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Chapter Text

            The sun lazily rolled into the sky above Akkala, casting a golden glow upon the misty, dewy land. Inside the bedroom of their new home, Zelda watched the way the tree outside the window cast dancing shadows upon the ceiling, as she had been for the past hour. She lay flat on her back, the covers bunched around her waist, Link sleeping soundly on her chest beside her. Keeping her body still, she looked down at him, mesmerized by the way his hair spun into golden thread in the light. She absent-mindedly brushed through it, as if she could hold sunlight in her hands and wrap it around her fingers. Sighing, she returned to watching the ghosts of the leaves waving on the wood above her, wondering how much time she had left before Link finally woke.

            She would ask him about it today, she decided. The certainty of her resolve did nothing to calm the brood of butterflies flitting about in her stomach.

            “Hnnnngh,” Link groaned beside her, nuzzling into her neck.

            “Good morning, Sunshine,” Zelda said, half-whispering.

            “G’mrnin” Link mumbled into Zelda’s skin, unwilling to be ejected from the realm of sleep. Zelda laughed breathily as she pulled him closer to her.

            “How did you sleep?” she asked, kissing the top of his head.

            “’lright,” Link said. “How about you?” He lifted his head up and looked at Zelda; even through the haze of sleep that clouded his blue eyes, he looked at her like she was the brightest star in the darkest winter night. Zelda’s heart fluttered in her chest, still after all these years.

            “I slept alright,” Zelda lied. She hadn’t slept worth a damn. True, she hadn’t had that one nightmare in months—the one where Link was crushed in the jaws of the Demon Dragon and she, armless and useless and floating in an unforgiving sky, could only watch. But she didn’t need nightmares to keep her terribly awake, tossing and turning through the night. Her regular, run-of-the-mill anxieties could do that just fine.

            “Link,” she said, taking a deep breath, ready to plunge into uncharted waters. However, she was caught off-guard by the lazy kisses Link had begun to plant along her neck.

            “Mhmm?” Link hummed, continuing to kiss up her neck and to that one spot behind her ear, causing her to shiver.

            “Link,” she whined, although she had no intention of stopping him.

            “What?” he said, a hint of mischief in his voice. “I can’t kiss you good morning?” He gave her a quick peck to her lips before he rolled over onto his back, pulling Zelda with him. Her knees landed on either side of his waist, her hands resting on his bare chest. He caught her subsequent chuckle with his lips, which quickly turned into a moan as his thumbs pressed into her hips and began to move in gentle circles.

            “That’s not all you’re doing,” Zelda said between kisses. This was a losing battle, and she knew it—but she was not one to give in so easily.

            “Are you complaining, Princess?” Link smirked against her cheek.

            Zelda rolled her eyes at the use of her title and firmly grabbed his face in her hands. She kissed him hard, wiping that stupid little smirk right off his face as she caught his bottom lip between her teeth. Self-satisfaction washed over her as Link’s grip on her hips tightened suddenly.

            “Not at all, Hero of Hyrule,” she whispered. She kissed him again, long and deep, allowing herself to lose.

            In the afterglow, Zelda was afraid that Link would fall asleep again. The only thing that told her he was still awake was the gentleness of his hand on her back, rubbing circles between her shoulder blades. She sighed contentedly, wishing she could still this moment forever. Theoretically, she could, she supposed—she could rewind the moment over and over, creating her own little pocket of time where she never had to leave their sun-warmed bed. Unfortunately, her more reasonable sensibilities won that hypothetical argument, and she resigned herself to abandoning the idea.

            “Link,” she said, pushing herself up to look at his face. Link’s champion’s tunic slid down her shoulder as she adjusted herself, and she didn’t miss the way Link’s eyes immediately darted to the now-bare skin of her collarbone and shoulder. “I wanted to talk to you about something,” she said, redirecting his attention to her face and her words.

            “Sure,” he said, tucking a strand of Zelda’s short hair behind her ear. Zelda took a deep breath—here went nothing.

            “I was thinking,” she started, trying and failing to look Link in the eye, “that as the heir to the kingdom, I need to start thinking about the future.”

            “Right, sure,” Link said. He continued to rub her back reassuringly, urging her to continue.

            “Right,” Zelda said. “The kingdom is doing well after the Upheaval, but I will have to take the throne someday. And as the blood of the Goddess lives in me, it will be my responsibility to continue my bloodline, lest I leave Hyrule unprotected. Which means I will need someone to…be by my side.” Zelda swallowed, knowing that she was beating around the bush. “And since I love you, and you love me, and it would be for the benefit of the kingdom, it seems like the natural next step for us is to…” Zelda hesitated. “…to get married.”

            Link looked at her like a bug-eyed frog. His face was smooth and free of any wrinkle of thought. Oh, Hylia damn it, Zelda thought, I scared him. This wasn’t a good idea. This is way too soon, I sprung it on him way too fast and now everything is ruined and—

            “You mean, like, again?”

            Now Zelda’s eyes grew wide and frog-like. “What?”

            “Are we not already married?” Link said. He moved his left hand from her back and held it in front of her. On his ring finger, a tattered loop of thread sat below the second knuckle. It had once been a deep red but had turned into a muddy brown, an unfortunate victim of years of dirt, oil, and Goddess knows what else. Zelda looked down at her own left hand, which rested on Link’s chest, and examined the well-worn hairband on her ring finger, the once-vibrant blue now faded to the color of a cloudless sky. She collapsed into a fit of laughter against Link’s chest.

            “Zelda?” Link asked, wrapping both his arms around her. Zelda collected herself and gazed upon Link’s face. The face of her beloved knight, who, in the witness of a grove of fire-leafed trees years ago, promised to love and honor her all the days of his life. How could she be so naïve to ever doubt the depths of his devotion to her?

            “You know, I suppose we are,” Zelda said, wiping a stray tear from her cheek. “But I mean properly. Like with an actual wedding ceremony.” Link beamed at her for a long moment, radiant and warm, before a wrinkle of confusion knitted his eyebrows together.

            “Is this a bad time to tell you I’ve been telling the tax collector for years that we’re married?” Link asked. Zelda laughed even harder.

            “Well, then,” she chuckled, “I suppose we’ll have to make that true right away. Wouldn’t want to commit any more fraud.” She leaned down and kissed him sweetly, savoring the taste of his lips and the knowledge that she will get to kiss him like this every day for the rest of her life.

            “It would be my honor to marry you,” Link said. “Again. Properly.” His eyes brimmed with unyielding love, and Zelda was about to lean down and kiss him again, until she saw something that looked dangerously close to mischief flash across his face.

            “Although,” Link said, pushing himself up, “if we’re going to get married properly, that means I have to ask you properly.” He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood, taking a moment to stretch before rushing over to the dresser in the corner. Zelda watched as he quickly dressed, her heart fluttering giddily like a schoolgirl—but she was slightly confused at his urgency.

            “What are you doing?” Zelda asked.

            “Don’t worry about it!” Link called as he rushed out of the bedroom, still pulling his arms into the sleeves of his tunic. He came back as suddenly as he left and was back by the bedside, holding Zelda’s face in his hands as he pressed a kiss to her lips. “I love you,” he whispered, and was gone again as quick as lightning, his heavy footsteps growing softer as he raced down the stairs and out into late morning.

            Zelda flopped back onto the bed and sighed. The shadows of the tree had long since been chased away by the sun, and she closed her eyes and relished in the warmth. She had to admit, that went significantly better than she could have expected.

Chapter Text

            Link flew out the front door of the house as if fire lapped at the threshold. His heart pounded with giddy excitement in his chest as he squinted against the morning sun, forcing himself to catch his breath. Once his vision adjusted, he made his way to the stables at the back of the house and began saddling up his horse, Epona. His fingers shook as he fastened the buckles of her saddle, missing the hole of each strap at least three times before he finally got the prong to go through. Epona let out a snort that Link could only interpret as equine laughter, and he patted her hind gently in a friendly retort.

            Finally ready to ride, Link mounted his horse and rode south toward Hateno, sunlight warming the left side of his face. Trusting her to follow the road, he finally took a moment to take in everything: the cool breeze blowing gently at his back, the lightness of his body, the fabric of his tunic brushing against his neck—wait.

            Link looked down at his chest. Where the neckline of the tunic should have dipped into a “V,” the fabric rose all the way up past his collarbone and to his neck. He reached an arm behind him and blindly patted his back, feeling exposed skin right between his shoulder blades where there definitely should not have been any. Blood rushed to his cheeks as he realized that in his excitement and hurry, he put his shirt on backwards.

            He slowed Epona to a trot, silently thanking Hylia that no one was around to see the Hero of Hyrule riding through the countryside looking like he was dressed by a cucoo this morning. He pulled his arms through his sleeves and twisted the tunic around the right way, double checking to make sure that there were no other articles of clothing put on incorrectly in his rush out the door. Satisfied that nothing else seemed to be out of place, he slid his arms back through his sleeves and grabbed the reins again, urging Epona back into a gallop. His momentary embarrassment now behind him, Link spent the rest of the ride smiling to himself, warmth swelling in his chest and washing over every cell of his body.

            Zelda wanted to marry him. For real.

            If he was being truthful—which he was to a fault—Link had thought about proposing to Zelda since they first confessed their love to each other years ago, not long after their first reunion once the Calamity was vanquished. He had never been sure how to go about it, though; they were both so young then, and he didn’t want to turn something that should have been a beautiful celebration of love into another duty for Zelda to bear upon her shoulders. Still, he pondered the idea, made plans for how he would ask her one day, in the future, when she felt ready.

            But then she led him into the woods and held him with such tenderness, wrapped her string bracelet around his finger, and promised to love and honor him all the days of her life. For Link, that was it—he was her husband, and she was his wife. There was nothing in this world that could ever break the vows they made. He smiled as he looked down at the tatty string wrapped around his finger, worn and fraying, the skin beneath it paler than the rest of his hand.

            They hadn’t really told anyone, of course—both of them were public figures now, and Link selfishly wanted to keep this part of their lives just for the two of them, something that no one could ruin with petty gossip and unconcealed whispers. But it didn’t matter who knew or not; Zelda was his wife. He even screamed as much in Ganondorf’s face, demanding the Demon King return his wife to him. (At least, he thought he did—it was all kind of a blur in his mind at this point, what with the sheer adrenaline and rage flowing through him then.)

            Sure, he was a little disappointed that he hadn’t been able to give Zelda the proposal and wedding she deserved, but knowing her, he rationalized that she wouldn’t have wanted anything extravagant, anyways. But he always kept his plans in the back of his mind, just in case there ever came a day when he would need them. Like today.

            The sun was well into its westward march by the time Link reached their old home, sitting silently by its lonesome across the pond. He did his best to keep a low profile as Epona trotted toward the old stone house, and by Hylia’s grace, the village seemed too busy with running itself to notice him approaching. He dismounted from the saddle and led Epona into the long-disused stable, an apple in hand to thank her for the ride. She ate it greedily and snorted twice, which was as close as his noble steed would get to begging. Chuckling to himself, he obliged and fed her another apple before walking back towards the front of the house.

            As Link pushed open the door, a crack of light chased out the darkness that had made a comfortable life in their old home. He propped the door open with his pack and stepped inside tentatively, as if any wrong step would send his foot plunging through a hole in the floor. Dust had settled across every surface of the house, thick with abandonment. Nostalgia tugged at his heart as he looked at the dining room table, set for two, awaiting a meal that would never arrive.

            He hadn’t gotten around to moving their stuff from their old home to their new one. He had moved everything from Zelda’s secret well as soon as he had finished building her private study in the new house; he wanted it to be perfect and complete the moment she saw it. But given all he’d had to face, with Zelda’s life and Hyrule’s fate so precariously in his hands, moving the rest of the furniture had sort of fallen by the wayside. As he climbed the stairs to the loft, the floorboards bowing with disuse beneath his feet, he supposed it was a good thing that he hadn’t gotten around to it yet. It meant that Zelda wouldn’t know that something was about to be temporarily missing.

            Link moved to the dresser and opened the top drawer, sneezing as dust flew up his nose and into his eyes. He pushed aside the piles of folded clothes and reached for a small, ornate box in the back left corner. Light from the window danced off the gold filigree as he brought it out from the drawer, still gleaming despite its age. He carefully opened the lid of the box and breathed a sigh of relief when he looked inside and confirmed that what he needed was still there, safe and sound.

            On the plush, red velvet that lined the bottom of the jewelry box lay a dazzling ring that had seen better days. Three golden prongs clung onto a brilliant, oval-shaped diamond for dear life, overcompensating for the missing fourth prong. A smaller—but no less breathtaking—sapphire flanked the diamond on the left, an empty grave on the right side where its twin should have been. Two ropes of solid gold twisted around each other to form the band, each covered in a myriad of scratches, but each unbreaking in their devotion to the other.

            Both the box and the ring had once belonged to Zelda’s mother. Link and Zelda had retrieved it from Hyrule Castle shortly after the Calamity, once the malice had been purged from the great stone walls and the monsters had been expelled from the maze of corridors. They were two of the very few relics that had survived the hundred-year siege, but not completely unscathed. Zelda had found it in the ruins of her old bedroom—Link remembered the way she cradled it in her palms, like a baby bird that had fallen from its nest, like any wrong movement would turn it into dust between her fingers. He had always wanted to get it fixed for her, but as the days post-Calamity marched on and they settled into their new lives, the box that held the ring got pushed to the back of the drawer and the back of his mind.

            The thrill of scheming curled his lips into a smile as he closed the lid of the box gently. Holding it close to his chest, he plodded back down the stairs and back outside, grabbing his pack as he crossed the threshold and letting the door swing closed. Swinging the bag over his shoulder, he walked toward the stable and gave Epona a quick pet on her nose.

            “Be right back, girl,” he said. The chestnut horse gave a snort of acknowledgement. Link unhooked the Purah Pad from his belt and pulled up a map of Hyrule. I hope these damn things still work, he thought as his eyes searched the map for a certain Shrine of Light. His next stop was too far for him to reach in a single day, and his excitement left little room for the patience required for a multi-day trip to the southwest. Eventually, he located the marker for Soryotanog Shrine and tapped it with his finger. He held his breath, expecting nothing to happen, and was pleasantly surprised when a blue light enveloped his body and lifted his feet just above the ground. Releasing the air from his lungs, he allowed himself to become light, unbound by the borders of his body, and soar across the continent.

            When his feet met solid ground again, the Gerudo heat immediately swaddled him. He pulled his hair up off his neck and set off into the bustling city, light as air as he walked. He was long overdue to pay Isha a visit.

            It would be another month before Link asked Zelda to marry him, again, properly.

            Fixing the ring didn’t take nearly as long as Link had expected. In fact, Isha was almost offended when Link said he would be back in two weeks to pick it up.

            “I am very good at my job, little voe,” she had told him, her striking green eyes peering down at him. “Three days.”

            Three days later, indeed, the ring was back in his hand, restored beyond its former glory. Link had barely registered Isha’s smug smile as he turned the ring in his fingers, bewitched by the way the diamond glittered and gleamed in the unrelenting desert sun. He would never even slightly doubt the Gerudo woman again; she was, in fact, very good at her job.

            What kept Link from dropping to his knees that very day was the moon. When night fell after he had retrieved the ring, the seven-day moon hung in the sky, a wide, slanted grin against the blackness. For the plans he had in mind, he needed the waxing crescent moon—which meant a month of waiting. I can easily keep this a surprise, he thought as he returned home to Akkala that night. Right?

            Only now, as Link stood beneath the cherry tree on Satori Mountain, the sky bleeding orange, did it fully sink in how wrong he was about the “easily” part.

            He rocked back and forth on his feet, humming to himself, his hand patting the ring in his pocket every few minutes to make sure that it was still there. Zelda would be here within the hour if she had followed his clues—and knowing how clever she was, she probably would appear any minute now. Nervousness flitted about in his stomach at the thought of her arrival.

            It was that cleverness he loved so dearly that nearly made this moment impossible. At first, it had been fun teasing her about his proposal plans, watching her try to draw the details out of him by any means necessary. He wasn’t complaining that said means usually involved him pushed against a wall, Zelda’s tongue parting his lips, and his hands slowly inching their way up her hips and underneath her shirt. Still, relying on his previous years of practiced stoicism, he didn’t break, nor did he panic—until she started poking around for the ring, at least.

            Link patted his leg again, afraid that Zelda had magically slipped it from his pocket in the three minutes between now and when he had last checked to confirm that the ring was, in fact, still there. He had managed to keep it well-hidden for a few weeks, tucked away behind a bag of Hylian rice in the pantry—the last place he thought Zelda would think to look for it. But after too many close calls when Zelda had, seemingly out of nowhere, decided to take on dinner duty, Link had to change tactics. He started always keeping the ring on his person, switching which pocket he put it in every day. He was not at all surprised (and very amused) when Zelda had taken a sudden interest in grabbing his butt within the last week.

            He chuckled to himself as he dragged his foot through a pile of fallen cherry blossom petals, kicking them up into the air slightly and watching as they settled like pink snow back on the ground. He didn’t know what he did to deserve being the luckiest man in Hyrule.

            “Link?” a soft voice called out to him. He spun on the balls of his feet and nearly tripped over himself when he saw her: his beloved princess, the setting sun at her back enveloping her body in a golden-orange halo, walking towards him the way the warmth of the hearth greets the frozen and the weary. Suddenly, Link had forgotten every word he had ever known.

            “Are you alright, my love?” Zelda chuckled as she reached him. He stared at her with starstruck eyes, wide and unblinking, drinking in every inch of her. She put a soft hand to his cheek, the warmth of her palm on his skin reminding him to breathe.

            “Yes,” he said, speech still sitting strangely in his mouth. “Yes, I’m alright, of course I’m alright.” He beamed at her as his hands moved up her hips and settled at her waist. “You made it.”

            “I did,” she smiled. “Although, I must admit, I knew where you had run off to from the first clue you left.”

            “I expected no less,” he said. That earned him a bright laugh from Zelda as he pulled her into his arms, feeling her ribcage shake against his chest. He closed his eyes, pressed his nose into her soft, blonde hair and kissed her temple. He would commit every second of this moment to memory, the moment before everything was about to change—but really, he knew nothing would change at all.

            “Zelda,” he said, stepping back slightly, but keeping his arms around her. He took a deep breath as he pictured in his mind the words he had written and rewritten over the last week, tried to recall the way they felt on his tongue as he spoke them in practice to the mirror. Zelda squeezed his shoulder and looked at him like all the time in the world belonged just to the two of them.

            “You know I’m not great with words,” he said. “I tried so many times to find the perfect way to tell you how much you mean to me, because that’s what you deserve. At one point I even tried writing a poem for you.”

            “Oh, I would love to read that,” Zelda said, eyebrows raised, and lips curled into a grin.

            “You really, really don’t,” Link said. “It was so bad.” Zelda’s eyes crinkled as she laughed, and the ground beneath Link’s feet felt more solid and sure.

            “My point is,” he continued, “that I will never be a court poet, and I may never have the right words, but that won’t stop me from telling you all the reasons why I love you.” He looked down at the ground nervously for a moment, wetting his lips with his tongue. “I love how smart you are. I love how you can see connections and details that no one else can. I love how stubborn you are, how you insist on finding the answers to every question in your head. I love how brave you are, and how strong you are, and how kind you are. I love how you eat the fruit off the top of a fruitcake first and save all your bread crusts for last. I love how you sneeze when the sun is too bright and how you stop to pet every dog we see when we’re traveling.” He paused to catch his breath and noticed the way Zelda’s eyes gleamed wetly in the dying sunlight. His own eyes suddenly started to feel damp.

            “I first told you I loved you right here, years ago,” he said, “but I have loved you since the day I first met you. Zelda, it has been the greatest honor of my life to be by your side, as your knight, as your friend, as your partner. I am hoping you will grant me the honor of standing by you now as your husband. Your proper husband.” Finally, Link pulled out the ring, afraid that if he kept it hidden any longer, it would burn a hole through his pocket. He heard Zelda gasp as he held it out to her, the radiant center diamond commanding the attention of every last ray of light. He knelt to the ground in perfect, knightly manner; it was something he had not done in a long time, but the memory of the motion had long since made a home in his muscles. Taking her left hand in his—his old, worn hairband now around her wrist instead of her finger—Link looked up at his princess and pledged himself to her anew.

            “Princess Zelda of Hyrule, will you marry me?”

            “Oh, Link,” Zelda said, thick with tears. She wiped her cheeks with her free hand and swallowed, searching for her voice again. “Yes. Yes, of course, I will marry you.”

            Link could no longer hold back his own tears as he slid the ring onto Zelda’s finger. A lightness he had never known before swept through his body, vibrating in every nerve, as if he could sweep Zelda into his arms and float straight up to the Sky Islands. He stood with shaky legs and cupped her face in both his hands, his right thumb—his real thumb—wiping away a stray tear on her cheek. Always one step ahead of him, his fiancée brought her lips to his, kissing him deeply as she threaded her newly ringed hand through his hair. She tasted like tear-salt and wildberry; she smelled like spilled ink and silent princesses. Her body, tightly pressed to his own, felt like home.

            “I love you,” Zelda murmured against his lips.

            “I love you, too,” Link replied. He pressed a quick kiss to her lips, then her nose, then her cheek, until her head was tilted back in unbridled laughter as he planted kisses like seeds across every inch of her face.

            “You’re ridiculous,” she laughed, her emerald eyes glittering like the stars that had started to appear in the sky.

            “Mhmm,” he hummed, sneaking in one last kiss on her cheek, “ridiculously in love with you.” Zelda lovingly rolled her eyes, lay her hands on either side of his face, and gently smushed his cheeks together. He stuck out his tongue between his now-pursed lips, earning him another taste of Zelda’s beautiful laughter.

            “The ring,” she said as she collected herself, releasing Link’s face from her grasp. “How did you…?”

            “I held onto it,” he said. “I always wanted to get it fixed for you, and well,” he shrugged, “this seemed like the perfect time.”

            “It’s beautiful,” she said. “It looks just like it used to when my mother wore it.”

            “You can thank Isha for that,” he said. “She’s the one who actually fixed it.”

            “Well, she’s very good at her job,” Zelda said, enchanted by the gleam bouncing between the facets of the center diamond.

            “Trust me,” Link chuckled, “she knows.”

            Zelda’s smile shone brighter than the diamond on her finger. Another tear escaped her eye as she tucked a piece of Link’s hair behind his ear. “She would have loved you, you know,” she whispered. “My mother.”

            “I would have loved to have met her,” he said.

            “I wish you could have.” Zelda sniffled and wiped her cheek against her shoulder. “Sonia and Rauru, too. You would have gotten along so well. Honestly, I think Rauru’s jokes were almost as bad as yours.”

            “Hey, now,” Link said, “what’s this about my jokes?”

            Zelda only laughed in response as she wrapped her arms around Link’s waist and rested her head on his shoulder. He held his fiancée firmly in his arms, the arms that would live and fight and die to protect her, to hold her, to carry her. As they stood there, hearts beating in time with each other, Link looked up to see the waxing crescent moon breaching the horizon, and a mysterious green light dancing in the air around them.

            “You know,” he said softly, turning Zelda around in his grasp, “I think they’re with us right now.” He smiled as she gasped at the sight—the one he had always wanted to show her but could never seem to quite catch after they missed it the first time all those years ago. She beamed at him with unabashed excitement, and he freed her from his arms. Keeping an overly respectful distance from the glowing blue beast that had appeared across the pond, he nodded knowingly at the Lord of the Mountain, who blinked two pairs of glowing eyes back at him in response.

            His heart swelled with warmth as he watched the love of his life creep on silent feet toward the beast, kicking up tiny clouds of pink petals with every step. The creature bowed its twinned heads as she reached her hand out slowly, allowing her to rest it in the space between its faces.

            As he watched, Link could have sworn he felt the ghost of a hand on his shoulder, heavy and familiar. However, he was much too enraptured by the view before him to turn around and look.

Chapter Text

        On the morning of her wedding day, Zelda stood in her kitchen, gazing out the window upon a sky of slowly fading stars. She fiddled with an empty mug as she leaned against the counter, listening for the whistle of the kettle sitting on the stove. Beside her in a small jar was her favorite blend of tea, the scents of jasmine and earth wafting into the air. She picked up one of the curled, black leaves absentmindedly, twirled it around between her index finger and thumb, then let it fall back into the jar.

         She hadn’t slept much, but she didn’t expect she would. Her head had been abuzz with the endless details of wedding planning for the past three months; she would be naïve to believe that the gears in her brain would stop turning the night before it all came to fruition. Now that the day was here, though, Zelda felt as if she breathed too deeply, or spoke too loudly, the world would shatter in her hands. One wrong move might open the ground beneath her again, send her tumbling through the darkness of empty space and unbound time, damn her to a place where no one, not even Link, could reach her. Reflexively, she stared at her human hands, stretched her five fingers out and curled them back in, out and in, until she was convinced that her nails would not grow into claws and the skin of her knuckles would not sprout scales.

        The high-pitched whistle of steam to her right pulled her from her hazy thoughts. She quickly took the kettle off the heat before the whistling woke Link, who slept like a rock in their soon-to-be-marital bed. After spooning a hefty serving of tea leaves into the mug, she poured the boiling water, momentarily mesmerized by the rising steam and the steeping leaves. Too impatient to let the tea steep properly or for the water to cool to a drinkable temperature, she brought the mug to her lips and drank slowly, almost relishing the burn on the tip of her tongue. The pain told her that she was real.

         Holding the mug in her hands, letting the warmth seep through the thin skin of her palms, she returned to gazing out the window. The glint of her diamond ring caught her eye for a moment, radiant even in the dim candlelight that washed the kitchen in a soft, orange glow. She smiled softly to herself as she took another sip of her tea, the heat of the liquid blooming in her chest as it traveled down her throat. Soon, her beloved friends would arrive, and the house would be full of bright laughter and excited chatter. Knowing that this moment was a luxury that would not last, she savored the quietness she had been gifted.

         Halfway through her mug of tea, Zelda heard clumsy, ungraceful footsteps shuffling behind her. She smiled fondly without turning her head, waiting for the body that belonged to those footsteps to press up against her. Sure enough, she soon felt Link’s chest against her back, his arms around her waist, his lips placing sleepy kisses along her neck and shoulder.

         “You know,” she said, taking another sip of tea before putting the mug on the counter, “it’s bad luck to see the bride on her wedding day before the ceremony.”

         “You’re not dressed yet,” Link said, low and rough, raising goosebumps along Zelda’s skin. “I think I’m still in the clear.”

         Zelda laughed and placed her hands over Link’s, leaning into his touch. “Touché.”

         They stood there for a long while, savoring their closeness in the stillness of the morning. Zelda closed her eyes and leaned her head back slightly, Link’s sleep-mussed hair tickling her cheek. He nuzzled closer into the space between her neck and shoulder, breathing her in, his eyelashes tickling her skin as his eyes fluttered closed, too. Breathing deep, she counted each connection point between their bodies, focusing on the feeling of skin on skin. When Zelda opened her eyes again, the sky had lightened from inky black to a deep, hazy blue, streaks of red and orange stretching upward from the horizon.

         “Did you ever believe we’d make it?” she asked quietly. “Here, like this? Alive?”

         Link was silent for a long moment before he spoke. “Always.”

         Zelda turned around in his arms to face him, the edge of the kitchen counter pressing into her lower back. “Always?”

         Link nodded. “I never doubted you for a moment. If anything, I doubted myself.” He brushed a stray hair behind Zelda’s ear. “But I couldn’t—I wouldn’t—let myself fail you again. So that left no other option than to believe that there was a way to bring you back home. That we would find it somehow, some way. And…we did.”

         Zelda brought a hand to his cheek, swiping her right thumb over a scar on his cheekbone. She hadn’t remembered that one being there before she fell through time. Who had tended to the wound? Did anyone? She leaned forward and kissed the scar softly, a silent apology for all the time she had missed and could not retrieve.

        “Was it all worth it?” she asked quietly.

        “Yes.” The word left his lips with the same swiftness and certainty with which he wielded his blade. “I would do it all over again if you asked me to.”

        Zelda kissed him, long and deep, the taste of her tea still on her burnt tongue. “All I will ever ask,” she said between kisses, “is to be yours.”

        Link lifted her up onto the counter, catching her surprised yelp between his lips as he kissed her again, harder. “You never need to ask for that.”

        Zelda parted her legs as Link kissed her, giving him a space to step into. She pulled him closer as she slipped her tongue past his lips, knowing that no matter how close she was to him, it would never be close enough. Heat bloomed in her chest and rose to her cheeks as Link caught her bottom lip between his teeth, his subsequent moan sending shivers down her spine. Her legs wrapped around his hips as her hands threaded through the tangles of his unbrushed hair, a shaky breath escaping her lungs as his grip on her waist tightened, hungry and wanting. 

        The sun continued to rise in the window behind her, but Zelda could not be less concerned with the unimpeded passage of time at her back. Time could never touch her again, so long as there was air in her lungs and blood pumping through her veins, each heartbeat another hard-won victory. All that mattered was that she was here in her body, in the arms of the man that would soon become her husband, the both of them thrillingly and wonderfully alive.

        “Okay, hold still.”

        Zelda felt Riju’s breath on her face as her friend swiped a brush over her closed eyelids. Zelda’s nose wrinkled at the sensation—it tickled, but she was trying her best not to scrunch her eyes even further closed and cause Riju to mess up. She forced her attention to other things: the din of chatter filling the living room of her home, the smell of roses in the air, the sensation of the sash of her dressing robe snugly pressing against her waist. Anything but the itch of bristles against the delicate skin of her eyes that made her want to rub them until all of Riju’s hard work ran down her cheeks instead.

        “Aaand…done,” Riju said. “Open your eyes.” Zelda obeyed and saw her friend’s lips pursed in concentration, examining her work as an artist might examine their magnum opus upon its painstaking completion.

        “You look beautiful, Zelda!” Paya exclaimed, dashing toward her to get a peek at the blushing bride, all made-up. Riju’s thumb wiped away something at the corner of Zelda’s mouth as the attention of every woman in the house was directed toward her.

        “Oh, you are just absolutely stunning!” said Yona, swooning as if the Goddess herself had magically appeared in Zelda’s chair.

        “Thank you,” Zelda said shyly. It had been a long time since she had been pampered like this, let alone at the hands of someone other than herself.

        “Here,” Riju said, handing her a small mirror. “Take a look for yourself.”

        Zelda breathed a sigh of relief at her reflection. Her hair was styled just as she liked it: a simple braid adorned with white flowers across the top of her head, the rest of her short hair hanging loose and free around her jawline. Her face, although now lightly dusted with blush, was still her face—the same green eyes, the same slope of her nose, the same curve of her cupid’s bow. She was still herself, just with slightly pinker lips and darker eyelashes.

        “It’s perfect, Riju,” she said, looking up at her friend’s satisfied smile. “Thank you so much.”

        “Of course,” Riju said, moving behind Zelda’s chair to give her a hug from behind. Zelda clasped Riju’s arms as they came around her shoulders, gratitude welling in her chest and threatening to spill from her eyes and ruin her makeup.

        “Linky is just going to die when he sees you,” Purah said, joining the crowd.

        “Don’t say that,” Riju warned. “Especially not on their wedding day! That poor little voe has been through enough.”        

        “Relax,” Purah said, rolling her eyes, “I didn’t mean actually die. Besides, who would be my guinea pig—I mean, research volunteer—if that happened?”

        Zelda chuckled at the friendly bickering. As the focus of the group shifted away from her, she shrunk into herself and fiddled with the hem of her dressing robe, the soft silk slipping between the pads of her fingers. She knew it wouldn’t be long before she was on her way to Tarrey Town and walking toward the Unity Bell, where Link would be waiting for her. So why did she feel so impatient?

        “My Queen,” a voice said as two wrinkled and liver-spotted hands clasped her own. “I believe it’s time to get you in your dress.”

        “Impa,” Zelda sighed, looking at the elderly Sheikah woman beside her, “you know you don’t need to call me that. I haven’t been crowned queen of anything, yet.”

        “Nonsense,” Impa tutted, patting Zelda’s hand. “You are the rightful ruler of Hyrule, fancy ceremony or not. You deserve to be addressed with respect.”

        “Well, then,” Zelda said, smirking, “as your queen, will you oblige me by calling me by my name?”

        “Bah!” Impa exclaimed. Zelda’s smirk grew into a fond smile, knowing she had won. She stood and smoothed the fabric of her dressing gown, her eyes trailing toward the stairs.

        “Shall we, then?” Zelda asked, offering her elbow to the Sheikah woman who was half her height now that she was standing. Impa took her arm and the pair began to make their way up the stairs and to the bedroom, the elderly woman slightly shocking Zelda with her speed and agility. The sounds of her chatting friends faded as they climbed up to the second floor of the house, dissolving into a distant hum. When they entered the bedroom, a magnificent white gown greeted them, hanging from the closet door and just barely kissing the floor below.

        This was a battle with Impa that Zelda knew she had no chance of winning. As her faithful royal attendant over one hundred years ago, Impa had helped her dress for every ball, gala, and celebration, and by Hylia, she would be there to dress her for the most important celebration of all. Even if she had to come back as a ghost and haunt her, Impa would not let Zelda prepare for this day alone. Thankfully, no paranormal intervention was required, and as Zelda took the gown off its hanger, she found herself grateful for the company of her oldest friend.

        “Alright, careful now,” Impa said, holding the bodice of the dress open and low enough for Zelda to step into. The bride shed her dressing gown and threw it across the bed before slipping one foot into the dress, then the other. Zelda helped Impa raise the top of the dress up to her chest, the elderly woman too short to reach all the way up, and slipped her arms into the sleeves. She held the bodice in place as Impa scurried away to grab a stool, still as light on her feet as she was in her youth. Impa then brushed the train of the gown away and placed the stool on the floor behind Zelda, gathering the ribbon of the corset back as she stepped up.

        “I know you must be nervous,” Impa said, her nimble fingers making quick work of the corset. “Especially not having seen Link all day. Bad luck to see the bride before the ceremony, you know.”

        Zelda pressed her lips together tightly to keep from laughing.

        “But there’s no need to be nervous,” Impa continued. “That boy loves you more than anything on this earth.”

        “I know,” Zelda said, her lips curling into a smile. “I don’t know what I did to deserve him.”

        Impa worked in silence for a long moment, pulling the ribbon taught, but not so tightly that Zelda couldn’t breathe. Zelda had begun to daydream, and was almost startled when the elderly Sheikah woman spoke again.

        “I knew, you know,” Impa said. “Back at the castle. I could tell you two had feelings for each other.” She finished lacing the corset and finished it off with a neat bow, stepping down from her stool and carrying it with her as she scuttled about the room.

        “You could tell?” Zelda asked in disbelief. “How?” Good Goddess, Zelda didn’t even know she had feelings for Link until he nearly died in her arms. She didn’t even know Link reciprocated her feelings until over one hundred years after she realized her own!

        “It’s in your eyes,” Impa said. She had placed her stool near a shelf and reached up to grab a small jewelry box, gold filigree protecting the pearl inlay beneath. “You look at him like he’s the sun. And he looks at you like you are every star in the sky.” Impa placed the box in Zelda’s hand, the lid sitting open on its hinges. She examined the contents laying on the red velvet lining inside: her pair of crystal Zonai earrings. An intricate gold necklace. An old, blue hairband, its elasticity long worn away. A tattered string bracelet, muddy brown and fraying at the knot.

        “I didn’t know it was that…obvious,” Zelda said. She felt her cheeks growing pinker by the second as she combed through her memories, trying to find proof of what Impa had told her.

        “Well, you weren’t exactly subtle,” Impa said as she reached into the box and grabbed the earrings. “Teenagers aren’t great at hiding their feelings.”

        Zelda chuckled in agreement as she felt Impa slip the hook of each earring into her piercings, the weight hefty but familiar.

        “I couldn’t have given you my approval, then,” Impa continued, “even though I wanted to. Things were much stricter, then, you remember. There were…rules that had to be followed.”

        Zelda watched as Impa’s wrinkled hand reached around her and plucked the necklace from the box. She lifted her chin slightly as Impa lay the necklace across her collarbone and brought the ends around to the back of her neck, fiddling with the clasp.

        “But for better or for worse,” she said, “things are different now. And I could not be prouder of the woman you have become.” She moved back to Zelda’s front and took the jewelry box from her hands, a softness in her red eyes that Zelda had never seen them hold before. “You two deserve to be happy, after everything.”

        “Thank you, Impa,” Zelda said, her voice quivering. “Thank you. For everything.” She knelt down and gathered the small woman in her arms, the smell of incense enveloping her. Zelda giggled as Impa let out a surprised “oh!” before returning the gesture, wrapping her bony yet surprisingly strong arms around her old friend.

        “Always,” the elderly woman said, moving back to cup Zelda’s face in her hands. “Now stay down there for just a second. There’s one last final touch.” She moved away to where Zelda couldn’t see her, only hearing the rustling of delicate fabric. Suddenly, she felt the cold metal of a circlet coming to rest on her forehead, and felt her hair move as Impa tucked something into it.

        “Alright,” Impa said finally, after a long moment of fussing. “Take a look.”

        Zelda stood and walked over to the full-length mirror in the corner of the bedroom. When she saw the woman who greeted her on the other side of it, she gasped.

        Swathed in white silk, Zelda glowed like the moon. The sleeves of the gown draped off her shoulders, cascading down her upper arms and to her elbow, where they parted and fell like water toward the floor. The bodice fit snugly to her chest and her waist, overlaid with delicate lace that bloomed with a field of silent princesses. At the curve where her natural waist began to flourish into her hips, the skirt of the dress began to flare out, the lace flowers thinning out as they crawled like vines down the skirt and to the floor. The fabric floated as Zelda twirled in the mirror, so feather-light that she felt a whisper of wind could carry her up into the sky. A veil fell around her shoulders and to her fingertips, light as a cloud and trimmed with lace. She looked, as Impa had put it, like she was made of all the stars in the sky.

        “Oh, my,” Zelda whispered. She searched for the rest of her words as she stared at herself in the mirror, but for the first time in her life, found herself coming up short. Her gaze drifted downward to the skirt of the dress, enraptured by the way it swished as she moved, and when she looked back up in the mirror, she saw that she was not alone.

        Clear as day, as if they were right behind her, two women stood behind Zelda. Three pairs of the same emerald-green eyes stared back at her where before, there had only been one. The eyes to the left of her belonged to her mother, welling with proud tears, looking just as beautiful as Zelda remembered her to be. The eyes to her right belonged to Sonia, whose tall frame stretched up to the top of the mirror, radiating with the warmth of the sun as she beamed at Zelda through the mirror. After a moment of shock, Zelda spun around quickly, but found only empty space behind her.

        “Are you alright, dear?” Impa asked.

        “Y-yes, I’m alright. I thought–” Zelda turned back to face the mirror, but was crestfallen to see that she now stood alone. “I thought I saw something.”

        Impa hummed knowingly as she walked to stand beside Zelda. “You know,” she said softly, “the Sheikah believe that on very special occasions, the veil separating this world from the next grows thin enough to allow spirits to pass through.” She smiled like she had earned every wrinkle that lined her face. “The luckiest among us might even receive blessings from the spirits.”

        Zelda dabbed underneath her eyes as she gave a small smile. She had never read of any such belief in all her years of study, in any of the hundreds of tomes she had combed through. However, with no evidence but Impa’s knowing smile in the mirror, Zelda chose to believe her.

        “Do you know what the Sheikah believe blesses a marriage most of all?” Impa asked.

        “No, what?”

        “Smashing a fortified pumpkin over the happy couple’s heads.”

        Zelda laughed bright and loud. “Now you’re just messing with me, Impa.”

        “Maybe,” she said slyly. “Come, Zelda, let’s get you married. I’m sure Link is about to burst with impatience.”

        Zelda smiled as she offered her elbow to Impa once again, holding up her gown with her other hand. As she entered the hallway, she looked over her shoulder at the bedroom one last time. It was as empty as it had been before Zelda entered it, everything as it should have been, save for the curtain billowing in the autumn wind, fluttering over a window she knew had not been open before. At Impa’s urging, Zelda turned from the bedroom and continued down the hall and to the stairs, clothed in white and warmth, knowing she was the furthest thing from alone.

Chapter Text

            Link was, in fact, about to burst with impatience.

            A gentle breeze ruffled his hair as he paced up and down the length of the wooden walkway that led to the Unity Bell. He bounced on the balls of his feet as he walked, careful not to lose his balance and fall unceremoniously into the fountain that bubbled quietly around the bell. Zelda would never let him live it down if he showed up to their wedding soaking wet, his white clothes streaked with the dirt that so often befell him. As he fiddled with gold-embroidered hem of his sleeves, he wondered whose idea it was to make the traditional wedding color the most easily stained one, and if this person had had it out for him, specifically.

            “Link!” a voice bellowed. Link was just about to pivot to pace in the opposite direction when Sidon caught his attention, his dazzling smile gleaming in the afternoon sun. The Zora clapped him on the shoulder before pulling him into a bone-crushing hug. All the air in Link’s lungs was forcibly ejected from him as he attempted to return the gesture with his arms squashed against his sides.

            “My friend!” Sidon released Link from his grasp and returned his feet to the ground. “My most sincere congratulations!”

            “Thank you, Sidon,” Link wheezed, still catching his breath.

            “I am so honored to witness the great Hero of Hyrule and the beloved Princess know the joy of marital bliss,” Sidon said. His amber eyes seemed to well with tears and pride, his lower lip quivering as he beheld Link before him. “I must say, I have personally known it to be a joy unrivaled.”

            Link examined the armor that adorned Sidon’s chest and shoulders. The metalwork gleamed in the sun, formed intricate loops and arches that danced around his neck and across his collarbone. Each inner arch held a tiny luminous stone at the apex, cut and set in a perfect diamond shape. At the center, a small ruffle of white fabric atop navy blue fanned out across his chest, below which dangled a glittering, star-shaped pendant. Link smiled at his recently wedded friend; Yona had done an exquisite job crafting her now-husband’s betrothal armor.

            “Link, I must ask,” Sidon said, his voice lower than it was before. “Why did you not tell me you were planning to propose to Princess Zelda? I was quite…surprised that, as your closest friend, you had not told me.”

            “I, uh, well,” Link said, reaching behind him to scratch the back of his neck, “I kind of thought we were…already married.”

            Sidon stared at Link like he had sprouted horns and spoken to him in ancient Zonai. “How did you come to that conclusion when you had not asked her to marry you?”

            “Well, I mean…” Link moved to fiddle with the string bracelet around his finger, only for his bare skin to remind him that it was safely tucked away in Zelda’s jewelry box. “It’s a long story.”

            “Link, my friend,” said Sidon, the warmth returning to his voice and his golden eyes, “I have much to teach you in the way of women.”

            Before Link could reply that he seemed to know more than enough about the way of women, all things considered, he was interrupted by a young Rito bounding up to him.

            “Uncle Link! Uncle Link!” Tulin cried, his wings flapping wildly in excitement. Unable to stop his momentum, he crashed into Link’s legs, causing him to stumble backwards slightly.

            “Hi, Tulin,” Link chuckled, picking up his adoptive nephew and wrapping him in a hug. He spotted Teba sauntering up to them with only a hint of a limp and gave him a nod, smiling when the Rito elder did the same.

            “Uncle Link!” Tulin said as Link lowered him back to the ground. “I’m ready to be the ring bear!”

            “Ring bearer,” his father corrected, now standing behind his son.

            “Same thing,” Tulin said, his excitement undiminished.

            “Alright then, ring bear,” Link said, a shit-eating grin on his face as Teba sighed, “can you keep these safe for me until Kapson says it’s time?” He reached into his pocket and pulled out two golden rings, both simple and unadorned, one thicker than the other.

            “I sure can!” Tulin said, his chest puffed out with pride. Link placed the rings into his nephew’s cupped and waiting wings. The young Rito held them gently, like he was holding the whole world in his feathers, a grave seriousness of duty hardening on his face. Link chuckled and ruffled the feathers of Tulin’s head; a smile broke across the Sage of Wind’s face before he remembered the great weight he held before him.

            “Congratulations, Link,” Teba said, laying a wing on his shoulder. “We could not be more overjoyed for you and the Princess.”

            “For sure, goro!”

            Link found himself being lifted off the ground in another bone-crushing hug, this time from behind. Despite being five hundred pounds of lumbering rock, Yunobo had somehow managed to sneak up on him. The Goron lowered his comparatively tiny Hylian friend to the ground, only to nearly knock Link off his feet again as he clapped him on the back.

            “Thank you, all of you,” Link said once he steadied himself again. Looking at his friends gathered around him, he opened his mouth to speak, but found no words to say. “I…” he started, his right hand reaching for his left ring finger and once again reminding him that it was naked and bare. “I’m glad you all could be here,” he finally said. It was undoubtedly true, but simply not enough to encapsulate the full depth of his gratitude for the family he had forged. No words ever would be; these would have to be enough.

            “My boy.” A raspy voice broke the silence that had fallen over the friends. “I believe it is time to begin the ceremony.”

            Link looked over his right shoulder at Kapson, who smiled at him warmly. Beyond the elderly Zora priest, Link could see the shapes of several women exiting his and Zelda’s home in the distance, making their way down the steep Akkala hills and into Tarrey Town.

            “Not without me, I hope?” a familiar and long-unheard voice said. Link whipped around in the other direction to see a vibrantly colored Rito standing behind Teba, an accordion tucked under his wing.

            “Kass?”

            The Rito bard smiled warmly in response. “You didn’t think I would miss the wedding of a dear friend, did you?”

            Link blinked the disbelief out of his eyes and pushed through his crowd of friends to hug Kass. In the closeness of their embrace, Link could see the first hints of gray peeking through the cerulean feathers around his beak. “How are you here? How did you know that Zelda and I were getting married?”

            “A little birdie found me and told me,” Kass said with a wink, gesturing with a nod to Penn behind him. The Lucky Clover Gazette’s top reporter stood a few paces behind Kass, scribbling furiously in his notebook. He gave Link a bright smile and a vigorous wave before returning to his notes; Link was certain that by tomorrow morning, the story of his marriage to Zelda would be breaking at every stable across Hyrule.

            “I’m so glad to see you, Kass,” Link said, warmth and tears welling up inside him.

            “As am I, young hero.” Kass beamed at him with pride, and Link’s tears threatened to spill over onto his cheeks. “Now, I’ve picked up many a tune on these travels of mine,” Kass said, his eyes twinkling brightly. “Would you give me the honor of playing one for you and your bride?”

            “The honor is all mine,” Link replied.

            Kass nodded graciously and slipped his wings into the straps of his accordion as the small crowd dispersed to take their seats among the other guests. Kapson gently touched Link’s elbow and guided him toward the Unity Bell, Kass and Tulin following behind and taking their places a few paces behind and to the left of Link. He straightened out his sleeves as he watched Riju lead the charge of women coming from the house, followed by Purah, then Yona, then finally Paya and Impa, the elder woman holding on to her granddaughter’s elbow as they walked. While the rest of the women took their seats, Paya led Impa to the altar, leaving her grandmother to stand on the right side of Kapson as she scurried off to take her seat.

            For a long, torturous moment, the aisle was empty, the air was still, and the altar was silent. Link reached for his left ring finger and was, for the third time today, disappointed and annoyed to find it bare. He forced air into his lungs until they pushed his ribs out, counted to four, and let them collapse again.

            Then, a soft, sweet melody filled the silence, and there she was.

            Link had to blink twice when he saw her, uncertain at first that she was real. She was swathed in starlight and silk, shrouded in lace and radiance. Her veil floated around her shoulders like mist in the morning; her dress trailed behind her like the moon chased the sun. When she smiled at him, he saw the answer to every prayer that had ever passed his lips. She floated down the aisle with an unhurried certainty, walking toward him like a river that inevitably returns home to the sea.

            Link, who had spent his whole life in a mausoleum of stoicism, began to cry, and knew at once what it meant to love.

            After what felt like a lifetime, Zelda finally reached the altar. She handed her bouquet to Impa, who immediately began to fluff her dress the second she turned to face Link. Her hands now free, she placed them on her knight’s face and softly wiped away his tears with her thumbs.

            “Hi,” she whispered, smiling sweetly.

            “Hi,” Link whispered back. “You look beautiful.”

            “Thank you.” A blush formed on Zelda’s cheeks as Link took her hands from his face and held them in his. “So do you.”

            “Dearly beloved,” Kapson began, with much more volume than Link thought the elderly Zora was capable of, “we are gathered here today to join Princess Zelda and Sir Link in matrimony.”

            Link smiled as Zelda gave his hands a gentle, reassuring squeeze, her green eyes never straying from his.

            “Princess—”

            “Zelda, if you please.”

            “Zelda,” Kapson corrected, “before the eyes of these witnesses and before those of the Goddess Hylia, do you take Link to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

            “I do,” said Zelda. She smiled at Link with the radiance of the sun, and tears threatened to spill from his eyes once again.

            “And Link,” Kapson continued, “before the eyes of these witnesses and before those of the Goddess Hylia, do you take Zelda to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

            “I do,” said Link, perhaps a bit too quickly. It was the easiest question he would ever have to answer.

            “Excellent,” said the Zora priest. “Zelda, you may now say your vows.”

            “Link,” she said tenderly, “I will be beside you in good times and bad, in sickness and in health, in this world and the next. Wherever I go, I will come home to you.” A single tear slipped down Zelda’s cheek, and Link quickly moved to wipe it away. “I will love and honor you,” she continued, her lip quivering slightly, “all the days of my life.”

            Link had heard her say these words to him before, not too far from here, with only a grove of trees as their witnesses. Yet as she stood before him now, just as beautiful as she was that autumn morning with her unbrushed hair and too-thin nightgown, he felt as if he was hearing them for the first time all over again. It took all his restraint not to kiss her right then and there.

            “And you, Link,” Kapson nudged.

            Link cleared his throat before he spoke. “Zelda,” he said, his voice briefly struggling to find purchase, “I will be beside you in good times and bad, in sickness and in health, in this world and the next. Wherever I go, I will come home to you. I will love and honor you all the days of my life.” Lost in the beauty of her smile, he squeezed Zelda’s hands as he finished his vows, a silent promise that they were just as true today as they were the first time he swore them to her, would be just as true tomorrow and every day after.

            Kapson turned to the young Rito that stood beside Link, who was nearly vibrating with barely contained impatience. “Tulin,” the Zora smiled, “may I have the rings?”

            With all the pride and honor of a royal knight, Tulin presented the rings to Kapson, who plucked them carefully from his wings. His sacred duty complete, Tulin beamed at Link with satisfaction and excitement. Link smiled and gave his nephew a quick thumbs-up before returning his attention to his bride.

            “Zelda,” Kapson said as he handed the rings to the two Hylians before him, “as you place the ring on Link’s finger, please repeat after me. With this ring—”

            “With this ring,” Zelda echoed, sliding the gold band onto Link’s finger.

            “—I thee wed.”

            “I thee wed.” Zelda wiggled the band the last little bit past his knuckle until it sat snugly against the base of his finger. Relieved to have the familiar weight of Zelda’s love upon his hand once again, Link’s shoulders relaxed, and his breath came easier to him once more.

            “Link,” said Kapson, “as you place the ring on Zelda’s finger, please repeat after me. With this ring—”

            “With this ring—”

            “—I thee wed.”

            “—I thee wed.” Link slid the thin, gold band along Zelda’s slender finger until it was nestled up against the brilliant diamond ring that already resided there.

            “In the presence of your loved ones and of the Goddess Hylia, I now pronounce you husband and wife,” Kapson said, smiling widely. “Link, you may now kiss your—”

            Link didn’t bother to let Kapson finish his sentence before gathering his wife into his arms, pressing her body as close to his as possible, and kissing her with a century’s worth of unyielding love and devotion. He was vaguely aware of the sound of applause around them, but all his attention was on Zelda: the softness of her skin, the sweetness of her lips, the steady beat of her heart against his chest. He felt his wife—Goddess, he would never get tired of calling her that—smile against his lips, and he pulled back to bask in the glow of her smile.

            “Dearly beloved, please help me in greeting this newly married couple!” Kapson cheered.

            Hand in hand, Link and Zelda turned to face their dearest friends as Kass began to play a lively tune on his accordion. Zelda barely remembered to retrieve her bouquet from Impa before she started pulling Link down the aisle with her, unable to keep her eyes off him and nearly stumbling because of it. When they made to the end of the aisle and past the rows of attendees—miraculously without tripping over themselves—Link lifted Zelda off the ground and spun her around, savoring the sound of her delighted laughter.

            “My beautiful wife,” he said as he placed her feet back on the ground, keeping his arms tightly wrapped around her waist.

            “My beautiful husband,” Zelda echoed, cupping Link’s face in her hands. He smiled as Zelda kissed him again, deeper this time now that they were out of sight of their guests. Sighing as she slid her tongue between his lips and her hands down to his neck, he held her with all his strength, overtaken by the thrill of being alive. He would never let her go again.

            The rest of the afternoon and evening passed by in a blur. Link only sort of remembered greeting all his and Zelda’s friends, the free-flowing drink and endless food, the lively jigs Kass pulled out from his repertoire. The particulars of the celebration all seemed dull and dim compared to what he did remember, vibrantly and perfectly: Zelda’s smile as she embraced each guest in welcome. Zelda’s lips puckering at the sweetness of the wine. Zelda’s laugh as she spun Link around and around and around in a dizzying dance.

            Zelda—his wife, wonderfully alive and beautifully human—looking at him like he was the answer to every question she could ever ask.

            By the time the first stars began twinkling in the deep indigo sky, nearly all their guests had left, satisfied to retire with their full hearts and even fuller bellies. Zelda pulled Link into her arms for one final dance before the moon bid them to return home. Kass smiled knowingly at the couple and began playing a gentle waltz, the melody lilting softly through the night air. Link smiled mischievously at his bride as one hand settled at her waist, the other joined with hers, and surprised her by leading her in a perfect box step.

            “Oh, my!” Zelda giggled. “I didn’t know you still knew how to do this.”

            “How could I forget?” Link spun her gracefully under his arm, pulling her closer as she returned to him. “Your father threw so many balls ‘to lift the kingdom’s spirits’ back in the day that half of my training ended up being dance practice.”

            Zelda chuckled as her left hand came back to rest on Link’s shoulder. “I was so mad that you were so good at it,” she admitted. “That first ball where you were there as my appointed knight, I thought to myself, ‘Surely, he can’t be good at everything!’” As she recalled the memory, her cheeks flushed softly, rosy pink under the torchlight. “I thought for sure you’d stumble somewhere, and at least I’d have one thing I was good at, but you almost nearly whisked me off my feet.”

            As if to prove a point, Link dipped his bride, his strong arms supporting her weight as he tilted her back. Zelda’s laugh bubbled up and escaped into the night, and Link could not help himself from kissing the base of her throat before pulling her back upright.

            “Show-off,” Zelda said, sticking her tongue out briefly.

            A smirk crept onto Link’s face. “I was so nervous, you know,” he said, “at that first ball. I was so afraid that I’d mess something up and accidentally step on your foot, and your father would have my head on a stick as a warning to all the other knights who dared to dance with you.”

            Zelda let out a snort of laughter. “He would never. He admired you too much.”

            Link, who was always terrible at hearing praise and even worse at accepting it, felt his cheeks grow hot as he looked down at his feet. However, he was not allowed to shrink in embarrassment for long; he quickly felt Zelda’s soft fingertips under his chin, lifting his head until he was gazing into her emerald-green eyes.

            “I mean it,” she said softly. Their proper waltz form now abandoned, Zelda wrapped both her arms around Link’s neck as his other hand found her waist, the two of them content to sway gently to Kass’s music. “He thought the world of you. I know things were…difficult at the end, between my father and I.” Zelda swallowed as she blinked tears from her eyes. “But I like to think that if he were here now, he’d be happy for us.”

            Link brushed a fallen lock of hair behind Zelda’s ear, letting his fingers trail down her cheek as he listened quietly.

            “Link, my love,” she sighed, more curiously than sadly, “what do we do next?”

            Link closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to Zelda’s as he pondered her question. He moved his right hand, it’s weight familiar yet foreign, to rest on her neck, stroking the thin skin there with his calloused thumb. After so many years living in service of the world, the question seemed almost preposterous. What else was there to do now that their sacred duties were fulfilled, now that their usefulness to the realm had been wrung from them completely? He rolled his right shoulder out of habit, as if the arm attached to it was heavier than it actually was.

            For once, Link wanted the two of them to be selfish. As he pressed a soft kiss to Zelda’s lips, he thought that all those they had loved and lost would want them to be selfish, too.

            “Live,” he said simply. “We live.”

            Three weeks after their wedding and two days after returning from their honeymoon, the newlyweds of Akkala were woken by three evenly spaced knocks upon their front door.

            “Can you get it?” Zelda mumbled sleepily into Link’s neck, snuggling deeper into her nest of blankets. Link pried one eye open, then the other, and looked out the window to find the foretelling of a sunrise streaking across the sky.

            “Mhmm,” Link replied, but not before taking a moment to stretch. He placed a tender kiss upon his wife’s brow before sliding out from under the sheets, the air across his bare chest feeling frigid compared to the warmth of Zelda’s body that had just been pressed against his own. Bleary-eyed and stiff, he shuffled out from their bedroom and into the hall, plodding down the stairs in the darkness. He fumbled his way to the front door and, upon opening it slightly and peering through the crack, found absolutely no one at their doorstep.

            “Huh?”

            He widened the gap and stuck his head all the way outside, blinking the sleep out of his eyes as he turned this way and that, searching for the knocker. Still, no one appeared, and the morning was just as quiet as it always was. Link scratched his head as he opened the door all the way and stepped outside, suddenly feeling something crinkle beneath his foot. He bent down to pick up a letter that had been left at the door, the parchment of the envelope soft between his fingers.

            His half-asleep mind skimmed over the names and address that he quickly registered as his and Zelda’s. Instead, he spent more than a few seconds reading the words at the bottom of the envelope, written in such perfect penmanship that it almost seemed passive-aggressive:

            OPEN IMMEDIATELY—IMPORTANT TAX INFORMATION ENCLOSED

            “Ah, shit,” Link muttered to himself. He looked up and scanned the area one more time, hoping to catch the tax collector and tell him, politely, to kick rocks. Alas, the field before him was just as empty as it was two minutes ago, and Link was left with only an unopened letter and a grumpy mood.

            Closing the door before he let any more of the morning chill inside, Link shuffled to the dining room and placed the letter on the table. This was absolutely not how he was going to start his morning. He would talk to Zelda about it later, when the sun reached a more agreeable position in the sky. For now, he would return to bed and to the warm embrace of his wife and begin his day over again in a few hours.

            “Who was it?” Zelda mumbled as Link slid back into bed, her arms wrapping around his torso as he pulled the covers back up over their bodies.

            “Master Kohga,” Link said. “He said he was going to steal you away to make you his Yiga bride, and I had to fight him in hand-to-hand combat for your honor.”

            Zelda snorted against Link’s skin as she nuzzled into his neck. “Oh, thank you, my brave and noble knight.”

            “At your service, Princess.” Link smiled into her hair and kissed the top of her head. “Go back to sleep, my love,” he said, knowing that she needed no invitation. Lulled by the steadiness of her breathing, Link felt his eyelids flutter closed, sleep bidding him to return. Anchored by the weight of Zelda’s body against his, he let himself slip under into that quiet, dreamless place, untouched any thoughts of incorrect tax filings or imaginary Yiga Clan kidnappings.

            There was only—and always—her. Link slept soundly in the knowledge that he had everything he could ever need, right there in his arms.