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Chapter Text

Tawny evening light shed through the sheer folding screen as her lady's maid unfastened the stays of her corset. Each lithe tug resulted in the zipping and shuffling of silk before the bodice finally slackened around her body. When the gown finally pooled around her ankles, the queen let out a relieved sigh and stepped out of the ring of fabric.

Confining corsets and binding bodices were something she'd long been accustomed to, but the further she went along in her pregnancy, the more unbearable they became. With the way she was growing and changing with every passing week, having her body bundled to the brim wasn't exactly ideal.

Although the corsets that were designed for expectant women weren't nearly as constricting as most, there were far more ties along her hips that took a far greater time to undo, meaning she had to stand on her feet for longer.

And her feet hurt the most.

They were constantly tender and sore, especially around the laces that cut into her skin all day. Untying her shoes was like dousing a fire, her entire body slackening as if she'd been waterlogged. Even as Irene tugged off the boot with a great level of difficulty, the leather seemed to cling to her stockings as if the shoe itself was keen on continuing its torment on the queen.

Zelda hissed through her teeth. "Aye," Lady Irene said with a click of her tongue, "they get more swollen by the day, don't they? I'll get the ladies to fashion some new shoes for you."

Though Link could only make out the silhouettes from behind the screen, his wife's plaint caught his attention – as it always did, as if her pain set off some alarm in his mind. His head snapped towards the screen, but he waited until Irene walked Zelda out from behind the divider, finally clad in her nightwear, before asking, "Are you okay?"

She nodded dismissively as she tottered to bed, eager to take the weight off, while he closed his wardrobe and turned to Irene for guidance. The older woman smiled consolingly as she swung the used clothes over an arm and prepared to head out. "Just some swelling in the feet. Nothing to fret about."

But just as she passed, she turned to the hero and said in a low voice, "She won't let me touch them, but see if she'll let you give her a foot rub." With a conspiratorial wink, she slipped out of the room and left the young couple to their own devices.

When the door closed, their eyes met.

"Don't even think about it," she said with a scowl.

He shook his head, amused, and sat at the foot of the bed.

"Let me see."

"They're sensitive."

"I can help."

After a moment of hesitation, her eyes fell to her lap and she twisted her hands: a familiar habit of hers that he recognized all too well. Exasperated, she finally said, "They're unsightly."

His brows nearly flew up his forehead. That was not what he expected her to say. Zelda wasn't typically insecure about anything - at least not physical things, but certainly many intangible ones that she found a thousand and one reasons to feel guilty for.

Either way, there was never a good reason to be insecure about something like that - especially considering how strong and beautiful she was to him, and especially not when she was carrying their child. To hear her speak about herself like that...it was just wrong. "Nothing about you is 'unsightly.'"

Flashing him a daring look, she untucked her feet from the comforter and placed them flat on the sheets. Granted, they were very swollen, especially puffy around the ankles, and he could see the notches and bruises in her skin from the tight lacing of her boots. But they were certainly not ugly, and more than that, he was far more concerned with how she felt rather than how she looked.

Renado said it was normal for pregnant women to have swollen feet, but even if it was normal, it looked like it really hurt. And he would bet her tight shoes weren't helping anything. "I was right," he said firmly. "Not unsightly." Then, reaching out, he looked to her for permission. "Can I?"

She held his gaze, but it didn't falter; she could see he was not going to give up without a fight. With a small sigh, she waved the white flag. Perhaps a massage wouldn't be so bad. "All right then."

A smile flitted across his face at the small victory, but then he rolled up his sleeves and got straight to work. Toiling on the ranch taught him a few things about using his hands. In the colder months, the Ordonian goats often got stiff and taut, and the ranchers would give them massages to ease the tension. But that was the extent of his knowledge about massages or anything like that, and he would certainly be far gentler with her.

At the first touch, a soft, sated sigh slipped from her lips and she melted into the mattress like sugar in tea. His hands cupped her ankle, working his thumbs and fingers into her skin with a tenderness one might not expect from looking at him. But Zelda was his wife and she knew his touch; she knew how he could be very gentle when he needed to be.

The feeling of his calloused fingers against her skin, the contrast of his gentle touch with the deep pressure, was very pleasing and effectively distracted her from thoughts of welts and bruises. Her head sank into the downy pillow. "That's nice. Thank you." His smile returned at her praise and his hands traveled down to her heel, kneading and pressing, and earning small, contented noises as he went along.

They were quiet for a bit - that is, until his hands went down to the arch of her foot. When his hands traveled past where the laces had nicked her, that same hiss from earlier escaped her.

"Sorry," he said swiftly and loosened his grip. "You shouldn't be wearing these shoes, y'know. They're really digging into you."

"My maids have been very diligent about adjusting my clothes for my pregnancy. We've been doing the best under the circumstances."

"I know, but maybe it's not just the size... I don't care if they're fashionable or whatever. You're bruising from it."

He was far more down-to-earth than she was, especially when it came to her well-being. Despite her better judgment, she tended to be more reckless to maintain a certain 'respectable' image. Though it was often a cause of disputes between them - her caring too much about decorum and him not giving a damn - she really did appreciate his perspective. Growing up outside of the castle had spared his rationale from getting warped.

After all, it was silly to care about shoes that hardly peeked out from under her skirts. "Perhaps you're right. I could speak to them about commissioning a looser fit."

He was glad, at least, that she was willing to talk to them about it. He didn't know much about style and status, but he knew she did, and it always came at a cost.

It wasn't that he didn't appreciate everything that she did as queen: he did, even things that he didn't really understand. After all, she was perhaps the best ruler Hyrule had ever seen and he was so proud of her for it. But she risked everything - even her welfare - time and time again, and it wasn't worth it to him.

But as time went on, he noticed the little ways she started to look out for herself, whether it was taking more breaks from work or going outside for some fresh air. Especially since discovering she was pregnant, she started to take proactive measures to stay healthy.

"Still, it will take some time before they're ready," she added after some time.

He nodded thoughtfully, but it was only a moment later that an idea came to him. His lips stretched into a wolfish smile. "That's okay. I know what to do."

Walking into court the next day, her chancellors were quick to notice the heavy thuds in place of the queen's typically lithe and quiet footsteps. It wasn't until she stepped up to the podium that the toes of her boots peeked out, and nearly all the chancellors exchanged a surprised look at the undeniable sight of the oversized men's shoes on Zelda's feet.

But she wouldn't deny that Link's boots were quite roomy on her, and it was definitely worth a disapproving look or two.

Chapter Text

Moonlight streamed in from the window, saturating the royal chambers in a soft blue hue. It was peaceful and silent, save for the rustle of the comforter and the sleepy groan as the hero turned in his sleep.

Drowsily, Link reached out to embrace his wife, only to find his hand landing squarely on the mattress. He patted around a bit before opening his eyes and realizing her space was empty. In an instant, he sat up, gave a sweep of the room, and quickly realized Zelda wasn't there at all.

His heart dropped to his stomach. Perhaps it was a bit of an overreaction, but given their history, it was alarming whenever she went missing without explanation. It didn't take half a moment before Link shot out of bed and went searching for her, checking the adjacent rooms before leaving the chambers altogether.

Once he stepped into the corridor, he was poised to run but halted mid-step when he caught a glimpse of a warm light emitting from a half-opened door. Swiftly, he approached their newly furnished nursery and peeked in through the sliver between the door and the doorframe.

When his eyes found Zelda, swaying in the rocking chair with her hands resting over the growing baby bump, his heartbeat settled. A few logs were splintering in the hearth, casting a golden glow over her creamy skin, and he realized that she must've been there for some time.

But she was still donned in her nightgown, partially cloaked by the old threadbare blanket that she loved, and her hair was tied in a loose knot. He leaned against the doorframe, his face softening with a smile.

"…but she told me not to fret, for she'd go searching for a hero," his wife continued, just loud enough to hear. "You can only imagine my surprise when the princess brought a wolf into my tower." His lips curled with amusement when he realized what she was talking about. "I wasn't afraid, though. Even then, your father was too sweet to be scary."

"Hey," he protested, inadvertently making his presence known, "I was scary!" Her lips pursed in suppression of a smile that told him she knew he was there - that she was teasing him. There was a twinkle in her eyes when they met his, and he half-heartedly grumbled, "Everyone in town was scared of me."

Zelda smiled as he approached her and drew him in for a chaste kiss. "You're fierce; I'll give you that," she murmured when they parted, earning a bashful chuckle from her husband.

He then crouched by her side and folded his arms over her lap, and her hand adjusted, lazily combing through the unkempt locks of his blond hair. With a lax sigh, his head lolled into her hand. "Why aren't you sleeping?"

"Your child won't let me," she joked. But her dulcet voice was watered down with sleepiness and he knew she wasn't completely kidding. "It seems they're particularly restless tonight."

"I'm sorry. You've been working late enough as it is."

It was at times like this that he wished he could do something more to help her. For their part, the council made an honest effort to lessen her load and allow the queen more time to rest. But even then, her workload was so heavy that it ended up taking quite some time to finish.

What with all the new treaties to be written, minor repairs around town to oversee, and finances to budget, it was a wonder she got to bed at all. At least he'd be able to help with the workload once he became king, but it'd be a while before his coronation.

Zelda simply shook her head and lovingly looked down at her bump. "That's all right. We've been having a nice conversation."

"You have?"

"Yes, it seems they enjoy hearing about our adventures. We tried to speak of news and politics, but it only served to agitate them more."

He snorted. "Sounds about right."

The corners of her lips twitched in amusement. "Would you like to continue the story? Perhaps they'd enjoy hearing your voice as well."

"Really?"

"Of course."

A little hesitantly, he lowered his gaze to her belly. Perhaps he was shy or nervous, but either way, it was endearing, the way he carefully reached out to the bump and placed his hand over hers. The restless movements in her belly spurred him to speak.

"The first time I saw your mama, I thought she was the prettiest lady I ever saw." She laughed and shook her head again, but Link's eyes flashed up to hers and the look in them was serious. "I really did...I still do."

"You never told me that."

"Well, I was a wolf."

"I meant since then."

His face began to redden, starting with his cheeks and spreading to the tips of his ears, and his eyes darted away. "Oh. I thought you knew. I mean, I couldn't not look at you. And I didn't want you to think that I only thought you were pretty because you're more than just pretty, but-" He caught his breath and met her gaze again. "Yeah, I always thought you were really pretty."

It was strange being embarrassed about it now - for heaven's sake, they were wed and expecting. But he still remembered how awestruck he was the first time he saw Zelda, the way it made his heart speed up and the world slow down at the same time. He just never thought he'd admit it to her.

Her eyes softened, half-lidded, as her fingers curled in his hair. "For what it's worth," she said, pulling him back to the present, "I thought you were very handsome as well. When you were human, of course." His blush darkened and he leaned further against her knee in an effort to hide it.

Hours were spent just getting lost in memory. Though they were still telling the stories to their unborn child, they ended up discussing it between themselves as well, finding little things about their respective journeys that had yet to be shared. It was incredible that there were still things they hadn't mentioned after so much time had passed, but their adventures were so monumental that it was easy to forget the tidbits.

When they were too tired for words, Zelda hummed her lullaby, and eventually, finally, their child settled down. The couple soon followed suit, and by the early hours, they drifted to sleep right there in the nursery.

At dawn, when the maids couldn't find the queen in the royal chambers, there was a bout of frenzied chatter as they went scavenging. Like Link had, they all got quite ruffled at the thought of what could've caused the queen and prince's disappearance.

But when one maid checked the nursery, she waved the others over with a shush and a finger to her lips. The group of maids piled up in the doorway to find the couple nestled in the nursery: Zelda still in the rocking chair, Link leaning on her lap, and their hands interlaced over her baby bump.

They exchanged amused and adoring looks before tiptoeing out quietly, unanimously deciding to wait a bit before waking them up.

Chapter Text

For the first time in his life, Link spent the turn of the year away from his home in Ordon. It felt appropriate, somehow, since he couldn't even recognize the person he was from last winter. It'd been such a long and life-changing year for him that just thinking of it turned his stomach and made him dizzy.

He knew he could've gone home: he knew Ordon would welcome him back with open arms and possibly even a great big feast. But it hadn't been the same since his adventure began, and he didn't really feel like spending the evening in his home feeling somehow not at home.

Just the same, he knew he'd be welcomed at Telma's bar, where surely everyone from town would be. Everyone, that is, except for his friends from the resistance, who were still scaling the mountain alps of the north. Being there without them just didn't feel the same, especially when Telma would already have her hands full running the place.

The queen, his newest and perhaps most unlikely friend, wasn't able to spend the evening with him either. She'd been invited to an annual exclusive dinner party amongst all the aristocrats and the princes that still persistently lingered after her coronation.

Even if they'd offered him an invitation, he really didn't want to spend the whole evening being the subject of their non-whispered insults and not-so-subtle looks.

After an entire year of meeting new people and traveling the kingdom, it looked like he'd be celebrating the new year all alone.

When he finished with work for the day, he took his dinner to his room and stripped down to his most comfortable slacks. Even from his open window, he could see the people hustling and bustling in the snow-covered town, with salesmen peddling their wares and minstrels performing their ballads.

It really did look like everyone took to the streets to celebrate, and despite his loneliness, he found himself smiling at the sight. At least the people were safe and happy: after the year they had, they deserved it.

His meal was delicious: a fresh roast, vegetables, and a glass of champagne to boot. Not enough to get him drunk, perhaps, but just enough to unwind for the evening. At the stroke of midnight, the bells chimed in a chorus below and an explosion of light erupted like vibrant flowers in the night sky.

Closing his eyes, he sent out well wishes for his friends, in and out of the realm. He wished his family in Ordon a bountiful year, his friends at Snowpeak a safe dismount, and he wished Midna, whatever she was doing now, true happiness.

As for Zelda...well, he wished she'd have a wonderful year ahead. Secretly, too, he wished to be a part of it.

All tuckered out from a busy day of work, he tidied up his dinner tray, set it on his dresser, and curled onto his bed like a kitten. Awash in the silver light of snow, he drifted off to sleep almost immediately.

He couldn't tell how long it was before he heard a soft, subtle rap on his door. Had it been anyone else, it would've hardly stirred them from sleep, but he was a light sleeper, and while it proved to be fortunate in most circumstances, he couldn't help feeling annoyed about it then. With furrowed brows, he rubbed his eyes, pushed himself up, and sleepily ambled to the door.

It was the queen.

She looked equally as confused to be there, her hand still up in a fist before it slowly fell to her side. Donned in a midnight blue dress, she looked ever the vision. Her chestnut hair was braided just as always, and her face, though weary in the eyes, was adorned with evening makeup, and he realized that she must've come straight from the event.

Her eyes swept over him quickly before darting away, flustered by his state of undress, and she cleared her throat. He'd only been wearing a flimsy shirt and some old trousers, after all, and so he folded an arm over his chest in an effort to maintain some dignity. Had he known it was the monarch of his kingdom at his door, he probably wouldn't have opened it in his bed things.

"I apologize. Did I wake you? I assumed you'd still be awake for the festivities."

"No, I -" He scratched the back of his head. Well, yes, she did, but sleep hardly mattered now. He was far more concerned with what she was doing there. It wasn't every day the queen came knocking on his bedroom door.

"It's okay. Did you...Did you need something, Your Highness?"

"Zelda," she corrected.

It seemed to take a bit of time for him to adjust to the change, but she could hardly blame him. Not many people were permitted to call her by her name; surely any noblemen would be scandalized by his permission to do so, but she very well didn't care. She was the queen and damned it all if she couldn't choose her own friends.

"I was hoping perhaps you might join me in the dining hall. But I understand that it's late and I certainly wouldn't want to disturb you."

"No…!" he interrupted, perhaps a bit too eagerly. Reining it in, he amended, "No, I mean, I would. Sure." He looked back in his room for a moment. "Just, err - give me a minute." She nodded in understanding and primly folded her hands as he darted back into the room, clambering about.

Though curious, she made an effort not to look around his room. She'd seen the chambers before, obviously, when she arranged his accommodations, but she'd never seen it lived in by him. It felt oddly intimate. Fortunately, he appeared not long after with a proper shirt haphazardly thrown over his bed things. "I'm ready."

"Very well."

She set forth without further deliberation and he hastily followed suit. Many questions arose in his mind, like the fireworks sparking in the dead of night, but he hesitated to ask.

Eventually, her trek led them down a familiar hall, though far quieter than usual. Perhaps everyone had retired to their chambers, nobility and servants alike, exhausted after hours of celebration. Though Zelda's steps were just a touch heavier than usual, possibly drained herself, she seemed a bit eager.

She looked back at him momentarily before opening the door to the dining hall where they typically shared dinners. Though he knew they had a celebration earlier, he was taken aback by how nice the room looked.

All the dishes were cleared, but the fancy decorations remained. There were fir garlands strewn across the table, garnet flowers hung in bushels, and a slew of candles scattered across every surface. The candles were still burning, casting a warm glow, though some were nearly melted down to puddles.

But the thing that confused him the most was the two buns on a silver tray on the table. There were no rows of cutlery or separate plates. It was strange in that it was scarce and barren, but also refreshingly casual and comfortable.

Zelda quietly shut the door behind them, one palm to the wood, and he partially turned with a curious look. "Your - Zelda, what are we doing here?"

She smiled softly, politely, and almost demurely, as if the Queen of Hyrule, with all her dignity and grace, was actually shy. She gestured to the table before she circled it to her usual seat at the end and held onto the back of her chair. "I was hoping you might join me for some Hytide bread."

At the raise of his brows, she elaborated, "It was a tradition I had with my family. At the turn of the year, we would break bread together, and the person who found the hidden bean would be granted a wish."

She looked away briefly. "Perhaps it's a bit silly, and to be honest, I haven't done this tradition in years, but I hoped that you might join me anyhow."

His heart fluttered at the thought. Zelda was renowned for being reserved with nearly everyone: councilors, dignitaries, and commoners alike. She wasn't unkind, by any means, and she was always polite, but she scarcely showed her innermost thoughts or feelings to anyone.

It was nearly impossible to interpret her expressions, as well-versed as they were, and trying to read her mind was an impossible yet noble ambition. But here she was, opening up to him willingly, deliberately, and even premeditatedly.

Without further delay, he nodded, causing her shy smile to brighten, if only subtly enough for him to see. The brilliance of it suited her. She gestured for him to sit just before following suit and offering him the plate. When he chose his bun, he held the bread with momentary confusion as his eyes scanned the table for a fork or something.

Of course, he'd eaten with his hands before: the villagers in Ordon hardly worried about any type of formal etiquette. But throughout the dozens of meals he'd shared with Her Highness, there were always a thousand utensils he'd inadvertently learned how to use. "Do I just-"

To his surprise, she placed her gloved hand on his forearm. "Relax, Link. It's all in good fun," she said. "You may just 'dig in', as they say."

He swallowed but felt his shoulders drop at her little joke. "Right." Drawing her hand back, she tore the bread into a small piece and took a bite, and somehow she still looked as elegant as ever.

Link did the same, and after a moment of silently eating away, Zelda spoke up once more. "Does Ordon Village have traditions for the new year as well?"

"Sort of. We would do our chores during the day and then stay up all night together, usually with a fire or something. But we always spend holidays together."

The queen nodded thoughtfully. "That's a wonderful tradition. Holidays ought to be spent with loved ones."

She seemed to catch herself and fell quiet for a moment. Her wording, paired with the way they were together now, celebrating the holiday, made her blush. It wasn't often that she misspoke, but she noticed it becoming a trend around him.

Though he regarded her curiously at her silence, he didn't seem to catch on to her slip-up. She shook it off and smiled politely. "May I ask, why didn't you join in the town's festivities?"

"Oh, I just…well, all my friends are out of town or busy."

That was true - partially anyway. He didn't really know how to put the other part of it into words: the part where the holiday somehow placed all of his confusion and grief on the forefront.

After such a long and complicated journey, after losing everything he ever knew and becoming somebody completely different, he couldn't help but mourn the year that passed.

His brows furrowed as his eyes wandered to his hands. He hadn't realized he was tearing the bread into pieces.

He knew she – of all people remaining in the light realm – would know better than anyone. She was there for part of it, after all. And he knew, more importantly perhaps, that she would be kind about it.

With a small intake of breath, he tried again, "I just didn't feel like celebrating."

And even with so few words, she understood. Her heart sank in her chest, weighted like an anchor, and it dragged her entire body into a slight slump. In her mind, everything that Link didn't and yet did say was her fault. It was her fault for failing her kingdom, for not standing up for them, for not protecting them.

"I understand. It's been an especially difficult year for us all, but more so for you."

She hazarded a smile, the smallest upturn at the corners of her painted lips, and bowed her head to catch his eye. "Yet perhaps you ought not to only reflect on the year that's passed. It's just as important, I believe, to look at the possibilities for the year ahead. It's certainly possible for this year to be the best you've yet to have."

He returned her smile, forlorn and pained as it was, and yet brightened, if only slightly, by her words. "Thank you, Z-"

A sudden clunk stopped him midsentence, and his head snapped to the sound. Zelda's smile brightened, tinted with amusement, as she said, "It appears the goddesses agree with me." He picked up the bean between his fingers, looking at it curiously: he'd nearly forgotten why he was there in the first place.

"What – What was this for again?"

"You're supposed to make a wish."

"'A wish?'"

"Yes." Then, she added, "It can be for anything your heart desires."

Link looked up at her, and his gaze locked on hers. She caught her breath.

His mouth was pressed into a tight line, his brows furrowed, and his eyes - there was something alight in his eyes, burning like fire. It was nothing but a look - not a word or a promise. But it was powerful enough to move her; it was clear enough to see.

Perhaps another person might've not even noticed it. But this was the Queen of Hyrule: the woman who'd grown up in court and was practically trained in the art of subtle looks and gestures; the woman who could read a look as though it were a written language.

Her eyes widened, if only slightly, and he swallowed. Face darkening with a blush, the blond looked away and cleared his throat. Though he didn't need to give it much thought, he took a moment to silently make his wish.

When they'd finished up, Link had insisted on walking the queen back to her chambers, as he typically did after their dinners together - not that she put up much of a fight. By then, everyone - including the servants - was tuckered out and tucked into bed, making the halls nearly as quiet as Kakariko's graveyard.

"Thank you for joining me tonight," Zelda said softly. "It's been a long time since I've participated in my family's tradition, and it means a lot that you were able to share it with me."

"Of course."

"I apologize for waking you late in the night for it, however. Sometimes the councilors' dinners can take longer than expected."

Without breaking his stride, he looked at her. "No, it's okay. I'm really glad I came."

She smiled, nodding a little to herself as her eyes fell to her shoes.

"I truly hope this year is kind to you, Link. I cannot think of anyone more deserving."

"I can," he said softly. There was no hesitation in his voice, no hint of deceit in his eyes when he said, "You."

She met his gaze, lips parted as her face grew warm. It was a simple word, but from him, it had the power to fluster her.

But she quickly gathered her bearings, faced forward, and cleared her throat. "Well, I suppose I wouldn't deny a prosperous year as well, should it come knocking on my door."

Link laughed a little. "I hope it does."

Her lips twitched, smiling despite her best efforts. They receded into silence until they arrived at her door. Then, she turned the key and he respectfully took a step back. "Goodnight, Link," she said, opening the door.

"Goodnight, Zelda."

When she stepped inside, he turned away but was surprised when he didn't hear the door click shut. Before he could look back, he heard Zelda say, "Link?"

Pivoting to face her, he raised a questioning brow. She hesitated for a moment, looking at her door as her mind seemed to battle itself.

Then, determined, she met his gaze. Beneath her lashes, that same demureness returned to her pale eyes just as that soft pink tint returned to her cheeks. His heart hammered against his ribcage.

"And whatever it was you wished for," she said, almost knowingly, "I hope you may receive it."

With a small intake of breath, his eyes widened. He took a moment to examine her, trying in vain to read her mind. What did she mean by that?

But after a moment of coming up fruitless, he surrendered and instead decidedly said, "Me too."

Chapter Text

It was his greatest battle yet. His opponent was a fierce competitor: his blue eyes were sharp like a hawk's; his sword poised to strike. Sweat dribbled down his temple from the exertion - and maybe even from intimidation - but he was still putting up a good fight.

Fortunately for Link, he had a tad more experience.

Light on his feet, Sol capered forward and swung his wooden sword above his head, striking down on his father. Link's lips twitched as he met his waster, their swords clunking off one another and resounding throughout the otherwise empty training yard.

He could see his son's improvement already, especially in the way that he held his weapon. Though the wasters weren't quite as heavy as a steel blade, they still had a bit of weight to them, and it typically took a while before the pages were able to keep them steady and upright. Already, Sol was holding it as if it were an extension of his arm, just as Link did when he was young.

Sol had been training with Eagus for the past year or so, but he was only just a page. He was eager to learn the ways of the sword at a faster pace. To his defense, he was a fast learner, and Link easily recognized the itch to improve: it was something he'd experienced after his initial journey to becoming a hero.

And so, for the last couple of weeks, before dawn could rise each morning, they'd run off to the training yard together to practice a bit of swordplay. It'd started as some basic training: how to properly hold a blade and how to stand, swing, and so forth. But once Link saw his potential, he slowly but surely began to impart some of his more secret techniques, and Sol loved every minute of it.

With a sure step forward, the brunet stabbed his sword at his opponent, but his father was quicker. Link caught his wrist, spun on his heel, and slipped his blade right below his son's chin. Sol scowled.

"That was a risky move," Link said before dropping his tip to the ground and stepping back. "Don't let your guard down."

"I almost had you!"

"You were good, but don't doubt your opponent. You don't know what they have up their sleeve. Again." Their blades met in a cordial tap, a common practice between them - one of the many practices Link had inherited from the Hero's Shade. Then, Sol advanced, meeting his father's waster with another bout of attacks.

Their bodies moved so similarly that even an unfamiliar observer could tell they were related. Though he took on his mother's physical traits, it was at times like these that he was a mirror image of his father. They shared the same determination and energy, all driven by a hunger that some might call wild.

Frustrated, he thrust his sword in an arc, but the hero of Hyrule dove into a roll, spinning behind his unsuspecting opponent, and jabbed him from behind. By the light pressure of the blade's tip at the back of his neck, Sol knew he'd been bested.

"Okay, okay, I get it," he grumbled as he spun to face his father once more. "'Don't let your guard down.'" Amused, Link nodded with a smile. "Will you teach me that move?"

"Of course," he said, picking up his son's sword and placing the hilt back in his hand. "It's called the back slice. All you have to do is tuck, roll, and slice. Got it?"

"'Tuck, roll, and slice,'" he repeated to himself before nodding to his father. "Got it."

They slid into position once more, tapping their swords between them before they began. Cast by the amber light of the torches, their shadows danced on the walls like ancient cave paintings. It was a short while before Sol saw his opening. But when the young prince ducked forward to somersault, he lost his footing and stumbled to the ground with a grunt.

Link hastened to his side, helped him sit up, and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "It's okay. It's a bit tricky and it'll take some practice, but you'll get it." He flashed him a reassuring smile. "You're doing great."

From the outer edges of the yard, a pair of pale blue eyes watched the scene unfold. The early morning was chilly, but the sight lit a fire in her chest.

"I agree," the queen chimed in, and the two turned to look at her with surprised – and nearly identical - looks on their faces. From the clatter of their wooden swords, they couldn't hear her faint footsteps approach. "You were wonderful, Sol."

A light blush dusted over Sol's fair cheeks. "Thanks, Mama," he said, scratching the back of his head, a habit he'd undoubtedly picked up from his father.

"Zelda, you're up." She held a fiber cloak tight around her chest, but he could see from the hem of her skirts that she was already dressed for the day. "Is it time for work already?"

"Not nearly," she said, slowly approaching the center of the yard. "I was just curious as to where my husband and son were sneaking off to every morning."

Link winced. "You noticed?"

"You thought I wouldn't?" she countered with a raise of her brow. Then, she stepped toward her son and placed a hand on his soft cheek. "You performed beautifully, Sol. But take your time. The more you practice, the better you'll be."

"I want to be as good as Papa!"

Her smile stretched, little lines creasing at the corners of her eyes, and she momentarily looked up at her husband. "Your father became as skilled as he is from years of trials and hardships. But I'm sure that with him as your teacher, you'll become just as skilled in time."

"Even better," Link added.

Sol flashed a toothy smile. "Really?"

"Really."

"But you'll also need to grow big and strong, which means eating and sleeping healthy." She folded her hands as she straightened up. "Now go clean up for breakfast. It should be served shortly."

Sol sighed and met his father's eyes, silently pleading to stay and practice. But by the look of his apologetic smile, he knew it was in vain. "Sorry, bud, but your mama's right." With his spare hand, Link lovingly ruffled up his son's dark hair. "That's all for today."

"Fine," he said, drawing out the word. "But I'll get it down tomorrow!"

"I'm sure you will."

Once the young prince ran off, Link met Zelda's expectant glare and immediately recognized the look. With her arms now folded across her chest and an eyebrow raised in reproach, he knew he was in trouble.

But before she could get a word in edgewise, he quickly said, "I'm sorry. I know I should've told you."

"Yes, you should've. I thought we agreed that Sol would train with the other pages. I trained under Eagus's tutelage myself."

"We did. And he still is!" he agreed. "But he's been wanting to practice, so we tried it out and he loved it. And he's doing so well."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I don't know," he said. "I just... it made him happy and I was scared if you didn't approve, then I'd have to let him down." After a pause, he grimaced, scratched the back of his neck, and dropped his head to the side. "But I know that's not fair to you."

With a sigh, Zelda dropped her arms to her sides and stepped forward. "I'm not upset, Link. If I truly were, I would've said something the moment I first noticed the two of you sneaking off," she admitted. Then, guiding his face forward with two fingers, she met his eyes again. "But you must tell me these things. I want to know everything about our children, just as you do."

"I know. I really am sorry. It won't happen again."

"I know. Otherwise, I will surely be angry."

His brow twitched, a ghost of a smile on his lips.

"Goddess forbid."

Her laugh relieved him the slightest, and now that he was sure she wouldn't try to make good use of all the weaponry in arm's reach, he turned away and started to clear up the space. After all, the knights were bound to start filing in at any moment. He hung the swords onto their hooks by the wings of their hilts, and they rocked idly before settling into place.

"How'd you know where to find us?"

"I know you," she said. "And I know you wouldn't give up a chance to practice. Nor to spend time with our children."

"Are the little ones up already?"

"Not yet. Otherwise, I'm sure you'd be training them too."

He smiled, flustered, and shook his head as he offered her his arm. "They're too young. But one day."

Linking her arm with her husband's, she nodded thoughtfully and agreed, "One day."

Chapter Text

Shad didn't expect to make the offer.

When he'd first met Link years ago, the green-clad fellow was just another adventurer, quiet and oddly dressed and always appearing at just the right moment. He'd been indifferent to him at first, if not a tad curious, and yet as Link slowly but surely wormed himself into their group, Shad actually grew quite fond of him. They'd gotten along well enough, especially in the coming years, and more so since he'd started working in the palace.

When Shad first heard the news that his friend was engaged to the sovereign of their kingdom, it already had him second-guessing himself and his manners around the then-prince. But it was Link's coronation to become the king that threw Shad for a loop. To become a prince was one thing, sure, but a king? That was a completely different story.

To be fair, the title hadn't changed Link much at all. He was still the kind and modest fellow he was when they first encountered him in Telma's bar all those years ago, and he was awfully kind about Shad's inherent nervousness when a worse man might've mocked or ridiculed him. But it was a hard line to draw between acting formal with a king and being casual with an old companion.

Now, more often than not, the devoted scholar found himself blubbering in his presence.

One early morning, when Link came to his study for help with some research, they'd managed to have a relatively casual conversation, and he'd done something he'd only later realize was quite stupid. He actually found himself making the offer to babysit his and Queen Zelda's child – the Crown Prince of Hyrule - with no expertise or prior experience.

What's more, Link actually agreed to it. He couldn't decide who was more foolish.

All of that led to that very afternoon in the library. Thankfully, he was able to drag Ashei along so that he wouldn't be completely alone with the prince, though he doubted his partner had any more experience with children than he did.

They found Link on the floor of the library, cross-legged and book in hand, with Sol in his lap. When the two approached, his eyes flashed up to theirs, and his kind greeting was accompanied by a breezy smile. At least he was far more laid-back in comparison to all the other nobility Shad worked with. The reminder of Link's kind and gentle ways was a great relief.

"He's just eaten lunch, so he won't need much," Link explained, pushing himself to his feet with Sol still in his arms. "I told the nursemaids to stick around the halls just in case you need anything. And if something happens, send someone to get me."

"Oi, we'll be fine. He's just a baby," Ashei grumbled. "How much trouble could he be?"

Link exchanged a look with Shad, seemingly unconvinced, and the scholar smartly shook his head.

"We will absolutely ask for help if we need it. But we'll take good care of him; of that, you can be certain."

"Okay, if you're sure. I've gotta go back to work now. Zelda's expecting me."

With utmost care, he held the child out to Shad, who just as carefully took him into his arms. The hero's piercing blue eyes lingered on his son, hesitating for another moment.

"If you need me-"

"We know, we know," Ashei said, though there was a hint of amusement in her voice. "Go help your wife already, yeah?"

Link scratched the back of his neck, laughing breathily despite himself, and nodded. "Right." He patted his son's head once more for good measure before leaving the library, and the large door closed behind him with a resounding thud.

The couple turned to each other. "Perhaps we should…sit?"

Ashei rolled her eyes. Without hesitation, she lumbered to the space that the king had previously occupied and made herself comfortable. "Come on." A mess of toys and books was splayed around the plush carpet, and she'd camped out in the middle of it. Shad followed her lead, sinking to the ground especially slowly next to the warrior.

Amidst all the toys, Shad found the book that Link had been reading to him - of course he'd gravitate to the book - and took it into his free hand. The thick wooden cover was illustrated with adorable barn animals. "It looks like your papa read you a story, didn't he?"

Throwing his little arm up, Sol smacked the cover with his hand and a joyful smile on his face. "Ah, it appears the prince is an avid scholar such as I. What other books do you have, Sol?" He went digging around the pile for more of the children's books. Of course there were many: as big as the library was, there was bound to be a thousand for children at least.

Shad would have gladly gone through them all, and after some time had passed and they'd closed yet another book, it felt like he did. They'd probably read a dozen or so stories about shapes and colors and whatnot before Ashei threw her head back with a groan. "Ugh, this is so boring. What else can we do?"

Shad flashed her a look above his lenses. "If I'm remembering correctly, Sol is only a year old. He's just learning about the things around him. Isn't that right, Sol?"

"There's more to life than just reading and books, yeah?" Grabbing a ball from the assortment of toys, she chucked it down the aisle and it bounced across the carpet with nearly muted thuds. "C'mon, Sol, go get the ball."

The scholar grimaced. "You cannot be serious. He's a child, Ashei, not a dog! He won't just-"

But then, swiftly interrupting the scholar, Sol perked up. The pair watched as the little prince pushed himself off Shad's lap and toddled down the aisle with impressive speed.

"What'd I tell ya? He wants to play."

"Well, I stand corrected," he assented. "I suppose some exercise couldn't hurt. It'd be good if we could get him to burn some energy so that he might sleep better."

"Or maybe just for fun, y'know? Not everythin' has to be so thought out."

He held her gaze for a moment. "Perhaps."

At the end of the aisle, Sol dropped to his bottom and scooped up the ball with both hands.

"Good job, Sol," Ashei encouraged. "Now let's play. Roll it back."

Sol looked up at the two, eyeing them up and down, and for a moment, it almost appeared as though he understood. And then, the little prince raised the squishy ball to his mouth.

"Oh, Sol - no, don't eat it! You have to play! Roll it!"

With exaggerated gestures, they waved their arms to try and get his attention, but the child certainly wasn't impressed. He held their gaze with wide-eyed judgment as if they'd flown off the handle.

Dropping her hands to her lap, Ashei huffed. "I don't think he knows how to play this game."

Shad scratched the side of his face. "No, I suppose not. But it was a good idea." He fixed his spectacles over the bridge of his nose and turned to Ashei. "You're not so bad at this."

"What? You thought I would be or somethin'?"

"No! No, it's just…for someone who doesn't want children, you certainly have a way with them."

They'd had this conversation before. Their relationship had progressed rather nicely for two unlikely friends, and one day, when he'd gotten around to asking, she'd absolutely rejected the idea of ever having children.

Which was fine for him, considering he hadn't particularly wanted any either; he hadn't even pictured himself with a lady, much less a family. But Ashei had won his heart, someway, somehow, with that brutish charm of hers, and he rather enjoyed spending his days with her.

They'd decided together to continue adventuring for as long as they could, just as Auru had. There was still so much of the world to see, and it wouldn't really be safe or easy to tote a child around abandoned or uncharted territories.

"They're kinda fun, yeah? All they want is to eat and run around. I respect that." His eyes crinkled with a laugh and he shook his head in amusement. Then, all of a sudden, her face fell. "Oh no."

"What?" But he didn't need an answer. Following her line of sight, he quickly saw what'd spooked her: the place where Sol had been sitting was empty. "Oh no."

The two jumped to their feet. The library was enormous, spanning dozens of feet in either direction, with countless aisles and thousands of books, and they already saw how surprisingly fast the child could run. At least the door to the library was shut, thankfully, and it was rarely occupied, so he was safe.

Without discussion, they split up, each searching the closest aisles for the royal child. Ashei was throwing books up in an array while Shad was running through the aisles.

A short while later, they clashed halfway through a hall. "Any luck?" Ashei asked. But Shad was doubled over, panting, and he could only shake his head. "Remind me again why you offered to do this?"

"I don't know! I was clearly not in the right state of mind!" He huffed, bringing a fist to his lips to chew his nails. "Link's going to decapitate us, isn't he? I always figured I'd die on our adventures. I never thought a library would betray me!"

Of course, they knew that Link was a kind king, especially towards his friends. Fortunately for them, they'd never really gotten into any quarrels with him, but they'd certainly heard the tales of his battles and even seen how he acted when someone made the mistake of insulting his wife, and neither of them was quite ready to be on the other side of that.

What's worse, it was well-known amongst the people that Link was a bit of an overprotective parent. If anything would tick him off, it would be losing his child.

"No, he won't...probably." Shad's eyes bugged out. "But we don't wanna piss him off, yeah? So let's find him - fast."

"Okay, okay. You go west; I go east?"

She nodded and they split up once more. From the distressed call of the scholar and the steady shout of the swordswoman, Sol's name echoed throughout the library. They peeked through aisles, scattered the books, and overturned cushions. Either the child was lightning-fast or had somehow learned how to turn invisible because he was nowhere to be found.

Eventually, Shad and Ashei plopped to the floor, utterly exhausted, their hair in disarray, and their breaths heavy and panting. "I'm sure he won't kill us…right?"

As if on cue, the door to the library opened with a tired groan, and the king stepped onto the carpeted floor. They tensed, immediately preparing to deliver the blow.

"Papa!"

Wide-eyed, the two adventurers exchanged a look. Small, uneven thuds followed as Sol waddled across the carpet from some unknown corner of the library. He stopped at the toes of his father's worn but polished leather boots.

"Sol!" He bent at the knees before scooping his son up into his arms and resting him against his hip. "What're you up to, bud?"

Both Shad and Ashei pushed themselves to their feet, and the scholar nervously dusted off his pants while Ashei placed her hands on her hips. Before they could come up with a good enough excuse, Sol chimed in. "Play!"

"Oh?" Link raised his eyes to his friends. "'Play?'"

Ashei's eyes widened. Perhaps she'd been repeating that word enough that he caught on. "Yeah, we were playin'. Y'know, hidin' and seekin'?"

Link's head cocked, curious, and Shad was close to passing out from anxiety. But then a smile bloomed across his lips and he looked down at his baby.

"You learned to play hide and seek? Already?" He chuckled, noting the way the two babysitters looked positively pooped. "And it looks like you're good at it, too." He flashed them an apologetic smile. "Sorry about that. He's got a lot of energy."

"'Sorry?'" Shad repeated breathlessly, in disbelief. The king was sorry that they'd lost his child?

But Ashei was quick to elbow him and interjected, "Yeah, it's no problem. We had fun."

"You hear that, Sol?" He bounced the baby in his arms. "They had fun. Maybe you guys can hang out again sometime soon."

"No!"

Chapter Text

Navy flags snapped atop their poles, the glass of the windows shook against the iron grates, and the rain pelted against the shingles of the roof: an unsteady rhythm that harmonized with the crackle of the firewood. It was the kind of night that left the queen reluctant to return home to her empty chambers.

But soon, her chambers wouldn't be so empty anymore.

Zelda often wondered what it'd feel like, having him to come home to, to have his things mesh with hers, to crawl into bed beside him and see him dressed less than proper. Her face heated up at the thought.

A long while had passed before he came to her study door, a knock so familiar under the weight of his hand that she knew it was him. At her clearance, Link entered with wet hair and a fresh set of clothes, but his boots were crusted with mud and flaking on the carpets. Training must've left him a mess during such a storm.

Unlike at his homestead in Ordon, knights didn't get to stay in on a rainy day. Instead, they worked twice as hard on the slick grounds and through the misty air. Needless to say, the knights were pushed to their limits and as second-in-command, Link was no exception.

"You look exhausted. You don't want to turn in early?" She said this even though she selfishly wished he wouldn't; she hadn't seen him all day.

"Nah," he replied, but the tired undertone of his voice betrayed him. He'd had many worse days, of course, scouring through unforgiving temples and facing ruthless beasts. But a hard day was still a hard day, and even heroes were exhausted from time to time.

But now he had Zelda to return to, and after a nice hot bath, he was just glad to be back in her company. She was perched on the sofa before the fire, with her frayed blanket wrapped around her shoulders and a poetry book open in her palms. Her pale blue eyes were more radiant than the firelight, her small smile warmer than its heat.

The sofa shifted as he slumped into it and the fragrance from his bath oils filled the air. She set the small book aside and lifted the old blanket a touch higher. "Are you cold?"

His face stilled with a fluster. There was a pause before he smiled and carefully scooted closer. Warmth washed through him instantly, but it wasn't from the blanket. Instead, it was the steady pressure of her shoulder and the accidental brush of her thigh against his. He often wondered what she thought of in a tender moment like this. Did it fluster her too?

Zelda turned her gaze back to the fire; though they were solemn, her eyes sparkled in the flitting flames, and her brown hair spilled over her shoulders, soft and dark in the shadows but gleaming like melted gold in the firelight.

His fingers found the frayed edges of the blanket and fixed it over his other shoulder. "Where'd you get this blanket?"

Zelda tensed. It didn't seem like much of a question in his head but when he said it out loud, it fell heavy on the room like he'd dropped a brick in a still pond.

They were weeks away from marriage now. But there was still much about one another that they didn't know: her status as queen had urged them to marry sooner, after all. It wasn't typically a problem, especially on evenings like these where they could fill the silence with conversation.

But his question felt heavy in a way he hadn't prepared for. He quickly threw more words out as if it'd ease the tension. "It seems like your favorite. Is it your baby blanket?"

She opened her mouth but nothing came from it. Instead, her pale eyes glazed over, going distant to a place he couldn't follow. It took a moment for her to say, "No." There was another pause, long and drawn out, where he thought she might leave it there. But instead, Zelda said, "It's from the tower."

His mouth fell open then, the word "Oh," slipping out without him really meaning to say it. It was a sensitive topic, and he'd never intentionally broached it. He'd seen the scars that riddled her body, fading into the smoothness of her skin; he'd heard her voice quiver with an uncharacteristic vulnerability when she spoke of it. "I'm sor-"

"It's okay," she interjected, clearly anticipating the apology. "It's fine."

But it wasn't. Her fear still festered. It was in the screech of an iron door and the thud of heavy footsteps and the menacing torchlight pouring through a door or the raise of a hand or a voice. It was in the fall of twilight, when darkness dampened her contentment like a snuffer smothering a candle, and all she had was her blanket to shelter in.

Some irrational part of her was ashamed: thinking how foolish it was for the bearer of wisdom to be afraid of something that's done and gone, or how inelegant it was for a queen to cower under her blanket at any unexpected noise. But until recently, she'd had the fortune of not disclosing it to anyone, of being alone at the worst of it in the privacy of her bedchambers.

Whether Link understood why or not, he'd already seen her flinch upon awakening in the desert. He'd learned that she'd suffered at the guard's hands in the tower – and at times, she was certain he was just as fragile at the fall of night. She could share this with him.

"It's just…one of the few things that brought me comfort. I couldn't bear parting with it. When the time came to reconstruct the tower, I took it with me."

Link's hand fell on hers, sending that familiar trill from the Triforce rolling up her arm, and she suddenly realized she'd been tugging at a loose thread. "I get that," he said; his voice had been so absent from the room that it almost startled her. But it brought her comfort instead. "I kept everything I found too."

A skittish smile tugged at her lips. "You do have quite a bit of treasure." When they worked out the logistics of it, he admitted he didn't have much to bring when he moved into her chambers. But he had a rather large trunk of odds and ends that he couldn't seem to part with, one that started to gather dust in the back of his closet.

He smiled sheepishly. "What else brought you comfort?"

She paused, giving his question a fair deal of thought before answering, "You," she said. "And Midna of course. Knowing you were both defending this kingdom gave me a great deal of comfort. More than anything, for that matter."

Guiltily, her words made his heart skip a beat. It killed him to think that she'd suffered all along, that he'd never considered it or done anything about it. They'd left her in the tower, thinking foolishly that she was safe there - as a princess ought to be - and carried on, while she stayed back and anticipated the inevitable abuse from the guard only steps away from her door.

And yet there was a strange consolation in knowing that Zelda thought of him – that thinking of him comforted her, even at the darkest of times. She'd relied on them to save the kingdom and at least in that, he hadn't failed her.

Looking down at their joined hands, he brushed her knuckles idly. "I thought about you too…" he admitted. "Me and Midna would talk about you a lot."

"You did?"

"Yeah. Sometimes, she'd bring you up out of nowhere, but other times it was like she knew you were on my mind…" He shook his head, eyes fallen downcast, and when the fluster rekindled on his cheeks, he raised his bare hand to scratch it. "But I always worried about you. I just wish -"

She stopped him suddenly with a soft but firm kiss on his cheek. His hand froze against his face, eyes wide and staring blankly at the tapestry over her shoulder. Her lips lingered against his red-hot skin; her breath filtered through her lips and carried to the hollow of his ear. "Wish nothing. You saved me."

Her words sent his hand moving on its own accord before he even realized that he'd broken free of his stupor, and thread into her hair, grasping her head and drawing her into an embrace. His face buried into her shoulder, catching a whiff of her warm, familiar smell and holding it in his throat like it was something tangible.

"You're safe now," he agreed, his voice hitched with his breath, but she'd shuddered in his arms as he said it. It was a reminder – half-spoken to himself – a vow abridged to the ones they'd speak at the altar only weeks later.

When she regained some strength, she drew back far enough to find his eyes, alight with firelight - and maybe also his assertion, and said, "I know."

Chapter Text

He heard her voice first.

Over the twitter of songbirds, the rustle of leaves in the breeze, and the clatter of his commander's greaves with every heavy footfall, Link heard Queen Zelda's laugh.

It sounded like twinkling glass or wind chimes; it was ethereal just like her, light and fleeting and beautiful. And when she came into sight, Link's breath hitched, stopping him dead in his tracks.

Zelda appeared through one of the stone gateways, aglow in the sunlight that flitted through the foliage of the trees. She was breathtaking in the daylight as if the sun itself burned just to shine on her. Her braided dark hair gleamed, her eyes sparkled with laughter, and her smile was small but bright.

Link was yanked out of his reverie at the sight of the prince of Labrynna, stepping out from behind the topiary. Percival stood tall in a dark green royal jacket that matched her gown, with broad shoulders under gold pauldrons like hers, and ginger hair that was oiled and swept back.

But the way Zelda's twinkling eyes were on his face, the way she was laughing at something he said, and her arm was looped into the crook of his elbow was altogether more painful. Link felt it like a kick in the gut.

When Commander Eagus noticed his second's hesitation, he followed his gaze to the junction that they were all approaching. He spotted the queen and simply went, "Ah," before calling out, "Afternoon, Your Majesty!"

His formidable voice caught their attention immediately, causing both royals to turn and look at the commanders. Zelda's brows lifted when she saw the hero, but her gaze quickly flitted back to Eagus.

"Good afternoon, commanders," she greeted.

"Fine weather we're having, isn't it?" Percival chimed in.

"Sure is," Eagus replied.

Link chose not to comment. A beastly urge to rip the prince off her arm surged through him, and he clenched his jaw. Resolutely, he tore his gaze from Zelda and stared straight ahead instead.

She noticed, of course. There was the slightest pout of her lips, the slightest dip of her brows, while Percival remained unbothered - or perhaps more likely, blissfully unaware of their exchange of glances.

With a courteous nod, she swept the prince down another path. It wasn't until they were out of earshot that Link expelled a heavy breath as if he hadn't breathed throughout the entire interaction.

Eagus slapped the hero on the back, forcing him to stagger forward. "Ya got it bad, dontcha?"

Link's eyes widened moments before they flew to his superior. "What?"

The burly man chortled from somewhere deep in his chest while he marched ahead. Link was frozen long enough for Eagus to make it to the gateway and so he hastened to follow.

"Commander?"

"C'mon, m'boy. Those councilors might beat around the bush, but I won't. It's clear ya fancy the queen."

Link's heart stopped for a second. Goddess, he wasn't that obvious, was he?

"She – She's the queen," he spluttered, though he could feel his face betray him by heating up a few degrees.

"I don't give a damn about titles. She's a woman; yer a man. That's how it goes sometimes."

He didn't quite know what to say to that. It was sweet, kind of, if he was able to look past the embarrassment. But Eagus didn't seem to care much either way.

"I don't blame ya. The queen's somethin' special, all right. It's a shame they got her all paired up with that prince." He frowned deeply and scratched the side of his head. "But I guess it's not the lad's fault. He seems nice enough, if not a tad lily-livered."

"Do you -" Link hesitated, and then continued in a small voice, "Do you think she likes him?"

That stopped Eagus in his tracks. He turned back to the hero and was surprised by the vulnerable look on his face.

In training, Link was the toughest warrior he'd ever known. He was able to give orders, to march proudly and fight fiercely, as if he knew no fear. And yet here in the gardens, he was quiet and flustered.

He looked like he was in pain.

The sight softened Eagus's ironclad heart. "Yer askin the wrong man about the inner workings of a woman's mind. Especially if that woman is Queen Zelda."

Link's head tilted as his eyes wandered off to the side, almost like his saddened gaze was an anchor.

"But I can tell ya," he continued with a hand to his chin, "I've known Her Majesty since she was a tyke. Deep down, she's not as tough as she seems. I think part of her wants love just like the rest of us."

Link's eyes flashed back to Eagus, and something unidentifiable shimmered in them. Almost like hope.

Somehow, the commander knew he'd said the right thing.

The queen couldn't sleep that night.

She'd always had bouts of insomnia that lasted at least a fortnight, and she accounted her most recent development to all those weeks spent ill in bed. But if Zelda was being honest with herself, which she wasn't, her sleeplessness was more likely due to another matter – or person – entirely.

At some late hour of the night, she threw her hands on the covers with a huff before pushing them off altogether and standing up. Navigating her room with nothing but moonlight, she threw a light cloak over her night things and pulled on a pair of boots. After she fastened the cloak and untucked her hair from its collar, she stole away into the castle corridors.

She didn't have a destination in mind. Some fresh air might be nice, she thought, but she allowed her feet to wander.

The corridors were quiet and empty in the late hour, aside from the patrolling guards, and she savored the tranquility of it. It was the one time she might afford some peace, the one time when she was not sought out by anyone at all.

In truth, her councilors had been gracious. Since she'd been on the mend of a deadly virus, they'd been very lenient with her schedule, and Zelda was quite honestly surprised. Not that she was audacious enough to call her courtiers cruel: inconsiderate perhaps, at times even rude, but certainly not cruel.

They only had one thing they required of her – a duty they'd given her little to no lenience on. And that was her courtship.

Perhaps she shouldn't think of her courtship as a duty. She was a young woman after all, and Prince Percival of Labrynna was kind, gentle, and fun to be around. He wasn't classically handsome, but he was good-looking in his own right: tall with ginger hair and a spatter of light freckles on his nose.

There were worse men to choose from, Zelda thought. She knew from personal experience.

She pushed open a heavy door and stepped onto a rampart. Drawing a deep breath of the brisk air, she allowed her eyes to fall shut. The night was still and calm. There were the rhythmic chirps of crickets, the hoots of a nearby owl, and the distant squeaks of a bat. By the time her eyes opened, a smile was on her lips.

Using the torchlight on the walls to light her path, she made her way down a staircase and cut through the misty fog that stretched over the castle grounds. It was then, in the firelight, that she found herself under the arch perimeter of the training yard. The knights and squires had long retired, along with the commanders, and Zelda was left all alone.

After giving a cursory glance down the pathway she'd come from, her eyes swept over the enclosure. Since completing her training years ago, she'd visited the training yard less often, especially after Zant's invasion and Hyrule's subsequent restoration.

Eagus had trained her well in many different fighting styles and with a variety of weapons, but she'd always been drawn to the bow. Archery allotted her tranquility unlike anything else in her life, and her skill proved quite useful in the battle against Ganondorf.

Her sharp eyes snagged onto one of the targets. There was no harm in tiring herself off, she figured. And so, Zelda unhooked a bow from the wall, loaded a quiver, and slung it over her shoulder. Then she positioned herself in front of a painted wooden target.

After nocking the arrow, she raised the bow and drew the fletching beneath her jaw. Everything outside of the target faded away, feeding into the fog, as her eyes narrowed in on its center.

With a small breath, she released the arrow. It whistled through the air before lodging itself into the crimson center with a muted thud.

Zelda smiled.

She couldn't tell how long she spent, or how many arrows she loosed, or how many walks she took to retrieve them and start again. But with every shot she took, the tightness in her shoulders relaxed, her breath became steadier, and she felt sleepiness start to rear its head.

When she'd gotten to the last arrow in her quiver once more, she decided to make the last shot count. Her eyes locked in on the fletching lodged in the center.

With another breath, she freed the arrow. It shot through the air before slicing straight through the other arrow's shaft, splintering the wood in the process.

"Wow."

Zelda started. She spun on her heel to find none other than the hero, awash in the flickering torchlight, under one of the archways. His eyes were locked on the arrow, which had effectively peeled back another before they moved to find hers. The queen cleared her throat.

"Link."

"Zelda."

After a brief pause, she stepped forward, deciding it was the only rational thing to do. She couldn't exactly justify turning on her heel and walking away any more than she could justify hiding behind one of the straw dummies.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

Her gaze followed Link's while it swept over the training yard, as if confused, either by her foolish question or by the way he lacked an answer to it.

"I come early sometimes. To practice."

"Is it nearly dawn?"

"Well, no, but…"

There was hesitation on his face, maybe even embarrassment, and he scratched the back of his neck. Her brow arched.

"I couldn't sleep." His eyes darted away, but they flicked back to hers briefly.

"I see." After an uncertain pause, Zelda slung her bow and began collecting her arrows. The movement set his gaze back on her.

"What are you doing here?" Then, he added with feeling, "It's cold out."

"I actually find the weather pleasant. It's been too long since I've had the pleasure of being outdoors."

With the last of the arrows in the quiver, she stowed it away alongside the bow and turned back to him. She hesitated for a moment before admitting, "I also had trouble sleeping."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

There was another beat of silence, where neither knew what to say. Then he said, "Did you-" at the same moment she started, "Perhaps I-" Both their mouths shut, eyes meeting in mutual embarrassment.

The tension between them was unnatural. When did it become like this? Only a week ago, they were laughing and confiding in one another. And then Percival –

Well, Percival hadn't done anything either of them didn't expect. He came to Hyrule in pursuit of Zelda's hand in marriage, just like the other princes and aristocrats. Now, he was courting her. He called upon her and brought her flowers and recited poetry.

Admittedly, it was all rather rushed. Percival waited so long for her to recover and nobody wanted to make him wait any longer. Zelda felt especially guilty for inadvertently holding him hostage these last few weeks.

But in doing so, her bond with Link began to strain, like a heavy load on a frayed knot. He surely felt her pulling away and he had to know why. Of course, he was unfamiliar with royal courtships, but he wasn't daft. He had to know what was going on.

Zelda desperately wanted to know what he thought of it. Why hadn't he made any objections? Then again, how dare she imagine he would? The last thing he needed was to get into any more trouble with foreign princes.

When she didn't speak, Link tried again. "Will you stay?" He must've realized the vagueness of his question because he elaborated with, "And practice."

She knew she shouldn't; Zelda knew she should probably turn tail and run back to her chambers. After some sleep, she just might be able to harness the skill of a thespian to pretend this interaction never happened in the morning.

With his fingers in his belt loops and a small shrug, he added, "I could use a partner." Somehow, that was enough to unarm her.

"Very well."

It was rewarded by a smile, both genuine and dashing, that sent her heart fluttering. He stepped forward, picked up two rapiers, and with his other hand, reached out and took hers.

And time grinded to a halt.

Zelda's breath hitched. Link froze. The familiar shock of skin against skin trilled up their arms, and a tremor shot from his heart straight to hers.

He hadn't meant to be so forward. He hadn't thought about it at all, really: he simply meant to hand her the hilt. But somehow, after his eyes found her hand, he'd taken it instead.

Now that he had, he couldn't let go. His hand was behind hers, his fingertips brushing her knuckles. Painstakingly slow, it slid up the length of her hand, dancing across the dorsum, and then his fingertips were just a whisper on her wrist.

Their eyes slowly rose to find each other. Zelda swallowed painfully. Even as his eyes traveled over her face in search of something, she didn't move.

Her chest tightened and she shut her eyes. Her feelings were so strong – the moment too intense. It was just a touch. Just a touch, and yet she quivered.

"The rapier," she uttered, strained.

The words seemed to startle him from his daze. He dropped her hand and time snapped back to speed. After passing her the hilt, he looked away.

"I…" Link began, his voice devoid of breath. "I'm sorry."

"It's all right," Zelda said. Perhaps she shouldn't have: it wasn't all right and they both knew it. They shouldn't be holding hands; they shouldn't be touching at all.

Link wasn't courting her, nor was he even eligible as a suitor. It was wrong to touch in that manner, especially when another man's proposal was just on the horizon.

And yet, it felt so right.

Eager to end the thought there, she took a few steps back. Perhaps dueling would be enough to keep her mind occupied, considering how long it'd been since she practiced.

"Shall we begin?"

At his small, distracted nod, she slid into position. Link mirrored her with an idle swing of his blade, a habit she'd noticed in his duel with Ganondorf.

And then it began. Zelda engaged him with a series of precise moves, all of which he easily blocked.

Just by watching his duels, she knew Link's skill was unmatched, but fighting him was another matter entirely. Though they'd technically dueled before, she'd been a puppet under Ganondorf's strings and could remember next to nothing of the encounter.

If it wasn't clear before, his expertise was certainly evident now. He was graceful and swift, his blade an extension of his body. And his body, the way that it moved and twisted - she was entranced.

Her swings began to fall more heavily until Link suddenly ducked, causing her to stagger forward, and he lightly jabbed her on the side.

Zelda recoiled and he smiled in an easy, boyish way that was both frustrating and exhilarating. Eyes locked, they stepped back and began to circle each other.

"Do you practice every night?"

"Sometimes," he admitted with another shrug. "It's a good distraction."

She mulled over his words even as Link engaged her again, their blades ringing like the tolls of a bell. He blocked every slice just as she evaded every thrust.

"Is there a lot on your mind?"

Link didn't answer at first. His eyes had moved from hers to their rapiers, though it seemed he wasn't entirely focused on their movement. She'd seen through his feint and caught his blade's edge just before he could nick her again.

"Something like that."

Link lunged. Upon blocking, she slowly slid the edge of her blade up the length of his and forced it away. The opening allowed her to jab him on the shoulder.

"For me as well."

His gaze flashed back to hers, uncertain and withdrawn, before flitting between her eyes. The tension was nearly palpable.

"Is it," Link finally ventured, his voice in his throat, "the prince?"

With a tight swallow, she dropped her gaze. She didn't answer right away. Instead, she thrust her rapier, but Link stepped aside just before it could jab him. He batted it away and retaliated, prompting the chiming of steel to once again echo throughout the yard.

"In part," she finally said.

"He likes you."

"It would appear so."

There was another question on his tongue, another unsaid word he wouldn't dare voice, and yet Zelda could feel it hanging in the air.

Do you like him?

Winded, Zelda disengaged and stepped back, settling a hand on her stomach as she tried to catch her breath. They resumed circling one another, as if in a dance.

"Percival possesses a kind heart." She wiped a hand over her dewy brow. "For people in my position, sometimes that's all one needs to ascertain."

"Is that enough?"

"It..." She hesitated. "It must be."

There was a frown set on his face, seemingly unconvinced, that made her feel uneasy. She stepped forward and engaged him once more with a bout of strikes.

With every clash of their rapiers, the space between them dwindled. It was as if a gravitational pull drew them together as if space itself surrendered so they might get closer.

"What about love?"

She struck down, but it caught the edge of his rapier.

"Love is not always an option."

Their blades locked, forming a saltire between them, their faces unguarded above the intersection.

They went still in the same instant, at the sudden realization of how close they'd gotten. They were breathing heavily and her eyes fluttered, lashes low as they dropped to his lips.

And then Link whispered, "It could be."

Her breath caught. There Link stood, the very essence of all that she desired less than a handspan away, and she was immobilized by three simple words.

Zelda desperately wanted him to elaborate. She wanted him to say that he would love her, if she would only allow him to. It was foolish and improper and impossible, but she wanted it anyway.

It was as if her mind had divested all rationality - as if it willingly surrendered its authority to her heart when it came to him.

"Link," Zelda said, breathless and spellbound.

He seemed equally entranced by her proximity. His chest rose and fell with shuddering breaths; his cheeks were flushed to where she could feel its heat, but he didn't push away. His lips were close - so close.

Zelda couldn't remember thinking much about kissing before Link, but now it was all she could think of. What did he taste like? How would his lips move against hers? Where would he touch her?

"I..." There were a thousand ways she wanted to finish her sentence, a thousand things she wanted to tell him. But what came out instead was, "…I should think that's a stalemate."

The words she spoke, before she could even deliberate them, forced her to step back, and the knot in her chest tightened immediately. Her feelings for him sat thick and heavy in her chest, but her future laid in someone else's hands.

To her surprise, Link stepped after her with his hand out. "Zelda -"

Her eyes flashed up to his. His brows were furrowed, pained. So many unsaid words festered in the space between them. His mouth was shaping words his voice could not find, but still, her ears strained to make them out.

"Just…" he took another step towards her, the point of his rapier dropping to the floor, "don't do anything that'll make you unhappy."

Her lips pressed into a tight line. More than anything, Zelda wished that she could take his advice. She wished her marriage didn't have to be discussed with a council; she wished that her decisions held no consequences for anyone else.

But she was the queen, and such choices were never really hers.

With a small dip of her head, she simply said, "Goodnight, Link," and disappeared into the night.

Chapter Text

Heat . It embodied the room that blissful summer afternoon, where the sunbeams fired through the glass windows and cast the queen's study in an idyllic kaleidoscopic glow.

Closing the curtains was little to no respite, for there was little light without the hearth burning, and so they opted to leave them open, sacrificing any chance of a chill for the light needed to get through their planning.

With the wedding only weeks away, it was crucial for the young couple to go over the plans. Though there were more than a dozen on staff working to ensure their wedding ceremony and reception were worthy of royalty, Zelda and Link needed to approve every little detail, from the greenery in the centerpieces to the inlays of dishware and the embroidery on the napery.

Though Zelda was well-versed in such drab subjects, Link found that the heat of the room matched with the utterly boring topics making it impossible to focus.

Instead, he found himself looking at her.

A bead of sweat formed at her hairline and trickled down her temple, heading for her jaw before her hand intercepted. It was swept away by her index finger, dressed in a satin glove, and he absently wondered how she wasn't boiling.

Zelda always wore what must've been pounds of fabric, but he hadn't ever thought about what a nuisance it would be on such a hot and heavy day. Not that he was one to talk given that he was typically dressed in layers of armor. But that day, fortunately, he'd opted for a simple blouse and cotton trousers.

"Given the surplus of blue samples Chancellor Foster has provided, I'm inclined to believe that he has a preference. It is  the color of our crest, after all. However, I personally favor the simplicity of ivory," Zelda said, flipping through the square samples of silk. "What do you think?"

After receiving no response, she turned to look at her fiancé and instantly caught his distant gaze and parted lips. With an annoyed sigh, she dropped her hands to her lap.

" Link ."

He flinched. "Huh?"

"Have you listened to a word I said?"

"Something about blue, I think." Her brow arched. He winced. "I'm sorry. It's just too hot to focus. Aren't you hot?"

With another sigh, she fanned herself with the samples. The heat was  a tad bothersome. Hazarding a glance out the window behind them, she was blinded by the sunlight and had to squint to avoid the glare.

"I suppose it is quite hot."

Resigned, she set the samples on the table and swung her braid over a shoulder, inadvertently revealing to him the stretch of bare skin from her jaw to her shoulder.

Link tensed. His eyes caught on another bead of sweat as it traveled down the elegant slope of Zelda's neck. The sudden urge to sweep it away with his tongue surged through him.

It disappeared down the neckline of her dress and he was only half-aware of licking his lips before their eyes met again. Suddenly, Link realized how intently Zelda watched him watching her.

"What is it?"

"No - Nothing."

She leveled him with a no-nonsense look. He winced again.

"It's just -"

Gnawing on his lip, his eyes swept over her face. He reached out to her and Zelda went still as she watched his hand slowly inch towards her. When his fingertips sunk into her hair, soft and gentle, her breath caught. His thumb then stretched to her brow and wiped a bead of sweat off her temple.

Her eyes were the only part of her that moved. They flitted between his, and Link had the familiar sense that somehow, someway she could read every thought in his mind.

With the gentlest touch, his hand moved along her jaw, all the way down to her chin. His jaw set as he looked at her, the warrior within briefly flashing through as he appeared to deliberate something.

Then, Zelda watched him lean forward and kiss her.

In the otherwise silent study, their lips clicked, a soft, repetitive noise that was soothing if not a little erotic. It felt like he was melting into her: the languid movement of her mouth, the warmth of her kiss, the heat of her seeping into him.

It made him soft and malleable, but he was ready and willing to melt into a puddle of wax if it was under her flame.

When they parted and her eyes fluttered open, she saw that Link was already looking at her with something between reveration and caution.

"Is that okay?" he murmured softly, like a secret.

Unable to find her voice, Zelda simply nodded. A ghost of a smile flitted across his lips before he took her in another kiss.

Her hand hovered uncertainly before resting on his neck. She could feel him shift on the sofa, could feel his shin brushing against her knee. The thought of just his leg touching hers made her shiver.

How would it feel when she could have more of him? All of him?

Her hand slid upwards, threading into his hair, and cradled the nape of his neck. She heard him make a soft groan; she felt it rumble through her chest.

He withdrew just a hair's width apart. Zelda's lips were swollen and wet, her eyes in a daze. It made it impossible to pull away any further.

"Goddesses, I can't get enough of you," he breathed.

She swallowed and licked her lips, and the brief glimpse of her tongue made his stomach leap. "You have me," she murmured. "At least for the next half hour."

A sudden laugh burst out of him, taken off-guard, and she let herself smile with him.

"Well, if that's all..."

He kissed her again, and it felt like they could sink into each other. It just felt right, in a way that nothing else ever had.

With a tilt of his head, he inched closer when suddenly, something wet flitted across his lips. His mind was whipped by a sudden dizzy spell. He clenched his eyes shut, trying to keep himself upright.

But he recovered quickly and parted his lips if only to not miss the chance at feeling her tongue against his. The slick slide of her tongue against his introduced a whole slew of sensations and desires previously unknown to them.

There was a haze as they parted, mouths wet and breath warm. If he thought it was hot before, he was burning now. What was she doing to him? Was she in control of the weather too?

He took hold of one of the locks that framed her face and eased it over her shoulder. Leaning in, he held her gaze until he was too close and pressed a soft kiss to the point where her neck met her shoulder.

Zelda gasped lightly, letting her eyes fall shut and her head loll back. "Link," she sighed.

He'd only recently realized how much he enjoyed kissing her neck, how he loved being nestled into the crook of it and enveloped by her familiar scent. He wasn't often afforded the opportunity, but now that he had, he didn't want to squander it.

Link took a deep breath through the nose before dragging his warm and wet mouth up the column of her neck, tasting the salt of her sweat. When he found her pulse point, he kissed her again and sucked lightly on her skin.

" Link ."

Her voice was devoid of breath. She felt like she was melting. She'd never known pleasure like this.

With her hands still coiled around his neck, she began tugging blindly at her gloves. As lost as he was, he could only partially register what she was doing. It wasn't until they dropped to the sofa behind him and she dragged her bare hands over the sides of his face that he detached from her.

His cheeks were red – possibly more so than she'd ever seen - and his eyes were dazed. But she reeled him back in, pressing his lips to hers.

He was feeling hotter by the second. It was like the fire that'd been building for months was unleashed, swirling around them like a fiery inferno, making it hard to breathe, to speak.

He was so distracted by her mouth that he almost didn't notice her hands moving downward.  Almost .

He flinched - partly due to the light touch but more so for its precarious position. His fingernails dug into the settee, almost certain that he'd tear through the damask fabric.

"What're you - " he started. But then her hands reached his waistband and he choked on a gasp. He bit his lip to keep from making any more undignified noises.

Zelda's eyes searched his face, from his wide-eyed gaze to the bright red in his cheeks, to the bite of his lower lip. In part, she was expecting him to tell her to stop or even push her hand away. Yet, though she could see that he was flustered, he waited with bated breath.

Since she wasn't quite so daring to take his shirt off, Zelda tucked her hands beneath his blouse and slid them over his lower stomach. His sharp exhale was immediate. She'd never touched him like this before; neither of them had ever dared to venture beneath the other's clothes.

Now that she had, Link didn't know if he could live without it. Her hands were so soft and gentle against his skin. Electricity crackled beneath her fingertips, setting every thrilling nerve alight. He'd surely lose his mind – or his dignity - right there on the couch.

In awe, he stared into her eyes as her hands moved over his abs, then up to his pectorals, roaming just for the feel of his taut chest beneath her feather-light touch.

There was something especially exhilarating about the satisfaction on her face, the short catch of her breath as she passed over every ridge. Just thinking that she enjoyed it -  enjoyed him - made him ache.

"Zelda..."

Her eyes shot up to his. There was only a brief moment before their mouths met again. Link leaned forward as Zelda leaned back, sinking into the sofa with him above her. The insinuating position didn't elude either of them, but their need for one another momentarily superseded their caution.

His tongue swept across her lips, and she moaned –  moaned  - into his mouth. Link shuddered as if it'd rippled through him.

He wanted her. Goddesses alive,  he wanted her.

He tore himself back for a moment to catch his breath, but even then he was gasping her name. She arched into him in an instinctive need for more, her hands planted against the wall of his chest.

Link suppressed a primal groan before their lips returned to one another. She must've known what she was doing to him - must've known it was about to get really embarrassing for him if they didn't stop immediately.

"We – We can't…"

But for the first time, Zelda considered the fact that she might disregard all rules of conduct and propriety. She couldn't see how she could stop kissing him or stop touching him or stop him from touching her.

It was impossible.

Her thoughts bartered, her desire desperately suppressing her conscience by any means necessary. Link was her fiancé. Their wedding was weeks away – it wouldn't be completely intolerable, would it? No one might ever know.

When Zelda drew back, she murmured, "Link," before her voice was smothered by another kiss.

There was a knock at the door. The duo froze, their eyes opening in unison.

They were in her study. Goddess, she forgot they were  in her study . Link wrenched himself off her, toppling backward from the momentum, and Zelda shot straight up.

She started to straighten herself out and Link was fixing his shirt and his hair, but then there was another knock, followed by the familiar voice of her advisor. "Your Majesty?" he asked through the door. "Are you in there?"

A little shaken, she replied, "Y-Yes. Just a moment." She slipped on her gloves, grabbed the notes she'd taken on their wedding planning, and opened the door.

With the most regal voice she had, she said, "My apologies. We were just finishing up on our selections for the reception."

Link came to her side shortly after. There was a painfully long moment where Councillor Cole inspected them as if he could read right through their lie.

But after a moment, the advisor simply replied with an ushering sweep of his arm. "Of course. But your appointment has been pushed up and we must be on our way if you don't want to be late."

Zelda nodded firmly and hurried ahead, shaken and yet hiding it expertly well. As Link made to leave the room, he was stopped by a firm hand on his chest. He looked at Cole questioningly. The councilor cleared his throat and touched two fingers to his own lips.

Link blinked confusedly and copied the gesture, wiping his lips before noticing the rouge stain smeared onto his fingertips.

His face blanched with realization as Cole simply raised his brows knowingly and stepped away – but not before Link thought he saw an amused smirk on the advisor's face.