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Finding the Light Dragon was the easy part. Link has done it many times now, it's simply tedious. His paraglider ruffles in the wind as he glides above her, looking for an ideal moment to land. Link stares down at the dragon’s golden mane, flowing in a breeze she creates. He lands with a thump, her soft hair cushioning his fall.
Link brushes himself off, walking past her antler-like horns and taking a seat on the dragon’s mighty forehead. Recently, he discovered how quiet it is in the sky with the Light Dragon. It’s just him, her, and the wind. Link has always enjoyed the quiet spots in Hyrule, and so did Zelda. Despite his best efforts, he still can’t remember everything that happened before the Calamity, but he has fleeting memories of the moments of calm they would find together. Stolen moments in the quiet of a cave while rain pours outside, or setting up camp in front of the shrines as restless crickets sing their songs.
After he woke up and defeated the Calamity, they didn’t have to steal the moments anymore. At last, they had time. But there was still so much to do. Link liked when they’d visit the Great Plateau. The time he spent searching and exploring here had made him grow fond of the place, and Zelda liked to visit her father’s memorial. Zelda’s preferred quiet place has always been in the rolling fields of Hyrule. Link would often sit there and watch her take notes and sketches of the flora and fauna they’d see. She always looked so content then, happy and carefree; She’d tease him when she caught Link staring. He’d always turn away, hoping she couldn’t see his blush. She laughed loudly and unapologetically. It sounded like music.
Link puts a hand on the Light Dragon’s white face fur, twirling it between his calloused fingers. It’s the softest thing he’s ever felt, he thinks. The days since the upheaval have blurred together. He’s had a lot to do; finding a quiet moment when Zelda needed help was unacceptable. He hadn't bothered to keep track of the date, it was not important to his mission. Purah had to remind him what today was, while he was passing through Lookout Landing, and there wasn’t much day left.
Once he learned the geoglyphs were the key to discovering what happened to Zelda, Link desperately wanted to visit all of them as fast as possible. But he had a promise to protect the people of Hyrule. He traveled to all the places Purah told him to go, searching all of Hyrule fervently for any hints of where Zelda might be. As Link traveled Hyrule, helping the Sages as he went along, he slowly visited them all.
Link focuses back on the fur in his hand. He had thought, hoped, they would have more time. He should have known better. Link looks up, out at the land of Hyrule. The nearing twilight brings long shadows and a light chill. The sky glows a gentle orange. Link needs to hurry up. Today's date never mattered to him very much, but it always mattered to Zelda.
“Link, happy birthday!” Zelda had sprung on him, a few months after the Calamity was defeated. “One hundred and eighteen years old. I should have gotten you a cane, or maybe some wooden teeth.” She said, laughing. Zelda then gave him a small gift she had made herself. A wooden frog, hand carved. It was well made and adorable. She then attempted to make a cake for them. It did not go well, their whole house filling with smoke. Link took over baking duties, and made a fruitcake for them to share. “You know, you didn’t have to make a fruitcake. While I’m certainly not complaining, it’s your birthday. You should make whatever dessert is your favorite.” Zelda told him, smiling softly.
Link reaches into his bag, pulling out a fruitcake he had made earlier. The magic bag used to confuse him, but he’s learned not to question how the food he makes stays perfectly put together when in the bag a long time ago. Today is no exception. He sets the cake in his lap, carefully carving off a slice and returning the rest.
After Zelda told him to make his favorite cake, Link went and gathered all the dessert recipes he could find to try them all. Whatever had been his favorite before was lost, something he can not remember and that he had never mentioned to Zelda. He made nutcake first. It was good, made with easily forageable ingredients, and was satisfyingly crunchy. The monster cake had a unique flavor, he’s entirely sure how to describe it, but it wasn’t bad at all. The carrot cake was moist, not overly saccharine but still wonderful. Link especially enjoyed the extra boost in speed the swift carrots would give him afterwards. None of them called out to him as a favorite.
Link takes a small bite of cake. It’s good, of course. The freshness of the ingredients and his experience all but guaranteed that, despite his rushed schedule. He chose to use the mighty bananas he’s gained through his various encounters against the Yiga clan as a filling, with caramelized apple slices and wildberries on top. He’d made it like this before, for Zelda. Honestly, Link thinks he’s made most every combination of fruit on a fruitcake that is possible with what’s available in Hyrule.
On Link’s one hundred and nineteenth birthday, he made fruitcake again. Zelda took a hefty slice, and then she took three more. Her eyes sparkled with every bite, gleaming more than a freshly polished rupee. She almost glowed, just like when she used her sealing powers. Link had to force himself to stop watching her so he could get a slice before the cake completely disappeared. Once more, Zelda told him not to do it again, that he should make his favorite.
Link takes another bite of cake. His eyes are red and watery, it must be from the wind. Ruby and gold streak the sky as the sun truly sets. He chews his mouthful slowly, noting the banana filling could have used an extra shake of cinnamon. But other than that small thing, it tastes great.
Link found more recipes. He got some by asking around, and he uncovered others during expeditions to Hyrule Castle’s decaying library. He tried them all, desperately trying to find his favorites. When they had free time, he would bake in their house in Hateno. Zelda would always save the leftovers and give them out to the kids of Hateno. Despite it all, he still could not pick a favorite.
A tear falls from Link’s eye. It rolls down his cheek, catching on his chin and then blowing away. His fork trembles, and he nearly drops his slice of cake as he takes another large bite of the cake. The warm apples punch through the settling cold, and the wildberries add tartness, balancing out the rich sweetness.
Link made a fruitcake for his one hundred and twentieth birthday too. And then the one hundred twenty-first. And then the one hundred twenty-second. Every year Zelda told him to make his favorite. Every year, her face lit up as soon as she smelled the sweet scent of the fruitcake filling the kitchen. Link should have told her when he had the chance. He wanted to tell her that fruitcake is his favorite too. Not because of the cake, but because of her. Her warm smile is sweeter to him than any cake in the world. He wanted to tell her that when she laughs, it makes his stomach tie up in knots. Making Zelda happy was all he needed on his birthday. Speaking about his emotions is easier now than it was before the Calamity. Despite that, it was still too difficult for him to speak about the yearning deep in his heart. What he and Zelda had was enough; he could wait. Now he will never tell her the truth. Even if he said it right now, right into her ear, she wouldn’t understand.
Link takes a last bite of the cake, swallowing hard as his tears run dry. The sky has darkened, the vivid colors of sunset giving way to an amber hue. He can see the gentle glow of settlements as people light their torches for the night. He needs to return to the surface. Return to his house, empty and quiet and devoid of the Princess’s light. Link strokes the Light Dragon’s pale fur once again, heart restricting. Just a few more minutes won’t doom Hyrule.
He tidies everything up, leaving not a single crumb on her fuzzy head. Link overlooks the darkening Hyrule, one hand on her glowing pale-blue horn. He should go now; he knows he has to. Staying here won’t change anything, and he has better things he could be doing. A lake draws near, but Link’s feet stay planted. He’s supposed to be courageous, but this is his weakness. A powerful gust of wind kicks him, and he stumbles forward. He continues to hold onto her horn, keeping himself from falling off. The wind doesn’t let up, it's as if it was trying to hurry him. Link smiles gently. Time is up; he needs to go. As the Light dragon passes over the lake, he leaps away. Leaving is always the hard part.