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“I think I just ripped my pants.”
Her bodyguard mirrored her wide-eyed stare.
It was the bloody Bloody Marys, because of course it had to be. It wasn’t even noon on the pier walkway of south Necluda and the Queen of Hyrule ripped her pants next to a public bathroom.
“You ripped your pants,” Link echoed her surmise as he stood over her sitting form.
Letting her legs sprawl out in front of her, she immediately felt how warm the ground was. Slightly dazed, she nodded, “I ripped my pants.”
This was supposed to be a pleasant summer vacation, and up until now it was. Her favorite second cousin’s vacation home wasn’t far from here. They were meant to meet Midna for brunch soon. Then, Link had found this cozy hole-in-the-wall breakfast place that served the most amazing bottomless mimosas and Bloody Marys (for her, he had qualms with drinking on the job).
It wasn’t long after that, on their walk to the real breakfast restaurant, that Link hadn’t believed that Zelda did gymnastics for three years as a kid and prompted her to prove it. What he didn’t realize was that she actually would attempt a cartwheel three drinks in with flip-flops on.
Once he got over the shock of the fantastic display, he knelt down and took assessment of her. “Are you hurt?”
There was a seriousness in his voice that hardly suited the situation. Zelda devolved into a bubbly grin before shaking her head.
Eventually satisfied that her fall was harmless, he took her hands and helped her up. The alcohol-induced smile fell when she realized the possible implications.
“Wait,” she stopped him. “Check for me.”
Zelda bit her lip and watched the people around them. There weren’t many people along the walkway and it wasn’t a densely populated area. The chances for paparazzi were slim since Impa had anonymously leaked to the press that the Queen was in Hebra for summertime skiing. Besides, she wasn’t in elaborate makeup and a thin tee shirt and jeans hardly held a semblance to her typical suits and gowns.
Carefully, Link had her stand close to the wall. She stared ahead, dread filling her as he peaked around.
“Oh,” he let out a low whistle, “Yeah, you were right.”
Her neck nearly snapped, “Please tell me you’re lying.”
“I’m not.” He sounded mournful.
“What color is my underwear?”
“Blue with white polka dots.”
“Shhhit.”
Link straightened and silently surveyed where they were, “Go into the family restroom and I’ll buy you a new pair in a gift shop. Does that sound good?”
Nonverbally, she consented because there wasn’t a better idea on the table.
Somehow, they didn’t raise any suspicion as he assisted her in shuffling over towards the door, which was thankfully vacant.
“I’ll be right back, okay?” he said through the cracked door. Zelda nodded, though now nervous that he was leaving her alone in a compromised situation.
“Be quick,” she started. “Please.”
“I’ll be right back,” he reiterated before letting the door close. Just beyond it, Link didn’t walk away until he heard the click of the lock.
Then, she was alone.
The bathroom was like any public restroom on the beach. Sand littered the floor, there was a loud vent at the top, and a peculiar smell that she didn’t want to overanalyze. To her right was a mirror above the sink that was so cloudy that there was no way she could take proper assessment of the state of her favorite pair of jeans. They were old, yes, but that was their beauty. The fabric had bleach stains in some places and the seams were stretched to a comfortable fit – but that was probably the source of their downfall.
Absently, she took her phone out and wrote Midna a vague text that she would be a little late. She knew her cousin would conjure a twisted explanation for this, but it wasn’t something she couldn’t defuse later.
How did Link already know her pant size?
The fact that he knew so much about her should peeve her – and it did for months, but his history of resourcefulness was a main determining factor for his promotion. Three years ago, not long after she took the throne, Rusl stepped down as her bodyguard. It was only natural, since he had been in service to her father for the better part of twenty years. At the time, it was a difficult burden. He had always been a familiar face and his kindness only added to her disappointment. When the topic of replacement came about, she was more than willing to consider his referral: Link Forester.
Through all that, she very much doubted that he expected the responsibility as pants-finder.
Fifteen minutes later, on the dot, a knock on the door made her jump.
“Someone’s in here!”
“It’s me,” Link said in that baritone voice. She opened it up to a crack and once his face confirmed that it was Link, she let him in.
“You seem annoyed,” she guessed as he shut and locked the door behind him. He was carrying a plastic bag and a slight twitch in his brow.
Link let out a sigh, “I went to three different stores and they only had sweatpants that were three sizes too big for you or the shortest shorts I’ve ever seen.”
A tinge of worry crossed her as she looked between him and the bag. “So, what did you get?”
“Bear with me, I have a plan,” he started, bringing out a pair of gray sweatpants. On the side it said in big bold letters “Necluda Beaches”.
He watched her tilt her head to the side, “But aren’t they too big?”
“Yes, but they are my size.”
She blinked at him, “And I’m going to wear… your jeans.”
Not sure what her reaction would be, he slowly nodded.
“Okay,” her lips formed a tight line. “O-okay.”
Stuttering was very, very not regal, so to mask her embarrassment she turned to give him privacy. Then, at his awkward coughing, she tensed and her hands scrambled to pull the rip seams of her behind together. An extremely uncouth blush rose.
“If,” she said to mask the fact that her bodyguard was undressing behind her, “If you ever decide to leave me for the private sector, I should make you sign an NDA.”
He laughed breathily, hanging his jeans on the sink and took a moment to observe Hyrule’s queen tightly grip her bottom. With a smile and diverted eyes he scoffed, “I’ve signed too many to count already. Not that I would be leaving you so easily.”
To his amusement, she hummed. “Good.”
Once he was done, he lightly tapped her shoulder and told her he’d be waiting outside. By the time she turned, the bathroom door was closing. She tugged her jeans off and flipped them over to see the elongated rip had torn through the middle seam from the belt loops to her crotch. It made Zelda groan. She supposed she could ask Midna to sew it together, but she also didn’t want to have to explain the situation without a couple more drinks.
So, without a proper funeral, Zelda stuffed the jeans into the bathroom wastebasket.
Link’s jeans still hung off the sink and she began to stick one leg at a time, reminding herself that she was still intoxicated and really didn’t want her bodyguard breaking down the door if she hit her head on anything. And if occupying a bathroom for twenty or so minutes wasn’t suspect enough, that would certainly do her in.
Zelda didn’t have to shimmy her way into them like she did with her old jeans. They were long, but definitely built for someone who lacked hips. They stopped loosely at her waist. With a furrowed brow, she pulled the waistband out and saw the significant gap. It was a shame because they may come off as high-waisted jeans.
Her eyes darted to what lied in the sink. For an embarrassing moment, she had thought a snake had crawled up the drain. Instead, it was Link’s thick brown belt he had been wearing earlier. Not wanting her bodyguard to wait too long, she looped the belt on only to find that there weren’t enough holes to fasten the jeans on comfortably.
But with a quick glance in the foggy mirror, they looked infinitely better.
“Hey, Link,” she said pushing the door open with her foot while holding the belt in place.
His eyes met her first and then sunk lower.
“Do you have anything that could punch more holes-” Zelda frowned at his staring. “Do I look odd?”
He quickly blinked out of his stupor, “No, no. I can do that.”
They found themselves in the bathroom together again and he patted himself, looking for something before coming to a realization. “Your left pocket.”
From the left pocket of his jeans, Zelda pulled out a thin pocket knife and he took it from her. As he crouched to his knees, Link lightly undid the belt buckle. A thick flush ran up Zelda’s neck at the sight of it. Blond strands escaped his carefully set hair and shadowed his face. The flush grew darker when the pull to make it messier came to her thoughts.
“Do you carry that around all the time?”
His fingers measured where he supposed it would be tight enough and gave a short nod, “I carry a lot of things with me. Missed that though.” Then, he met her gaze. “Will this work, Your Majesty?”
The corners of his lip upturned at her scowl.
“Remind me that I’m on vacation.”
Link tugged at the belt to meet where he marked, “Will this work, Zelda?”
A smile crested her eyes, “Yes.”
“My darling cousin,” Midna drawled. Five separate mimosa glasses sat in front of her – empty. “You missed the most delicious strawberry tarts.”
Zelda scowled, shortly thanking Link for pulling out her seat, and sat down. “What happened to them?”
“I ate them. Don’t look at me like that, Blondie, I gave you a time and place. Oh, my goodness, Link, that fashion choice,” she burped. “Gorgeous.”
Zelda closed her eyes, wishing she wasn’t here. However, Link grinned.
“Thank you, Lady Midna.”
“Ugh, so formal. And, goddesses, Zelda, your boyfriend jeans are just so fetch,” Midna laughed at her own joke and waved the server over before the queen could retort.