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Zelda hates visiting Rito Village.
She has nothing against the Rito, or the hospitality that they’ve provided. The hammock is wonderful, as is the view of the snowy Hebra mountains, it’s just the cold that bothers her; the frigid air that has her bundling in layers upon layers upon layers, the way it makes her nose run and leaves her sniffling through diplomatic talks, excusing herself to blow it every few sentences, how Link is kind and attentive and always at the ready with a fresh handkerchief-
Ah, yes. There’s also…that.
Zelda hates visiting Rito Village, but Zelda likes Link, and Link likes visiting Rito Village. So, here she is with a rare weekend off from prayer that she could have spent with Purah at the tech lab, tinkering with the Sheikah Slate and dissecting Guardians, but instead she’s followed her cold-blooded Hero up to the mountains for some kind of winter festival his parents used to take him to.
(And he still asks if she likes him, Goddesses help her, she wouldn’t freeze her ass off for just anybody.)
Zelda raises on her toes, leaning back against the railing of the second level of the village, searching the crowd for the top of Link’s head. The wooden structure is packed with tourists, she’s shocked her father even allowed her within sight of this place at this time of year. From her research last night, as she was packing everything she would need for the ride and the days spent in the village, the Rito hold this festival annually, after the first snowfall, in order to celebrate the true beauty of Hebra.
“Here you go, Princess,” Link comes up to her with two cups in his hands, one steaming and one not. He passes her the steaming one. “Hot chocolate.”
Zelda appreciates the way his Rito clothing, dyed in the colors of his Champion’s Tunic to mark his status as her appointed knight, brings out his eyes against the mountains.
(Like the Master Sword hanging off his back isn’t enough of a giveaway as to his identity, but she appreciates the sentiment.)
“Thank you,” she breathes, taking the drink, hoping her relief doesn’t bleed into her voice too much, “What do you have?”
Link grins, and when she’s queen she’s going to outlaw that dimple on his left cheek for how she melts at the sight of it. It’s a vulnerability of hers, a weakness, something a future monarch of her status should be impervious to. He tilts his cup towards her and answers, “It’s a snow cone. It’s wildberry flavored, want to try it?”
It’s a cup of snow, colored pink.
Zelda stares at him, affronted. “You’re having something cold here? You’re not even wearing the right gloves to be holding-”
“I haven’t had one of these since I was a kid!” he laughs, “And my hands are fine, thank you very much.”
She cradles her cup in her hands, trying her hardest to leech off of its warmth. Her own Rito gear is twice as thick as his, a hand-me-down from her mother’s wardrobe that’s been collecting dust for the past ten years, and she takes comfort in the fact that the Queen of Hyrule was apparently just as sensitive to the cold as she is. Zelda lifts her hot chocolate to her mouth and blows on it before taking a tentative first sip.
"Mmm!" she perks up, going in for another despite how her tongue stings, "They added cinnamon!"
"I had to ask for it," Link rubs the back of his neck, "I'm happy I remembered right."
Humble boy, Zelda thinks. She knows how good his memory is, has seen it in action herself, usually when he's asked to describe specific outfits someone wore or things someone's said, but why would he commit something like how she likes her hot chocolate to memory? It's not that important, is it? It's just cinnamon.
"I'm happy you did, too," she smiles. "How do you drink your, um...what did you call it?"
"Snow cone," he supplies, "And you don't really drink it. It's kind of like ice cream? Just...here, let me show you-"
He raises his cup to his lips and opens his mouth wide, pouring a chunk of snow onto his tongue.
"Like this!" he talks through the flavored snow in his mouth, and when she wrinkles her nose all he does is laugh. He offers her the cup again, "I really think you should try it. You love wildberries."
She does, is the thing. Wildberries are her favorite fruit on a fruitcake. They're her favorite fruit period.
She looks at the offered snow cone. She looks back to his enticing grin.
“Fine,” she relents, fighting a smile as he pumps his fist in victory.
Zelda trades her hot chocolate for his snow cone, hating how the warmth of her drink is evaporated by the chill of the breeze and the even colder cup in her hands. She mimics what Link did, tilting the cup towards her mouth, and yelps when all of the snow comes loose and smacks against her lips, forcing them to seal around the rim to catch it.
(She will not think about how this is where Link placed his lips. She will not think about how this is where Link placed his lips. She will not-)
The pink snow melts on her tongue, freezing her taste buds, and Zelda yelps again as the frozen treat hits the roof of her mouth and the front of her head explodes in a short burst of pain.
“What?” he steps in close, panic in his voice, “What’s wrong?”
“Brain freeze,” Zelda manages, shoving the snow cone back into his hand and stealing back her hot chocolate, chugging it until the sensation fades. She takes a moment to catch her breath before going back for one last sip, but is met with nothing. She pouts into her empty cup, “I drank it all already!”
Link laughs, “Come on, let’s get you a fresh one.”
She can’t help but marvel at how…how loose he is here, far, far away from the castle and the expectations and the eyes of their fathers, the only reminders of who they really are the sword on his spine, the color of his thick shirt, and Zelda’s presence garnering a hushed, Your Highness, from the people that pass and the way the Rito guards straighten when she looks at them. His shoulders aren’t as hunched, his head is held high, and he’s smiling. He’s talking. He’s laughing. All with her. All…All because of her.
(Is it any wonder that she’s fallen in love with him?)
The Rito vendor selling the hot chocolate smiles when they walk up to her stall, eyeing their empty cups.
“Good morning, Your Highness,” she greets, taking Zelda’s cup when she offers it and filling it to the brim with the steaming brown liquid, adding two pinches of cinnamon, “I’m honored you enjoy my drink so much!”
“It’s quite delicious,” Zelda compliments, reaching into her pocket for her wallet, “How much-?”
“Please, it’s on the house. Just knowing you like it is payment enough.”
“I already tried to pay,” Link says good-naturedly, taking a red rupee from his satchel and handing it over, “Please take it, Raysa. Princess Zelda and I are your customers, just like anyone else.”
Still, the Rito refuses, politely shooing Link’s rupee back to where he got it.
“Link, I promise it’s fine,” she insists. “I’ve had more customers today than I’ve had in the past six months, one red rupee isn’t going to be missed.”
“Only if you’re certain,” Zelda says, her fingers resting on a purple rupee. “It’s not an offense to make me pay, I promise.”
“It’s all right, Your Highness,” Raysa confirms, then redirects with a, “Are you going to try the ice skating?”
Link’s eyes light up. “That still happens?”
“Ice skating?” Zelda questions with a frown. “What is that?”
“Oh, we have to!” The Hero of Hyrule is like a kid on Nayru’s Day as he turns to her and says, “It’s walking on ice, I did it all the time when I was little. Can I show you?”
She can’t refuse him, especially when she’s never seen him this excited before.
“Of course,” she nods, and paying Raysa is entirely forgotten once Link motions for her to follow him and leads her away from the hot chocolate stall.
—
Whatever the ‘ice skating’ is, it’s happening at the base of Rito Village, at the bottom of all of the steps. There’s a pond that’s iced over, and Rito glide across the slippery surface on the edges of their talons. A Hylian man sits in the snow, pulling on a new pair of boots with-
“Are there knives on the bottom of his boots?” Zelda asks, tilting her head.
“Those are the skates,” Link answers, nodding his chin to the counter on the edge of the pond where a Rito is selling another pair of skates to a Hylian woman. “They glide over the ice light enough that they don’t slip around like the bottoms of our feet. It’s a lot more controlled, that way, so-”
“So we don’t have to worry about stepping too hard and breaking through the ice, falling into the water below,” she finishes, understanding the physics of it, “It lessens our weight on the surface.”
“Right,” he smiles. “It’s not easy, though, it took a while for my mother to teach me how to balance. You still want to try it?”
She nods, and his smile widens.
They purchase their skates from the Rito attendant—She will not allow the village to let them get everything for free, especially when she has a pile of rupees burning a hole through her wallet—and she watches Link change into his and fasten the ties that are on the top of his foot, kneeling at the edge of the frozen pond. She kneels beside him and copies, changing into her skates, and passes over her boots to the Rito to be stored under the counter.
She stands at the same time as him, and yelps as she wobbles, the blades digging into the solid bottoms of her skates and the soles of her feet, and she windmills her arms to keep her balance.
“Whoa!” Link catches her, pulling her forward, and once she steadies he asks, “Are you all right?”
“Yes,” Zelda manages, her heart pounding from the sudden rush of adrenalin in her veins, and he lets her go. “Yes, I’m fine. I forgot about the skates on the bottom.”
“Okay,” he steps out onto the ice, perfectly balanced, and spins to face her. “Ready to try?”
She hesitates. It’s not the possibility of falling and getting hurt that scares her, it’s falling and getting hurt in front of all of these people, these-these Rito citizens who are skating with ease and the Hylian tourists who are following their example. She doesn’t want to embarrass herself in front of them, and she especially doesn’t want to make a fool of herself in front of Link.
(Never mind the fact that just the other day, he watched her make a fool of herself in the castle, kneeling at the foot of the Goddess and begging for answers she knows will never come.)
“It’s just one step,” Link coaxes, holding out his hands, the blades of his skates somehow still on the ice, his body solid and his legs unshakeable, “I have you.”
It’s what he said to her after the Yiga ambush in the desert and she couldn’t breathe through her tears, caught in the idea that she was going to die. He broke every single protocol that was drilled into him by their fathers and curled around her in the sand, holding her in his arms until the knot in her chest loosened and she could tell him to let go.
I have you, he had whispered in her ear, speaking more than a word to her for the first time since the day of his assignment, You’re okay. I have you.
“Just one step,” she echoes, and takes it, stepping out onto the ice and slipping her hands into his.
Immediately she wobbles, off-balance as her feet struggle to settle on the blades. Link pulls her in close to keep her steady, his hands gripping her arms just above her elbows, and Zelda’s breath quickens as she fights to stay upright.
“How are you doing this?” she demands, for some reason angry at his perfect legs while hers jerk all over the place beneath her, “I feel like a baby deer learning to walk!”
“That’s basically what you are,” he jokes with a grin, adjusting his grip on her again. “Can I move my hands lower?”
She nods, then stops breathing when his palms land on her hips.
Zelda stares at him, her cheeks warm in the cold mountain air. Link stares back, his face bright red.
“You, ah,” his eyes rove over her face, lingering on her mouth long enough that she can’t help but notice. “You need to distribute your weight evenly, find a, um…a center of gravity.”
“All right,” she manages, hovering her hands over his shoulders, “Can...Can I-”
“Yeah,” he breathes.
She settles her hands on his shoulders, her thumbs resting over his collar.
“Um,” he repeats, and gently pulls her waist down. “Bend your knees a little. Get a solid foundation.”
Her knees shake as she complies. “Like this?”
“Yeah,” he nods, letting her go, “Just like-”
She snatches one of his wrists with both of her hands, breathing hard as she stares at his widening eyes.
“Don’t you dare let me go,” she demands, hating the cold sweat that pools underneath her sweater, “Please. If I fall and break my face I’ll never forgive you.”
Link chuckles, adjusting himself so he can properly hold her hands, and she’s definitely going to outlaw his dimple once she’s queen.
—
She spends the rest of the day with him on the ice, learning to skate without letting her feet slip out. As the sun begins to set, they’re the only people left on the bottom tier of the village except for the Rito that sold them their skates, everyone else either returning home to their beds or to the nearest stable to buy the night in one.
Link’s hands are back on her hips. Zelda’s hands are back on his shoulders. She’s cold, but his skin burns hot beneath her hands. He doesn’t protest when she inches closer until they’re pressed together under the darkening sky, her feet sandwiching one of his as he guides her in slow, lazy circles around the perimeter of the empty, frozen pond.
Zelda lets her head lower to rest on his shoulder, nestling under his chin. She closes her eyes, taking in the solid warmth of his body against hers.
“Princess,” he whispers, and she picks her head up to look at him. His eyes are soft but serious, and his breath fans out over her lips in a stream of white fog.
“I told you to call me Zelda when we’re not in the castle,” she whispers back, her breath puffing out and mingling with his. “Don’t think I didn’t catch you calling me Princess Zelda earlier, when I was getting my refill.”
He swallows, glancing towards the Rito who sold them their skates, and says so softly that she struggles to hear it, “Zelda.”
Her name on his tongue is the only time she believes she might be divine.
“Yes, Link?”
“I…” he trails off, his eyes searching hers, “My face is cold.”
Zelda blinks, furrowing her eyebrows. What? “What?”
“I-I mean,” he flounders, his lips twisting, “my-my lips are cold, I-”
Is…Is he getting sick? Does he want to stop, go back into the village and the hammocks that Elder Kaneli has provided them?
“Link, are you all-”
“I want to kiss you,” he says, his words echoing in the silence of the frost.
(The Rito who sold them their skates turns his back to them, whistling.)
Zelda stares up at him, her mouth open but no words coming out. He stares back at her, unwavering, before he blinks and his ears go red. He ducks his chin, shrinking from her gaze.
“I mean,” his voice is small and shaking. His pulse pounds against her thumbs. “I really like you, Zelda. More than a knight should like his princess. I…I like you as-as more than a friend. I like your smile, I like your laugh, I like that little crinkle between your eyebrows whenever you get upset and scowl, and I like listening to you talk about ancient technology even though I can barely understand half of what you even say.”
Zelda is well and truly frozen. She’s not even cold anymore, she’s not sure she’s even feeling anything besides a very strong cocktail of shock and pure, unadulterated relief.
He likes her too. He really likes her too. He wants to kiss her.
“I know I have no right to ask you this,” Link whispers, “but please say something?”
She thinks that there’s so much snow in his hair that his scalp must be blue underneath, thinks about how chapped her lips are from the wind, thinks that this is the first time she’s ever seen him well and truly afraid.
All she can manage is a breathless, “You called me your princess.”
Link swallows, clearing his throat. His voice is rough when he rasps, “Yeah. That’s…That’s what you are, you’re my princess like I’m your Hero.”
“What if I want to be more than that, too?” she asks him, her own voice trembling, “What if I like you back? What if I want to kiss you, too? What if I want to be your Zelda?”
His eyes light up, his lips spreading into an awed smile as he questions, “You do?”
“Yes,” she nods, “I do. I really like you, too. More…More than a princess should like her knight. That’s why I want you to say my name, so you know that—that we’re equal. I’m your Zelda, and you’re…you’re my Link.”
Her Link laughs, bright and happy, and his pink hands come up to cup her pink cheeks. “Can I kiss you?”
“Please,” she begs, and he does, sealing his mouth over hers.
His lips are just as chapped as hers, and they are cold. Hers are, too, and the longer they press together the more her mouth warms against his. Her hands leave his shoulders and she cups his face in her palms, pulling him closer than he already is, and an experimental addition of her tongue has him humming low in his throat, deepening the kiss, one of his hands sliding down to her lower back and the other pushing through her hair as he holds the back of her head—
Zelda drags herself away, lightheaded and giddy, laughing at her Hero of Hyrule’s dumbstruck expression. His fingers are still tangled in her hair, fisting in the cloth of her Rito sweater. Her fingertips dig into his warm cheeks.
“I’m half-frozen,” she manages, panting, “Can I get another hot chocolate and kiss you somewhere warmer?”
Link kisses her again, but this one is chaste, polite, a gentleman’s kiss that she so dearly wishes was like the previous one they just shared. He answers, desperate, “Please. I can’t feel my toes.”
She laughs again, letting him guide her back to solid ground.
—
One hundred years and ten months later, Zelda brings Link to Rito Village on the day of the first snowfall.
May I ask, she had begun after sealing the Calamity, her first real words to him in a century, do you really remember me?
He had looked her up and down before tilting his head, had tentatively replied, Sort of. Only the important bits, from the pictures you left in the slate.
He doesn’t remember what happened there one hundred years and ten months ago, but that’s fine. It is. Really. It’s fine.
Okay, fine, she’s running an experiment: What does it take to trigger one of Link’s memories? Independent variable, the environment he’s in. Dependent variable, whether he remembers something. So what if her first test is the place where they kissed for the first time? It’s not like he doesn’t know what she’s doing, she told him that this was the purpose of their trip, she just told him that she wasn’t allowed to tell him what memory she’s trying to trigger. It would ruin the integrity of the results if he’s already trying to remember a specific event instead of trying to remember anything in general. It makes sense. This makes sense.
She wants to kiss him until she can’t breathe. She misses the feel of his lips on hers, of his heart beating under her palm and his arms around her waist, holding her close. She wants to be selfish, she is being selfish, but she’s allowed. Link is letting her.
“Oh, I’ve been to this, before!” he perks up at the sight of the colorful ribbons streaming down Rito Village’s wooden scaffolding as they materialize at the base of the ‘Wind Puzzle Shrine’. “I thought it was a celebration of Vah Medoh stopping its rampage. Kass showed me his teacher’s song.”
Kass. Zelda’s met him only once, when he was visiting Hateno to update Link on his newest lyrics, and when Zelda had answered his knocks at the door he had nearly fallen over in his shock. Link had invited him inside and explained how she was free and Kass, ever the faithful bard, put a pause on his new song to write one about her hundred year triumph over the Great Calamity.
(Link had asked him to play her his teacher’s song, and was confused at her teary eyes when the familiar notes of the Court Poet’s ballad echoed in the silence.)
Zelda isn’t surprised at the lack of tourists that are attending this version of the festival. It’s been ten months since the Calamity disappeared, but the people of Hyrule are still scared to travel the roads despite their multiple assurances that the kingdom is finally safe. There are a few Hylians here and there, even a Goron, but a majority of the people walking through the stalls are Rito.
She stops Link in front of the hot chocolate vendor. “Do you want some?”
“Sure,” he nods, pulling out his endless wallet from the pockets of his green Rito sweater and requesting, “Two hot chocolates, please. Can you put cinnamon in one?”
“Cinnamon in both,” Zelda corrects, shoving her hands in the pockets of her purple sweater, and the Rito nods, smiling.
“You like cinnamon in yours, too?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.
“Yes,” she nods, smiling, “I didn’t know that you liked it, too.”
“It’s what I remembered when I came through here the first time,” he tells her, thanking the Rito when she hands him their drinks and giving her a red rupee, “It was something that I knew for certain: when ordering hot chocolate, get it with cinnamon.”
Zelda’s smile wavers. There’s…There’s no possibility…
I'm happy I remembered right, he had said a hundred years ago, sheepish as he rubbed the back of his neck, even though they both knew he knew her order by heart, would have it memorized until the day that he died.
He did, in a way. He still has it memorized, apparently, even after he died. Hot chocolate with cinnamon is, for some reason, a memory strong enough to withstand the power of the Shrine of Resurrection.
(She tries not to think about why.)
“Zelda?” Link stares at her, frowning into his first sip of hot chocolate without blowing on it. She wonders how he doesn’t burn his tongue then remembers that time she watched him eat a Rock Roast fresh from the coals when he was waiting to meet up with Yunobo to face Vah Rudania, how even Calamity Ganon took the time to laugh. “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” she says, blowing on her hot chocolate before taking her first sip. It tastes like, Can I kiss you? “Yes, I’m fine. Are you remembering anything, yet?”
“Nope,” he shakes his head. “Just how much I like drinking this.”
She breathes a laugh. “That’s good. Do you want to go ice skating?”
“Ice skating?” he repeats, “What’s that?”
Zelda stares at him. “What do you mean?”
He doesn’t…?
“I mean what’s ice skating?” he asks again. “I’ve never heard of it.”
She drains her hot chocolate and urges him to do the same. “It’s something you taught me when we came here together a hundred years ago. We’re rectifying this immediately.”
—
The pond at the bottom of the village is much smaller, but it’s big enough that they’ll be able to skate. It’s—thankfully—iced over, and Rito children glide across it on the edges of their talons. A blue Rito with an accordion strapped to his chest—Kass, what a coincidence it is to see him here, those must be his children—is standing at the counter where the skates are and watching over them, wingtips mindlessly pressing the keys of his instrument.
“Kass!” Link calls to his friend, waving when his attention is grabbed, “Long time no see!”
“Ah, Link!” The Rito bard waves back, “And Princess Zelda! It’s wonderful to see you both again! Have you come to ice skate?”
(Kass refuses to call Zelda by her name, sticking resolutely to using her title no matter how much she insists he forget it. He explained that calling her ‘Princess’ or ‘Your Highness’ was about honoring the Court Poet that came before him, keeping the legacy of the Royal Bard alive by giving the crown the respect it deserves. She doesn’t have the heart to tell him that the crown doesn’t care about respect anymore, because she’ll never be wearing it.)
“Yep!” Link nods. “Apparently it was something I could do before I lost my memories, Zelda’s gonna remind me how to do it!”
“Oh, that’s wonderful,” Kass reaches under the counter and bestows two pairs of ice skates upon them. They—again, thankfully—haven’t changed in design, are the same simple boot with a thick blade fastened to the bottom with laces to tighten it to the wearer’s foot. “Here you are, free of charge of course.”
“Kass, no,” Link takes out his wallet again, “Please-”
“It’s fine,” Zelda laughs, “Trust me, he’s not going to take any rupees.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure,” Kass nods, shoving the skates in their direction before he calls to his children, “Come off the ice for a moment, let Princess Zelda teach Link how to use his skates! I don’t want them to trip over you!”
The Rito younglings hop off the pond, flapping their way up to sit on the counter in front of their father, all talking at once about their cool tricks and Did you see how fast I went? Huh? Huh?
Zelda changes into her skates, going slow as Link follows her example, and when she stands she’s surprised she still knows how to balance. Link can still balance, too, and she wonders if it’s even possible for him to lose his equilibrium with how many dilapidated ruins he’s climbed and traversed his way through.
“All right,” she steps onto the ice, skating in a small circle to make sure she remembers how to do it before stopping in front of him. She holds out her hands. “Take my hands.”
Link swallows, glancing at her offered fingers. “Why?”
“So you don’t slip and fall,” she explains. “Just because you can stand in your skates doesn’t mean you can walk in them.”
He takes her hands, his touch light as he holds her palms in his fingers. He has more calluses than he did a hundred years ago, the pads of his fingertips all rough, hard skin from months of firing a bow every day, his palms and knuckles riddled with small scars from sword and arrow tips that grazed him in the midst of countless hurried battles for resources. He’s as warm as he was Before, when she was shivering in his arms on this same ice and he was her only source of heat.
“It’s just one step,” she echoes, the ghost of his voice gentle and soothing in her head, “I have you.”
Link steps onto the ice and his foot slips out from under him. He cries out, tilting, but Zelda is quick to catch him, wrapping her arms around his waist and pulling him to her body, leaning back to accommodate for his weight crashing against her front. His arms lock around her, his fingers clenching in the material of her sweater.
“Holy shit,” he pants with a breathy laugh, clinging to her, “I thought I was gonna break my neck.”
“I said I had you,” Zelda smiles, releasing him and letting him adjust to the feeling of standing on thin ice. He slides back from her but keeps an iron grip on her hands. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah,” he nods, though his knees tremble, “I’m just not used to standing on blades instead of using them in a fight. I walked normally on ice a lot during my quest, I know how not to fall, but this is way different.”
“This is what it’s like to walk on ice for everyone else,” she chuckles, shaking her head, “I still can’t believe you’re able to just walk without slipping.”
He shrugs. “I still can’t believe you can’t.”
—
“It’s like walking,” Zelda repeats for the third time, slowly so Link can truly understand what she’s saying, “but instead of pushing your foot back when you step, you push it out to the side, shoving yourself forward.”
She demonstrates again, pushing them both forward, Link staring hard down at her feet as she guides them in a straight line.
“Going backwards is pulling your foot out to the side,” she shows him again, pulling him back in the same straight line, “You have to make sure not to push against the ice too hard, or you’ll fall straight through and freeze. You have to be gentle, but not too gentle, and not too forceful.”
“Perfect,” he whispers, meeting her eyes, “You have to be perfect.”
“I…I suppose,” she whispers back. Their faces haven’t been this close in a hundred years. Will he taste like the hot chocolate they chugged? “The next thing you need to be aware of is how you distribute your weight. Can…Can I touch you?”
The corners of his lips quirk up, and she no longer has the authority to imprison his dimple for its crimes against her racing heart and flushing cheeks. He reminds her, “You already are, aren’t you?”
“I mean,” she swallows, “can I put my hands on your hips?”
The tip of Link’s tongue pokes out, wetting his lips. Is he staring at hers? He nods, and she slides her hands out of his hold to his waist, dragging him down until his knees bend the slightest bit. His hands settle on her shoulders, his thumbs on her collar.
“If you bend your knees you have a better center of gravity,” she tells him, white fog spilling from her tongue and pooling in the dip of his throat, “and a better distribution of your weight, which means balancing on the skates is much easier. If-”
“My face is cold,” he breathes.
“What?” she looks back up at him.
“My face is cold,” he repeats, staring intently at her mouth.
Oh. Well, of course he’s cold, they’ve been out here for a long time and they barely savored their hot chocolate because of how intent she was about teaching him how to do this, of course he wants to take a break-
“We-We can take a break if you need,” Zelda stammers, unable to not pay attention to how he’s looking at her lips, “I know I kind of rushed you through the hot chocolate so it probably didn’t do any warming, I can-”
“No, Zelda,” Link’s eyes are bright with something like recognition. He tells her, “I meant…I meant my lips are cold. Can…Can you help me warm them up?”
What in the Goddess’s name is he-
I…My face is cold.
What?
I-I mean, my-my lips are cold, I-
Link, are you all-
I want to kiss you.
It takes a second to click. When it does, all she can do is stare back at him and repeat, “Your lips are cold.”
I want to kiss you, he had confessed a century ago. I want to kiss you.
“Yeah,” he nods, breathless and eager, “I-I remember what happened here, I-”
“You remember?” she whispers, and at his second nod she questions, “How much do you remember?”
I really like you, Zelda.
His eyes search hers. “I remember teaching you how to skate. I remember you were afraid, and I helped you keep your balance. I remember us being the last ones here, my hands on your waist and your hands on my shoulders. I told you my lips were cold, and I told you how I feel, and then I kissed you.”
“How-” she focuses on the last part of what he said. “You told me how you…feel? Like…Like you feel the same way now?”
He cups her face in his hands, grinning, “Yes. Yes. I’ve loved you from the moment I opened my eyes in the Shrine of Resurrection. You’re my Zelda.”
Tears blur Zelda’s vision, “Link-”
He remembers. He remembers.
“Can I kiss you?” he asks, his eyes flicking to her mouth, “Can I-”
She kisses him like it’s the last thing she’ll ever do. He does, in fact, taste like hot chocolate.
“Finally!” Kass’s voice breaks them apart, and the Rito bard is smiling so wide, his wingtips flying across the keys of his accordion, “Oh, my next song is going to be fantastic, I can’t believe I was here to witness it! Teba owes me fifty rupees!”
Zelda…totally forgot he was there. Link looks equally bewildered, blinking at his friend.
“Daddy?” One of the Rito children taps Kass on the knee, “Why did they smush their flesh beaks together like that? Are they trying to eat each other?”
Oh, Goddesses, she just kissed Link in front of Kass’s children-
“Well, Kheel,” Kass clears his throat, playing his accordion in a slow melody, “you know how your mother and I brush feathers to show our affection? When two Hylians love each other very much-”
Link throws his head back and laughs, the sound booming in the silence of the snow, his shoulders shaking as Zelda buries her burning face in his chest.