Work Text:
The fresh scent of rain wafted between the swaying grass. A green summer’s afternoon drew close to its end as the remnants of the morning’s storm were swept away by the gentlest of breezes.
Hateno Village was lively on days like this. Link certainly wasn’t in any hurry on his stroll through. On occasion, his eyes would catch a cricket leaping between his footsteps— likely to evade the hurricane that was the village children. They marched around and chased one another through the new mud and gathered clumps of soggy soil on their ankles.
He heard one or two of them recall the adults that tended to the village’s fields when they looked at themselves, stained with dirt and grass; the children had been rather ignorant of all the work their seniors put in until recently.
Link thought back to why. In their endless fascination, they had followed Princess Zelda into the fields when she was still an echo of a time long past. She and Uma, the old woman who often oversaw the fields, had spoken for hours that day… Or so the children had said, anyway. Link personally had no way of knowing the details, as he was too busy trying to give the children something else to do at the time— but, somehow, they ended up developing a sudden sense of respect and awe from what they had overheard.
It reminded him of childhood in the village, one-hundred years ago. Perhaps not only his own, but also of someone he knew well.
He snapped out of his recollection when the white sun poked through the clouds. Its beams fell past his face and onto the flowerbed outside of his house, where the seedlings of a garden had recently been dug and planted. He was so distracted, he hardly realized he was already home!
With a simple shake of his head and an exhale, Link wrangled his senses back into place. He patted down his hair, as the wind had picked up just enough to make a mess of it, and pushed open the front door.
The first thing he noticed was Princess Zelda herself, already moving about the room with an unclear mission in mind. She stopped briefly with her back to him, in front of the dining table. It was neatly arranged with fresh flowers to give a pop of color in the center. Her ear twitched as she registered the sound of the old door.
“Oh! Link, you're home!” Zelda turned.
The princess's hair loosely fell around her shoulders, though a slight curl suggested it fell out of a braid. And beneath it, Link finally noticed a Hylian tunic— one of his Hylian tunics. Though it had always been somewhat big on him, it fit her just fine. He stared.
“I did some organizing while you were out. I hope you don't mind.” Zelda continued. She went right back to arranging the table, folding fabric napkins, only to pause.
Her expression remained still in a blank-eyed smile for a moment. Then, she blinked, her eyes shot downward, and her face went red. “Ahh— Link, I— Uhm—” She averted her gaze. “It started raining while I was in the garden. My clothes got muddy, and I didn't have anything else clean.”
Link swore he felt himself shatter into a hundred little shards. If no clothes were clean… it was entirely his own doing. Amidst the house chores, Zelda's were to dust the place and manage the new garden— as she had insisted— and his were to cook their meals and wash their clothes! He facepalmed, cringing. “I forgot to do the laundry! I… probably left it outside, too…”
He quickly waved his other hand in front of himself, let out a frantic, “I’ll be right back!” and raced out the door.
Surely enough, all their clothes sat in a woven basket by the pond where he had left them. The branches of the nearby tree just barely fell short of protecting them, and they were soaked. That technically solved the problem of washing them, he was sure, but the damp smell that came from them wasn’t too promising. His nose scrunched up.
Shoulders slumped in defeat, Link knelt over and picked up the basket. Worms wriggled in the concentrated puddle underneath. He had to hope none had gotten too comfortable or curious to squeeze their way in…
One pathetic sigh later, and Link had the basket moved to a drier spot. He went through the house’s outer closet to fish out two metal rods and the clothesline. The Magnesis rune made setting things up easier, though he had to smack the slate a few times for it to do a thing. Once it eventually had decided to cooperate, he got to tying off the clothesline.
The second knot he tied didn’t quite want to stay. He stubbornly kept at it with narrowed eyes, until Zelda’s voice nudged him.
“Link?”
He whipped his head around. The princess stood only a few feet away, a hand brought to her chin in thought.
She continued, “I can help. It’ll make us even since I borrowed your tunic, after all.”
Instinctively, he was going to protest. The temporary theft of his clothes was really what made them even after he forgot his chore, wasn’t it? But then he thought to the last time she offered to help, and every other time before that. Even if he refused, she tended to inadvertently correct him in some way that fixed the issue anyway. There was no point refusing the most efficient path if the result was inevitable.
So, Link nodded.
Zelda stepped past him and gently brushed her hands past his own. She took the end of the clothesline from him and patiently wrestled with it as it flung around with the wind. Though she bested it soon enough, some strands of her own hair got caught in the knot.
She winced and carefully snapped it free. “That should do it…”
Link watched. He reached back over his shoulders to pull the tie from his hair, releasing the windswept mane even their horses seemed to side-eye from the stable. He offered it over to Zelda. “Here— Your hair’s too thick to stay out of the way without something to keep it still.”
“Are you sure?” Zelda asked but seemed to know the answer when she saw his expression. “Thank you.” With a soft smile of gratitude, she pulled her hair back into a ponytail.
Link had to wonder how she got it up both neatly and effortlessly… But there was no time to dwell on it. They had work to do!
With the fabric billowing against their arms and their faces, they clipped each article of clothing to the line.
“The wind around here never does want to be convenient, does it?” Link puffed his bangs out of his eyes. Zelda just couldn't help but laugh when a pair of Link's own promptly trousers smacked him in the face— but he supposed he could at least rest assured they'd dry. It wasn't before long that the same breeze flung her ponytail in front of her eyes, anyway.
And as the princess parted the golden waves, she chuckled. “No— in fact I think it's acting against us! We're lucky everything is staying on the pins.” A pause. “Aren't you used to it?”
“Eh.” He gave a shrug. His mind went back to faint flickers— visions of the time he grew up training in this very yard. Even then, the gales of Mt. Lanayru were strong. “My little sister would sit out here with me for hours, just to be there if anything fell”
From the corner of his eye, he saw Zelda reach for him. She retracted her hand before it could touch, but spoke. “I wouldn't mind doing that. Would you?”
His hand instinctively rose to stop her flowing hair from cutting between them when the next breeze came. Her ponytail pushed against his knuckles until he gently brushed it back.
By some miracle, all the temperamental weather ceased. The air became calm, and the strung-up tunics and trousers finally looked more like themselves than like flags and banners. But even if it would stay so peaceful, Link had already made up his mind. “Not at all. Let's do it.”
They sat, and the clothesline faded into a simple silhouette against a golden sky. The village had gone quiet by then. Nothing but a soft chill was carried down by the mountains. From the grass rose the song of the crickets.
Nothing needed to be said during that time. The silence spoke for itself— it whispered of peace and warmth that only existed between themselves.
“...Link?”
Of course, the fact they could go wordless for so long didn't mean they'd prefer it that way. That's what Link supposed when Zelda uttered his name— Surely, Zelda had enough of silence after one-hundred years alone. He certainly had his fair share.
Link listened.
“I know it's a lot to ask, and I know it's wrong for me to even consider it, but…” The princess pursed her lips, as though she still was unsure what she wanted. “Link… May I… stay here?”
He blinked. What kind of question was that? “Of course you can. You've… been staying here, Pr— …Zelda .”
Zelda fiddled with her hands. “Well, our arrangement was for me to help you with upkeep until I recovered. I'm not so tired anymore, all things considered, but I… I like what we have here. I'd like to do even more, if I can! Hateno Village is wonderful, Link. It's even grown beyond what it was a century ago… and I couldn't imagine being anywhere else.”
She tilted her head to look at him, and the two exchanged a long, mutual stare. Link studied her expression intensely— more than he had anything else before.
“...You could keep it.” The offer left his lips faster than he could think. It surprised even him, but he decided he stood by it. He hoped she understood just how genuine it was— which was why he couldn't quite understand the look she gave him. Perhaps he needed to clarify? “The house, I mean. I know I certainly wasn't taking care of the place the way I probably should have.”
“Nono! Link, I—” The princess protested, then closed her eyes and exhaled. When she opened them again, she eased. “I meant… I like being here… with you. If that's alright.”
Warmth suddenly shrouded Link's face. He had become quite used to Zelda being around in a way she hadn't been before the Calamity. He couldn't imagine returning to the time where he saw her every day, but their hours were spent on duty and survival… He couldn't imagine losing moments like this. Tending to soil and clothes and dirty dishes with her had, at some point, become sincerely valuable.
Would mundane become boring without her?
Link crossed his legs and leaned his head back. “If I could be honest, it felt… pretty empty before you came.” He flashed a smile to her. “It could use a bit more life!”
The grin Zelda gave back was somewhere between satisfied and coy. She inched closer until she leaned her blushing cheek against his shoulder, and her arms wrapped around his in embrace.
Something sparked within him, then; it made up for the disappearing sliver of sunlight far to the west. Bewildered, he wondered: did the house really matter at all?
No matter if they were at his childhood home or in the bottomless swamp itself, would he not say the same?
When he truly thought about it, all he could picture were memories they had yet to live— together— and that was all he needed.