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Zelda tries not to cry as Link makes them a fire. He kneels down next to the pile of wood and strikes metal on flint, and all she can do is sit there and watch, shivering and wet and wrapped up in most of the blankets they brought while he does all the work with only a single blanket draped over his shoulders despite being just as soaked as she is. With the temperature on Mount Lanayru, she knows his clothes must already be starting to freeze on his body, yet he doesn't show a single sign of discomfort. He doesn't shiver, he doesn't grimace, he doesn't even look displeased or disappointed or resentful of her as he should be. He just looks the same as always. The image of calm and grace as he goes about his duty bound tasks without complaint.
Why can't she be like him? Why can't she just do what's expected of her—what's needed of her—despite the obstacles in her path? Despite the trials and tribulations it seems are constantly thrown her way?
If Link can set a fire in the snow while his clothes freeze him solid, why can't Zelda unlock her goddess forsaken sealing power even after praying in a cold spring for hours on end to the point of collapse?
"I suppose in the morning they'll be waiting," she says in a somber tone. Link looks up from where he's started setting up a makeshift tent around the fire, but she just stares at the budding flames hiding amidst the kindling under the logs, yet to take hold. "The other champions will be expecting me at the Lanayru Gates, ready for good news." She clutches the blankets closer. "And again, I'll have failed them."
Link doesn't say anything. Even if he's come to speak with her on occasion, he knows by now that nothing he can say will help her in a moment like this. So he says nothing, and goes on making camp.
"Lanayru was my last hope," she continues. "Of all the goddesses, I always felt she was closest. More so than the goddess whose blood supposedly runs through my veins. I thought, 'of course courage and power didn't respond to me, I'm neither of those things,' but wisdom?" She laughs bitterly. "I fancied myself wise, but now I know I'm just a silly girl."
He's finished making camp then, so he takes her hand and tugs her forward, guiding her to a bedroll he's set next to the fire. As she sits down, Link walks around behind her and gently starts to pull her hair back from her face and out from under the blankets. It draws her from her thoughts somewhat—having his fingers delicately weave through her wet, tangled hair. It's unexpected, but nice.
"Your hair is going to make you more cold like this," he explains as he braids it back for her. She can immediately attest to the truth of his words; just having her hair out from under the blankets so it's no longer pressed to her bare shoulders is already helping.
"Thank you," she murmurs.
In a quieter voice, as if ashamed to say it, he adds, "You should also undress." He must be able to see the way she tenses up at the thought because he immediately continues, "Your clothes are going to freeze and you'll get sick. I-I'm going to undress too, but I'll face the other way."
He's done with her hair so he walks over to the other bedroll, angling his face away from her all the while. When he sits down, he's quick to pull off his shirt—first the champion's tunic, then the shirt he wears underneath it. He sets them aside as if they were poison and scoots himself closer to the fire, letting the skin of his back soak up as much of the heat as it can. In the light of the flames, she can see goose bumps lining the entirety of his arms, and though she feels guilty that he spent so long enduring the cold to prioritize her care, it's also somewhat of a relief to know he's still just a Hylian underneath it all.
Zelda gets distracted by the way the light shines off his back, the way his muscles flex with each of his movements as he slides off his—
With a quick intake of breath, she looks away, remembering who she is and where they are and that she should not be watching this man take off his clothes. In her peripheral, she can see him automatically turn towards her, but he stops before turning completely.
"Are you okay?"
"Yes," she answers perhaps a little too hastily. "I-It's just cold, that's all."
She shakes herself as she turns around, putting her back to the fire as well. Hesitant and dreading the cold, she finally forces herself to unwrap the blankets so she can take off her dress. She immediately feels a little better having it off of her—and not because of the cold.
Link clears his throat to get her attention before saying, rather timidly, "Let me know when you're ready, and I'll hang up your dress."
"R-Right." Her heart speeds up the slightest bit, and she thinks to herself that she'll at least have no trouble keeping her face warm. Finally completely undressed, she wraps herself back up in the blankets and says, "Okay, it's safe."
She looks up as he approaches and her breath catches in her throat at the sight of him. He has the blanket wrapped around his hips, but his torso is completely exposed, leaving every muscle and every scar on display. She has to force herself not to outright stare as he bends down and takes her dress. Thankfully, he appears to be looking anywhere but at her—though a small part of her whispers its disappointment at that.
"The bedroll and blankets should keep you warm," he murmurs. "You should get some rest."
Nodding and swallowing down her nerves, Zelda crawls into the bedroll and lays the blankets over the top. The cold of the snow seeps through the bottom into her back, but the blankets and the fire next to her help to ward off the worst of it. It's not comfortable, but it's enough.
She tries to sleep but it seems her mind can only take her one of two places, and neither of them give her rest. The first is to dwell on her unending failure as a princess—on the fact that no matter how hard she tries she's never good enough, and Calamity Ganon could awaken at any moment and they're unprepared and—
And the other is the simple fact that Link lies only a few feet away without any clothes on his body—his body that she so very shamefully keeps picturing in her mind, the memory of it bringing her more heat than the fire ever could.
Less than an hour has passed when she hears it. The slight shaky breathing that he tries to hold in, tries to hide. Shivering.
She turns over to look and sure enough, she can see the slight tremble of his body under the bedroll. How selfish she is, to be lying here with most of their blankets stacked on top of her while he freezes half to death.
"Link." He angles his head toward her but doesn't turn. She's surprised by the calm in her own voice as she says, "We should share a bedroll." If he has a reaction she can't see it. "I can hear you shivering. We'll both be warmer if we share heat."
A few moments pass as he seems to think about it, and he shivers throughout the seconds. Finally he nods his agreement. As he starts to get up, she turns over again and scoots over in the bedroll to make as much room for him as she can. It'll be a close fit, but the warmth will be worth whatever discomfort it causes.
That same shameful part of her mind sends a small rush through her stomach, excited at the prospect of him pressed close to her.
Zelda flinches at first contact; his skin is ice cold. "Sorry," he whispers, and she's already shaking her head.
"It's my fault," she says. "I should have known you wouldn't be warm enough with only one blanket. I wasn't thinking."
He's kept the blanket wrapped around his hips, she realizes as he finally settles in behind her. She supposes that's probably for the best—and immediately following that thought is her mentally slapping herself for having been disappointed. Dear Hylia, is she actually going to be able to handle this?
Link seems to be trying his best not to touch her at first. It's not until he stops shaking entirely that he finally seems to ease into place, allowing the smallest bits of contact. He keeps his arms bunched up in front of him, creating a barrier between them, and at that, Zelda truly is disappointed.
She convinces herself it's the cold, but really it's her restraint weakening when she tells him, "You can come closer." She feels more than hears him hold his breath. Softly, she says, "Please come closer."
His arm is still a little cold as he lays it over her, but his chest is warm against her back. As he finally settles into her, a small delicate sigh escapes him, and she feels it on the back of her neck. The sensation sends a pleasant shiver down her spine, and she fails as she tries not to soak in that feeling.
"Thank you," he eventually whispers.
A tiny laugh escapes her as the comment sinks in, because the more she thinks on it, the more ridiculous it sounds. "You're joking, right? You nearly froze. You—You pulled me out of the spring water, woke me up, bundled me in blankets, started a fire and set up camp and braided my hair all the while no doubt burning from the severely frigid clothing on your skin, and you're thanking me? I can't even unlock a power that is supposed to be in my blood, that is supposed to save all of us from certain doom, while you learned to wield the master sword as a mere boy, and you're thanking me? That's— It's—,"
"Shh," he cuts her off with just a simple hush, whispered into her hair. His hand comes up to hold hers and he runs his thumb across the backs of her knuckles in a soothing gesture, arm tightening around her with a comforting hold. He says nothing more, but his actions are enough to have tears prickling at the corners of her eyes.
They're supposed to be in this together, fight this calamity together—him with the sword and her with the goddess power. So she's been told her whole life. He held up his end of the bargain, and yet here she is, nothing more than a simple girl who wouldn't stand a chance against an eternal evil. They're supposed to be a team, a partnership, and she in her adolescent bitterness treated him with distain for months when he was always nothing but caring towards her.
In a trembling voice, she whispers, "How can you comfort me when you're the one I've failed the most?"
For once, his words come with no hesitation. "You could never fail me."
Her chest swells with the deep breath she draws in. She feels his words resonate in her soul. By reflex she wants to take them as the considerate words of a knight who is duty bound and obligated to be nice to her. Past that, she hears their genuine nature and she wants to think they're the kind words of a friend merely trying to make her feel better.
But it's neither of those. She can hear it in his tone, perhaps feel it in his hold. Or maybe she just recognizes it because it's the same way she feels for him.
Slowly, hesitantly, Zelda turns until she can see him—see the confirmation in the way he looks at her. The way he cherishes her in his gaze. He truly is the courageous one, she thinks, meeting her with those eyes that are so unafraid to admit what their feeling.
On a whim, or perhaps a mere stroke of curiosity, Zelda closes what little space there is between them, softly pressing her lips to his.
He breaths in long and deep, but otherwise shows no reaction. When Zelda pulls away, she finds him with his eyes closed, as if holding onto the feeling. When he finally opens them, he says nothing, simply watching her with the same calm understanding with which she watches him.
His heart beats steady under her ear as she lays her head on his chest. Wrapped up in his arms, sheltered in his warmth, Zelda finally allows herself to fall asleep.