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Zelda sighs and lays her head down own her desk, shoving a few sheafs of paper and a stray quill out of the way as she rests her cheek atop the cool lacquered wood. The moon had reached its peak in the night sky a little while ago, all she was waiting for now was the last piece of her plan to fall into place. Her eyes glance over the array of glass jars and bottles that line the top ridge of her desk – souvenirs from her last trip to Gerudo Town. She takes stock of the various spices and herbs, but quickly grows bored of it. Moonlight glints off a small metal object to her left, and Zelda recognizes it as the small screw she’d subtly snatched from the royal tech lab a few weeks prior. She tosses it from hand to hand, tapping it on the desk out of boredom before remembering that she’s meant to be keeping quiet.
She sighs again, quietly slipping the screw into a desk drawer. The last few hours of waiting had felt like an eternity.
Hyrule's princess stands up and pads softly to her bed, her nightclothes swishing gently against her ankles. I wouldn’t have to wait If father hadn’t banned me from the lab in the first place, she thought bitterly. Now I have to resort to sneaking out in the dead of night just to check on the guardians.
Zelda rubs the back of her hand, guilt and anger bubbling up from deep inside her chest. Her divine powers refusal to manifest had caused her father to double down on his restrictions, effectively shutting her out of the work the Purah and her team were undertaking in the lab. After a week of no contact, Zelda had been itching to see what progress had been made with the ancient technology, and had devised a plan to get back through those coveted laboratory doors.
Tonight’s proceedings had gone on without a hitch – she’d dutifully prayed at the Temple of Time from dawn until late-afternoon, knowing it would keep her father off her back when she returned to the castle that evening. It had been difficult kneeling on the cold, uneven stone floor for so long, and even harder feeling the looming presence of her ever-perfect appointed knight standing a few paces behind her, clearing his throat every so often as a cruel reminder that she could never be left on her own. But she’d endured it, and as she and the knight rode back through Castle Town she'd sent word to her father that she would be retiring early for the evening, claiming exhaustion after a day of vigorous prayer.
Her pesky knight had followed her all the way to her chambers – despite her protests that she was perfectly safe while inside the castle – and Zelda had let her annoyance get the better of her when she slammed her chamber door so hard that it’d rattled in its frame, dismissing him for the night without a single glance in his direction. She’d almost felt the tiniest bit bad about it, but the feeling was promptly squashed as she recalled the far-too-amused look on his face when she’d almost slipped on the rain-slicked cobblestones of the courtyard the morning prior.
All that aside, the only thing left to do tonight is wait until the perfect time for her to slip out of her quarters and make her way down to the lab, which should be –
Zelda perks up as a quiet shuffle sounds just beyond her chamber door, signifying the final changing of the guards until the dawn shift. The calmest time at the castle was quickly approaching, when everyone would surely be asleep, save for the night sentries. She hastens to her changing screen and pulls down the robe hanging off it, hoping that the navy blue color of the fabric would help her blend in with the dark shadows of the castle and camouflage her from any watchful eyes. Instead of shoes, she unfolds a pair of thick woolen socks, perfect for muffling the sound of her footsteps.
Rife with anticipation, Zelda tiptoes across the length of her room and cautiously approaches the door that leads outside. At this time of night, the guard stationed at the bottom of the stairs should be well on his way to the lockup, where he’ll conduct a thorough sweep of the area and leave Zelda a suitable amount of time to get down to the lab and back without danger of being caught.
Zelda creaks the door open, checks for the signature flicker of torchlight that follows the guards around, and – finding none, slips through the door and down the stairs, careful not to dislodge any pebbles on her descent.
She pulls her robe more tightly around her, shivering slightly in the brisk night air.
Once clear of the last step, she rounds the corner of the staircase and presses into the shadows at the base of the towering stone wall her chamber is built atop of. Wasting no time, she weaves in and out of the darkness, and avoids straying out into the open.
She’s barely crossed any distance when she hears footsteps approaching the corner in front of her. Zelda’s heart, already racing, speeds up exponentially at the thought of being caught by one of her fathers men. Zelda panics, and there’s not enough time to hide before a boot-clad foot rounds the corner. She holds her breath, praying that whoever it belongs to is at least friendly, and lifts her gaze to meet the eyes of a very disgruntled looking –
Link?
They lock eyes, Zelda’s stormy with annoyance and Link’s infuriatingly confused.
Zelda, fuming with indignance at running into her appointed knight who was most certainly not supposed to be out at this time of night and was surely awake with the sole purpose of ruining her plan, swiftly grabs Link by the wrist and drags him behind her. She hears him stumble on the uneven paving, but doesn’t slow down until they’re able to duck behind the cover of a thick hedge. She whips around to face him, Link nearly colliding into her when she stops abruptly.
“Just what do you think you’re doing out here?!” She whisper-yells, green eyes glittering dangerously with anger.
“You’re not meant to come back until morning – does my father think I can’t even sleep on my own anymore?!”
Link hastily shakes his head, eyes wide in what seems to be sincere apology.
No, his hands sign quickly, I wasn’t heading to your chamber, I swear.
Zelda mouth forms a rigid line, vexed at his attempt to lie to her. Why else would he be awake at this time, if not to act as a spy?
“I don’t believe you.”
Link sighs softly, apparently unenthused about dealing with Zelda’s disdain for him this late at night.
Princess, on Hylia’s name, I promise I wasn’t sent by your father. He motions towards his clothes, Do I look like I’m dressed for guard duty?
Zelda glances down, truly taking in his appearance for the first time since running into him. Link is dressed in soft tan trousers and a white undershirt, with simple brown boots on in place of his usual armor. His tawny hair is tied up in a loose ponytail, with several disheveled strands falling around his face and ears – a far cry from the tidy appearance he sports during the day.
Zelda bites her tongue, regretting her lack of simple observation. Embarrassment stains her cheeks from having been so brash, so quick to accuse him of wrongdoing.
“I… I suppose not,” reluctant apology lacing her tone. “Forgive me for assuming the worst of you.”
Though it's not as if you don't pester me enough to deserve it, she adds in her mind.
Zelda tentatively meets Link’s eyes, and she watches as his initial shock at her muttered apology morphs into something decidedly friendlier. His mouth curls up into a slight smile,
I forgive you.
They sit in awkward silence for a few seconds, Zelda unsure of how to handle his forgiveness so freely offered; it makes it harder for her to dislike him. She fidgets with her hands, tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, and then peeks over the top of the hedge to ensure that they’re still alone. Once she’s sure that no one else is coming, she turns back to Link.
“If I may ask – what are you doing out at this hour, if not on official business?” Zelda inquires, trying to keep her voice some-what cordial.
Link’s eyes dart to the side, his hands hesitating in the space between them as he thinks.
Well, I – his signing comes to an abrupt stop, and when Zelda looks up his face has morphed into a peculiar expression, his breath paused precariously on an inhale.
Zelda lifts an eyebrow, confused.
“Er, are you oka– “
In a swift motion, Link twists to the side and ducks his head toward his arm, muffling two sneezes into the crook of his elbow. He coughs a few times – a soft, tired sound – before turning back towards her with a shy look in his eyes.
Sorry, he signs, in the same moment that she says, “bless you.”
They pause, both waiting for the other to speak.
Thank y- “Are yo–”
Link lets out an amused huff at their twice-blunder, and politely motions for Zelda to go first.
“Are you okay?” Her mouth twists in thought, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so much as hiccup before -- have you fallen ill?”
Links scoffs, seemingly abashed.
Ill is a strong word, his hands move nimbly, I’m just a bit –
He’s interrupted by another string of coughs muffled into his fist, these ones more forceful than the last. Zelda thinks they sound quite painful, and by the grimace painting his face as he clears his throat, she’s not wrong. He brings a hand to his throat and rubs at it, clearly bothered.
“Not ill, huh?” Zelda challenges.
He glares at her in slight exasperation, but the look is broken when he has to duck away to sneeze again. He rights himself once more and gives his head a slight shake, a dazed expression on his face. Zelda notices that he’s started to shiver ever-so-slightly, his undershirt not offering much protection against the cool night air, and she quickly makes up her mind.
“Sir Link, it’s clear that you’re in no condition to be out in this state,” she does her best to inject authority into her whisper, hoping to rid herself of his presence so she can continue with her plan. “I must insist that you retire to your chambers immediately.”
He lifts his hands in protest, but she silences him with a pointed look, mustering all of the royal presence that she can while wearing her nightclothes and hiding behind a bush. After considering her for a moment, he shrugs in acquiescence, not in the mood to put up much of a fight.
“Oh, don’t look so dejected. Surely you know that it’s for the best,” Zelda insists. She peeks her head over the hedge once more, checking to see if they’re safe to leave their hiding place.
(She doesn’t miss how Link rolls his eyes when he thinks she’s not looking. The small act of rebellion from her usually stoic knight sparks a funny feeling in her chest; she tries her best to ignore it)
Zelda is about to motion for Link to stand when her heart suddenly stops at the sight of torchlight flickering against the far wall. She rapidly crouches back down, brings a finger to her lips and franticly signals at Link to remain quiet. They both hold their breath as a guard marches across the courtyard and straight towards their hiding place. Zelda fears her heart is beating loud enough to give away their location – the thought of her father imposing even stricter rules on her makes her stomach turn in anxiety.
The guard gets closer, and she feels Link stiffen next to her. She peers at him in her peripheral vision and sees his face screwed up in concentration, his nose is twitching like that of a bunny and his breaths coming in short stutters.
He looks like he’s about to –
The guard walks right in front of them and Zelda, panicked, hurriedly clamps a hand roughly over Link’s mouth and nose. His eyes widen in shock, but he stays blessedly quiet.
The guard passes by without a glance in their direction. Link and Zelda stay still as the goddess statues until he’s safely turned the corner.
She withdraws her hand, apologizing profusely,
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t know what else to do! You were going to get us caught!”
Link rubs at his nose, affronted.
I had the situation completely under control, thank you very much, he gestures, disgruntled. That hurt!
“I said I was sorry!”
They glare at each other.
Zelda breaks first, throwing her hands up in defeat.
“Look, we don’t have time for this. You need to go back to your bed, and I need to get to –“ she pauses, not quite willing to reveal her plan for the night, “—where I’m going,” she finishes with an air of finality.
Link raises a suspicious brow
And that would be…
“None of your business.”
Link eyes narrow.
As your appointed knight, I request that you tell me where you’re going.
“As your princess, I request that you leave me alone,” Zelda shoots back.
If you don’t tell me, then I’ll just follow you, Link responds, shrugging, you’re not as sneaky as you think.
“You’re impossible,” Zelda snarls, thoroughly irritated. She runs a hand through her hair, considering the possibilities and potential outcomes. Huffing in aggravation, she turns to Link and shoots him with a dagger-like stare.
“Get up and follow me, we need to move quickly.”
She stands and offers and hand to Link, who triumphantly accepts. They scan the area one last time, deem it safe, and scoot out from behind the hedge. Despite Link’s less-than-stellar health, he keeps up with the brisk pace she sets. They slink through the shadows, Zelda murmuring in hushed tones as they walk.
“We’re going to the royal tech lab. I just need a few minutes to go through Purah’s notes to see if any advancements have been made since – since I was last allowed in.” Saying it aloud stings, but Zelda pushes past it. “You may act as my lookout.”
They arrive without any further interruption; Zelda pushes the door open and ushers Link inside. She turns to him, hands firmly planted on her hips.
“Alright, you stay by the door and listen for anyone approaching while I find Purah’s notebook.”
Link nods in serious affirmation, fully committed to their mission. Zelda finds herself slightly amused by the silliness of his current state: Link standing at attention in the perfect posture of the royal guards while wearing his crumpled nightclothes – a sight to behold, truly.
She turns around and scans the room, locating Purah’s workstation at the far end of the lab. Zelda makes a beeline for it and immediately begins to shuffle through the Director’s notes, looking for the pages marked with yesterday’s date.
According to scribbled handwriting, not much progress has been made. Zelda closes her eyes and sighs, trying not to let the disappointment weigh her down. Apparently Robbie had been able to transfer some of the ancient energy powering one guardian into the husk of another, but it hadn’t been enough to warrant anything of major note. Zelda skims through the rest of the most recent entries before moving onto some schematics that had been left scattered atop a nearby worktable.
She inspects them with great interest, fully engrossed in the complicated designs, until she’s startled by a strange noise coming from over by the door.
“Sir Knight?” She calls out into the darkness with a soft voice, eyes still locked on the pages in front of her. “Do you hear that noise?”
No response. She hears the sound again.
“Link?”
Nothing.
Zelda tears her eyes away from the workbench and stalks over to where she’d left her knight. She doesn’t see him at first, and anger flares in her chest at the thought of him so carelessly abandoning his post, until she spots him sitting on the floor, his head resting in his hand with his cheek smushed against his palm.
She hears the strange noise again, and her jaw drops as she realizes that Link is very faintly snoring.
He’d fallen asleep on the job.
Zelda positions herself in front of him and crouches down, snapping her fingers near his ear. Link startles awake, his head snapping up in surprise.
She fixes him with a glare.
“This is utterly unprofessional, you know.”
Sorry, he signs sheepishly, my legs got tired, thought I’d sit down. Guess that wasn’t a very good idea.
He rubs at his eyes tiredly, and Zelda observes the purple stains painting the delicate skin below them. She notices that he looks a bit worse-for-wear compared to when they had first arrived at the lab; a pink flush has spread across his nose and cheeks, even reaching the tips of his ears. The rest of his face has taken on a ghostly pale shade, a sharp contrast to the bags weighing beneath his eyes – those, admittedly, striking blue eyes, that do seem to be a touch too-bright in the moonlight…
Zelda starts, realizing that she had been staring. Evidently, Link had noticed too, and he looks at her quizzically.
“Er, sorry,” Zelda stumbles over her words, “it’s just, well – you don’t look very well.”
Link brings a hand up to his chest, offended.
Well, that’s rude.
“No, I mean, you look quite feverish.” Zelda reaches a hand out with the intent of checking his temperature, but pauses, unsure about the intimacy of the act; Link inclines his head just-so, indicating that it’s okay for her to do so.
She breathes out shakily, suddenly and maddeningly nervous, and brings the back of her palm to rest against his forehead (it’s warm). Her hand moves down to cup the side of his face, thumb brushing delicately across his cheekbone (warm, again). She avoids his eyes, but she can sense him looking at her, eyes full of unidentifiable emotion.
She finally meets his gaze, and the eye-contact is enough to break the spell; her hand drops and she clears her throat. Link continues to look at her, expression clouded.
“You are indeed ill, Sir Link, perhaps made worse by venturing out tonight,” Zelda explains softly. “I appreciate your assistance as look-out, but it’s time you take your leave.”
She stands up, offering him a hand for the second time that night. Link allows himself to be pulled up without a word of protest; once he’s up, he sways on his feet, lilting slightly to the right before Zelda hastily grabs him by the shoulders and straightens him up.
Little dizzy, his hands move sluggishly. He rubs at his temples, wincing at the ache in them.
“Clearly. Come on then, while you still have the energy to stand.”
Zelda opens the laboratory door, ensures that the coast is clear, and steps out into the night with Link in tow. He’s instantly wracked with shivers, extra vulnerable to the cooling temperature due to his ill-health. His teeth start to chatter, and Zelda, unable to ignore such a pitiful sound, unties her robe where it’s fastened around her waist and drapes it over his shoulders.
Link’s eyes widen and he promptly tries to shrug it off, but she reaches out and settles his arms at his sides.
“Don’t try to give it back, you need it more than I do,” she affirms. Link hesitantly nods his thanks, and pulls the garment tighter around his shoulders.
They begin the trek back across the castle exterior, weaving in and out of the shadows. By Hylia’s grace they don’t run into any guards, and they only have to stop once for Link to catch his breath after a particularly strenuous coughing fit (Zelda nearly had a heart-attack, but she could tell that he was trying his best to be quiet).
They make it to the staircase leading up to her chamber without any issue. Zelda turns to Link and stalls, unsure of what to say to end the night’s escapade. Link takes initiative.
We made it. He makes a weak little celebratory gesture with his hands.
“We did,” Zelda pauses, and her lips turn up into a small smile. “No thanks to you, I might add. Coughing and shivering and sneezing the whole way back, I thought you’d wake the entire castle,” her words are playful, a shocking departure from how she'd spoken to him earlier that night.
Whatever do you mean, he scoffs in mock offense, I was as quiet as a blupee.
Zelda laughs quietly, shaking her head in thoughtful amusement. When she looks back up Link is trying valiantly to untangle himself from her robe, his movements uncoordinated, and she reaches out to stop him.
“Please, I want you to keep it for the night,” she insists. “You still have a bit of a walk back to the guards’ chamber.”
Link accepts her offer gratefully. He looks off into the distance, considering the length he still has to cover before he's able to fall into bed.
I suppose I should be going.
“Yes, it’s best you do. You look just about dead on your feet,” Zelda observes.
“You may return the robe to me in three days’ time – I’m relieving you of your duties for the next two. Something tells me you won’t be too keen to leave your bed tomorrow.”
Link lifts his hands in protest, likely appalled at the thought of shirking off two full days, but interrupts himself when he’s forced to duck away and sneeze harshly once, twice, thrice into the crook of his arm.
He looks back up at her, his nose blushed red and expression adorably dazed.
“Bless you.” Zelda reaches up and pats him on the shoulder in what she hopes is a comforting manner, and he shivers under her touch. “Get some rest, Champion. I shall see you in three days.”
She turns to ascend the stairs, only making it up a few steps before she stops abruptly, swiveling back around.
“Hold on, you never did say – why were you wandering the castle earlier tonight?” Zelda inquires.
Link’s mouth twists into a sheepish grin, and he rubs the back of his neck awkwardly.
I was on my way to sneak into the kitchens, he admits bashfully, was hoping to swipe some honey for my throat. His words are punctuated with a cough into his fist. Oh well.
Zelda feels a bit bad having derailed his night while he's so clearly ill, but perks upon realization of what's currently sitting atop her desk.
“Oh!" She enthuses, "wait here, I have something that might help.”
Zelda rushes up the stairs, taking them two at a time, and hastily opens the door. She navigates to her desk and shuffles some of the contents around, looking intently for – aha! There it is. She uncorks the little container and gives the powdery blue contents a quick sniff, checking if it’s the right one. Perfect.
She hurries back down the staircase -- nearly tripping when she misses a step -- and finds Link sitting at the bottom, his head resting wearily in his hands. He looks up as she approaches, exhaustion having settled over his features.
“Sorry for taking so long,” she sits down next to him, excited to share her spoils. “I didn’t want to give you the wrong one.”
Zelda takes one of his hands and presses the small glass jar into his open palm, closing his fingers around it.
“It’s spiced safflina tea” she explains. “Urbosa graciously gifted me some during my last trip to Gerudo Town. This mixture contains ingredients with cooling properties that should help soothe your throat, as well as reduce your fever. It's quite amazing!”
Link examines the little container, holds it up to look at it in the moonlight and, apparently appeased, turns to her with a fatigued half-smile on his face. His pleased expression is shattered when he turns away to sneeze tiredly into his arm. He looks back at her, apologetic and sniffling, and appears to be all but drained of energy.
Thank you, princess. Truly, I appreciate it.
Zelda responds with a smile of her own, and they both move to stand up, Link stumbling a bit as he finds his footing.
“Alright, off to bed with you. Remember: three days,” Zelda commands in a stern, but not unkind, tone.
Link gives a shaky salute and turns on his heel, taking sluggish steps in the direction of his chamber with her robe still wrapped tightly around his trembling shoulders; Zelda watches him cross the small courtyard until he’s out of sight, and she ascends the staircase once more before closing the door gently behind her.