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Zelda tilted her slate, trying to capture the yellow beetle on the birch’s bark.
Plop!
Wasn't that… the cork of a bottle? But why would he…? Her finger hovered over the self-portrait button. Link was behaving a little odd today.
The image on the screen switched. There, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand — definitely an elixir. Whatever for? It was a tranquil day in Hyrule Field with no monsters in sight. He usually gave her one first, anyway. What did he need? Swiftness, speed, or endurance?
His figure on the screen drew closer, and she hastily switched back.
"Oh, a Rugged Rhino Beetle!" He stepped up behind her, looking over her shoulder. Chilly elixir. And not hers. She used Cold Darner, but this smelled more like Winterwing Butterfly. "Did you get a good picture? We still need this one for the compendium, right?"
She hummed, examining through the corner of her eye how he fingered his collar.
"Want me to catch it? Might be easier." Without waiting for her answer, he crouched and sneaked closer to the tree. Absently, he rubbed his nape, the strands of his hair sticking together with sweat.
Suddenly, it hit her. The turtleneck! He needed the elixir because it was a warm autumn day and he was dressed for the cold! A white collar flashed out from under his Champion's Tunic. The last two days, it had been dark blue. But why would he…?
Coy smiles flickered before her inner eye, lingering touches from the noble ladies, and countless suggestive winks. Oh, she was so naive. She had dismissed the juicy stories about him, always helping him out when his eyes grew desperate, but of course, one day he would give in to a pretty face.
Her throat went dry. A pretty face, dragging her lips across the delicate skin on the neck of her knight, digging her teeth in to leave a mark that needed to be hidden.
"What's her name?" she asked, voice unsteady.
His hands stopped mid-air and he dipped an amused frown towards her. "Aryll?"
"Not your sister." She fiddled with the slate. "Your… girl. The one who gave you the hickeys." His chuckle was a hail of arrows, but she pressed on. "Under your turtleneck."
Grinning, he pointed his pinky towards her. "Is that what you're hiding under your collar?"
What?! "No!" The audacity! "You're the one with women fainting at your boots. It's only logical…"
"And you're the one with songs written about your 'plush lips'."
"That's different."
He came close —very close— and opened his hands, the beetle lazily crawling over his palm. "I swore my life to you, have you already forgotten, Princess?"
"Not your heart," she murmured towards the slate, words tripping. "Why the turtleneck then?"
Shrugging casually, he walked away, breathed into his cupped hands, and the beetle took off. "Someone once told me it suits me," he called over his shoulder.
Zelda blinked at his back.
That someone, was she.