in surprising ways. And then he readjusted the cowl and the smile vanished, and Link was left feeling both bereft and triumphant. "We should get some sleep, Link."

"Okay," Link sighed, wriggling into his bedroll. "Hey, Sheik?"

"Mm?"

"I think I'm going to bite my lip a lot. Just so you know."

Another soft laugh, and another jolt of triumph for Link. "Then I suppose I'll have to keep kissing them better, won't I?" he pointed out. "Good night, Link."

"Night, Sheik," Link murmured, and snuggled into the bedroll.

He fell asleep smiling.

Chapter Text

"What do you think you're doing with that?"

Link started guiltily, letting the lyre drop the few inches to the bed. A sheepish grin crossed his face - he had not really been intending for Sheik to catch him in the act of attempting to play the stringed instrument.

"I was just... trying it out," he said, hands held out in contrition before reaching down to pat the lyre awkwardly. "Since - well, you play it really beautifully - and it looked interesting..."

Sheik leaned against the door frame and started at Link, although, Link was pleased to note, without any actual anger or annoyance. "You want to learn how to play it?" he asked him curiously, and Link nodded once, biting down on his lip.

"You already taught me a lot of music," he mumbled, "I thought - it might be nice to learn. You're a really good teacher, Sheik."

Behind the cowl, a slow smile crept across Sheik's face - Link could distinguish it by the way the corners of his eye crinkled, visible warmth in its red depths. "I suppose I can teach you a little," he mused, crossing the floor to the bed and settling beside Link. "Here - you position it the way you feel is right, and I'll correct you if necessary."

"Oh! Right!" Grinning, Link carefully lifted the lyre into his arms, cradling it in the mirror image of the way Sheik did. Gently, Sheik ran his fingers across Link's, encouraging him to release his grip so Sheik could readjust the position of his hand; this way, Link noted, his fingers wouldn't accidentally nudge the strings.

"Sorry," Link muttered, "It's different watching you hold it in your left arm and then holding it in my right."

Sheik made a wordless sound of confirmation. "It's fine, I just hope the grip won't throw you off," he explained as he carefully took Link's other hand. "Alright, I'll show you a few simple chords, and then I'll start you on the Serenade - that should be easy enough for a beginner."

"Beginner," Link snorted, but nodded regardless, allowing Sheik's smooth fingers to position his own on the strings. He fell silent - this was something new, and he could half-close his eyes and allow himself to be caught up in the new movements, the new patterns his fingers were creating on the strings, committing the movements to memory.

It was a skill, just like anything.

It was a skill he was going to have to work at, really, if the state of his fingertips after ten minutes was any indication. Apologetically, he pulled his hand away to rub gently at the grazed tips, giving the callouses a dismayed look. "How do you deal with these?" he said plaintively, and Sheik shrugged once, trailing his own fingertips - roughened from repeated plays on the lyre - across the only real exposed skin on Link he could find, his cheek.

"You get used to it," he shrugged, then paused, noting how Link had shivered compulsively at the rough touch. Then, very carefully, he did it again. "Shall we practise your finger movements without the lyre?" he said lightly, plucking the instrument out of Link's hands and setting it aside. "I can think of some other things you can play with..."

Link grinned.

Chapter Text

"Your Grace, we probably should get moving."

Zelda let a petulant sigh escape her lips, shifted one leg, shifted the other, stretched one arm out and spread her fingers wide to get blood flowing again - and then tucked said arm back in, drawing her legs back up and closed her eyes again. "I don't want to get up. You're too comfortable."

If Zelda had had her eyes open, she would have seen the smile twitch on Impa's lips. As it was, she definitely felt the soft hand carding through her hair, carefully dislodging sand. The desert, unsurprisingly, was full of it; even if the cave they had sheltered in overnight had been shielded from the gusting winds, sand was still everywhere.

They still had a fair walk ahead of them - a trek into the deeper part of the desert, to find the Temple of Time and the Gate that it protected. And Zelda would not deny it, would not say that she wasn't apprehensive about what laid ahead - the memories that had arisen over the past few days had told her rather plainly about what was ahead.

The world of the past, a new identity, or an old one - no, Hylia was definitely an old identity, one that did not quite fit any more, like she had outgrown it like an old dress and now found it itchy and uncomfortable.

All of this laid beyond the Gate of Time, and Zelda wanted to remain here, in the sandy desert with Impa, so long as she was still Zelda.

Shifting carefully, she rolled over so she was gazing up at Impa's face, and catching the fleeting look of tenderness in the Sheikah's eyes, hid a smile of her own. "Impa?" she asked softly, receiving a soft questioning noise in return. "Who will I be, once I go through that gate?"

Impa hesitated, just for a moment. "You will be yourself," she said levelly, then sighed and ran a hand more deliberately through Zelda's hair. "By which I mean you will be both halves of yourself - you will remember yourself as the Goddess Hylia, and you will remember yourself as Zelda. I cannot say how easily these two halves will co-exist, but they both are you."

With a heavy heart, she smiled. "Would you prefer me if I were Hylia again?" This was a question she had been wondering since their first encounter in the Earth Temple, Impa's face suddenly and achingly familiar although she had never seen her in this life before. "I think - a part of me remembers you, and that's the Hylia part. But... I'm still me. I'm still Zelda. And I really like you."

Impa smiled, fleetingly and sadly. "I love Hylia." Her voice was low, her tone as if it was the most deeply held confession. "She was my first love, and the one I devoted my life to, and I long to see her again. But loving a Goddess - it is hard. It always has been and it always will be." And then she smiled, a proper smile, and it was like the sun had come out from behind the persistent clouds that covered the surface, a warming balm. "I can recognise her in your eyes, and I can recognise the parts of you that are uniquely yourself. And that is something I can love, too."

Carefully, Zelda sat up, brushing her hair absently behind her shoulders, and knelt in front of Impa. As carefully as if she was handling exquisite glass, she set her hands on Impa's knees, stared into the fathomless depths of red eyes. "Say my name," she whispered once, and closed her eyes.

"Zelda," Impa breathed, and closed the distance between them.

And Zelda smiled into the kiss.

Chapter Text

Snow Day

"You’re going to catch a cold like that, you know!"

With a warning pop and fizzle of magic still lingering in the air, the teasing words from behind gave Zelda no cause to be startled as she sat at her window, one arm propped against the sill and chill air from the open window causing her breath to fog out in clouds. Still gazing out at the snow, she merely smiled.

"And you’re going to give my guards a headache if you keep teleporting straight into my room." Finally standing, she brushed a few flakes of snow off her arm and strode towards her visitor, reaching out to take her hands with a warm smile. "Did I not tell you last time that you caused a minor security incident?"

Midna only laughed, tugging down the hood of her cloak and pulling Zelda in closer for a proper embrace. “Doors are a waste of time. Why walk all the way up when I can come straight here and see even more of you? Besides,” she added with a teasing grin, “One day I may even catch you getting dressed.”

A most unqueenly flush spread across Zelda’s face, and she (mostly) gently shoved Midna away with her shoulder. “You’re impossible, you realise.”

"That’s why you love me!"

"True," she laughed, stepping back to glance Midna up and down appreciatively. Perhaps in deference to the weather, the Twili queen had bundled up rather more, an elaborately embroidered tunic falling to her knees, tights and boots visible under the slit in her skirt. Still - she lacked gloves or a scarf, and the cloak was the same she wore even in summer, and Zelda could not help but wonder who, precisely, was going to catch a cold. "You’ve come dresseed for the weather, I see?"

"You Hylians and your seasons,” she huffed dramatically. “I did! I wouldn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable, would I?” There was a grin on her face and a hand on her hip, teasing written all over her features.

No, Midna didn’t really feel the cold, did she? Admittedly, she had been able to hide within Link’s shadow when they had traversed Snowpeak (and just hearing the story made Zelda shiver in sympathy), but the winter before that, she had worn very little even as snow had drifted past the window.

"Of course not," Zelda chuckled, reaching for her own scarf and gloves. "Well, if we are both comfortable, shall we walk around the gardens?"

A grin that should have come with warning signs spread across Midna’s face. “Ooh, let’s.”

Zelda, perhaps, may have come to regret that idea.

Outside, though, she could feel her concerns flit away like light snow on the wind, a smile crossing her lips. The sky was a soft grey and all was quiet, just enough snow to muffle their footsteps covering the ground, not so much that she felt in danger of getting bogged down. The treeless branches of tall trees stretched towards the skies with a soft layer of snow upon their tops, leaving them marked in stark black and white, and Midna’s hand was warm in hers.

Somewhere, she thought she could hear music - the Hyrulean symphony orchestra rehearsing in the halls nearby, perhaps. Somewhere nearby, a starling called. Beneath their feet, snow squeaked quietly.

And then the snowball hit her in the back.

Zelda yelped, spinning around to find her assailant and finding… nothing, save for hers and Midna’s footprints. Off to one side, though, in the middle of a pristine and undisturbed sheet of snow, was a small trench - the likely source for the snowball that hit her.

As she stared, another hit her, this time a small amount slipping down the back of her cloak.

She froze as a sudden idea occurred to her, trying subtly to glance at Midna without the Twili noticing. Midna was stifling a snicker, feigning a look of concern as soon as she spotted Zelda’s scrutiny. “Why, Your Majesty, whatever could the problem be?” she teased, unsuccessfully hiding a grin.

"Oh, nothing much," Zelda feigned, turning back with a beatific smile on her face. "But I spotted an interesting bird - permit me a moment to see if I could find it?" And she strode a few steps away, turning her back to Midna, peering intently up at a tree.

And then she dropped to her knees, the snowball whizzing over her head and smacking into the tree, a clumsily-formed snowball crunched together in her hands before she let it loose at Midna.

It… wasn’t quite solid by the time it reached Midna (the advantage of telekinesis was that you tended to have more time to pack it together), but still, a satisfying spray of snow covered the other woman, and Zelda let out a triumphant laugh - before the branch above her emptied its payload of snow on her head.

"Sure you want to take on the master?" Midna cackled, two snowballs hovering at her sides as she grinned wickedly.

Not breaking eye contact, Zelda crouched down again, gathering snow into a nice, compact snowball. “I do believe,” she said thoughtfully, “I will meet your challenge.”

"Oh, it’s on!”

And the snow began flying.

”- definitely hot tea,” a shivering Zelda declared half an hour later as she and Midna, both utterly covered in snow, hair dishevelled, cheeks flushed, and smiling, returned to the warmth of the castle. “No, even better - hot cocoa with cream. And maybe some cake, if there is any.”

Midna sneezed, giggling at her own reaction. “Or pastries!” she exclaimed. “Those scrolls with the strawberries - oh, no, it’s the wrong season for strawberries, chocolate then - ooh, I’d just love to have some of those again!’

Zelda made an affirmative sound, quietly summoning one of the maids and murmuring their requests. She nodded, hurrying off to the kitchen, and the queen turned back to her companion. “Either way,” she declared, “It definitely has to be something warm.”

"Oh," Midna said innocently, "Were you cold? I had no idea!" And she leaned in, her mouth almost brushing Zelda’s ear, her breath hot against her skin. "I have a few ideas on how we could warm up -"

And then she pulled back sharply, letting out a sneeze again that thankfully was not all over Zelda. “…After we have something to eat and drink,” she added almost sheepishly, catching Zelda’s hand in hers and swinging it happily as they returned to her chambers, the snow outside no match for the warmth that was already starting to return.

Chapter Text

Link doesn’t quite know what Princess Zelda will be like - all she knows of Hyrule’s ruler-in-exile is that her voice has been a constant guide through some of her worst nights, the nights where sleep would not come and the cold wind howled.

The meeting in the ruined temple will be quick and stealthy, the Princess protected by her guards, Link protected by the fighting skills she has honed by the necessity of being thrust out into the world and told to save it. She keeps her back straight, the Slate on her hip, her shoulders squared, and she wonders if the Princess will ask her to protect her too.

The first glimpse of her is of shy red eyes (Link hadn’t realised that the Princess was also one of the Sheikah, but it makes sense, doesn’t it?) and cheeks already darkened further in a blush, and Link feels warmth flood into her own face. Almost tentatively, she approaches the Princess, trying very hard not to think about her wind-mussed hair, the smudges and scratches on her skin, or the fact that she’s pretty sure she smells like Bokoblin, after sleeping rough the night before.

“Link,” breathes Princess Zelda, and their eyes meet. “I…”

Link opens her mouth to say ‘It’s nice to see you’, and the words that come out are instead, “I missed you.”

Princess Zelda smiles, and Link knows.

She has come home.