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Link briefly thought about an answer to her question, before deciding it was irrelevant, and not where his immediate focus should lay, no, that should lie solely in the change in her demeanour, the gloominess and downcast look that seemed set in her face.
Nothing would threaten her smile as radiant as the sun if he had any say, and he sheathed his sword, walked across, and gently tugged her up, ignoring her queries and dragged her out, beyond the protective branches of the tree, into the pouring rain.
He twirled her once, twice, three times before a small, sad smile appeared, and he decided to do something stupid to change it to a real one.
He guided her into the classic pattern of a jive, featuring a series of high-speed, ridiculous leg flicks and kicks that had her properly laughing, and ended with them inevitably slipping in the mud.
But at that moment, he didn’t care, for her smile was back… and that was all that mattered... Until he realised they were now in a right state. Not at all suitable for presenting back at the castle.
So, after making a thorough mess of themselves in the mud, that even the rain couldn’t entirely clean off, Link ended up guiding Zelda to Hateno. It was probably safest to show up at his home and deal with his mother asking what mischief in the Goddess’s name had they been up to, instead of rocking up to the castle with King Rhoam questioning instead.
At least his mother wouldn’t behead him. Probably. Actually, there was no guarantee.
Still, he didn’t really allow himself to worry about all of that. It was all said and done now, nothing could reverse time and alter them back to how they were before it started pouring anyway.
And Hateno wasn’t far from here, the Bridge of Hylia, if they rode hard and fast. Hopefully they’d arrive in 4 hours.
The Princess hung tightly onto his back, her clothes soaked through and he was worried about her catching something, but he didn’t have any spare clothing. And that was useless. Hylia had decided to drown the world in her tears that day, there would be no real escape from the steadily increasing torrential downpour.
“This rain… it is rather strange Link.”
Rain? Strange? He pondered briefly what she meant.
Words flowed easily between them now, she’d coaxed him into a level of comfort he had with few people. Although… their newfound closeness wasn’t doing him any favours with restraining the growing bud of feelings he was starting to realise existed solely for her. Recently, it was starting to feel like it could erupt at any given moment. Just now, dancing in the rain, he’d been so tempted to- her arms cinched tighter around his waist, her fingers outlining his tensed abdomen as she adjusted her position and he choked out a “Hm?” as a response, mind derailing for the thousandth time in her presence.
“This rain has not stopped for three hours now, if anything it’s increasing in vigour. Hyrule Field has never experienced such eccentric weather patterns. Normally, the rain would be a light drizzle. Certainly, for the spring time that we’re in, I’d expect a lighter load, not this sort of deluge.”
Link was still torn between where he had wanted to press his lips on her skin as they slipped into the mud in a fit of giggles, and where her hands were currently pressing into him to really lend much brain power to such a statement. He decided for something open-ended, to give him time to recover his wits. Goddesses, this was happening much too frequently for it to be a good thing. “It’s almost like we’re in Faron.”
“Precisely! You see! It’s the same volume you’d expect for a summer, humid monsoon type of rain. And yet, it’s quite chilly! Not warm by any measure of the sort. Most confusing.”
He remembered Daruk mentioning that Death Mountain hadn’t experienced this sort of activity for centuries. He wondered if that extended to the rain. He wasn’t going to bring it up though, not after he’d only just managed to pull her from that depressing stream of thought.
“You never mentioned where we’re going, Link.”
Well, he’d been distracted. “Oh right! Sorry. Hateno.”
She stiffened, head popping across his shoulder to stare at him, “Link! I can’t meet your mother like this! What will she think of me?!”
Goddesses above, now she was even closer. NO, FOCUS LINK. He had to look away, back to the road to guide Epona even though Epona knew it like the back of her hoof and didn’t need guiding. “She won’t think poorly of you, Zelda. And we can’t exactly go back to the castle like this.”
She simmered back down, slammed her forehead in between his shoulder blades. “Fine. I accept your point.”
“Are you going to have a strop now,” he teased.
“None of your business, Sir Knight.”
He chuckled as she muttered something about her hair and how it was in a rightful state and how she did not look appropriate at all.
Link’s mother had been very polite. Too polite. Link could feel the daggers she shot at his back, as he showed the Princess the bathroom, and he investigated his wardrobe for something she could possibly wear. The storm was not easing anytime soon, so they would be stuck here until it at least calmed, before making their way back to the castle. Hopefully tonight, but hell, he wouldn’t mind an evening at home, with mother’s food. Oh… now he was distracted thinking of stuffed chicken pies, pumpkin soup, and apple crumble for dinner.
“So, will you explain, you raucous child, what you were actually doing?”
Jiving in the rain, mum, didn’t you know? Even though he was 17, wielder of the Master Sword, Captain of Her Royal Highness’ Guard, he would forever be her ‘raucous child.’ “I was trying to cheer her up a little. It’s… it’s been a long few weeks with the praying schedule and the trips to the spring. We accidentally slipped in the mud and, well, I thought it best we came here to clean up.”
She shook her head. “I’ll never quite understand why she is forced into it after ten years of doing the exact same thing. There must be something else.”
He agreed, but it was the King’s decree. Anything against it would be treasonous. So whilst he didn’t dare defy Rhoam’s orders openly, he tried his best to bend the rules whenever he could. She came over and patted his head, probably to avoid the mud that was prevalent pretty much everywhere else. “It’s good of you to have brought her here, Link. I’ll cook up something warm for you both. Chicken pie and pumpkin soup?”
He beamed. “Thanks, Mama.”
She kissed his head, “Anything for you, my child.”
This was embarrassing. Zelda, with her hair flipped forward, stared at the knots intermeshed in her locks and they stared back, unrelentingly stubborn. She’d been wrestling with them for about 15 minutes; it was simply too long to obey the vigorous wrenching she’d put it through with the comb she’d been given by Link. He had wandered off to see his mother, after he checked she was okay. Well, she had been okay then. But now she was starting to realise she was really and truly lost on how to handle the drying strands, stuck with knots, when she couldn’t even reach the back of it properly.
Why, oh why, had he convinced her to drink some hot tea first, before tackling her hair? It had already started to dry and by that point, the knots had become even more entrenched.
It screamed Princess Privilege, but she’d never soaked, sullied and knotted her hair to the extent she had done today. Yes, she’d trekked in the wild plenty of times, and gotten it wet as a result, but it was always braided, and most of the time, it was relatively easy to comb through. It was rare for it to truly get as entangled as it had. Probably, that happened as a consequence of all the shimmying she’d done in said rain, the journey here and all the scrubbing she’d subjected it to, to get rid of the mud stains.
Link popped his head around the door, and spotted her with eyes peeping out of the split in the tousled half-dry golden curtain, and he stopped mid-stride.
“I imagine I look quite the sight.”
He was nice enough to simply ignore that comment. “Do you want some help?”
She stared at him, the boy once carved of stone who was now one of her closest friends. Funny, how previously the thought of accepting his help had burned her like touching fiery magma fresh off Death Mountain. “Yes please. I’m… not sure what to do to fix it.”
Link hesitated, walked back out and she waited patiently until he presented himself with a bottle of warm safflina oil extract. “This should help.”
She shrugged, handed him half of her hair, whilst dipping her fingertips in the oil and trying to rummage it though. Link was a lot gentler than she was. And certainly more patient, too. He carefully sectioned out her hair, and slowly picked at one of the knots, individually teasing out the twisted strands with fingers slick with oil.
Huh. Maybe he had a technique she could copy. It was certainly better than ramming it through like she’d been doing.
At some point, he took over entirely, her arms tired from all the brushing, coaxing and teasing and he flipped her hair back the way it was supposed to go, whilst she leant back on the chair, neck stiff and pained from all the bending. “Relax, Zelda. Let me handle it.”
And so she did. His fingers were warm and supple as they eased through her thick strands, detangling from left to right. “Ah. Thank you, Link. It feels so much better.”
A slight smile was on his face as he popped around to her right. “Hey, I want to try something with your hair.”
She sat up, “What?”
He jumped up, going straight into his cupboard. He pulled out a box, filled to the brim with flower crowns he must have built, all varying sizes and shapes. She stared, incredulous. “I made these whenever I was sent on tour. It… proved a valuable way to pass the time. I… I really want to try to braid your hair, Zelda. And then… if you like any of these, you can pick one? Or- or I can make you another one, too. Or you know we could just, um, stop.”
“Is that a representation of a summerwing butterfly?” She plucked it out of the pile, admiring the fuchsia and pale pink tulips he had delicately weaved together, with a little dandelion poking at the top to complete the image. She looked up at him, absolutely stunned at the beauty of it. “This is truly spectacular Link. It’s easily the best flower crown I’ve ever seen…”
She quite literally amassed her hair and put it in his hands, “Do what you want. I want to see what mastery you’ll cre-” Her breath caught as he directed another flower crown towards her.
“I made this for you, after our day in Irch plain. I… just didn’t quite know when to give it so…”
She gently fingered the royal blue-tinged centre of the otherwise pristine white lily that made up the centerpiece, its leaves spanning the rest of the crown intermixed with small strands of lilies of the valley, that curved into a circle. It was a Silent Princess mimic because he’d listened and known they were endangered, so he’d found a replica. From who knows where.
She fought back tears. She hadn’t received such a thoughtful gift in a long time. And from someone she was so cold to barely two month ago. “Thank you, Link. I… truly, this means a lot to me.”
He wiped the tear that fell from her cheek. “Come, sit down.” And then he began to carve sections of her hair, first pinning some of her longer waves at the back into rolled up curls, before twisting the strands framing her face carefully into a braid around the crown of her head.
An hour later, he fixed the crown on her head, removed the pins and softened the curls that had formed. She admired the waterfall braided design he’d gone for, as he leant forward, his hands touching the table with his arms around her a little and he looked into the mirror with a silent question on his lips.
“I’ve never felt more beautiful, Link.”
Red tinted his cheeks, “Now you’re ready to be a Princess of the Wild.”
Curls framed her face as she twisted to look at him, hand outstretched, “Join me on my quest, Hero?”
He gently brushed the strand back into place behind her ear, slipping his hand into hers, “Always.”