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Sharing a bed together is perfectly normal, Zelda would argue.
She’s told herself repeatedly that many people who aren’t coupled do it! She was the princess of Hyrule and he was her appointed knight. Nothing ridiculous like a blurring of boundaries could ever arise from such an arrangement. As a matter of fact, Zelda, the princess in question, had been the victim of countless night terrors that only her knight knew how to cure.
So obviously it only made sense for him to sleep in the same bed as her.
He had been sleeping under the stairs. It was rather pitiful, actually; akin to banishing a dog to the outdoors for being too bothersome. She often felt it wrong to be sleeping in his bed given this was realistically his house. Alas, the countless pleas she’d made to swap places fell on deaf ears. Something about he could handle it? She was too busy prematurely sulking to even hear it, vowing to clamber into his shoddily made bed before he could even get into it and force him out. It was a foolproof plan, truly. Nobody could out-scheme the princess. Granted, he was stronger than her and would most likely haul her over his shoulder like she was no more than a sack of potatoes. Maybe she should spare her dignity.
If she'd have known laying next to him in bed was going to make her feel this nervous, she would've opted for being potatoes.
It was an interesting situation. The first of many nights they had agreed to share in the same bed, and yet she still had all the composure of an iron rod. Body pulled taut, the curse of clammy hands inflicted on her own palms and eyes that refuse to do anything but look at him. Link had always been a light sleeper—a by-product of his days out in the wild—which had often made staying asleep somewhat of a problem, and yet somehow he was the only one of the two doing so.
Unwilling to move in fear of disturbing him, she settles for taking the rare opportunity to actually look at him. It was funny, the months leading up to the Calamity she had spent every waking moment with him, and now that it was long in the past, he still seemed to permeate the space beside her constantly. And despite all of that time together, she had never been bestowed the chance to really look at him. He was modest and somewhat bashful if you so much as looked at him for too long without uttering a word. It crossed her mind a few times that perhaps he wasn’t shown such affection when he was younger, and when she thought about it more, it made sense. He was a boy who could best adults with a sword age four, it wouldn’t be surprising if his parents focused more on molding him into a fine swordsman than a person. It was also equally depressing to think about.
The moonlight spilled gracefully over his body, highlighting cascading locks of dirty blonde that draped over his shoulder. It was fascinating just how peaceful he looks when he rests, the absence of tension in his jaw, the way his brows smoothed out into a gentle arch, and the way his lips parted slightly from the depths of his slumber. She wondered what he was dreaming about. Cooking? Fighting? Memories, old and new? The Calamity? Her?
Her?
Why did the thought conjure more summerwings in her stomach than she could ever catch? Of course he might dream of her, he is her knight, they spend every waking moment together and they’re friends more than anything. It was nothing unusual, really.
Friends. The word resonates in her mind like a bad taste in her mouth. That’s what they are, aren’t they? Friends? So why does it feel so.. odd. It stings, sizzles her skin like hot oil and makes her head spin until she squeezes her eyes shut. This has never posed a problem before, so why is it now?
A gentle murmur and the feeling of eyes on her forces Zelda from her thoughts, revealing the half-lidded source of all her woes. Link slowly drags a tired hand across his eyes, stretching lightly and turning his attention back to her. The sleep has all but left his weary body, encapsulated by a yawn he buries behind a hand, but he still finds room to look puzzled that she’s still awake.
“I couldn’t sleep,” Zelda offers, pulling the covers up to her chin in an attempt to award herself some semblance of anonymity. He nods slowly and tries to rub the sleep from his eyes again. “Anything wrong?” He mumbles.
Well, that was a good question actually. A lot was wrong. He was wrong for giving her these odd feelings that she’d rather not look too far into, lest she be laboured with something she’d rather not be.
“Nothing of concern,” she says, and given the way his brows furrow just an inch, he’s catching onto her. She can read him well but Link can always read her better. It was a blessing and a curse at times, this being one of them.
Her resolve crumbles somewhat. “I’ve just been thinking a lot. I feel as though my mind is too occupied to sleep at the moment.”
And at that, Link seems to perk up a little more. His eyes search her face for hidden clues, and she seems to give the biggest away, because concern etches its way into his face when she pulls the covers up further. It was sweet how much he worried for her wellbeing. It made her chest feel warm and oddly fuzzy. She wouldn’t look into that either.
“I’m alright, I promise. I’m not worried about anything,” Zelda rectifies, and it is true, she’s not worried about why looking at him sleeping so peacefully makes her heart skip a beat, yet. It soothes him, because his face relaxes once more and the tension dissipates from his shoulders.
“I can stay up with you.” Link offers, “until you can sleep.”
Zelda gingerly nods from beneath her wall of blanket, and the corners of his mouth pinch upwards in that small signature smile of his. The summerwings in her stomach die and give way almost immediately to thunderwings.
Deciding to be daring with her feelings in the hopes that it might settle the thunderous nature of her butterflies, she mumbles, “You look peaceful when you’re asleep.”
Regret chokes her out almost immediately. Who says something like that? What if he finds it off putting since the realisation is setting in like dread that she just openly admitted to watching him sleep. Why was that—
“I do?” The soft question in his voice cuts through her thoughts, granting her a moment of clarity. She blinks at him, a little thrown off guard that he took such a statement so well. She’s piqued his curiosity somehow. “How so?”
How so? How so?! How do you answer this?
“You do,” Zelda clears her throat, and seeing as she’s committed herself to answering that question now, powers on. “It’s difficult to find the right words but.. you’re always so worried, Link. You’re constantly on alert and prepared to fight the very next thing that jumps out at us that I very rarely see that side of you.. switched off, for lack of better words. But when you’re asleep, it’s like I see a new side to you, if that makes sense. It's more vulnerable. It’s nice to see.” You’re nice to see.
Link stays quiet for a small while, digesting this information. “That makes sense. You’re the same.”
“What?” Zelda blurts before she can stop herself. Have her manners left her above everything else?
“You’re the same,” he repeats. “You’re always worried. Always preoccupied, doing something, until you’re asleep.”
She ruminates on that thought for a moment. She supposed he was right, Impa had referred to has a worrywort more times than she could count after all, though she never thought she was that bad. Yes, she ran about Hyrule like a headless cucco for the greater part of a year before the Calamity, though it was justified, and yes, she has been doing the exact same thing in her efforts to restore the areas of Hyrule greatest affected by Ganon, all without taking a break for herself, but she was just being a good princess, right?
“I.. suppose you may be correct in a way,” Zelda mutters, caving in and pushing the covers away from her face. If they were going to have this oddly open conversation, then it’s only fair she stop hiding. “Can I make another observation?”
Link hums in approval. Zelda mulls over how to articulate her thoughts.
“It’s.. not always common that we are this close to each other,” Zelda speaks slowly, like she’s weighing each word. “But I’ve noticed things about you that I’ve never noticed before.”
She waits a beat, scans his face for any signs of discomfort, and when it doesn’t arise, she continues.
“I noticed a lot about your face, in regards to your features. Everything about you is so.. sharp, in the way that you act so much like a fighter, but upon closer inspection, you have such a soft face for someone so lethal.” Link’s gaze is intense, paying attention to every little word she says. It makes her cheeks flare up for a reason she can’t pinpoint. “For instance, you expect the face of such a prolific swordsman to be as sharp as his blade, and yet yours has an indescribable softness to it.”
Zelda makes her second dare of the night and slowly lifts a hand, though it pauses a few inches above his face while her eyes search his for any reason to stop. He’s tense, she can see that in how careful his breathing has grown, but so is she. She waits as his eyes flicker to her hand, contemplating, watching the gears turn in his head, until his eyes meet hers once more and he does nothing to push her away.
A new boundary broken.
So she swallows thickly, and trails tentative fingers down the length of his jaw. Zelda could’ve sworn she felt him stop breathing, and admittedly, her own breaths were growing harder to push out. Her heart beat heavy against the cage of her chest, her eyes locking with his with the weight of something looming over them. She couldn’t quite figure out the way he looked at her, though she’d seen something similar to it whenever Mipha looked at Link; a look of longing, unrelenting yearning just to be a touch closer, but surely he wouldn't look at her like that, right? She was still his princess, surely he would reserve it for someone else? Yet his look felt too strong, too heavy to be any regular look of his, and it definitely wasn’t negative. He wasn’t angry, or upset, or scared—it just felt like a lot. It felt tense in a way. Like he was holding back something.
In an attempt to block out the thundering of her heart in her ears, she speaks again, eyes trained anywhere but his own.
"Your face; it’s gentle, welcoming in a way. It’s only in your eyes that someone could consider you a threat.” Zelda pushes it further, and brushes the backs of her fingers over his cheek. Though the room was dimly lit, she could’ve sworn she saw a tinge of red in those cheeks of his. “You fight so valiantly and with more courage than any army could ever muster.. yet your face bares so little to remind you of that fact. You're.."
Her sentence trails off. Zelda's suddenly all too aware of how close they are right now—just a hand's width apart—and how the air feels thicker than that surrounding Death Mountain; though, most notably, she’s noticed how Link hasn't stopped looking at her since she started speaking. With all of the time she's spent by his side, reading him has become incredibly easy. A slight pinch of the brow indicates disagreement, a slight squint in his eyes shows confusion, but never has he stared at her this intensely. Has she said something wrong? The longer they stay within this uncharted territory, the more anxiety claws its way through her ribs.
"I'm.. what?" His voice is a stark contrast to that of his usual monotony, soft, barely above a whisper. It knocks the wind out of her. Just what lines are they crossing here? She's never seen eyes so imploring, with such a strong need to know, that it makes her head spin. She's rendered speechless for a moment. "I'm what, Zelda?"
Hylia have mercy, she's about to pass out.
"You're.." Zelda's heart is racing, the anxiety of her next words wrapping tight around her throat. "You're perfect, Link. Pristine."
This is feeling like too much, too overwhelming, too soon. "I am?"
"Yes."
"What.. what makes you think that?"
If the goddess is challenging her, she’s feeling it. "I can show you."
"Please."
"Okay."
Now that she's just been seemingly granted access to all of him, Zelda isn’t really sure where to start. She looks him over, making notes of features that hoard her attention like hot-footed frogs, and tries to settle her overzealous heart. This is a lot to process and think about, especially in terms of potential repercussions. Could they still be viably punished for acts like these? Granted, the monarchy hadn't miraculously rebuilt itself in the past hour she's been awake, but muscle memory still has her anxious. Being realistic, they're safe to do whatever they want. Zelda herself knows her role as princess is more a title of respect than actual authority nowadays, even though the people still act as such, so the constraints of royalty were long dead. The only person who could possibly still uphold it was Impa, but even her stance was waning with old age. Given the fact that she was trapped in Stasis for the better part of a century with the knowledge that all of her friends and family were dead, chastising her for finding a little bit of happiness amongst the gloom was the last thing Impa would do. She would probably commit more heinous acts instead, like teasing. The thought was terrifying.
The realisation that she was thinking as if they were already coupled was also equally terrifying. Mortifying, even. This could easily be a moment of platonic discovery amongst one another, ignoring the weird air between them that she was certain she could choke on if it grew any thicker. She was being ridiculous. No more dwelling on such silly thoughts. Link could merely be opening up in a way she's never seen before, risking being vulnerable to accept a morsel of affection that he may have never previously had the chance to experience. Nothing odd there.
Link is still looking at her, still waiting. She wanted to squirm under his gaze, to scurry under the covers with the hope that maybe if she pulls them around herself tight enough she can pop out of existence. Instead, she throws a prayer out to the goddess, and drags a thumb up along his cheek bone. His eyes track her every move.
"You don't have any sharp features," Zelda began, "you're still so soft after all this time. You've fought so much, faced so many gruelling battles, and yet you retain so much youth. War has etched itself into your hands, but it hasn't changed you in the slightest. You're still you, if that makes any sense."
He nods, and when she finds the strength in her to look at him again, he's looking at her hand in a way that she can't seem to discern. It was a growing pattern, him finally rendering himself unreadable in her presence. His brows knit together in the way that they do when he's thinking about something, and the uncertainty of it all makes her head spin like a glass overfilled. It's tempting to pull her hand away just to find some solace away from the strength of his gaze, but instead, she waits. Zelda notes the way he looks elsewhere for a moment, mulling something over, followed by the twitch of a finger. She blinks, and somehow he's gathered the courage in that moment to lift his hand and curl his fingers around her wrist. His fingers just barely brush her skin, holding her so lightly that it was as if his own hand had dreamt the shape of her. She almost whites out from the touch.
This was intimate, way more intimate than she could have ever imagined. It's so much, too much, maybe? Or is it just enough? Was this any more different to her fleeting touches? Was this how he felt? Was she still breathing?
Vulnerable yet gated eyes find their way back to hers, and it's all she can do to keep her thunderwings from swirling with enough violence to conjure a storm. That's what this all felt like—a storm. A storm so blinding that it's pelting with rain and she can't see through the soaked strands of hair that cling desperately to her face and the only thing guiding her through the unruly waterfall is that of her own intuition. But what was her intuition saying? Run? Hide? Push back as much as he's pushing? She was fit to vomit from the absurdity of it all.
Deciding to run while blind, Zelda curls her hand over his cheek in return. It's warm, soft like the finest Rito feathers and smooth enough to rival a buttered apple—though warm feels too weak of a description, because now his cheeks are hot enough to put even the molten lava of Death Mountain to shame. She can't blame him, she's certain that if you built a cage around her heart with something akin to the head of a pickaxe on the side of it, she could excavate a brand new tunnel through half of Hyrule. Wouldn't that be convenient for travelling in any weather? She'll pitch it to the Gorons next time she visits.
Like a cat basking in the warmth of a freshly lit fireplace, Link coils into her hand and closes his eyes; all of the previous restraint he once held vacant from him now. The sight wrings her heart out until she's sure she might cry. The moonlight holds his face gently, nurturing his soothed form, accentuating the utter absence of creases in his forehead. He pushes it further, nudging into the palm of her hand with a seeming want for more until she heeds his call and trails the pad of her thumb in small circles over his cheek. It reaffirms her ability to read him when a short, contented hum emanates from him. A scene like this felt almost religious, sacred in a way that she couldn't find the words for. Ironic, given that she was the one descendant of Hylia, but in this moment, he may as well have been be his own god. She had read something in passing about the origins of Hylia and her Chosen Hero when she was younger, and after realising just how deep Her love for him ran, she was beginning to understand. Her own Hero was ethereal, kindhearted in a way that no other has ever been able to replicate, and right now, he shone like the finest diamonds in the moon's grace. Had she not been a coward, she would've kissed him.
Their breathing syncs for a short while, and eventually Zelda retires her thumb from his cheek to smooth out the skin under his eye.
"Look at me," she asks, and Link complies almost instantly. He doesn't question her motives, doesn't question the undeniable authority she has over him and simply does as she says. It conjures a feeling Zelda can't quite pinpoint, but it's certainly far from negative. She cards tender fingers through his hair and, with how he's looking at her, she's beginning to think they may be beyond the realm of friendship. Confidence is growing on her.
She can feel him squirm ever so slightly under her gaze—which is fair, this is the most scrutinisingly she's ever looked at him—yet he does well to lie there and take it. His eyes are a brilliant shade of blue, akin to the sparkling waters of the Necluda sea in summer, where the sunlight fractures across its surface and shimmers proudly against clear skies. Small specks of green scatter themselves across his iris, minute and barely noticeable to anyone without the skill for finding what's seemingly not there.
"It's certainly diverging from the original topic at hand and I hope you'll humour me for even a moment, but," Zelda brushes a stubborn strand of hair from his face, "I don't think I've ever seen your eyes this close."
"Good or bad?" Link pushes, unsure of her newfound confidence.
"Good, of course," she soothes. "This might be considered strange of me to say, but far stranger things have happened already tonight, so I think we're past that point—"
Zelda prides herself when the comment pulls a small chuckle from him.
"—but I do wonder.. Your eyes, they feel fit to rival even Hyrule's finest sapphires. Have you ever been told that?"
Link blinks once, then twice, and then finds his voice again amongst the rubble. He chokes out, "No. That's a first," and Zelda grins. Something about the determination in her eyes sets him on edge. She looks downright devious over something that has his dignity on the line.
"I think that's quite the missed opportunity, it's a shame I haven't been able to appreciate them sooner."
Somewhere along the line of this conversation, Link has forgotten to breathe.
"Really?"
"Truly. Genuinely speaking, I feel as though I never got the chance to properly appreciate all there is to you during the Calamity." Zelda shuffles closer, until only a few inches separated them. "If it wouldn't bother you.. I'd like to get to know all there is to you, Link. Inside and out."
She moves to lean her forehead against his and Link meets her halfway, trailing a cautious hand up and over her cheek until it filled his palm. Zelda mirrors him, and when he speaks again, she closes her eyes and smiles.
"I'd like that."