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It’s perfect soup weather in the woods outside Castle Town.
Snowy, but not overly so, chilling the cottage just enough to justify use of the fireplace. Shadow busies himself in the kitchen, clearing the counter of Pinecone’s canned food and spare bags of tea, and begins to unpack freshly-purchased ingredients. He smiles at the sound of Vio’s footsteps as he enters from the den.
“Found it?” Shadow asks, taking a bunch of celery stalks over to the sink for washing.
“Yes,” Vio says. “I would appreciate it if we avoided getting anything on it.”
Shadow examines the leather-bound volume from afar, well-worn from at least a century of use. He’d make fun of Vio’s concern, but he also understands how important this historical volume is—it’s one of the previous Hero’s few remaining belongings, chock-full of handwritten insight from the man himself. Vio had begged Zelda to lend it to him, and she’d only handed it over after they both promised to return it in good condition. It was a warranted measure, honestly, since the majority of Shadow and Vio’s furniture was stolen from Hyrule Castle… and that’s not even mentioning their evil root beer stash in the cellar.
It had been Shadow’s idea to make the soup, after Vio offhandedly mentioned its inclusion in the Hero’s journal entry. Most of the ingredients are still common in modern Hyrule, except for the Reekfish—luckily, according to the Hero, the soup is better off without it. And with a name like ‘Reekfish,’ Shadow is inclined to believe him.
“Do you think Pinecone will get curious with all the ingredients laying out?” Vio asks, eyeing the massive pumpkin and wheel of cheese visually similar to the horns of Ordon goats.
Shadow glances into the den at their cat, a three-legged tortie watching the snow fall through a frosted window. “Pinecone,” he calls to her, watching her ear twitch in recognition, “are you going to make trouble while we cook?”
She doesn’t answer. Shadow shrugs.
“Did you know that the Hero could talk to cats?” Vio asks Shadow, resting his elbows on the counter.
“No,” Shadow says, “but that’s very cool.”
“Once we’re done cooking, I’d like to show you some of the passages,” Vio says, avoiding eye contact. “I mean, if that’s something you’d be interested in.”
Shadow smiles. “Of course I’m interested. Looking forward to it.”
“That’s… yeah, me too. Hey, can you make fun of me now?”
Shadow crosses the kitchen and plants a kiss on Vio’s forehead. “You’re cute.”
“That is specifically the opposite of what I requested. Also, you are cute too. Obviously.”
Shadow returns to the counter with a smile and grabs a knife from the wooden block. “I’m dicing the veggies and mincing the garlic, right?”
Referencing the recipe, Vio nods. “What can I do to help?”
Shadow withdraws another knife, this one serrated and twice as long. “Feel like butchering a pumpkin?”
They launch into their parallel tasks in contented silence, the only noise coming from Vio as he struggles to cut into the large Ordon pumpkin. Shadow slides the diced celery into a glass bowl and takes a break to assist Vio, who has switched from the kitchen knife to his Four Sword.
“Here,” Shadow says, “I’ll hold it steady while you cut it in half, right by the stem. Then you just have to scoop out the seeds with a spoon, slice it into pieces, and roast them in the oven so they soften. Once they’re done, you should be able to squish them into a puree with a fork.”
Vio narrows his eyes. “How do you know so much about this?”
“Vendor at the market talked my ear off about it. She was sweet.”
Shadow really had appreciated the Ordonian woman’s advice, as well as the fact that she’d treated him like a normal person. It’s been a little more than six months since Shadow’s reign of terror over Hyrule, and a lot of people in Castle Town still hold a grudge. Okay, maybe not a lot, but townspeople rarely go out of their way to engage in small talk.
“I’ll preheat the oven,” Shadow says as Vio begins to gut the pumpkin. He turns the dial and returns to his counter, making short work of the remaining ingredients.
“Pinecone, no!”
Shadow whips his head around as Vio begs their cat to get off the counter, his hands covered with orange pumpkin guts. “Shadow, can you please stop laughing and pick her up?”
Shadow retrieves Pinecone with a chuckle, kissing her forehead and returning her to the stool by the den window. She curls up and Shadow has the strong urge to sink his face into her soft fur.
“Pumpkin’s going into the oven,” Vio calls from the kitchen. “I’ll clean up the mess before we continue.”
“Sounds good,” Shadow says, giving Pinecone another peck (there is no limit to forehead kisses in this household). He consults the journal, placed far from the carnage, and commits their next steps to memory.
“We can start the soup while the pumpkin roasts,” he says to Vio, who furiously scrubs his hands in the sink. He has his hair up again, in that lame purple scrunchie, a few stray bangs falling into his face. Shadow feels the urge to tuck them behind his pointed ears, but there are more pressing matters at hand.
When Shadow and Vio first moved into the abandoned cottage, their friends had insisted on a small housewarming party. Some of their gifts are useful on a daily basis, such as Red’s hand-knitted blanket and Zelda’s fountain pens, while others are bound to a more specific purpose. A great example is a yet-to-be-used artisanal casserole dish from Green, which is shaped and painted to resemble a pumpkin.
Shadow removes the heavy vessel from a shelf and gently places it on the counter. “I wonder,” he says, “if somehow the Hero of Twilight’s spirit influenced Green to choose this gift. Since he apparently had a thing for pumpkin soup.”
Vio joins Shadow’s side, sizing up the dish. “Interestingly enough, he’s not the only one. Records indicate that several versions of the Hero have encountered pumpkin soup during their adventures.”
“You’re kidding.”
“The Hero of Winds grew up on Outset Island, where the locals made pumpkin soup that healed his injuries. Some sources even say his own grandmother created the recipe.”
“I see. And have there been any other heroic pumpkin soup encounters of note?”
“Yes,” Vio enthuses, “with the first reincarnation of Link, actually. He lived in the sky and flew on a huge bird. In order to save his version of Zelda, he had to deliver pumpkin soup to a whale inside a thunderhead.”
“Very normal,” Shadow remarks, one eyebrow raised.
Vio smirks. “About as normal as a magic sword turning the Hero into four distinct individuals, one of whom fell madly in love with the original Hero’s evil shadow.”
“You know that makes you sound like the weirdo in that situation, right?”
“Like you weren’t hitting on me from the start.”
Shadow busies himself with the soup, placing the casserole dish on the stovetop and grabbing a stick of butter from the fridge. He slices off two tablespoons and melts them against the warming vessel, then empties the glass bowls of prepped celery, carrots, and onions into the dish. They sizzle on contact.
“Wooden spoon, please,” he calls to Vio, who promptly places the instrument in his outstretched hand. He uses it to saute the veggies while Vio removes the sheet pan of softened pumpkin from the oven, pureeing it just as Shadow had described. Shadow tosses in the garlic as Vio begins to clean their prep dishes.
“Wanna pop open some vegetable broth?” Shadow asks once he hears the sink turn off. He receives no response and turns his head to see Vio kneeling by Pinecone in the den. Shadow opens the carton of broth on his own and pours it into the dish, taking care not to let it splash in his face.
“Soup has to simmer for ten minutes,” Shadow calls to Vio, bringing the Hero’s journal into the den. He plops down on the floor, because wherever Pinecone decides to be is more often than not where they end up. He nudges Vio and drops the book in his lap. “Show me something interesting.”
Vio gives Pinecone one last full-body pet and nods. “Very well. How much do you know about the Hero of Twilight?”
Shadow shrugs. “Nothing more than what you’ve told me.”
“And what have I told you, exactly?”
“He talked to cats, didn’t use the Four Sword, killed another version of Ganon but missed out on fun times with Vaati.”
Vio scoffs. “Yeah, well, he got Zant.”
“That’s a cool name. What was his deal?”
Vio begins to flip through pages, narrowing his eyes as he scans the text. “Ah-ha!” he exclaims, and it’s so unbelievably dorky that Shadow kind of wants to kiss him on the mouth. “He talks about Zant here,” Vio says, angling the page so Shadow can read.
A note on Zant, usurper king of the Twili tribe: For the majority of my journey, I believed him to be the greatest threat to Hyrule, the final enemy I would need to defeat. But Zant had only served as a proxy for Ganon, who allowed him passage through a dark mirror to wreak havoc on the world of the light.
Shadow makes a sour face. “Wonder what that’s like.”
“Keep reading,” Vio says with a small smile.
Imagine my surprise when Zant became frantic and unhinged in battle, the opposite of the imposing figure I had once believed him to be. Perhaps his initial stature had been an act, disguising the instability and insecurity within.
Stranger still, Zant somehow managed to linger despite a very graphic death. It’s almost as if his spirit couldn’t die, not truly, until he thwarted his former master. Princess Zelda and I defeated Ganondorf, fulfilling Hylia’s Triforce prophecy—but somehow, Zant struck the killing blow. He banished Ganon from the world of light by violently severing the connection between them.
“Huh,” Shadow remarks, his voice now proud. “Wonder what that’s like.”
Eventually, Vio appears to remember something important. “Has it been ten minutes, for the soup?”
“Just about,” Shadow says, getting to his feet. “Be right back.”
Shadow returns to the kitchen and adds the pumpkin puree, along with a dash of cinnamon, to the simmering mixture. The beige broth becomes a warm amber before his eyes, already starting to bubble with the new ingredients.
“That smells fantastic,” Vio says, peering over Shadow’s shoulder. He wraps his arms around Shadow’s waist, and sandwiched between a simmering pumpkin soup and his favorite person in the world, Shadow feels truly blessed. And then he cringes, because they’re supposed to be creatures of darkness, so why would he default to such a disgustingly wholesome adjective as ‘blessed?’
“About fifteen more minutes,” Shadow says, and Vio hums. “You could have stayed in the den, you know.”
“Missed you. And I want to help clean, you’re doing all the hard work here.”
“Well, I’m not going to argue with that.”
They finish the remaining dishes together, Vio washing while Shadow dries and puts items away. The soup fills their tiny kitchen with the aroma of pumpkin and warm cinnamon spice.
Shadow returns to the stove, stirs the soup with a wooden spoon, and covers it again. “Let’s keep it simmering a little longer.”
Vio nods and leads Shadow back into the den. He retrieves the journal and plops down on the couch, where Pinecone seems to have been waiting for his arrival. She immediately curls up in his lap and Shadow isn’t jealous at all, definitely not, because that would be ridiculous and he is not ridiculous.
“What are you waiting for?” Vio asks, stroking Pinecone idly. “Get comfy.”
“Didn’t think that word was in your vocabulary,” Shadow quips, settling beside the pair and resting his head on Vio’s shoulder. He breathes in the familiar scent of lavender shampoo, and wonders if Vio has just the one purple scrunchie, or if he rotates identical purple scrunchies every few days…
“Looks like you’re thinking hard about something,” Vio observes, reaching an arm around Shadow’s waist.
“Nope, not me.”
“And that’s it,” Vio says, closing the journal. “For tonight, anyway. I think I’ve had just about enough.”
Shadow nods. “Sucks about the mirror, and what happened with Midna. They seemed to really get along. Do you think they ever saw each other again?”
“Probably not,” Vio admits. “Not everyone is willing to perform dark rituals to recover a loved one from a different realm.”
“Lame.”
They sit together for a while, watching the snow fall, silent and content. The smell of simmering soup fills the den, and Pinecone continues to purr like a motor.
Shadow tucks a strand of hair behind Vio’s ear. “Love you.”
Vio leans in—not for a kiss, but simply to meet Shadow’s forehead with his own. “Love you too.”
And then Shadow pulls away.
“Soup,” he reminds Vio, standing up. “Bring the recipe, I think it’s cheese time.”
Vio is sleepy, beyond relaxed, and it’s adorable. “You’re cheese time.”
Shadow raises an eyebrow. “What?”
“I have no idea why I said that.”
Shadow chuckles and returns to the kitchen, releasing steam when he removes the casserole dish lid. “Looks good,” he reports. “Now, tell me all about cheese time.”
Vio cringes. “Please shut up about cheese time.”
“No.”
“Actually,” Vio says as he scans the page, “it’s not even… time for cheese… yet.”
“Tease.”
“Do we have a blender?” Vio asks, already opening up kitchen cabinets. “Or a food processor?”
Shadow cocks his head. “Did they, back then?”
“That’s what he wrote. Oh, here!”
Vio removes their blender from the cabinet and places it onto the counter. Shadow shakes his head.
“Bad idea. Hot liquid will make the lid stick. Use the immersion blender instead.”
Vio narrows his eyes. “What is that?”
Shadow removes the handheld wand from a drawer and raises it in the air for emphasis. There are blades at the end, and when Shadow presses a button they come to life.
“Not all of us have swords,” Shadow quips as he plunges it into the pot of soup, turning it into a smooth orange bisque. Some of the mixture splashes onto his face, right by his mouth, and he allows himself a taste.
“Hylia,” he mutters, tossing the immersion blender into the sink. Shadow opens the fridge and retrieves their final ingredient, turning to Vio with a wolfish grin. “Cheese time.”
As the soup simmers over low heat, Shadow stirs in the soft cheese and melts a dusting of brown sugar into the bisque.
“You can do the salt and pepper,” Shadow tells Vio, grabbing him by the waist and positioning him in front of the stove.
Vio nods uncertainly as Shadow forces the shakers into his hands. “This much?” he asks, seasoning the soup with great hesitation.
“Looks good to me,” Shadow says, resting his head on Vio’s shoulder. “Smells good, too.”
“Yeah. I can’t wait to try it.”
Shadow dislodges himself from his boyfriend and grabs two bowls and spoons from the cabinet. He brings them over and repositions Vio, reaching across the range for a ladle and beginning to serve the Hero of Twilight’s beloved pumpkin soup. He garnishes the two bowls with the remaining goat cheese and places the lid on the casserole dish—he’ll package up the rest later, maybe even deliver it to Green and Zelda as a thank-you.
“Couch or table?” Shadow asks, although he’s pretty sure he already knows the answer.
“Couch, please.”
It’s precarious with the soup bowls, but they manage to arrange themselves nicely on the couch. Pinecone has resumed watching the snow fall by the window, and for once they prefer that she keeps her distance. Vio and Shadow both sit upright as they dig in, and… wow. Shadow had sampled the soup before, but this? With the cheese and everything? It’s fantastic.
“What do you think?” Shadow asks Vio, whose spoon currently lingers in his mouth. Vio nods intently with a decadent noise of approval.
“It’s perfect,” he says. “Legendary, even.”
“Glad to hear we did the recipe justice, from the mouth of the Hero himself. Well, a few reincarnations removed, but you know what I mean.”
Vio sighs. “I think he’d be happy. Seeing us, like this. I don’t know, maybe that’s just what I want to believe, but—”
“I think it’s a wonderful thing to believe,” Shadow says, placing his bowl down on the coffee table. Maybe his soup will get cold, but the idea of holding Vio in this moment is too tempting to pass up.
Vio leans into Shadow’s arms and hums. “This is so nice. Thank you for getting the ingredients, and doing most of the work.”
Shadow grins and kisses Vio’s forehead (seriously, it never gets old). “How about you do the dishes and we’ll call it even.”
Vio rolls his eyes but nods. “I should have seen that coming. You’re so evil.”
“The evilest. What atrocity will I commit next?”
Vio’s gaze meets his, and the blonde puts down his soup. Shadow recognizes the expression immediately—slightly lowered eyelids, a mischievous grin. Internally, Shadow has taken to calling it Vio’s Throne Eyes. Because, y’know, reasons.
“I’d love to find out,” Vio nearly purrs, and Shadow pretends to be annoyed.
“You’re just trying to get out of doing the dishes.”
Vio frowns, his eyes darting towards the kitchen. “You know what? You’re right. I think I’ll go do them now.”
He begins to move but Shadow’s grip only tightens. “Wait, don’t—”
Vio grins, and Shadow blushes. “You were saying?”
“You’re the worst,” Shadow chuckles, rubbing his hands over Vio’s back. In the absence of a soup bowl, Vio climbs onto his lap. Shadow kicks the coffee table slightly aside, displacing a bit of soup onto the wooden surface.
On his way to a forehead bonk (or kiss, dealer’s choice), Vio pauses, glancing over Shadow’s shoulder. “Hold on.”
“Um. Are you still joking, or…?”
Vio shakes his head. “Garlic and onion, in the soup. Pinecone could get sick.”
Shadow desperately scans their surroundings for anything that could keep them where they are. They could put the journal over one of the bowls, kind of like an impromptu lid… but if it got damaged Zelda would probably banish them, especially if said damage occurred while they were making out.
Vio sighs and removes himself from Shadow’s lap, picking up both bowls from the table with an apologetic smile. “Be right back,” he says, and Shadow does not move a muscle.
“Make sure the pot’s covered, too,” Shadow calls out, and Vio cradles both bowls with one arm to raise a thumbs-up.
In his partner’s absence, Shadow turns to Pinecone, still peacefully watching the snow fall. “You have no idea what we do for you,” he mutters fondly. The cat’s ear twitches.
From the kitchen, Shadow hears running water and the clink of dishware. Despite his protests, Vio is still doing what Shadow had asked.
Shadow considers picking up the journal in Vio’s absence, but decides against it. He would never say this out loud, but he doesn’t really care about the Hero of Twilight’s life. He understands why Vio does, though, and supports that interest wholeheartedly—he’s been told about Vio’s long nights in Hyrule Castle, researching resurrection rituals with only the company of the Hero’s writings.
And maybe, wherever he is now, the Hero has witnessed Vio repair the mirror and recall Shadow from his dark realm. Shadow knows their situations aren’t identical—namely, Midna chose to separate herself from the Hero due to royal responsibility (boring), while Shadow had broken his own mirror in a self-sacrificial middle-finger to the concept of darkness itself (badass).
But, still. The parallels are there. And Shadow doesn’t see the harm in Vio indulging them, as long as it makes him happy. But Shadow’s not here to dwell on the past—he’s here to eat pumpkin soup, and to kiss his boyfriend.
And you know what?
He is all out of pumpkin soup.