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‘Hungry?’ Link signs moments after Ganon’s darkness is sealed away and Zelda breathes Hyrulian air for the first time in one-hundred years. She looks at him, stunned as he reaches into his bag and reveals a wrapped skewer of salted meat.
“Link… I--” she’s not sure what to say, having anticipated this moment for what seemed like an eternity; she did not, out of all things, expect her knight to ask her this. Link pushes the skewer into her hands. And yes, she is very hungry, Zelda realizes when she sinks her teeth into the tender meat. She tries her best not to scarf down her first meal in a century. “Thank you, Link,” she says in between bites. “This is quite delicious.” At that, Link smiles, small and shy.
It’s a clear day. The dark clouds and sinister glow of Ganon’s power have dissipated. They sit in the grass, in a field that was once a battlefield, and before that, the town of the people she once ruled over. Zelda’s not sure how to describe the meat skewer as anything but delicious, and it’s gone before she has the chance to ponder it further. Link does nothing, but sits in the grass next to her. He looks worn from battle, but healthy and glowing in his bright Champion’s tunic. Zelda wants so badly to reach out and hold his face between her palms, to crush him into a hug, to murmur I always knew you could do it, I never doubted you. But that’s not how princesses are meant to regard their knights–despite even everything they’ve been through. Instead, she thanks Link for the skewer, and he offers a helping hand to hoist her to her feet.
Zelda hasn’t used her legs in one-hundred years, but walking comes back to her naturally.
They find her clothes in the temple on the Great Plateau. They had been conveniently tucked away in a silver chest; Zelda knows the items had been placed there by the goddesses, awaiting her return.
“I need to take a bath,” Zelda comments, examining the coat of grime on her skin and robes. So they go to the lake nearby the temple. Link gives her distance as she approaches the water, signing something quickly about foraging for Hylian shrooms; he looks a bit pink in the ears.
After shedding her robes, Zelda takes a dip in the water, floats on her back, and closes her eyes. The water is not too cold and the air is warm. The sun cast on the princess’ face feels unreal after a lifetime spent in roaring darkness. The lake cradles her there, rocking her gently in place. We’ve really done it , she thinks to herself, feeling light. Hyrule is saved . And yet, there is a restlessness that clings to her in the midst of the calm. A nagging feeling she can’t shake. A part of her that is still holding in a breath, dreadfully waiting for the ancient darkness to break its chains. And even if the darkness does not return for a long, long time there are still so many things yet to be done; a kingdom to rebuild; people to meet; trust to be regained.
So much to do , she remembers tiredly and with that, she wades to the lakeshore.
When she puts on her old long-sleeved shirt, her trousers and boots, she doesn’t feel like the same princess she was. Nonetheless, she makes her way toward the fire Link has started under the cover of a few trees. The sun is setting. He’s roasting something over the open flame, she gets closer--Hylian shrooms and her eyes catch another thing--trout?
‘For you,’ he mouths, handing her a leaf piled with warm Hylian shrooms and the top half of the trout.
“Oh--” Zelda remarks with surprise as she starts to eat. “It’s spicy.” Link’s eyes immediately go wide with worry, but before he can sign an apology, the princess holds up her hand. “No, need to worry, Link. It was unexpected--but delicious.” He relaxes and signs his thanks.
‘From my friends by Death Mountain,’ he adds with a fond look in his eyes. ‘Goron spice.’
They eat in silence after that. The princess savors the meal her knight has prepared. It’s certainly far from the lavish dishes the royal chefs served in Hyrule Castle, but no less delicious. Zelda imagines Link foraging for the mushrooms himself, spearing the trout with a spear like it was as easy as breathing. These images aren’t that difficult to conjure in her mind, she notes, because she’s seen them before. Trapped in Hyrule castle with Calamity Ganon, Zelda recalls watching Link through hazy vignettes. There were brief moments where her voice cut through the darkness, where she saw him from the inside. Shortly after emerging from resurrection, Link was much less skilled at hunting and foraging. She can’t help but giggle, recalling a time in which the food he’d thrown together in the cooking pot could hardly be regarded as so.
Link seems to take notice, looking at her with his head tilted. Zelda feels embarrassed for getting caught.
“It’s nothing–You’ve improved your cooking a great deal,” she explains, meeting his eyes with a smile. “You were once not so skilled. I wasn’t always able to watch over you–” The princess gaze darkens, the pain of being trapped with that monster still fresh. “But there were times when my power would allow me to,” she says softly. “I hope it wasn’t unnerving,” she tacks on and searches his face for discomfort.
Link is quick to shake his head before he sets his food onto his lap so that he can sign, ‘Our roles were reversed. You were my protector.’ Suddenly, Link’s face is too bright to look at. Zelda turns away briefly, blushing. It marks the end of their conversation.
Exhaustion sets in after dinner. Link offers Zelda his bedroll which she graciously accepts. She falls asleep while Link sits by the fire.
‘Now, it’s my turn to watch over you again,’ he signs. The fluid motions of his calloused hands are the last things she sees before falling asleep.
There are glimpses that are familiar--the deadly calm before he draws his bow toward a red-tusked boar; how his cerulean eyes search for danger in every corner; the way he sleeps lightly, fitfully at night. Then there are the many, many new things--the way he forges sweet berries for them to share; how his gait relaxes once Fort Hateno is in sight; and of course, the house.
“How lovely,” Zelda says quietly when Link opens the door and she steps inside. The walls of the main room are lined with rare weapons and shields--a large, flaming sword, a shield made of ancient Sheikh technology, a beautiful bow that she knows to be the elegant handiwork of a Rito craftsperson. However, what quickly catches her attention is the large table in the center of the main room where two sets of clay plates and silverware seem to greet them. Link must notice her staring as he follows behind her.
‘Mine,’ he points to one set. Then to the other, ’Yours.’ And those brilliant eyes catch hers; eyes she once regarded as guarded and unreadable, but the princess sees something else in them now. Does that mean Link bought these dining sets with Zelda in mind? Briefly, she disregards her royal expectations and imagines a life in this home. She pictures the plates and silverware pushed aside to make room for a stack of ancient tomes on the table. She imagines dipping her feet in the little pond out front on hot afternoons. She revels in the thought of Link’s ever-growing repertoire of home cooked meals. But that’s just a fantasy… right? She is a princess–a wielder of ancient power and light that she must use to protect and guide her people.
Perhaps Link’s duty had been fulfilled in freeing the princess and sealing away the darkness. But Zelda feels that hers had only just begun.
“That’s very kind,” she murmurs, and she can’t seem to meet his eyes as she says, “I’ll be sure to visit your home as much as I can.” Zelda dares to glance at his face; it’s a mistake. For a second, he looks disappointed, eyebrows pinched together. But the expression comes and goes.
‘Right,’ he signs, and his hands still like he’s not sure what to say–like the wheels in his mind are still turning. ‘You can visit anytime.’
Zelda wants to say something foolish, wants to stay in this house and never leave. Perhaps she wants to tell Link just how much she cares for him–not in the way a princess must care for her people, but the way one might for her beloved. But these feelings are too foreign and complicated for Zelda to speak on.
“Thank you for your hospitality so far, Link. But, I…” Zelda tries to choose her words carefully. “I need to survey the ancient Sheikh technology that remains,” she says, her voice trained and even. She forces herself to focus on her kingdom, gaze tearing away from Link, and in her head, she starts to lay out the plan to rebuild Hyrule. “I suppose that should start with the four Divine Beasts. It may be necessary for me to leave at dawn tomorrow. I can take the tablet off of your hands. Link, you should know that your duties have been fulfilled. By order of the kingdom of Hyrule, I relieve you–”
‘Stop,’ he signs decisively. ‘I’m going to accompany you.’
“That’s a very kind gesture, but be rest assured that you no longer have to,” she says weakly because of course , she’d want no one but him to accompany her. Zelda remembers–all those years ago–when they rode around Hyrule and all the outlying lands in search of the key to tapping into her abilities from Hylia.
‘Stop,’ he signs with persistence. ‘I’ll take you to the Divine Beasts. We will ride together. The journey to each beast is long, and I want to make sure you are safe. I don't care about my duty to Hyrule anymore. I just want to protect you.’ Link’s brilliant eyes meet Zelda’s–the determination in his eyes is nothing new. ‘Only you.’ There’s weight to Link’s words–an implication that their relationship could be more than just a princess and her guard.
“Link…” Zelda’s unsure of what to say. This isn’t the kind of thing she could skirt around with formalities and a tight smile. Here was devotion not for her crown, but for her. Here was something real. But no matter how badly she wanted to meet his words with her own confession, her brain–for all its brilliance–couldn’t find a way to say it. “As you wish,” she manages softly, looking down at her wringing hands. “It’s impossible for me to say how grateful I am. For everything.”
Gentle fingers beneath her chin tilt Zelda’s gaze back up. Trapped in Hyrule Castle, her visions could never make out the fine details of Link’s face like she can in this moment. The princess knows the warrior’s strength in battle well, but his features betray such ferocity. There is fondness in his eyes, a small smile on his lips, and surely this expression isn’t meant for her, is it?
‘Same to you,’ he replies. They’re standing very close. Zelda wonders what kind of courage it would take to close what little distance between them remains, and decides it’s more than you need to fend off Calamity Ganon for a century. The thought comes and goes as Link steps back. The mood shifts.
‘Let’s prepare for dinner?’ he asks, and Zelda nods.
Never could she have imagined her knight like this–soft around the edges, walking through Fort Hateno, and waving hello at all the people that greet him by name. Zelda trails behind him. It’s been a long century since she’s been around other people.
The general goods store is not too far from Link’s home. When he pushes the door open, the clerk behind the counter greets them.
“Ah, Link! Have you seen Hyrule Castle? All the dark clouds have disappeared! And people around town are saying the bokoblins in the forest have vanished too,” the man says with happy relief. “You wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with it, would you?” There’s a knowing glint in his eyes.
Link laughs, bashfully scratching the back of his head. He steps aside, motioning to Zelda.
‘Not just me. Her too.’ The clerk’s eyes go wide with disbelief. Zelda can feel her face heating up under the scrutiny.
“Are you the goddess Hylia?” He asks, awed. Zelda is quick to shake her head, waving around her hands and all around feeling embarrassed.
“No–not anything like that. I’m Zelda.”
“What a beautiful name! Did your parents name you after the princess of Hyrule?”
Link bursts out in laughter then–loud and unexpected. The clerk gives him a puzzled look, but Link waves it away with hand. The question is left unanswered as Link asks for some fresh milk and rock salt. He trades the ingredients for a handful of rupees.
Zelda helps him by carrying the bottle of fresh milk on the way back. The sun has started to melt into the horizon in a brilliant show of orange, pink, and blue. In the distance she can make out the highest spire of Hyrule castle and beyond that, the outline of Death Mountain. She lingers at the steps in front of Link’s home to take in the view. It was not too long ago that she was ensnared in cold darkness with that monster Ganon, but here, that feels so far away. Zelda doesn’t realize she’s crying until Link crowds her view, hands hovering around her face like he wants to brush away her tears.
“Oh, I’m terribly sorry–” She wipes her cheek, feeling more embarrassed than she did in the store. “It’s been quite some time since I’ve seen the sunset.” Link’s face is still twisted with worry, and Zelda gives him a watery smile. “I’m alright–It’s just so beautiful. Let’s go inside.”
Zelda helps prepare dinner by chopping up Hyrulean herbs Link foraged the day before. When she’s finished, Zelda asks Link for the next task, but he just shoos her away. So she leaves him by the glowing hearth and wanders up the loft. From here, she can watch Link put together ingredients in the pot over the fire. His back is turned to her, but she imagines a pensive look on his face, a bead of sweat over his brow from the heat of the fire.
Zelda turns her attention to the rest of the loft. There’s only enough room for a desk, a shelf near the window, and a simple bed. All the furniture looks cozy, but not yet lived in. She wonders how much time Link actually spent here between fixing the Divine Beasts and defeating Ganon. If he spent such little time here, why bother even purchasing a home and filling it with furniture? She thinks back to Link pointing at the dining sets earlier that afternoon and her little, mind-spun fantasies about making this meager cottage her home. There are too many implications there, too many questions in her mind that she doesn’t know the right answers to. So, instead of dwelling on such thoughts any further, the princess plucks one of the books from his desk and settles down to read it.
The book is not anything particularly substantive, but Zelda had missed getting lost in a story. It barely feels like time has passed when she feels a tap on her shoulder, and she turns to find Link, signing that dinner is ready. Only then does she realize night has fallen outside.
They sit at the oak table in the center of the cottage, illuminated by the hearth and a candle next to their dinnerware. Link tells her to stay seated as he scoops up their bowls and makes his way to the cooking pot.
“This looks divine, Link,” she says when he sets down her bowl. Link’s cooked up a meat stew that’s as rich and delicious as it smells. She very nearly throws out all her years of royal table manners as she eats. The warmth of the dish seems to settle in her bones with each nourishing spoonful. She’s so absorbed by her dinner, she barely notices Link’s contented smile across the table.
‘Good?’ he asks.
“Yes, it is. Did you get a fairy to enchant this stew?”
Link laughs at that–loud and open–throwing his head back. Then, he shrugs with a mischievous look in his eye. Zelda wonders if he really did enchant their meal.
‘Perhaps I had some help,’ he signs vaguely. ‘But for the most part, just a lot of practice.’
They’re smiling and giggling like children together, shadows dancing on the walls opposite to the hearth. Link’s flaxen hair drinks in the warm candlelight. The two of them have several helpings of stew, but soon, their bowls are empty. Zelda feels warm and happily sated. By the time they’re finished with dinner, the both of them are basically falling asleep at the table.
Link offers her the bed, and Zelda accepts, but asks him to stay close by.
“It feels safer that way,” she says, unable to meet his eyes. Safer with you , she wants to admit. So Link sets up his bedroll in the space next to the bed. When she settles under the cover, they both turn toward each other–Zelda above, Link below.
“Are you sure you want to leave all of this behind?” she asks, so quiet and small because she’s scared of the answer. But Link is not one to disappoint, and he shakes his head resolutely.
Then, he sits up to his elbows, signing, ‘It will always be here.’
“But why even leave in the first place?”
Link looks at her like the answer is obvious, but spells it out for his princess anyways.
‘For you, of course.’ The flickering candlelight that illuminates the loft makes Link’s hands look more lively. His eyes shine in the dark. That makes her heartbeat flutter like a nervous bird trapped in her ribcage. She doesn’t say anything for a long moment, but Link doesn’t dare look away.
“Let’s stay here one more day,” she says slowly. “Gather supplies, then we’ll leave for Zora’s domain.”
Link gives hers an ‘okay’ with a smile barely containing his joy. He settles back down again, and it’s the end of their conversation. They doze off after that, still turned toward one another. Just before she falls asleep, Zelda stretches out her hand from the bed. Link’s eyes are closed, but he nonetheless reaches out and joins their hands, answering her silent call without hesitation.