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Dew clung to the overgrown blades of grass in the front yard. Restless crickets sang to the fireflies that waltzed in small groups in the evening air. The sun had just dipped beneath the horizon to make way for the moon and her stars when the rhythmic gallop of Hades’ hooves on trodden grass reached the princess’s ears.
Zelda lifted her head from where it had been resting on her knees, stirring from her reverie. She had been sitting in the grass under the tree in the front yard for the better part of the last few hours. Her bulging leatherbound journal and pen sat beside her in the grass. Over half of the pages were filled with her neat, loopy script and sketches of plants, animals, and her hero. A piece of red ribbon was wedged between the pages to mark her place where she’d just finished a drawing of a Hylian Shroom.
The Hero came riding across the wooden bridge atop a pitch-black horse. Zelda rose to her feet and brushed the stray blades of grass from her clothes. She forced her lips to morph into something that could pass for a smile. It didn’t reach her eyes.
It never did on nights like these.
At the threshold of the bridge, Link pulled on the reins to draw Hades’ steady trot to a stop: “Woah, woah.” Link dismounted the mare and grunted as his feet hit solid ground.
“Hello, Hades,” Zelda greeted the horse with a wan smile, gently stroking his muzzle. Hades whinnied softly and practically melted under her touch, nuzzling her hand.
“Hello to you, too, Princess,” Link teased, an impish smile tugging on his lips. His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, either.
It never did on nights like these.
Zelda’s smile loosened and her eyes shimmered in the dying light of the day. “Hello, my hero,” she uttered fondly, reaching her hand out and briefly squeezing Link’s hand.
As their hands drifted apart, Link hooked their pinkies together, basking in her touch for a few more moments before their hands dropped to their sides. “Hello, Princess,” he greeted, his voice no less soft than hers. “Thanks for waiting for me.”. His eyes flitted over Zelda’s face. Her short, golden hair hung around her face in gentle waves, as she’d opted not to tie it up in intricate braids today.
“Of course,” Zelda nodded. “Did Impa give you a hard time?”
Link huffed a laugh. “Only a little bit. She and Paya send her well wishes, and…” He unclipped the Sheikah Slate from his belt and poked the screen a few times. The eye on the back of the Slate glowed and two small parcels wrapped in twine and parchment paper appeared out of thin air. “…these. It’s a fruitcake and a gift from Pikango. He stopped me as I was leaving Kakariko and instructed me to give it to you as soon as I could.”
“That’s very kind of them,” she said, tenderly taking the parcels into her hands. The Princess looked up at the Hero. “Is it because…?”
Link’s lips tightened into a thin line. Behind him, Hades shuffled his hooves on the grass.
Zelda heaved a great sigh and bowed her head. She fiddled idly with the twine. “I thought as much,” she mused, “but I know they mean well. Things haven’t been quite the same.” Zelda’s gaze rose to Link’s face again. “Have they?”
“No,” Link agreed, “they haven’t.” He gathered the leather reins attached to Hades’ bridle and wrapped them around his palm. “Go inside, get comfortable.”
Zelda didn’t have to ask to know that Link had noticed the gooseflesh prickling on her forearms, despite how warm the evening was at the tail end of summer. Fighting a smile, she asked, “Will you be long?”
Link was already walking Hades toward the wooden awning around the side of the house when he responded: “Long enough to get Hades settled and dinner cooked.”
The Princess lingered on the lawn for a moment. Zelda looked up at the dimming sky and spotted a few stars shining gleefully down at her. Her stomach turned, twisting itself into complicated knots. “At least someone’s happy tonight,” she muttered under her breath. Zelda scooped up her things from the base of the tree and hurried inside, as if the wooden door and the four walls of their home would protect them from all the dangers of the world.
She took the parcels to the dining table in the middle of the room. The parcel addressed to her from Pikango was rectangular, narrow, and thin. Zelda carefully untied the twine and unraveled the parchment paper to reveal a handful of paintbrushes. There was a note written on the inside of the paper.
It read:
Dear Princess Zelda,
I hope these brushes find you well! Link tells me you’re a bit of an artist, and I thought these would be a great addition to your tools for sketching and drawing. I’d love to paint with you sometime!
All the best, Pikango.
They were lovely, truly. The handles of the brushes were wooden - hand carved, it seemed, but sturdy and reliable nonetheless - with a glossy sealant to keep paint water from eroding and rotting the handle. The bristles were black and crisp, ready to bring color to Zelda’s innumerable sketches and diagrams. Smiling to herself, she collected her writing utensils and brand new paintbrushes and placed them in the small vase on the bookcase. She made a mental note to pay a visit to Pikango the next time they were in Kakariko Village, or to send him a letter of thanks at the very least.
Zelda’s fingers tenderly traced the rim of the vase before her hand fell heavily at her side. The smile melted from her lips. She wondered how many people knew that full moons paralyzed the last living member of the royal family with fear, and how many people took pity on her or thought less of her. She pondered it for a few minutes.
For the first time, Zelda did not want answers to her questions.
The sky darkened to an inky black and the other residents of Hateno Village retired to their happy homes to wine and dine with their families. Weary travelers checked in with Prima at the Ton Pu Inn. Magical blue flames flickered in stone lanterns that lined the main pathway through the village. Shop clerks swept their floors and restocked their shelves before closing up shop for the day.
The two residents in the house across the bridge behind Myahm Agana Shrine, however, were not in high spirits as they ate their dinner.
Link and Zelda sat across from one another at the dining table as they shared meat stew and vegetable rice balls. The air was palpable and tense. Anxieties simmering just beneath their skin prevented either of them from making pleasant small talk or cracking jokes to lighten the mood. Half a year had passed since the Calamity had been vanquished from their plane of existence. However, time did not make full moons any easier for the Hero and the Princess of Hyrule.
They cleaned their plates after dinner and Zelda dazedly ascended to the loft. She stood in the middle of the space and fiddled with her fingers in front of her stomach, unsure what to do with herself. Her skin itched; she doubted she’d be able to sleep much if she retired to bed at this hour. Would she ever be able to sleep properly again? Would Calamity Ganon ever stop haunting her dreams, lurking in shadows and corners, waiting for the perfect moment to strike down their house with the intent to kill them both in one fell swoop? Would anyone ever forgive her for --
“Princess Zelda?”
The Princess in question yelped in surprise and whipped around. Link was standing on the stairs, one foot on the landing. His impossibly blue eyes bore into hers, searching for answers to questions he didn’t quite know how to ask.
“Link, you frightened me,” Zelda exhaled sharply, flexing her fingers. She didn’t realize she’d been holding so much tension in them until Link jarred her from her reverie.
“Sorry, I thought you heard me,” he said sheepishly, tapping the toe of his boot against the stair. Link draped an old, worn shirt and pair of brown trousers over the railing. “Bolson must’ve made these stairs creak-proof.” He climbed the last stair and lingered on the landing, rubbing his clammy hands against the outsides of his thighs.
Zelda offered a light smile and tucked her hair behind her ears. “It’s quite alright, Link,” she uttered softly. “I’m going to get changed and read for a while, I think.” She walked toward the tiny bedside table and withdrew a purple nightgown. Zelda had long since discarded her ceremonial gown, and Link only had so many tunics to go around. The thought of going back to the skeleton of Hyrule Castle made her sick to her stomach. So, she commissioned the seamstress in town for a new wardrobe and paid her handsomely for it.
“O-oh, sorry, I’ll --” Link stammered.
Zelda could hear the shuffle of his boots on the floor as he turned around, suddenly very interested in the paintings framed on the walls. She quickly changed and dropped her clothes into a woven basket to be cleaned later. Zelda studied Link’s back. His hands were clasped together at the small of his back. His feet were shoulder-length apart. She supposed old habits from the Royal Guard died hard.
“I…” Zelda cleared her throat and tried again, “For the record, Link…”
His ears pricked up and his head turned ever so slightly to the right; an acknowledgment that he was still listening, just not looking. “Yes, Princess?” He prompted, respectful as ever.
Barefoot, she walked carefully across the wooden floors. She gently touched his shoulder and asked quietly, “Will you look at me, please?”
Link wordlessly did as he was asked, dropping his hands to his sides.
The way he looked at her made something warm turn in her stomach. That familiar feeling occurred more often now that Hyrule had been saved from certain doom and they were living together.
It would bloom when, on rainy days at home, Link would wordlessly place a cup of water, sliced fruit, and a bowl of porridge at Zelda’s elbow as she pored over textbooks, projects, journals, and writings for hours on end. During a sparring lesson, she tried to ignore the feeling when Link would guide her with calloused but gentle hands into a better position to sidestep and parry. It was especially hard to ignore when their gazes lingered on one another for a bit too long. Even after spending so much time with him before the Great Calamity struck, sometimes Zelda had a hard time reading Link.
She found him especially hard to read now as they stood on the landing and stared at each other. “I…” Zelda swallowed hard. Her mouth was so dry. “I think that…” She stepped a bit closer.
“Yes, Princess?” Link whispered. His eyes flicked to her lips for a brief moment; if Zelda hadn’t been looking so intently at his face, she would have missed it. His lips were right there, less than a foot away.
“For the record,” she started again, drawing a deep breath to center herself. She absently wondered how his lips felt against hers. “I do wish you would stop calling me ‘princess’ so much. Please, would you just call me Zelda?”
Nodding and swiping his tongue over his bottom lip, Link said, “Of course, Zelda.” He made her name sound so pretty. It rolled off his tongue so effortlessly as if it were destined to be there.
Her heart was racing, thrumming against her ribcage. She lifted her hands and smoothed out the fabric of Link’s tunic across his shoulders and the top of his chest. “I’m glad we got that sorted out, then,” Zelda whispered.
“You look beautiful,” Link blurted. In the dim lighting in the loft, Zelda swore that he was blushing, all the way to the tips of his ears. “Purple looks good on you.”
Her heart sang. Zelda, suddenly remembering that she was standing in her nightgown in such close proximity to her formerly (permanently?) appointed knight, wrapped her arms around herself. She thanked him quietly and averted her gaze. A blush burned on her cheeks.
Why was it so hot in the loft?
“I’ll give you some privacy so you can change as well,” Zelda said, nodding to the clothes Link had draped over the railing. She ducked down the stairs and settled in at the table with a stack of textbooks and a blue journal, full of scholarly notes and musings. As she opened one of the books and removed the ribbon, Zelda noted that there was a long bout of silence before she heard the telltale shhff of fabric and the clunk of boots on the floor.
She wondered what Link was thinking about, but didn’t have the courage to ask him.
Zelda couldn’t sleep.
She cocooned herself in the covers and tucked them snugly around her shoulders, curling up into a ball on her side. She quickly grew warm and she didn’t like how suffocating the sheets were.
Kicking and shoving the oppressive sheet and blanket down to the foot of the bed, she lay starfished on the mattress in the loft. Zelda stared at the support beams lining the slanted ceiling. She felt too exposed, too vulnerable. As she reached down to grab the hem of the sheet, something on the desk chair caught her eye.
Or was it some one ?
Panic struck her heart and she scrambled to the edge of the bed. Her fingers shook as she fumbled with the Sheikah Slate, tapping into the tab designated for weapons and selecting the first one that caught her eye. A Flameblade appeared out of thin air, and Zelda caught it by the hilt and held it high over her head to shed some light in the loft.
A cloak. It was just her cloak draped over the back of the desk chair.
Zelda lowered the blade and dropped a curse under her breath. She sealed the blade away with the Sheikah Slate. Sitting heavily on the side of the bed, she raked her fingers through her hair and, following the motion, rested her hands on her shoulders. Zelda’s eyes burned. Her body ached for sleep, but her mind raced at a million miles an hour in a thousand different directions. She felt like scolding herself for not having a better grasp on how to better handle these nights, but she and Link were trying to figure it out together without any guidance from another living person that had survived the Calamity in the same way they had.
“Maybe it will get easier with time,” Zelda mumbled to herself as she stretched and flopped back on the bed. She tried to imagine what full moons would look like for her and Link in six months’ time. Would they still have night terrors? Would they have trekked back to Hyrule Castle to salvage what they could of their past lives and rebuild it into something new? Would they have sought out their allies to make amends?
Perhaps they could rediscover Hyrule together. Zelda hadn’t traveled farther than the woods at the foot of the hill leading to the village, and even that was pushing it. The fear of something sinister and malicious and Ganon-shaped hiding around every corner spooked her into staying within running distance of Hateno. She knew it was silly, and she knew for sure that Calamity Ganon had been vanquished for good. Lingering questions beginning with “What if…?” floated around in her head more often than not, and Zelda began to wonder if she’d ever be able to know a day of peace without them.
Shaking her head to ward away any inklings of intrusive thoughts with long, sharp talons and venomous teeth, Zelda tried to focus on happier things. The sun on her face. Fields of Silent Princess. Her aching eyes began to close. Link’s warm, calloused hands brushing against the small of her back, her knuckles, her arm, her shoulder. Link’s laugh. The way his eyes twinkled in the golden light of the sunset, and how ethereal and beautiful he looked. She held onto that image, and warmth bloomed in her chest.
Link, taking her hand. His mouth was moving, but she could barely hear a word he was saying. He sounded like he was underwater. Zelda’s eyebrows twitched as she strained her ears. Link’s steady tenor whispered a prayer she knew all too well, having chanted, recited, pled, sobbed it for days, weeks, months, years to their dearest Goddess Hylia to awaken Zelda’s Divine Power. Her fingers grew cold.
Zelda tried to speak, but her mouth wouldn’t move. She was frozen. Link’s serene, borderline eerie smile grew wider still and his eyes glowed. She tried to plead and reason with him, trying to pry her fingers from his iron-clad grasp.
The sky was fading from orange to red. Clouds raced across the sky.
Panic gripped Zelda’s heart as she struggled. When she looked back at Link again, he had transformed into Hatred and Malice Incarnate. The Dark Beast reared its ugly head and pink flames blazed along its back, scorching the sky. It lifted an enormous hoof and promised her a quick and painless death if she stood still.
Zelda couldn’t breathe.
She was crying.
Her right hand burned.
Zelda gasped and a cry tore at her throat as she sat up and promptly fell off the bed.
Bed. Hateno. She was home.
The loft slowly came into focus, but Zelda was already in motion, scrambling toward the staircase with heavy, sleep-addled limbs. In the middle of the staircase, Zelda tripped and pitched forward into someone warm and firm. The Hero’s name was a prayer on her lips; sacred, warm, safe: “ Link ,” Zelda breathed.
“I’m here, Zelda. I have you,” Link whispered, sounding equally as breathless.
Tears formed in the corners of her eyes from equal amounts of relief and exhaustion. Her breath caught in her throat and she gripped the old, ill-fitting shirt hanging on Link’s muscular frame to ground herself. “I’m here,” Zelda echoed, hiding her face in his shoulder as she righted herself on the stairs. They stood on the same step, wedged tightly together for the sake of reassurance and knowing that the other person was there , they were alive , they were safe .
“I had the most terrifying dream,” Zelda sobbed, unable to stop the tears that leaked from her eyes.
“Was it…?” Link swallowed. His hand pressed firmly against her back as she cried into his shoulder. “Hatred and Malice Incarnate?”
She nodded vehemently. “ Yes . Y-you transformed into it a-a-and I couldn’t breathe , I couldn’t m-ove .” Zelda’s arms encircled Link’s body. They stood there on the stairs for a long while while Zelda quietly cried and Link tried to keep his own tears at bay.
Finally, Zelda choked out, “I’m just glad you’re alive.”
Link’s fingers tightened in the fabric of her nightgown. “I am, too,” he murmured, his mouth moving against her shoulder. “I’m glad you’re alive.”
As Zelda calmed down, she hooked her chin over Link’s shoulder and sighed deeply. Her tears started to dry on her cheeks. “Link?”
“Hmm?” His fingers smoothed out the wrinkles in her nightgown as his hands skated over the expanse her back.
“What do we do?”
Link gently pulled back, just enough to see Zelda’s face. He tilted his head. “What do you mean?”
Zelda sighed and wiped her eyes. “We can’t keep living like this,” she said, gesturing to her tear-streaked face and the minimal space between them, “and I’m not entirely sure how to…” She chose her worse carefully, “...improve our experiences with full moons every month.”
Link pursed his lips, nodding solemnly. “Let’s not focus on the far-off future,” he finally siad,, gently slipping his hands into hers. “What do you need right now? What can I do to help?”
Shaking her head, her short hair tickling her jawline, Zelda responded, “Link, please. You’re exhausted from traveling; you need rest.”
Link ever so gently tightened his grip on Zelda’s hand and looked intently into her eyes. “I don’t care,” he said earnestly. “I would do anything for you.”
There was that feeling again.
“Can we go for a walk?” Zelda worried her bottom limp between her teeth.
Link’s thumb traced the back of her hand and a smile ghosted over his lips. “Say no more. Get changed into something comfortable. I have just the place in mind.”
Some five minutes later, Link was dressed in a light blue shirt with a large, white lobster embroidered on the front and a pair of brown shorts. The Sheikah Slate was clipped to his belt, just in case. Zelda came downstairs still dressed in her nightgown with her cloak tossed over her arm. Tilting his head, Link asked, “You’re not changing?”
Zelda shook her head as she stepped through the door held open by the Hero. “I doubt anyone would see us, anyway,” she said quietly as Link closed the front door behind them. “Besides, Sophie did a lovely job with the needlework and it’s quite comfortable.”
Shrugging, Link let it go. They walked across the bridge side by side and traipsed down the path to the main stretch of road running through Hateno Village. The air was still pleasantly warm, but not oppressively so. Zelda held her cloak with both arms in front of her stomach, nudging a pebble with the toe of her sandal. “Where did you find that tunic?” She asked to break the comfortable silence that had fallen between them. “I’ve never seen it before.”
“In a chest at the bottom of a lake,” he said with a crooked, impish smile. Link’s hair hung untouched and tousled around his collarbones.
Goddess, he’s so pretty , she thought. Instead, Zelda said, “Is that so? Tell me all about it.”
As they walked along the path and down the right fork in the road, Link recounted his excursions through Hyrule while seeking lost treasure from a thief by the name of Misko. He showed Zelda the journal entry he’d logged in the Sheikah slate to keep track of all of the hints referring to the locations of the hidden treasure, and all of said treasure stored in the Slate. The ground sloped downward as they neared the shore. The earth gradually turned sandy and soft beneath their feet.
Zelda crouched down and unclasped a strap on her sandals, hooking the straps on her fingers. She stepped into the sand and sighed, wiggling her toes. “I quite like the feeling of the sand,” she mused, dropping her cloak and her sandals at the base of a palm fruit tree on her trek to the ocean.
Link followed her and dropped the Sheikah Slate on top of her cloak. He knew it was waterproof, given the number of times he’d swam with it clipped securely to his hip, but he didn’t think either of them had a use for it in the water. They stepped into the surf and the water rushed up around their ankles.
“And the water,” Zelda added, sloshing further out until the water reached her knees. “It feels nice, not to have to… stand and pray. The rush of the water feels refreshing.”
Link matched Zelda’s pace and swished his legs in the water. “It’s cold,” he murmured, stepping further out until it rose to his belly button. He cursed loudly as the water splashed up his front, his soaked shirt clinging to his body. Zelda’s lilting laughter echoed across the water.
“Link, I think the water’s cold. You should be careful,” Zelda teased, squealing as he splashed water in her direction in retaliation. She leaned down to get a better vantage point to splash link back, but a newer, bigger wave of water splashed her square in the face and all down her front. Coughing and spluttering, Zelda scrubbed the salt water from her eyes as Link laughed and truged through the water to her side.
“Are you okay?” He chuckled, gently pushing her wet hair back from her face.
Red in the face from laughing and nearly choking on sea water, Zelda squinted at Link and nodded. “Never better,” she lied.
“Here.” Link wiggled his arm out of the sleeve of his shirt and awkwardly offered it to her, giggling. “My sleeve is dry.”
“Oh! My hero,” Zelda laughed, taking the sleeve and wiping her face dry with it. Her eyes didn’t sting as much when she was done. “Thank you,” she said. Link wrestled his arm back into the sleeve, and Zelda nearly doubled over in laughter at the face he made. They were both a bit delirious from sleep deprivation, but Zelda’s heart was light and full, and she couldn’t bring herself to care that they were both wet, cold, and laughing at each other in Hateno Bay in the middle of the night.
“Shush!” Link giggled, “You’ll wake the neighbors!” This only spurred their giggles more. Zelda had to hold onto Link’s arms to keep her balance.
“W-who would be awake at this hour to hear us, anyway?” Zelda gasped, trying to catch her breath.
“Purah! Us!” Link whispered loudly, pointing toward the lab at the top of the hill. They clutched onto one another, their shoulders shaking with silent laughter. Zelda stumbled, the sand whisked away from under her heel, and they went tumbling into the water. Link struggled to right himself in the water, having fallen right on top of Zelda as the water rolled back out. Unsteady and giggling, they tripped up the shore and landed on their backs in the wet sand. The tide tickled their feet.
The sky was warming up, melting from a deep black to a soothing shade of navy blue. The sun would be coming up soon. Zelda’s head lolled as she started to calm down a bit. “I haven’t laughed that hard in a long time,” she breathlessly confessed, wiping her sandy hands on her nightgown. She looked toward Link, her eyes glittering. “Thank you.”
A lot of things happened within the next few moments.
First, Link looked back at her, and the breath disappeared from her lungs again for a split second. She thought about how pretty he was, not for the first time that evening.
Next, he agreed with her, and Zelda followed the movement of his Cupid’s bow lips with her eyes. She thought about kissing him.
Then, Link shifted his weight to rest on his forearm. His expression shifted. Why did he look so serious?
“Zeda?”
“Yes, Link?” She could feel her heart in her throat. Her cheeks were hot.
Gently - oh, so gently - He lifted his other hand and traced the side of her face. “Can I kiss you, please?”
“Goddess, yes , please.”
Cupping her jaw, Link leaned down. Zelda’s arms encircled his shoulders. Their lips met for a chaste kiss. Link tasted like the ocean, and she told him as much.
Chuckling, Link whispered. “So do you.” His eyes searched hers, halflidded and dreamy. “Can I kiss you again?”
Zelda leaned up and kissed him slowly, reverently, and Link responded in kind. Slowly, they sat up. Her hands drifted down his arms and over his chest. Link’s shifted over her back, holding her close.
They parted. “I’ve been thinking about doing that for a long time,” Zelda whispered, staring at his lips. She stole another kiss.
“Me, too,” Link nodded, transfixed by her pink lips. He kissed her again, and again, and again. Zelda’s head was buzzing. Her heart felt like it might explode.
By the time they’d come to their senses, the sun was starting to peek over the horizon. Their lips were pink and tingly. Zelda felt like she’d swallowed a hundred shooting stars. They walked back up the beach to the village and went straight to the bath house to wash off all of the sand and saltwater from their skin. They sat on opposite sides of the bath and talked quietly about their plans for the rest of the day, as if nothing strange or out of the ordinary had happened that day. Link summoned clean clothes from the Slate when they were clean and dried off.
When they made it back to their house, they wordlessly dropped their belongings by the door. Zelda paused with one foot on the stairs. “Link, as my appointed knight, I feel that it might be beneficial for both of us to sleep in the same quarters. Should anything bad happen to either of us while we rest, the other person will automatically be there at their aid. Do you agree?”
Link sidled up to her and dropped a kiss on the junction where her neck and shoulder met. “I couldn’t agree more,” he uttered, following her upstairs to the loft. They settled down in the middle of the bed, snuggled up to one another. Zelda fell asleep first, and Link was not far behind.
With an arrangement like this, perhaps nights like these in the future wouldn’t be as bad as Zelda thought.