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Zelda placed her hands neatly in her lap. Her straight posture was even more rigid, which is how Link knew something was off.
He waited.
After a few moments of nothing but the sizzle of the cooking meat, Zelda cleared her throat and said, “Link, if you… If you wish to leave my side, I will not begrudge you. You have done your duty as my knight and… Perhaps I am not even considered a princess for you to be appointed to -” Zelda’s cheeks flushed a pale pink, the way they did when she rambled. She glanced around as if her rambling were a thing to be scolded for, even though it was only the two of them at this makeshift camp. Link knew this was a deeply-engrained habit and had expected it with the same certainty as knowing the colour of her blush. A pang of melancholy belonging to a hundred years ago weighed down his heart.
(How odd that he remembered the tiniest details of her, yet he had forgotten the familiarity of her face.)
“Regardless… I will respect your wishes in this matter,” Zelda finished with a firm nod.
Link stared at her. His eyes tracked the smoothness of her skin, the slight crease to her brow, the fullness of her bottom lip as she gnawed on it anxiously; a bad habit he also remembered the King chiding her for, over and over again.
“Link?”
Right. She’d asked a question. A very dumb question, actually. Link didn’t bother answering that stupid question, tearing his gaze from her until they settled on a much plainer view: the meat he’d slightly burnt. Quickly, he pulled the food off the cooking pot and onto a skewer for her. It wasn’t much since he hadn’t had the foresight to bring proper seasoning. Not the sort of meal he wanted for her first proper food after all this time, but it would have to make do.
Zelda sighed as he handed over her portion. “Thank you. But Link, please think about it.”
Link rolled his eyes, which caused her cheeks to flush dark with that delicious pink again, and before Zelda got too cross with him, he finally answered with an equally firm, “No.”
“...No?” Zelda repeated in a dangerous tone.
“I don’t need to think about it,” Link said, although it mostly came out as “Don’ neesh ‘ta ‘ink ‘bout it” through the chunk of slightly charred bird thigh he was chewing. He swallowed. Princess Zelda could be obtuse about obvious things for someone so smart. As if he would ever leave her side again. One hundred years had been enough.
(Link often woke up in cold sweat and shaking with the knowledge that his Princess, the person whose entire existence was his duty to protect, had been trapped and fighting for an eternity without him. He’d failed her, then. He wouldn’t fail her ever again).
Link fixated his gaze on her. “I’m yours. I was your Knight a hundred years ago, and I’m your Knight now. Doesn’t matter if you don’t think you’re a Princess now.”
Zelda’s eyes widened at the firmness of his conviction. Realising maybe he’d been a little too direct (did she even want his service now and was trying to be polite?), he added with great difficulty, “If you don’t want me anymore, I’ll respect your wishes.”
It would hurt. Even now, just thinking about it left his chest too tight. Hyrule was less dangerous than it had been, and while Princess Zelda could certainly defend herself, the very idea of her alone and him unable to help or be around her brought sickening dread throughout his entire body.
Zelda softened. Her shoulder’s dropped from their high-strung posture, and the anxious creases on her face smoothed out. “Of course, I want you, Link, but the option will always be there. I… Never want you to leave my side, but after everything you’ve done for Hyrule, for me, I can’t be selfish and ask you to commit to me. Not when you will finally have peace from being the Hero. I want you to live, Link.”
“Being with you would be the only life worth living.”
Zelda’s entire face flushed a sweet red. Her voice was a little breathless as she replied, “Well, I’m glad we’re on the same page… Now, I thought you were a better cook than this. Have your skills deteriorated as a side effect from the effect of the Shrine of Ressurection?”
Link couldn’t help but smile, soft and fond, as Zelda began a ramble about other side effects he possibly could have. (There were none beyond his puzzle-pieced memory, thank you very much, but he wouldn’t tell her his bad cooking was because he’d been distracted by her face).
It was truly over. There was no King Rhoam Bosphoramus with his overbearing expectations to crush her spirit, no Ganon breathing down their necks, nothing and no one to tell her what she could and couldn’t do. She would be free to explore Hyrule, experience the people and land she adored, and do all the experiments she wanted so desperately to do a hundred years ago. He would be able to spend every day by her side without the heavy gaze of Hryule’s royal family court analysing every interaction between them. They were free.
Link settled in, hand cupping his cheek, and listened attentively. He had all the time in the world to familiarise himself with what he’d forgotten about her. The way her eyes sparkled with excitement when she talked about things she loved was a good start.