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Zelda’s hands shake as she sits in the golden sands of the Gerudo Desert. Despite the warmth of the sun bearing down on her and the heat trapped within the top layers of sand, Zelda shivers. Every flash of color in the edge of her vision threatens her, sets her heart pounding within her chest. She closes her eyes and breathes deeply.
She is alive.
She is alive, thanks to Link, who paces the sandy terrain with a surety Zelda can never hope to emulate. Zelda hears his heaving breaths settle as adrenaline flees his veins. She wishes it would flee hers, too, but her hands shake and her breath comes in short gasps that leave her feeling dizzy.
The sand shifts beside her. She gasps, eyes flying open, and scoots back, but Link reaches out and grabs her arm with no thought for decorum or propriety. His gaze pierces right through her when their eyes meet. Her next breath catches in her throat. She swallows against the burn of tears at the corner of her eyes. She opens her mouth to speak, but he holds a finger to his lips, asking her to be silent, his other hand still warm on her freezing shoulder. The master sword lays abandoned beside him as he fishes in the pouch at his side and pulls out a small piece of wrapped paper.
“For the shock,” he says – the first words he has ever spoken to her – proffering it out to her.
Zelda takes it in her hand and unwraps the paper to find a golden piece of hard candy. She eats it and crunches down on it immediately. The taste of honey fills her mouth as Link hauls her to her feet and escorts her back to the path to Gerudo Town.
That night, as she writes in her diary, Zelda wonders if Link truly does care for her after all.
▴▴▴
“I doubt this will let up anytime soon,” Zelda says as she glances up to the gray clouds above. She sits against a rocky outcrop beneath the canopy of a tree, away from the worst of the rain.
Link pays no mind to the conditions, of course, and stands out in the rain practicing perfect sword swings. His every move is precise, calculated exactly for maximum efficiency, a born swordsman.
“Your path seems to mirror your father’s,” she continues, watching Link. “You’ve dedicated yourself to becoming a knight, as well. Your commitment to the training necessary to fulfill your goal is really quite admirable. I see now why you would be the chosen one.” Zelda sighs and looks down at the ground by her feet. Her hands lay in her lap, her fingers curling until her fingernails press crescent moons into the palms of her gloves.
“What if… one day… you realized that you just weren’t meant to be a fighter,” she says quietly. She can feel the weight of Link’s eyes on her and keeps her gaze turned away. “Yet the only thing people ever said was that you were born into a family of the royal guard, and so no matter what you thought, you had to become a knight. If that was the only thing that you were ever told, I wonder then, would you have chosen a different path?”
The master sword returns to its sheath as Link steps lightly over to Zelda’s resting spot. He drops down in a crouch in front of her and waits for her to meet his eyes. Once she does, he gives her the half smile she has come to know and reaches for the pouch at his hip. He digs through it blindly until he finds what he is looking for and pulls his hand out. He flips his fist over and opens his hand. A single piece of wrapped candy sits in the center of his palm.
“For your worries,” he whispers, voice rough.
“Thank you, Sir Knight,” Zelda replies, taking the honey candy and popping it into her mouth. It tastes just as sweet as she remembers.
▴▴▴
Zelda runs into her study in a blind rage and falls to her knees on the rug in the center of the stone floor. She bites her lip to keep from screaming. A proper princess does not scream. A proper princess serves her people with delicate divine power, not with scientific research and knowledge of the inner workings of divine beasts. She stands in a furious flurry and goes to the wall, ripping down one of the diagrams hanging there and throwing it to the floor. Angry tears slip from the corner of her eyes as she sinks in the chair at her desk and buries her head in her hands.
A rustle of fabric reminds her she is not alone. She sniffles and wipes the back of her hand beneath her eyes as she looks up into Link’s kind face. His brows furrow in concern and his eyes show all the things she knows he struggles to put to words. The vibrant hilt of the master sword peeks above his shoulder, taunting her. She glares at it, glares at him, even though she knows their shared fate weighs just as heavily on his mind as it does her own.
Link holds his hand out. A honey candy sits on his palm. “For your sorrows,” he says quietly.
Zelda takes the candy and squeezes her fist around it. “Tomorrow, we will leave for the Spring of Power,” she says with a huff, trying to hide the rawness in her voice. “First light, so do not be late.”
Link nods and bows slightly, excusing himself to take his post outside Zelda’s study. Zelda pops the honey candy in her mouth and cries as she scribbles in her diary.
▴▴▴
Zelda no longer feels the icy bite of the waters as she pours out all that remains of her soul to the uncaring statue looming above her. All around the mountain is dark and quiet save for the echoes of her unanswered pleas to the goddess. At the base of the mountain, the champions await Zelda’s success. At the castle, her father anticipates another failure.
Behind her, standing stoic as ever, she knows Link hopes for her happiness. Their reluctant acquaintance has blossomed into something wonderful. Timid words and hesitant glances have evolved to whispered conversations in the nighttime solitutude of the wild and longing looks when they think the other will not notice.
Zelda knows they are friends. She wants them to be something more, but the threat of the calamity hangs over their heads like the blade of an executioner’s ax. Zelda scarcely sleeps through the night these days; her dreams are consumed by dark clouds and a blazing fire. She wakes often with gasping breaths and a scream dying on her lips.
No answer comes to Zelda. She waits until the cold turns wholly unbearable before wading out of the waters and wrapping herself in the blanket Link has kept warm by the small fire. He offers her privacy to strip out of her wet clothes and put on something warm and dry, and once she is fully clothed and rewrapped in the warm blanket, he coaxes a mug of warm tea into her hands and pushes her to sit beside the fire. She smiles when the piece of honey candy appears in her line of sight, cradled in his hand.
“For the cold,” he says.
“Thank you, Link.” Zelda smiles and unwraps the candy. She knows it has no warming effects, but a surge of warmth still flows through her, all the way down to her toes. Link scoots a little closer to her, and Zelda rests her head against his shoulder.
She fears returning to her father, or what the champions may say about yet another failure. But, with Link at her side, bolstered by the trust he places in her, Zelda thinks she could accomplish just about anything.
▴▴▴
After a century as a divine being, Zelda has almost forgotten what it feels like to have a physical body. She sinks into her skin and marvels at the sensation of grass tickling her toes and the warmth of the sun on her skin. The colors of the world are vibrant as the last of Ganon’s malice turns to ashes caught in the breeze. Hungry eyes devour the rich tones of verdant leaves and the vividness of the clearing blue sky overhead.
The dark beast is sealed, the princess is returned, and the kingdom is on the precipice of peace once more, and all of those things are true because Link has made it so.
Her hero stands before her, dressed in the champion’s tunic with the familiar hilt of the master sword – no longer taunting – over his shoulder. He has changed, aged by a century he did not live, yet his eyes burn with a curiosity and brightness Zelda has never seen in him before. She wonders if the Link she once knew is still in him somewhere, buried in the depths of his mind where his memories rest.
“May I ask,” she starts hesitantly, fearing what the answer may be, “do you really remember me?”
Link watches her for a moment before he begins to move. First one step, then another, and another, coming faster until he runs across the distance separating them and wraps his arms around her. Zelda’s skin burns where their arms touch, unused to the sensation of physical touch for so long. She has missed this. She wants this.
Link’s arms drop to his sides as he pulls back. Zelda lets him; she would hate to press her feelings upon him when he has so little memory of their time before, even if his reaction to seeing her again sends her heart soaring with hope.
Link reaches for the pouch on his hip and pulls out a piece of honey candy, holding it out to Zelda. “For my love,” he whispers.
The candy is the second sweetest thing Zelda has ever tasted.