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Zelda's knight was awful.
He was at his usual haunt outside her door. She could imagine him, and that alone grated on her nerves like nails screeching down a chalkboard: that blasted Sword on his back, standing straight and still, his face empty of life.
The perfect soldier.
In comparison to his model example, she was hunched over her desk in her robe, squinting at her notes in the candlelight. Her fingers were still stained with the mix of guardian grease and ink that she could never fully remove. She should be sleeping at this hour, but instead she was continuing to disappoint everyone by sneaking in some research.
Not that she could get any rest, with such a paragon of virtue standing guard.
How dare he be so perfect! Was he trying to make her life even harder? Showing off how easy it was for him to do everything he tried, while she struggled and scraped for even crumbs of success?
Yesterday he had the nerve — the absolute nerve! — to fight off some monsters, and then use the hem of his shirt to wipe sweat off his face. Of course, he had intended to show off his fine abs, so Zelda had stared in the opposite direction until he got the hint that she would not be fawning over him. And then today he had been drinking water and let some dribble down the column of his throat like some elegant god — not that she had watched each drop slide down beneath the collar of his tunic.
She'd like to see him fail at something — lose his composure, say something he didn't mean, find himself in a no-win situation. Especially if he lost to her — that would be delicious. She'd shove him against a wall and kiss him, because what could he possibly do? Push her back? Stand there, as immovable as a statue?
It wasn't that she wanted to kiss him. She was just checking to see if he would do anything to prove that he was not a perfect hero. A case study.
Zelda yanked open her door. Link watched her. She hadn't even startled him.
Insufferable.
She speedwalked down the hall, hearing Link trail behind. Because of course he couldn't bend the rules even a little and let her walk more than the regulated six paces away from him. He probably wanted the difference between his success and her failure made even more obvious from their juxtaposition.
UGH.
She flung open the door to the garden. Walking through it as quickly as she could without breaking into a run, she turned the corner, and waited.
Like clockwork, Link followed her around the corner. She grabbed the front of his stupid royal guard's tunic (how dare it make him look so hot, it's outrageous) and shoved him back against the wall.
His eyes widened, enough that she could see it even in the dim light.
Hah! She startled him this time. It was the first time she'd seen his perfect guard persona crack, and she took a moment to savor it. He was all wide eyes and slightly open mouth and with the breath knocked out of him, he's looked almost vulnerable.
Perfect.
She dove in, pushing her mouth against his hard enough that he would know she meant business, that this wasn't some mistaken little peck. He was warm and soft, nothing like the cold, hard statue she expected.
His hands settled on her shoulders, and she was fully prepared for him to either slide away against the wall, or shove her away. He didn't do either.
He melted into her and swiped his tongue on her lower lip. She let her mouth open, both shocked and curious. And then he tugged on her lip, like he wanted her, like he couldn't get enough. He kissed her like she was precious, like she was someone with worth.
She couldn't have that.
She stepped back so abruptly that Link lost his balance and stumbled forward. "What. Was. That."
"A kiss?" He sounded like he thought it was a trick question.
"You gave me a pity kiss."
"A p—?" He shook his head. "No."
He looked around them, like he had only just noticed they were out in the dark. Like he was so caught up in kissing her—pity kissing her— that their location hadn't registered.
Of course that would be his plan. Get her off balance, gaslight her, then make it even more obvious how much of a failure she was compared to him.
She crossed her arms over her chest. "There's no audience out here, you know. You can be honest. Just admit that you think I'm a failure—"
"—I don't—"
"—and that my schedule only having four hours of prayer a day shows how lazy I am—"
"—Princess—"
"—and that a proper princess doesn't have stained fingers from working on Sheikah tech—"
"—no—"
"—and that my habit of studying every plant and animal I find is really quite childish. It's okay, it's nothing I haven't heard before. I can handle it. Just tell me what you were thinking."
She lifted her chin and waited.
Link looks like he accidentally swallowed a bug. "'Finally.' That's what I was thinking."
It made no sense. Why was he spouting nonsense? Maybe she pushed him into the wall hard enough that he hit his head? Or— a worse thought hit, hard enough to make her eyes sting with anger. "I asked for honesty, not mockery."
Link pushed a hand into his hair. "I mean that I like you. I like hearing you talk about science and Sheikah tech that you understand but I don't, and I like going places with you, and you're fun to be around."
Maybe she somehow wound up with a concussion. Or maybe she never left her room in the first place, and she was dreaming. She pinched her arm, and it felt real, but that wasn't a guarantee.
She frowned at him. "If — and I do mean if — all those things are true, why don't you talk to me? Most of the time you're doing a convincing imitation of a brick wall."
"You didn't like me. I tried to be unobtrusive."
She didn't know that he knew words like unobtrusive. "But you don't like me. I don't have the Goddess power."
Link looked baffled. She'd seen more expression from him in the last ten minutes than she had in the entire time he'd been her knight. "So? That's not what makes you Zelda."
Clearly he was deluded. And, well, she wouldn't let him just suffer with mistaken ideas. "Using the Goddess power is the only reason I exist, the only reason I'm of worth."
"We wouldn't have a steady supply of stamina elixirs if you hadn't discovered what conditions stamella shrooms need to be grown in. And Vah Naboris would still be shocking anyone except Urbosa if you hadn't figured out that electric issue. Aren't those reasons just as good?"
He was listening when she talked about her work? He noticed what she did, and didn't hate her?
And he was right, she led the work on both those projects. Maybe she did have worth outside of her bloodline. Maybe it was okay that her fingers were stained with ink and Guardian grease. Maybe it was okay that she spent most of her prayer time thinking about how to get all the Divine Beasts to communicate with each other.
Maybe it was okay that she wasn't perfect.
Link rubbed the back of his head and gave her a tiny, shy smile. She glanced over his awkward posture, watching the way his eyes wouldn't meet her own before flicking away. He wasn't the stolid soldier she expected — he kissed her like he meant it, and that was definitely not in his list of responsibilities.
Maybe he wasn't so perfect either.
"Well. I'm not perfect, but you're not either."
"Okay?" He said it like it wasn't a surprise, like he already knew.
"For one thing, you need to kiss better. You said it wasn't a pity kiss, but that's all I got from it."
His eyes widened, and then he smiled, suddenly looking soft and approachable. "Can I try again?"
Zelda reached for him. "Practice makes perfect."