Chapter Text
Maybe once, the silence wouldn’t have bothered her. Maybe once, she’d have welcomed the idea of her knight staying quiet and six feet away. Tonight, however, with the crackling of a fire between them and the comfort of a good meal (Link had quite the talent for cooking, she had to admit), Zelda had the strange urge to fill it. They were on their way to something... friendly; acquaintances was the better word for it, perhaps. There were times she still found herself loathing him or something about him, but she was putting in the effort to do better and, well, there was a part of her curious to know if he could tell. She just hoped it didn’t seem superficial, that she was only being kind because he’d saved her life. The Yiga incident had certainly assisted, but... well, now was better than ever to make amends, was it not?
Zelda held her bowl closer to her, staring into the flames of the fire as she carefully debated her words. It was not the first time she’d spoken to him abruptly with something contemplative, and she supposed if he didn’t want to talk, he would stay quiet.
“Sometimes I feel as if the castle is made of crystal,” she began, sparing him a quick glance. His eyes were on her, just as they always were. She swallowed hard, and continued, “As if it’s see through and... like the safety and the peace could shatter at any moment. I feel like I’ll never be able to just... live, because everyone is always watching me and expecting something great--something I don’t even know if I can do, but I don’t have a choice. I either do it, or my kingdom crumbles at my feet.”
Link’s expression shifted just the slightest. A small wrinkle of skin between his brows was the only indication he’d heard her. Zelda shuffled her feet awkwardly in the dirt and changed her gaze to watch the glowing embers crawling higher into the sky.
“You seem to have it all together,” she said and put her bowl down to hug her arms. “I’m not quite sure how you handle it so well.”
To her utter surprise, her silent knight breathed out a laugh. It was as soft as his voice, but it was loud enough to catch her attention and shatter the quiet air. It made her feel warmer than the fire ever could. She felt embarrassed to be hearing it at all, much less at something she’d said. Zelda looked over with slightly narrowed eyes to find Link running a hand through his hair. He looked exasperated.
“I don’t,” he replied quite simply, dropping his hand to meet her eyes. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”
Zelda opened her mouth to reply, but no string of words came to her, so she shut it again and settled for just looking at him.
“I don’t know how to face the Calamity,” he continued with a shrug, though the uncertainty in his eyes betrayed his casual stature. “I have a sword and I know how to use it, sure, but if this thing can bring down a kingdom, what match am I? A kid with a big responsibility.”
She frowned. The heroes of old were just as young as they were, if not younger. A kid shouldering the destiny of the world, that was a feeling she understood better than anyone.
“It’s an act,” she whispered out. Her knight shrugged again.
“I don’t know how to be this hero. I mean, once people have an idea of you, they stick to that. They don’t want you to be anything but what they think you should be. So I decided I couldn’t show... anything. I’m a soldier, not a person. I’m a hero, not a kid. I don’t have my own thoughts or words or actions. I stay silent, I do what I’m told, and... I can’t mess up.”
Zelda wondered whether or not that meant he was quiet by nature. She tried to imagine him as a child, the child he was before he pulled the sword. Did he play with his little sister, screaming and giggling as he chased her around? Did he laugh when he was tickled? Did he smile and cry and act like a child at all? She knew the pressure of the end of the world was enough to change that; she wished there was something she could offer him.
“I misjudged you,” she admitted, turning her eyes from his sad expression to the fire again. “I’m sorry, Link. I should have known better than to assume you weren’t as scared as the rest of us.”
“I’m terrified,” he said. “...don’t, uh, mention any of that to Revali, please.”
Zelda pressed a hand over her mouth to muffle her laughter. The Rito Champion gave Link enough trouble as it was.
“I won’t,” she promised, offering her knight a gentle smile. “And, um, if it’s worth anything, you don’t have to keep up your facade around me. I’d like for you to be your own person, to be Link, if you would... feel comfortable with it.”
“That’s unprofessional,” he replied, but she could see the amusement flickering behind his eyes.
“You should take the offer,” she told him, straightening up to make a point. “I would do anything to be someone other than Zelda for a while.”
“I like Zelda,” Link said, the corners of his lips turning upwards. “If it’s worth anything.”
“You would be the first,” she answered as her cheeks flushed.
“Forgive me for my impoliteness, but that’s where you’re wrong, Princess.”
Zelda suppressed an eye roll. She was not going to spend her evening sitting here, arguing with her knight on whether or not people liked her. It was ridiculous to even entertain. Instead, she offered a hand to him.
“I must admit making friends is not something I’m familiar with,” she admitted, “but if you would like, I offer it. Professionally, of course.”
Link looked between her eyes and her hand and, just when she felt awkward enough to think she should retract it, took her hand with a gentleness she didn’t know he was capable of.
“Only if you let me offer the same to you,” he said.
Zelda smiled and gave his hand a tiny squeeze. Maybe things would start looking up from here.