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The princess of Hyrule and her knight had a game they liked to play.
They started some time after she had begrudgingly warmed to him. After the nights of whispered conversations by campfires and sobbed apologies that would follow nightmares. After he had saved her life from the Yiga. Zelda had already revealed her vulnerability to him, and he was the first person she had ever truly done that with.
So she really was being quite awful, when she started the game.
The game was one of tension. It would begin when Link went quiet, which was often. If she deemed his silence unacceptable, or infuriating, or whatever it was that made her flip the switch, she would abruptly go silent as well.
Often, Link didn’t even realize they were playing until it had been minutes since the princess last spoke. This was the case the very first time she started the game, as they were having tea in the castle gardens.
He had accompanied her there, as he did everywhere. Not so long ago, she would have snapped at him and begged him to leave her alone.
Instead, they took tea together amicably, seated across from one another in the temperate spring air. Sunlight filtered through the trees casting shifting shadows on their faces. Birds chattered sweetly among the branches. Bees buzzed among flowers.
They had been discussing dance.
“I am simply saying, one would always find a party much more agreeable if the dance floor is readily occupied,” she gestured with the book she’d been reading, a thumb holding her place. “And one is ten times as likely to dance if they know the routine— and, what is expected to happen around them.”
Link furrowed his brow and smirked at her. He had been reading a court etiquette book, one Impa had suggested he read (from a place of judgement, he was sure). He’d come to a certain page and had muttered to Zelda, without thinking much of it, that court dancing wasn’t real dancing.
He responded to her. “You keep saying ‘one’ like it means everyone. I think you’re talking about you, princess,” he said, in his scratchy but velvet way.
She scoffed like he was an idiot. She loved doing that. “Any sane woman I know wouldn’t dare set foot in a ballroom without preparing at least a dozen dances,” the pages of her book flapped with her gestures. “The men spend hours learning steps so they might look worthy of their chosen partner on the dance floor. It’s beautiful!” she insisted.
Her knight considered this, sipping his tea. Then, lowly, “Maybe you find it beautiful, but it’s not real dancing,” he stated once again.
She set her book on the table, exasperated. “Really?” she put a lilt in her voice and pitched it higher, clasping her hands together like a smitten fool. She was making fun of him now. “Please, Sir Link, enlighten me, then. What is real dancing?”
He pulled his brows together in irritation. She was getting to him. He set his tea down, leaning back thoughtfully. “Have you ever seen the Gerudo dance?”
“Of course, I danced with many vai at the last fall equinox alone.”
“Yeah, here, in the castle ballroom. That was court dancing.”
“Yes?”
“They dance differently when they’re the ones throwing the party.”
Zelda breathed out and smiled coyly. “I would imagine so,” she conceded. “And, pray, what is it in their distinctive style of dance that appeals to you so, that you would deem it ‘real’?” She blinked innocently at him.
Link snorted quietly. He thought. “They don’t line up or memorize the dances,” even when he spoke with confidence, he spoke softly. “The music is different, too.” He gestured with his hands as he often did when searching for the right words. “It’s… sweaty.”
“Sweaty?” The princess laughed and cocked an eyebrow. “As in, they dance with more…vigor? Exertion?”
Link looked at her like that’s not what he meant, but as he considered her words, he shrugged and nodded.
Well that won’t do. She needed to keep hearing his voice. She needed him to keep pushing back while she made fun of him. It’s the only thing that kept that light, floaty feeling from slipping away.
“So, you’ve done this, then? You’ve… danced with Gerudo vai, when they’ve thrown the party?” she asked. The breeze let a strand of pale hair loose across her face.
Sir Link saw right through the innocent look she was pulling and glared at her. That was okay, it could be part of the game.
He nodded at her, revealing nothing.
“Well,” she embellished how impressed she sounded. “Please, spare no details,” she gestured to her glaring knight.
He let out a single chuckle, the corner of his mouth turning up just as he looked away from her to hide it. He narrowed his eyes and shook his head when he looked back at her.
“You won’t tell me,” she said flatly. He grinned cheekily. He was toying with her. She saw red.
He returned to his book, his body language pointedly casual. He spread his legs boyishly as he slumped.
He thought he’d won, but her game hadn’t even started yet.
Just as he seemed comfortable to return to silence, she spoke breezily, as if it were an after thought.
“Regretful. I was beside myself to hear my knight describe exactly what makes him sweat,” she tutted to herself, returning to her book as well.
As the moments ticked on she could feel him looking at her, but she fixed her face to hide any reaction. She finished a whole page and she could still feel the burn of his eyes on her cheek.
The princess made a show of rolling her eyes and finally looking over to him. The look he gave her was enough to make her stomach drop.
The game had begun.
She let out a tiny breath of a giggle at the blatant lust in his gaze. That was part of the game. You could say anything you wanted with your eyes, as long as you didn’t say it out loud.
But whatever you did, you could not break the tension. In fact, you should ratchet it up and up and up, until your opponent breaks.
Zelda returned to her book nonchalantly, her nose in the air. This wasn’t a game her knight would win.
Holding her book in one hand, she pulled her other hand through her pale blonde hair, releasing the length from behind her. The faint musk of her perfume and the floral scent of her shampoo carried in the breeze.
She made a show of taking a deep breath in, her breasts straining against her corset, before letting it out calmly, and flicking her long hair behind her chair.
She waited a moment to risk a glance his way. His eyes were full of fire. She hadn’t seen that face on him since he stood between her body and the Yiga clan. She wasn't sure it was a good thing when his fury made her flush.
This time, however, when she caught him glaring he looked a little embarrassed. He glanced away quickly, his jaw clenching visibly, and pretended to read his dumb etiquette book.
Oh he was bad at this game.
As she read her book innocuously, she could feel him glancing up at her. He was probably waiting for her to carry on the conversation, to argue with him, or even change the subject to continue their chatter. Anything to break the tension.
She did not. She remained as silent as he. How did he like it?!
Link tapped his foot a few times, a soft sound in the grass. He sat up and adjusted his tunic. He turned the page of his book as if he were actually reading it. He was antsy. She loved it.
He set his book down and picked up the kettle to pour them both another cup of tea, filling hers first, as always. He busied himself fixing up a biscuit.
Do not stare at his hands, Zelda thought to herself. Do not watch his hands while he-
It was too late, she was already looking. She ogled the tendons in his hands that flexed as he gently but firmly pulled his biscuit in half with his fingers. His nails were always cut short and a bit messy. Oh Hylia, she found the shape of his nail beds alluring. He picked up a butter knife and twirled it in his fingers a few times, chewing his lip as he decided between jams.
He spread apple jam on his biscuit and ate an entire half in two bites. Zelda tore her eyes away when he caught her staring at his index finger in his mouth. She could see his smirk creep across his face as he chewed, even just in her periphery.
Shit. She had be patient to win.
He finished eating and drank tea loudly, as he often did.
He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest and looking at her with an expression that was both challenging and amused. The air between them crackled like a hot storm was coming.
She primly went back to her book, hiding her smile. She prayed she wasn’t blushing.
The trees shifted, shadows passing back and forth. The sun had moved so it was shining a ray at the crown of Zelda’s head, a warm and heavenly halo.
She tried to remain focused on her book, her heart pounding in her chest. Every now and then, she would cast a glance his way, and find him already looking at her.
Time to up the tension.
Shifting her posture, Zelda crossed one leg elegantly over the other. She sighed a quiet, contented sigh, and brought one slender hand to her thigh. She wore a corseted dress in pale blue with skirts of lavender and cream.
She pretended to absent-mindedly fiddle with the details of her skirt as she read her book. She shifted, uncrossing and crossing her legs again, and as she adjusted, she drug her skirt up her thigh just slightly, exposing her ankle and calf.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Link’s head turn just slightly, following her movement. The sheepish look made his shaggy hair cover his eyebrows.
She ached to look over and catch him looking again, but she had to retain her elusive air.
He fidgeted. He tapped a foot, passed his arm across his nose and mouth, tapped his foot again. He sat up and hunched forward to lean his elbows on his knees. He looked at her expectantly.
Zelda slowly slid her gaze towards him, her book still held up to her face. His eyes pleaded, Please say something.
She placed her book down, biting back a smile, and uncrossed her legs to face him. She remained silent, her serene expression seemed to ask, What was that, Sir Link? She raised an eyebrow in innocent question.
Link glared at her. She didn’t realize she was chewing her lip until he looked down at it and she released it with a tiny pop. He stared at her bitten lip for too long before bringing his hardened stare back up to hers.
When he finally spoke, his voice was gravelly with misuse.
“Is this some kind of game?” He sounded like he wasn’t surprised she’d do this. There was equal parts caution and intimidation in his voice, like he was sizing up a sparring partner.
Zelda smiled sweetly. He didn’t understand that one of the rules was that the rules would remain unspoken. He’d catch on.
She stood from the tea table, smoothing her skirts. He stood abruptly as well, on edge. She crossed into his personal space, close enough to hear his breath, close enough to touch him if she wanted- but she only spoke, ducking her head to blink at him through her lashes.
“You just lost, Sir Link.”
She strolled merrily through the gardens, back to the castle with her book clasped in both hands behind her back.
It took a little longer than usual to hear Link’s footsteps in the grass following behind her.
The next time they played the game was only a fortnight later. They were traveling, just the two of them on horseback, returning from the Spring of Power in Akkala. They had set up camp in the plains somewhere between Eldin canyon and the wetlands.
Their horses drank from the river as the sun slipped past the horizon, the first stars just starting to shine in the fading periwinkle sky.
Link sat by the cooking pot, tasting the soup he was working on, adding herbs and salt and Goron spice with care. He was quiet as he cooked. It had been a rough time at the spring.
Zelda watched him from her spot by the fire, the flickering light casting shadows across his focused face. She stretched her legs on the plush quilt he had spread on the grass for her.
She had long stopped crying and feeling sorry for herself, but she still felt fragile. She hoped he would forgive her, then, for bringing up a subject she knew would make him squirm.
“Sir Link,” she caught his attention from over the cooking pot. He hummed in response, adding something to the soup. She swallowed. “Tell me about when you danced with the Gerudo?”
She said it so softly she wasn’t sure he’d heard, as he continued tending to their dinner. He glanced over at her a few times as he tasted it. He nodded to himself and she wasn’t sure if it was because he deemed the soup done or if he was saying yes to her question.
He fixed them some bowls and sat beside her on the quilt. She moved over just a little so he wouldn’t feel like she was crowding him. Her bowl was warm in her hands.
After staring at his soup for a moment, he set it down between his legs. She thought he had completely ignored her request, but finally, he answered.
“I’ve been in troupes sent there a few times. When victorious, their celebrations often end in late parties,” he said kindly. He was being soft with her because she cried in front of him and the goddess earlier. It embarrassed her that he pitied her.
She ate some of her soup, humming in delight at the perfect balance of sweet, spicy and salty. He was perfect and it was driving her crazy- she needed to break him down and reveal the squirming boy beneath.
“Do they dance in partners?” she asked.
He thought and ate his soup. “Sometimes, but it's not structured like court dances. It's more... free. The partners change. It's about feeling together. Instead of…”
“Apart?”
He paused, a faint blush creeping up his neck. He coughed slightly before continuing, "It's... it's almost... sensual, in a way," he muttered, avoiding her gaze. "The closeness, the... energy. It's different from court dances."
She was surprised he was saying so much. It was rare she was rewarded with this much conversation. He really must have felt bad for her today. Her mind was flooded with thoughts of a sweat-shining Link, hair tied up messily and face red with drink, holding his half naked body to hers, moving to a pounding beat.
She narrowed her eyes at him, trying to silence her brain. "Sensual, really?" she prodded, watching him squirm. "My. It seems my knight surprises me. And here I thought you were all work and no play."
Link looked at her, his cheeks turning red. "Not all play is frivolous, princess," he countered, a spark of defiance in his eyes. "Dance and sensuality are… good skills."
Zelda lifted her brows, nodding as if to show she could not argue with that. “Hmm. Yet I’ve never seen your possession of these skills put to use.”
He barked a laugh like he couldn’t believe she was taking it this far. He stared adorable daggers at her. “Sure you have.”
“Ah yes, I almost forgot the time you danced against the Yiga in my defense.”
Something like pain flashed across his face but he tempered it. It slowly turned to wickedness, his eyes alight with flame. The campfire crackled.
“Dancing is not so different from fighting.”
“Yes, I’ve seen the way you boys pace shirtless around the training fields, flirting with one another.”
He glowered and her laugh was like rain on a frozen lake, sweet and beautiful, jarring and guarded.
He shook his head in disbelief of her. His mouth didn’t smile at all but his eyes kept burning her, something like an evil grin hiding in the corners there.
“You stare at me,” he said, like a statement and not an accusation.
Her cheeks and ears burned and she hated and loved the feeling. She didn’t want him to stop talking. He was so close to her, she could smell river water and spicy carrot soup and him.
She hid her bashful smile. “It is part of my weekly regime to review the guard,” she said in weak defense. She had to be more confident or the game would never start! “Besides, being a princess doesn’t afford me those luxuries. It is envy you see when I stare,” she said.
He was curious. “What luxuries, fighting?”
“Yes. And getting to watch men fight. Or watch men be men in general. I feel quite deprived of that in my life to be honest,” she let out the words in a rush with a nervous giggle. Why had she said that?
“You… want to watch men?” At least it was keeping him talking.
“Desperately so,” she admitted, locking eyes with him.
He didn’t look like he pitied her anymore. “You don’t want to watch women?”
“On the contrary, I adore watching women,” she explained. “I watch my beautiful ladies-in-waiting flurry about perfectly all around me each morning. I watch my fellow noblewomen of the court at garden parties, done up to pristine fashion. I watch the Sheikah women create and fight in ways men could never imagine and sigh longingly,” she giggled.
Link nodded like she wasn’t a raving madman. She needed to thank him properly sometime for always doing that.
“I’ve had quite my fill of rose perfumes, perfectly manicured nails and whispered gossip,” she shrugged and looked into the fire. It was weird to say, because she didn’t think those were the things that made a woman- she didn’t really see herself among the courtiers or the soldiers in the barracks, and she was a woman. But it was how she felt.
She glanced over to Link. He startled just a little when she did, as if he wasn’t expecting her to acknowledge he was still there.
She waited for him to speak.
He said nothing. He looked back to the fire.
Zelda simmered. “So I admit, sometimes I am taken aback by the deliciously masculine display at the training grounds when I do my…routine checks.”
He nodded, ear twitching. He still looked at the fire.
Fine, if he would have it that way, she would play.
“And…” her voice was syrupy. “More often than not, the training grounds find my favorite knight in many… masculine positions,” she flicked doe eyes over to him before landing the killing blow. “And I simply can’t tear my eyes from him.”
She sighed and looked into the fire, relaxing her body language to tell him she was perfectly collected. Her heart hammered in betrayal.
He was blushing, she knew it. He shifted around on the quilt. He struggled to stay rigid.
But he said nothing, so the game was on.
She side eyed him openly, daring him to say anything. He was looking from the fire to her, picking at his nails. When he noticed her looking at his hands, he stopped, and ran a hand through his bangs, the under layers a little damp with sweat.
It was a warm summer evening, and sitting by the fire was making her hot. Surely those were the only reasons. She thanked Din for her blessed heat that provided ample excuse for the princess to misbehave.
She was clad in riding pants and one of Link's tunics, which he had bundled her in after pulling her from the spring. Underneath, she wore a thin, white linen shirt with fluttered short sleeves and little buttons at the neck. It wasn’t a scandalous look, by any means, but as Link’s eyes followed her hands to the ties at the front of her tunic, she knew removing the top layer would have the same effect.
She got it undone and started shucking it off. Link tore his eyes away. She swore she heard some kind of grunt pass his lips. Was he embarrassed? Annoyed? Moved? It was always so hard to tell, and that’s why the game had to be played.
She wore nothing beneath her shirt, and though it’s shapelessness offered no lewd view of her, she knew the glow and shadow of the firelight provided a peek at her silhouette through the thin cotton.
She lay back against the quilt to face the stars. Her shirt rode up a little, revealing her midriff. She hoped it was appealing. She hoped he wanted to bite it.
The fire popped and crackled and frogs croaked merrily in the river. Crickets spoke to one another. She wondered if Link was even paying attention to her.
Just as she thought of him, he shifted at her side. She heard him rustle around for a moment before he lay down beside her, closer than he was before, removing the distance she’d placed between them.
She felt warm, bare skin on her arm and it took everything in her not to leap back in shock. He had taken his riding jackets off, exposing his arms and biceps to her. She stared in disbelief at his arm hair brushing against her.
Steadying her breath, she looked at the stars with him. She sat up abruptly and he followed, eyeing her as if he was afraid he’d done something wrong. She reached down to pull off her boots and returned to her back, wiggling her toes at the fire.
Link hesitated, then to her surprise, pulled his boots off as well. He threw them to the side and adjusted to lay against her again. She loved the little breaths of noise he made while moving around.
They stared at the stars together, the butterflies in her stomach trying to make a break for it. Escalate the game, she lectured herself. Don’t let him win!
She scooted her socked foot closer. The side of her foot brushed his. He tensed. She prayed to the stars for strength, then, with great intention, she stroked the top of her foot against the arch of his.
He sucked in a breath. She wouldn’t count that as losing, she supposed. She flexed her toes against his, circling against his foot. The sound of their socks rubbing together endeared her.
Did he think she was weird?
He wasn’t moving away.
His foot twitched at first, then leaned into hers. It felt like snuggling.
She sensed movement at her side. He was wiggling the hand of the arm against her, trapped between them. When he finally freed it, he found her fingers.
Her breath caught in her throat when he curled his pinky gingerly in hers.
“O-oh,” she sputtered quietly, unconsciously. She slapped her outside hand to her mouth when she realized what she’d done.
Link lifted up beside her. She wanted to smack the smug grin off his face.
He leaned in and she tensed up. Was he going to kiss her?
He spoke lowly to the point of her ear. “I win, princess.”
His body heat was gone suddenly, leaving her in a pool of shame she tried to convince herself wasn’t pleasure.
Things were getting out of hand. Her knight continued to easily best her, even when they weren’t playing directly.
During her routine checks of the guard, he put on shows for her until she’d have to leave, flustered and red.
When he pulled his shirt off with one hand by the back of the neck, using it to scrub the sweat from his face, she tried to disguise her labored breath. He talked loudly and brusquely with the men he fought with, laughing and snarking in a way he didn’t with her. Impa worried for her health.
She felt they were very good at convincing people around them they were just friends. No romantic interest whatsoever.
She thought it probably helped that she obsessed over every detail of himself he revealed to her and brought it up in conversation with anyone who would listen.
It probably helped that she only laughed when he was around.
It probably helped that he spent his days off at her side, handing her fresh ink just as she’d run out, sneaking hot chocolate to her room at midnight, pulling his coat around her on their strolls as the days grew cooler.
These were the things friends did! She had the utmost confidence that not a single castle dweller had caught on to their little game.
Her ladies-in-waiting exchanged glances.
By winter solstice, and nearly her twenty-first birthday, she was fraying at the edges. She had never felt so mindless and distracted, yet so creatively inspired and eager to live her life. Every morning was an exciting prospect. What would her knight surprise her with today?
She had grown weak.
She prepared for the solstice ball. She feared a detrimental loss, knowing just how fetching he was in his royal guard uniform, so she procured an equally devastating dress of the softest velvet in navy blue, lined with delicate furs.
They danced. He was a confident but unserious dancer. He joked with her when they faced each other, and held her gaze when he was meant to turn with other partners.
He took any chance he could to smooth his hands across the soft fuzzy fabric of her back as they crossed. He was obsessed with the feel. She loved it. He held her, warm through her corset at her belly when he stood behind her.
When the music stopped he fidgeted with the soft furs at her wrists and stared in her eyes for too long.
“I was wrong about court dancing,” he said gravely. She didn’t realize how close they were until she felt the rumble of his voice in his chest.
She pulled away and glanced at the dance floor of couples. Nobody was looking at them.
“Steal us a drink and come find me in my study,” she commanded. He obliged.
Her study was warm from the little furnace. Miscellaneous mechanical parts were strewn about her desk and floor. Plants grew wild along the ceiling. Propagation cuttings lined the windowsills, growing roots in their little vases of water.
Link stepped in with hesitation. Zelda had never let him in here before.
She was kicking a pile of gears under her desk, embarrassed. She thought this would be a safe spot to hide, but didn’t consider how she’d feel with Link’s eyes on her messy workspace.
He set the open bottle of wine he’d stolen on her desk. She swigged from it nervously as he looked around her study.
From the chaos of her bookshelves, he found something of interest to him- a pair of her reading glasses she used for late nights when her vision tired. He inspected them between two fingers and smiled at her.
She rolled her eyes at him and hid her blush. Her dress went swish as she lit candles around the room.
He put her glasses back in their place. She appreciated how respectful he was of her things.
They sat in her big armchairs facing the hearth and passed the bottle of wine back and forth.
When he spoke, his voice was like the buttery smooth curry he liked to make her.
“Princess, can you explain the game to me?” His eyes plead with hers in the candlelight.
She grinned devilishly over her wine. Her voice was airy and light. “One of the rules is that you may not talk about the rules.”
“…but you just did.”
“Yes, but you did first, I was following suit.”
He snorted. “It hardly seems fair, for me to play a game I don’t know the rules of.”
“You know when you’ve won, though,” she pointed out.
He glared. “Then who won tonight?”
“Oh, were we playing?” she chirped sweetly.
“You tell me.” Oh, he was fun.
She breathed in through her nose audibly. “I hadn’t thought of it,” she exhaled and drank.
He squinted. “You’re telling me you wore that dress… and you hadn’t thought of it?”
“What, you don’t like my dress?” She smoothed the front of it cheekily.
His eyes flashed to her exposed collarbone and shoulders, down the line of her long regal sleeve, to her hand tapping against her wine glass. He met her gaze. Heat pooled between her thighs.
“You knew I would like it,” he uttered softly. He was suddenly shy about it, looking at the floor.
Her laugh was close mouthed and warm, she felt the wine loosening her. She breathed against her corset, secretly wishing she could change into her nightdress.
“Then I suppose I am the winner, this time,” she shrugged and drank.
“So that’s how you win?” He removed his cap and messed up his hair in frustration. “Torture the other endlessly until they admit it?”
“Admit what, exactly?”
He flared his nostrils at her. He was exasperated.
He went silent, so she did too. She kept grinning around her wine glass. The furnace’s ambient roar was the only sound, but Zelda’s ears were ringing with the pounding of her heart.
They held each others stares.
His eyes said, This isn’t fair.
She cocked her chin and blinked. Then say something about it.
Sandy brows came together in frustration. Then I lose.
She leaned back and held her wine glass like a queen.
Yes, but won’t it be worth it? She grinned with all her teeth.
Suddenly, he darted out to grab her empty hand. She nearly lost the game by letting out a gasp in surprise.
He pulled her arm roughly towards him, making her bend forward slightly in her chair. She almost spilled her wine.
His hands were warm and soft and tough and all the good things about him in one. He kept her gaze and slowly brought her hand to his face. Her fur-trim sleeve fell to her elbow.
He skirted up and pressed his mouth to the soft, tender flesh of her wrist. It felt like she had been split open. It felt like he was kissing somewhere incredibly intimate. She drowned in the longing blue of his gaze. The candlelight told stories in it. Her fingers curled around the point of his ear.
He held his lips there long enough to breathe her perfume in and exhale through his nose, his breath tickling her forearm and inner elbow. A shiver zipped up her spine.
She watched him, the softness in his eyes in opposition with the firmness of his grip. Her breath hitched when he finally released her, throwing her hand back to her with the same playful aggressiveness.
Her eyes said, You dare touch your princess this way?
He grinned and tried not to make a sound when she kicked at his shin. He flinched away from her. She kept kicking so he grabbed her ankle, but she wiggled it free. He held up defensive hands to his shins and she kicked at them. She spilled wine on her dress.
She stopped and he softened, grinning cheekily, lowering his defenses. She faked like she was going to kick again and he flinched dramatically.
She couldn’t help it- it was tumbling out of her before she could stop it- it was the wine- a laugh like a waterfall.
But he didn’t call her on it. He didn’t even declare her the loser. He just grinned at her sound, then from low in his gut, laughed along with her.
Link paced in front of the princess’ room, trying to build the confidence to go inside and ask what he so desperately needed to ask. As soon as he would convince himself it wasn’t appropriate of him, his brain would betray him and show him flashes of her displays of desire.
He had to. He couldn’t take it anymore.
He pushed open the door abruptly. “Do you want me to talk or not?”
She jumped. She was sat at her bedroom desk, smaller than the one in her study, hunched over a book she was scribbling in the margins of. Her hair was tied messily on top of her head and she was wearing her nightdress with a silk robe over it. Her glasses made her eyes look bigger.
Link flushed. He felt horrible for barging in her room when she was in a state of undress. His previous determination was gone.
“I- I apologize,” he said stammered softly. “I’ll go-“
“No!” Princess Zelda lurched forward as if to grab him, then fixed her face. “I mean, please, come in Sir Link. I would love to talk. I do apologize for my wardrobe. I’ve been quite distracted.”
She motioned for him to sit in the chair beside her desk while she returned to her book. Link looked on with interest.
He tried not to glance up at her exposed neck and pointed ear, framed beautifully by the strands of pale hair her top knot had lost hold of. She was frizzy and undone in a way he’d never seen her.
“What are you reading?” he asked.
“Phonological Rule and Language Comprehension.” Like it was nothing. His heart clenched. “I see myself learning all the diverse languages of Hyrule one day. It’s a lofty sort of dream of mine. This new text has enraptured me.”
Her brow was creased behind her glasses. She hadn’t even tightened up her robe to cover herself. She was really busy. He definitely should go-
“Please, sir knight,” she said, holding a hand up to halt his half turned body as she finished a last scribble in the margin. She sighed and closed the book, pushing her messy stray hairs from her face. “My apologies, I had to finish a thought!” She turned her focus to him, removing her glasses.
“You wear glasses?” He had been curious about them since he saw them in her study.
“Sometimes I wear them at night, when my vision goes blurry from lack of sleep.”
“It’s after noon, princess,” he looked concerned.
She waved her hand dismissively. “What did you ask, Sir Link? What did you wish to talk about?”
Link had momentarily forgotten what he had burst through her door saying. All the confidence he’d built up on the training yard and in the showers suddenly vanished. Her games had been driving him crazy. He desperately needed answers.
It had become nearly unbearable since winter solstice. He could hardly look at her for fear of his heart falling to his stomach. Everything she did left him puzzled and excited and yearning.
She knew it, too. That’s how she always started the game. She would puzzle and excite and yearn for him openly until his brain felt like fried eggs and he couldn’t speak.
But not speaking made it worse- that’s when she would stare at him, her eyes admitting filthy things to him. Was he supposed to pretend he couldn’t hear what they were saying?!
From what he could gather, the game always ended when someone spoke. Whoever spoke was the loser, even if it was just a sound. It was a game of tension, he could tell, and it did please some carnal part of him that wanted to see her writhe beneath his grip- but it didn’t make any sense. Did she want him to talk or did she want to see him silent?
He blinked at his disheveled, beautiful best friend in front of him and felt completely foolish for bringing it up at all. He liked the game. He loved the game in fact.
Then he thought about every night he had gone back to his quarters, almost feverish and sick with want for her, alone and fearing the future.
“Is the game a way to get me to stop talking?”
Princess Zelda startled. She suddenly looked down at herself and tied her robe. She crossed her arms across her breasts like she was self conscious.
“Absolutely not, my knight,” her voice was tired from lack of sleep. She never dropped his proper title. It made his toes curl.
“But… the winner can’t speak.”
She sighed, pacing her bedroom. She was torn to give up her rule of not talking about rules. She was barefoot. He’d never seen her feet before.
She finally turned to him and resigned a little. “The game is based on a foundation of trying to get you to push back,” she said weakly. “To talk back.”
“You say things to make me stupid on purpose, though.”
She seemed to be pleased by his choice of words. He tried not to look at the shoulder of her robe slipping.
“I do enjoy riling you up, I admit,” her lips curled in a coy smile. He struggled to keep his breathing steady. “But never with the intention of missing out on your gorgeous timbre.”
“My what?”
“Your voice, my knight.”
“Oh,” he rubbed the back of his neck.
“It is truly my favorite instrument,” she cooed.
His cheeks and ears went pink. “Then… why do I lose if I speak?”
“Well…” Princess Zelda chewed her lip. “I wanted you to feel how I felt, when you would go silent on me. I wanted you to know how it felt to simmer in the tension and have to be the one to break it.”
His brain went stupid. It was storming in his heart.
“So… really, it is a punishment. You’re punishing me?” He asked, pacing toward her dangerously. Her eyes widened like prey that was too late to escape.
“I… I… I don’t know,” she backed away from him as he approached.
He pursued her until she ran out of space and she bumped into her dresser with her back, rattling the drawers.
He loved when she looked like this. Wound up by what he might do, delighted at his shattered brain, titillated at his lapse in stoicism. He thought he understood the game now.
She should be careful who she played with.
He placed a hand on the dresser just to the side of her face, caging her in. She was just slightly taller than him, but she shrank beneath his gaze. She blinked at him innocently, that secret smile still tugging at the corners of her lips.
“To what end, princess?” he asked, his voice wrecked.
She kept opening and closing her mouth in frustration. “I don’t… there was no goal other than to see you…”
Link’s hand balled into a fist against the dresser. “See me what?”
“…break,” Zelda bit her lip and looked sheepish.
He studied her widened eyes, the pillow of her bottom lip between her teeth, her chest heaving in labored breath. He knitted his brow and tried to regain his composure.
He pulled his hand from the dresser. Boldly, before he could consider what he was doing, he brought his hand to caress Zelda’s cheek. Her face was warm and heavenly soft. She sighed, her eyes fluttering shut. His heart fell to his gut.
“You’ve won,” he choked out. He held her face for a moment longer. Whatever she saw in his expression when she opened her eyes made her cheeks and ears flush red.
“Kiss me,” she breathed. His head spun. A bewildered noise left his lips unchecked.
He pressed his forehead to hers to stop himself. “You’re in your nightdress,” he muttered.
“Do you like it?” Her voice was wanton.
Din! Nayru! Farore! Someone strike him down- he was right next to her bed and her body was on display. Holy light emanated from her skin, it was so beautiful he couldn’t dare look. Would she let her father throw him in the dungeons if they were found like this?
“Princess, please,” he begged. He didn’t know for what.
She kept up her innocent act. She was trying to grind his brain into mush. “What is it you wish for, my knight?”
“Please don’t stop calling me that,” he sounded like a fool. She reached down to place a regal hand on his belt. His blood screamed.
“Calling you what, my knight?” She pulled on his belt a little.
“Yours,” he admitted, squeezing his eyes shut.
He shook his head back and forth against hers. He knew he had to leave. He was supposed to be guarding her door, someone may come looking for him. And he was dangerously close to doing something he couldn’t undo.
With every ounce of strength in his body he tore himself from her.
As he was about to open her chamber door, he looked back. She was red in her cheeks and on splotches on her chest, where she held her hands to her heart.
She looked at him like he had just confessed to something grave. Maybe he had.
The chill of late winter bloomed into spring. The threat of Calamity was looming, though, so it did not feel like a time of rebirth and renewal.
It felt as though they were marching toward their own graves.
She traveled with Link, visiting the springs once again, paying her respects to Hylia, begging and begging and begging. No one answered.
They were huddled in a cave, rain and thunder making a ruckus outside, but inside, Link had made a heavenly oasis for them. He spread Rito down blankets on the ground for her and lit a roaring fire. He brewed warm safflina tea with milk and honey.
She had a passing thought that it might be nice if the Calamity happened now, and they could just wait here for all of Hyrule to fall. They would stay here, snuggled in this cave, and avoid whatever terrible fate she was dooming them to. For as long as they could, at least.
Her stomach flipped at the thought. She was a horrible princess.
He sat next to her, pulling a fur blanket around their shoulders. He scooted close and pressed the side of his arm and thigh to hers, blowing on his tea. His proximity was intoxicating, the familiar scent of him mixing with the damp earthiness of the cave.
She couldn’t stop thinking about how she was going to fail everyone, so she leaned into him, her head finding a resting place on his shoulder, their fingers accidentally brushing under the blanket. No one minded.
When he spoke, she felt his low voice vibrate against her arm.
“May I ask something?”
“Permission has never stopped you before.”
He chuckled. Hylia, please don’t ever take his laugh from me.
He drank his tea loudly, then asked, “What would you be… if we weren’t us?”
Zelda thought. The tea warmed her from the inside. Link warmed her from the outside. She hadn’t felt this content in months.
“Bored,” she said frankly. He laughed again. She smiled cheekily. “Hmm. I like to think I would be a sort of traveling scholar, roaming the lands, studying creatures and people, using my findings to help people when I could,” she mused. She glanced at him in the firelight.
His gaze melted her propriety. Something about the way he looked at her made her feel like the goddess incarnate and just a regular girl at the same time.
“You’d be good at that,” he nodded.
“And you, my knight?” He made a pleased sound in his throat at the lack of title. It had become a sort of pet name for him, despite it just being true.
“I would train horses,” he said. He nuzzled his head against hers. “And I would fix things for people. And… I would follow you around Hyrule, helping you reach mushrooms on cliffs and making sure you sleep enough.”
“Truly?” She felt like she was floating from the ground, surely her head would hit the ceiling of the cave soon. “You would… choose to be with me, even without the sword?” She tried to sound casual but every word came out breathless and small.
He pulled away to look at her with the burning intensity he always did, but there was something softer in those blue eyes the last few months. His voice was weighted.
“Every time.” He said it like a promise.
Her stomach flipped over and over. Her eyes went to his lips, inches from her face, gentle and inviting. She wanted to kiss him so desperately, but all the bravado she’d built up around her suddenly dissolved with his confession.
He noticed her hesitation and pulled back further, knitting his brows together.
“Sorry, is that… bad?” he asked.
It took her a moment to realize that he was referring to his confession about wanting to be with her, independent of any duty-bound obligation, not the kiss she was vividly imagining.
“No! No not at all, I- I apologize for hesitating-“ she stammered. She sighed, bringing her hand to her face to hide her blush. “You just… you say things to make me stupid,” she laughed, borrowing his words from the day he barged into her room.
His laugh turned into a groan at the ceiling of the cave. “I… apologize for my actions that day. I never should have opened your chamber door unannounced. That was wrong of me. So was my… behavior,” his voice was low with reverence.
She smiled and shook her head. “It was my fault. I didn’t consider how affected you might be by my teasing,” she finished her tea, setting the empty cup down by his.
He smirked at her, his blush still tinging the tips of his ears. “I thought that was the whole point?”
“I didn’t know it would bring you such agony,” she admitted. “I didn’t mean to be cruel.”
A breath through his nose like a laugh. “Your form of cruelty is…” he bowed his head so his hair covered his eyes. “…welcome.”
Her heart pounded. “Oh? Might I ask,” her breathless tone exposed her jittery heart. She was resorting to her old standby of cheeky wordplay to regain her confidence. “Which part of my unintended cruelty is your… favorite?”
He looked at her, shaking his head like he always did when he couldn’t believe she was making him say it out loud. She held back her growing grin.
He rubbed his cheek, eyes cast downward. “When you look at me,” he said thickly to the knee of his trousers. “And you see me, not the sword, or the oath. When you look at me like I’m the only person in all of Hyrule.”
“You are,” she said honestly.
He gave her that look again, the one that almost looked furious. The one he pulled when he defended her from the Yiga. She thought now, as she analyzed his crumpled forehead and intense frown, that perhaps it wasn’t fury at all.
It was fear that he might lose her.
She kept talking. Talking was the only thing that kept her from throwing herself at him, or running from the mouth of the cave altogether.
“And… what part is your least favorite?” she asked.
He laughed darkly. He scrubbed through his hair, then adjusted the blanket tighter around them, making sure her shoulders were covered. “That’s easy,” he said.
“What is it, then?”
“…the nights.”
“What do you mean?”
He glared. “You know what I mean.”
“Do I?”
His nostrils flared. He exhaled sharply. “You wind me up like a top! You know you do it, you said you did,” he pointed a finger at her when she feigned shock. He tried to play frustrated but her smile was infectious and he had caught it. “Then you send me home to spin out on my own.”
She felt guilty, yet delighted, at the thought of him longing for her. Making him flustered was restoring her confidence.
“I relate,” she said haughtily.
He raised an eyebrow in interest. “What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean.” She challenged, throwing his own words back at him.
“No I don’t,” he rubbed a hand over his face. “In fact I’m petrified that we might be thinking different things.”
She wanted to soothe his worries, but the words were so hard to spit out. How could she admit to him the sinful things she thought of him in the night? Some of them would downright scare him. She fiddled with the fur of the blanket.
“At night when I lay awake,” her voice was barely above a whisper- “I think of how you kissed my wrist in my study. I think of… that day you backed me into my dresser.”
He nodded slowly and swallowed. “As do I.”
“I wonder why you didn’t kiss me that day.”
He stiffened. “You really wanted me to?”
“Of course, I asked you to.”
“Din. I thought I imagined that.”
“Seriously?”
“No. I was just scared shitless.”
She laughed openly and he grinned at the sound.
When she finally stopped laughing, she made a grim face at him. “I empathize with the feeling. I’ve wanted to kiss you many times and… have felt that way as well,” his eyes crinkled in a goofy smile when she chose not to repeat his crass words. She leaned her head toward him, ducking it shyly.
“I guess we’re just two idiots then,” he said lowly, the scratch of his voice in his throat drawing her in. He ducked his head to match hers, his shaggy hair brushing against her forehead and nose.
“Truly,” she agreed. “We could die any day and here we are, wasting time,” she picked at the thread of the blanket between them as he watched.
He reached out to take her hand gently, stilling her fidgeting. He avoided her eyes, looking at her hand, softly stroking her knuckles. “Nothing I do with you feels like a waste of time,” he whispered. He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles.
He looked at her from over her hand. Like a wave crashing over her body, she felt the urge to kiss him pull her so strongly, that she didn’t realize she was the one initiating it until it happened.
He made a surprised sound, a muffled low noise against her lips, holding his hands stiff. She kept her lips held against his, even though she didn’t know what to do, and her brain was screaming at her that this was her first kiss and it was Link.
She pulled away and looked in his eyes, wide with surprise, then down at his lips. She couldn’t believe she had just kissed the lips she had stared at for so many months, memorizing his cupid’s bow and the plush pillow of his lower lip. She cradled his face in her hands and pulled him in again, kissing him gentler this time, instead of a rushed crush of her lips.
He sighed through his nose against her face, then finally brought his hands to her, gently pulling her closer, squeezing her upper arms and stroking them with his thumbs. He was so sweet, her knight, a picture of propriety. She tugged at his earlobe and felt a tremor pass through him, his breath hitching slightly. She desperately wished she could hear his thoughts.
It occurred to Zelda that kissing Link was sort of like their game. He would wait with endless patience for her to deepen the kiss, he would probably die from lack of oxygen before tearing himself away from her mouth, and she knew from the tension in his hands on her shoulders that he was waiting for permission- for something.
And that was what the game was all about, wasn’t it? Coaxing their desires out of one another without having to actually admit it, or having to be the one who crossed the line. If neither initiated, then it couldn’t be anyone’s fault if intimacy changed their friendship.
Just as she was considering that she would have to be the one to dare deepen the kiss, he suddenly scrambled closer to her and gripped the back of her head in his gentle hand, swiping his tongue across her bottom lip.
Hot prickles washed over her skin. She made a sound she’d never heard herself make before, a high trilling noise, and she opened her mouth and let him in.
One hundred years later, Link kept his promise.
Calamity Ganon was dead. After weeks of adjusting and mourning, of sobbing in the night and hiding their shame from one another, they finally started to find their way back to themselves.
Yet, when she stood beside him to return the Master Sword to its place in the forest, she felt anxiety build in her.
The Sir Link she had loved, the one from a century ago, said he would wish to stay by her side, even without the sword. When it left new Link’s hands and sealed itself in stone, she couldn’t help but cry, exposing the fear ripping through her chest. She had been working on not comparing him to him.
He immediately pulled her in for an embrace. They had become accustomed to physically comforting each other in a way they never could under the watchful eyes of the castle- though they hadn’t yet returned to playing the game. She knew he probably didn’t remember. Perhaps this new Link wasn’t interested in her romantically at all, though she had a hard time convincing herself of that when he buried his nose into her neck. She did the same into his, and the two weary heroes held each other and cried softly to the sound of shifting leaves and roaming koroks.
She tried to release him from her obligation, but he just shook his head over and over again. He didn’t say why, as he often didn’t explain himself these days, but he remained by her side- caring for her, protecting her, comforting her. They were the only two people in the world who understood.
Over the passing weeks, as they made political decisions, cleared out the lingering monster camps, and celebrated with the many citizens across Hyrule, Zelda began to see signs of her knight in this new Link.
Like Sir Link, he was hard to read. He was very good at fixing his face, much better than she had ever been, but especially now. They both had moments of being a tearful, shivering mess, but he remained a solid ground for her more often than she could for him.
He also showed his compassion for her in many of the same ways Sir Link did: with midnight hot chocolate, gifts that only she would appreciate, and a deep admiration for her intellectual side.
However, unlike Sir Link, he was a wild man now. He ran around barefoot, talked to the koroks with his hands waving about, and cut his own hair.
He was fearless and stood up for Zelda when it came to deciding between her own well-being and that of Hyrule, even when he had to stand up to Impa, even when he had to stand up to Zelda herself.
She found herself thanking Hylia again and again for giving her the chance to fall in love with him a second time.
They swam with the Zora, made political alignments with them, and started to repair bridges burned by their failure. Link had softened the blow on that one for her quite a bit. She thanked him for that. They mourned.
They ate feasts fit for Hylians and Gorons alike on Death Mountain. Zelda got to see Link’s bare chest a lot and drooled over the soot smudged planes of him. The Gorons liked her. Her shoulders were sore for days from all the hugging.
And then they told a fantastical rendition of their story to the children of Rito Village, the pivotal scene emotionally re-enacted by Link waving a long stalk of Tabantha wheat around like a sword. He described the fear he felt when approaching the castle, but how in the end, the pieces of his memory were the key to giving him strength.
When the children chirped in a chorus of ‘why why why?,’ he simply shrugged, smiled shyly at Zelda, and said, “Knowing who I was before let me learn from my mistakes.” The children prodded, but he left them to the mystery.
They were finally on the last leg of their cross-Hyrule “Ganon is dead!” tour. Riju suggested they save the desert celebration for last. In her words, “A proper Gerudo hangover can linger.”
After her second fruity, fiery cocktail, Zelda already started to understand what she meant.
The desert town and surrounding areas were alive with festivity. Groups of musicians posted up in the nooks and crannies of Gerudo Town, filling the streets with uproarious drums and hypnotic strings. Children carried streamers through the streets. It was quite the hopeful affair.
Riju arranged a receiving table, set royally on a balcony overlooking the main thoroughfare, so her people might visit with the Princess and Hero. The Gerudo chief herself would join them, as well as her Chieftain, Buliara. The view of the city and its sprawling desert beyond was breathtaking.
Zelda turned to the seat beside her to find Link still missing. She wasn’t surprised- in their recent time together, he often suddenly disappeared when expectations or grand displays of hierarchy were thrust upon him.
She mourned the loss of her old friend and knight who would dutifully sit beside her for hours at boring royal dinners and meetings, keeping her company and making fun of the uptight court with her. She envied new Link’s relaxed abandon.
As he often did, just as she was thinking of him, he suddenly appeared. He swung in from the roof, landing with a grunt in his chair, and ran a hand through his sweaty hair. When he spotted Zelda eyeing him, he tied it back, the way Sir Link used to. He smiled at her. She melted in the heat.
“You missed the line of vai looking to wed you,” she teased him over her straw. She heard Riju snort beside her.
Link blushed, though not nearly as much as Sir Link would have, she thought. “Came back just in time then,” he said. He stuffed his mouth with garlicky meat and spicy fruit.
Another interesting thing about Link- his patterns of speech were new, like the Hylians of this new Hyrule. Zelda still spoke the way of a century ago. His vernacular had changed in a most fascinatingly casual manner. Zelda wasn’t sure why, but it allured her to hear Sir Link’s proper, low voice used in such a choppy, carefree way.
The sun was slowly setting, washing the hazy sky in dark pink, but the party was only getting started. Buliara left the table to join in an arm wrestling bracket at the inn, Riju followed along to “watch the kids play.”
Zelda drank a third exceptionally strong drink and fiddled with the garnish. Her body felt loose and pliant from the alcohol and heat, but she had constant butterflies flapping around her stomach, and the combination was making her feel like a caged animal. When she risked a glance at Link, he was staring at her.
“Your cheeks are red,” he said. She was getting used to his weird, blunt way of speaking to her now.
“Are they?”
He nodded. “You okay? The heat too much?”
Her brain went a million places it wasn’t supposed to. Yes, the heat was too much! It caused both of them to be in the most scandalous and casual dress they’d ever worn around each other, and the Noble Pursuits were making it hard not to stare at his exposed skin. She giggled to herself at the memory of a time when even showing her ankle to Sir Link was scandalous.
He smiled his new, crooked smile at her laugh. “What?” he asked.
The music thundered on below them, people cheering, the soft clinking of jewelry against bodies carrying into the sky as night pressed on.
“Nothing,” she replied lightly. “I’m quite alright, hero. I’m sure it’s just these menacing concoctions,” she hiccuped a little and moved her glass around on the table.
“Don’t drink more than five,” he slurred, shaking his head at her seriously. She braved a longer look at him and her head spun. He was flush too, his sleeveless silk tunic and loose pants making him look like a desert prince. His hair had gotten longer since he died in her arms. She must have outwardly winced at the thought, as his eyes narrowed at her in concern.
She shook her head to silently answer his question. “Just a bad memory,” she waved her hand.
He looked incredibly pained for a split second, as if he knew exactly what she pictured when she studied his face. He’d already offered her a plethora of unnecessary apologies that he reminded her of him, that she had asked for a complete moratorium on the subject. He didn’t usually bring it up anymore. He took a deep breath and his face relaxed again.
“This place brings up lots of memories,” he nodded, slouching back in his chair to observe her with languid eyes. “Don’t remember you wearing anything like that though,” he cocked his head at her, and she swore she saw a familiar wickedness in his look.
She was shocked, but she could never be sure when this new Link was flirting with her. Sometimes he just said things he observed out loud, without considering how she might take them, and she had already resigned to suffer her yearning in silence for as long as Link needed to rebuild who he was.
“Like what?” she challenged, looking down at her royal blue silk halter and matching sheer trousers. She knew exactly what he meant- she’d hardly revealed her arms in public before! Indeed, she’d wondered while slipping it on this afternoon if he would be surprised by such a brazen look on her.
He didn’t answer right away, pulling his face in thought. He reached out his hand and brushed one gentle finger down the sensitive under flesh of her arm. The hair there stood on end. She tried to keep breathing like normal.
Dropping his finger, he finally said, “This outfit is like your brain.”
“…my brain?”
“Fun. Free. Scary. Pretty.”
She hid her flustered reaction, sipping on her straw and turning away. She never knew how to reply to him. How was she supposed to process his bizarre adjectives he let tumble freely from his mind when he offered no explanation of their meaning?
He noticed her shy away. “Sorry. Am I being weird?”
Zelda laughed nervously. “No, hero, you simply befuddle me.”
He cringed. “Can you… not call me that?”
“Oh! I apologize,” she thought it was a title befitting him. “I meant no offense. What shall I call you instead?”
“I don’t know. What’d you call me before?”
She paled immediately at the thought of Sir Link’s pleased face when she would call him her knight, like he belonged to her. She had a feeling new Link wouldn’t care for that.
“Well, I… I called you your proper title, mostly, of course. Sir Link,” she explained.
He made a disgruntled sound. “That makes me sound like the stuffy court guys you always hated.” He took her cocktail from her hand and replaced it poignantly with palm fruit juice.
She scoffed like he was an idiot. She loved doing that. She stole the Noble Pursuit back and raised her nose as if to say, ‘you can’t tell me what to do anymore.’
He laughed his new, open laugh- loud and androgynous and warm. Hylia, thank you for returning his laugh to me.
“You’re gonna feel bad tomorrow,” he warned. She shrugged and kicked her feet cheekily. He sighed. “Well, at least we’ll feel bad together.”
“You’re drunk?” She put a scandalized hand to her heart. No wonder she was able to steal her drink back from him so easily.
“Kinda,” he grinned like a fool. It was strange, in moments like this, where he acted nothing like his former self, that she still found the sensation of falling for him familiar. He was different now, but she thought perhaps some of these new parts of him were always there, crushed beneath the royal uniform.
Zelda snickered back at Link’s silly, handsome face. “You remember the stuffy court guys I hated?” She tried not to sound too hopeful.
“Yeah. I hope I wasn’t like them. I… couldn’t have been, right? Or we wouldn’t have been friends?”
She felt a punch in her gut at the word friends, then scolded herself for it. That was what they were, right? Best friends. Best friends who made out in a cave and held each other when they died. Best friends who played a game of who could drive the other mad with lust.
Her head was dizzy from the alcohol. She blamed it for letting loose things she wouldn’t have said otherwise. Without her inhibitions, she said it with her whole heart. “You were nothing like them, my knight.”
He startled. An expression of surprise swept over his face; his eyes widened, jaw set, brow crinkled. His gaze grew distant with concern. After a moment, he clumsily placed a hand over his heart, regaining his composure. He blinked rapidly and cleared his throat.
She waited for him to take a breath. "Did you remember something?" she asked softly. Each time he did, her heart would sink. Would he recall something he disliked about her? Or remember the embarrassing depth of her affection for him? Which was worse? She tried to keep her voice steady, as if the answer wasn’t holding her in its vice grip.
He nodded, still clutching his chest, and pulled his gaze back to hers. His eyes had tears threatening the corners. “That was what you called me,” he finally said, voice thick.
She played dumb, terrified what he may have seen, or hadn’t seen. She couldn’t bring herself to ask. “Of course. You were knighted, so of course I would call you that,” she babbled.
He stared at her like he was trying to piece together a puzzle between her eyes. She felt like a pinned specimen beneath his gaze. She blamed the alcohol content of those ridiculously fruity drinks for the fire in her belly when he looked at her that way. It reminded her of the game. She needed him to say something, now, or she was going to say something ridiculous-
“Do you… wanna dance?”
He whisked her through alleyways and corridors packed with celebrating Gerudo. He followed the thrum of the music, smiling his crooked smile at her, tugging her by the hand. When they turned the corner and the courtyard opened up before them, it was loud and raucous.
Musicians were gathered at one end, bathed in moonlight and the glow of strung up lanterns. Drums and strings and tambourines and instruments she didn’t recognize played thumping, merry melodies, their players moving in tandem with the people of the dance floor. The dark courtyard was packed from wall to wall with dancers. The bar was still serving, and Gerudo vai could be seen socializing with women from all over Hyrule.
She felt a sudden sweep of differing emotions- she wished Urbosa were here, she loved her kingdom, she was so happy to be alive.
She thought the alcohol might completely win for a second, that she would break down crying and be inconsolable right then and there.
Then she looked at Link, and he was smiling. He gestured with a tilt of his head to the dance floor. “Ready?”
Her heart swelled. She nodded.
She expected him to take her hand and lead her to the dance floor. Instead, he dropped her hand entirely, then slowly started bobbing his head to the beat and backing himself into the crowd veiled in darkness.
“Where are you going?!” she panicked.
He raised his arms, slipping his body into the throng of people. “Come find me!” he laughed.
His crown of sandy hair disappeared into the crowd. She glanced around at the people on the edges of the dance floor- a Gerudo vai giving her friend some water, Hylian women chattering to each other drunkenly, a Goron arm wrestling someone who lost the bracket. She wondered if they had gotten loose at the gates with their women only rule tonight, though Zelda wasn’t sure what the verdict was on Gorons this century.
She glanced nervously at the crowd of dancers before stepping in. Once she was being bustled around on the dance floor, she spotted a flash of a long red braid followed by a confident laugh - Riju! Was she really dancing among the commoners?
Zelda lost sight of her, then found herself bumping against a Hylian woman with short, dark hair. She turned to Zelda and smiled at her, moving to the beat in a relaxed way. The Noble Pursuits gave Zelda courage, and she melted into the beauty of the music. She tried to mirror the Hylian a little and the woman was delighted, grabbing Zelda’s hand to hold it in the air with hers as she kicked her legs and shook her hips.
The song ended, and the woman spun gracefully in Zelda's hand. A couple nearby applauded her maneuver. The woman's eyes sparkled at Zelda from beneath her dark fringe. "I'm Jules!" she exclaimed breathlessly. As the band started up again, she shouted, "Thanks for the dance!" She gave Zelda a kiss on the cheek and then skipped off to find another partner.
Zelda tried not to stand there like a fish thrown to shore with her mouth open, holding her cheek. The next song was even more raucous, even deriving some cheers from the audience when it started up. Groups formed here and there, circles of dancers watching as people took turns in the center showing off their best moves.
Zelda couldn’t believe it. She was honestly pissed, even a hundred years later, at how right Sir Link was about court dancing. Court dancing was like a pretend version of this: real life, hearts beating, moving together!
A flash of red caught her eye again- Riju! She was standing on the perimeter of the same group of dancers. Zelda watched as the young Gerudo chief smiled and laughed with her people, cheering for the couple dancing in the center. Somehow the dancers all knew when was the right time to move in, when it was time to step away and let someone else in- the rhythm broke all barriers down and had everyone breathing and moving together as one.
The couple left the center of the circle open and Riju danced in, the crowd cheering loudly for their chief. She twirled in place multiple times before showing off her musculature in a back bend, her bejeweled accessories chiming with her steps.
Suddenly a second dancer joined the circle, grabbing Riju by the arm and spinning her merrily to the great delight of the crowd- it was Link! He met Zelda’s eyes when he passed her. Then he was switching arms with Riju to circle with her the opposite way.
The people next to her were dancing and cheering along to their display, so Zelda started moving along with them. She watched Link lift Riju up with ease and spin her around again. When the Gerudo chief landed, she held out Link’s hands and they did some footwork with each other. Every move was loose, impromptu, a reaction to what their partner was doing.
Before she knew it, Riju was grabbing Zelda by the arms and spinning her towards the center, swapping places with her on the sidelines. The crowd roared as she fell clumsily into Link's arms. His chest, clad in silk, felt warm against her hands. She tried to hide her blatant shock, allowing the effects of the alcohol to take over. He grinned at her.
He took her by the hands and they started swaying to the rhythm. His eyes were warm, his touch gentle, and as they moved together, she lost herself in the music and the moment.
He was a confident but unserious dancer, just like Sir Link. He laughed against her chest and placed them in a familiar waltz position, but instead of leading her through a court dance, he skipped them around to the beat, swaying their clasped hands out front. She tried to keep up, following his bouncing feet, before he swung her out and let go of her.
He held up his hands as if to display her, and the crowd whooped expectantly. It took her a split second to realize she was supposed to dance for them, Link was giving her the chance to be seen. She pushed every recorded dance step she’d memorized in etiquette class aside, searching deep within herself for some freedom of movement.
She raised her arms above her head as she had seen Riju do, twirling them around themselves, and swayed her hips down into almost a crouch, dancing back up again. The crowd went wild for her. She willed herself not to feel embarrassed.
Link bounced in his silly way up behind her and criss-crossed his arms around her. He found her hands and expertly twisted her around in a spin. As the song finished and a roll of drums and bells completed the strain, he dipped her, holding her leg up by the thigh in a finishing pose. The circle of onlookers cheered wildly for them.
The subsequent song began with a long accordion refrain. As the dance groups started to disperse, dancers paired off, creating a shift in the energy. A slower, more sensual rhythm started on the drums.
Link gently pulled Zelda back to her feet, never breaking their eye contact. They panted from exertion against each others chests. She couldn’t help the grin that split her face even if she wanted to.
He leaned in to speak lowly. “Having fun?”
“Very much so,” she breathed. He was smoothing his warm fingers down her bare arms to find her hands, then he pulled them around his neck. “You were right,” she admitted.
When he didn’t ask her what she meant, her heart fluttered. Did he remember?
He held her gentlemanly by her waist. “I still think court dancing has its merits,” he mumbled, and rested his forehead to hers.
Her heart exploded. He remembered the day in the garden. He remembered dancing with her in the castle ballroom. What else did he remember?
"This puts court dancing to complete shame," she whispered. The loose hairs at the nape of his neck tickled her fingers. She found herself twirling her digits in the soft, sweaty strands.
He laughed against her and wrapped his arms around her back, pulling her close. He buried his nose in her hair, breathing her in. He swayed them to the music. Her body burned for every point of his skin that met hers.
She glanced around over his shoulder, realizing as she looked at the other dancers that this wasn’t exactly the scene she had imagined, all those years ago. Sir Link had described Gerudo dance floors as sweaty and sensual, and he was right- but she had imagined something more overt. Instead, she looked around to find couples and groups all in their own tiny worlds, moving completely different ways.
A Gerudo vai danced with Jules, the Hylian she had met earlier. They slow danced and chatted like two best friends. The couple beside them were far more intimate, pressed front to back, lost in bliss as they ground their bodies against each other. To their left, a group of friends took turns holding hands, crying drunkenly at how they were grateful for their lives, swaying to the music.
There were no rules.
He said something but it was muffled against her hair. She pulled away to see his face. “Hmm?” she asked, dreamily.
“You looked beautiful dancing like that,” he said, averting her gaze. She hadn’t seen him quite this shy in this new life. He looked like Sir Link. He was Sir Link.
“Thank you,” she giggled. “As did you.”
His grip on her tightened. His fingers fiddled with the smooth material of her top. “This outfit is driving me crazy,” he groaned.
Her stomach dropped. There was no misinterpreting that statement. He had to be flirting with her now.
“Oh?” She found herself unconsciously slipping into her innocent princess act from a century ago. “What do you mean?”
He actually growled against the side of her face. To her surprise, he allowed his hands to slip just slightly under her top to feel the sensitive bare skin of her sides. She hoped he didn’t hear the thrilled sound she breathed through her nose.
“You are being quite forward, if I’m… reading this correctly,” she stammered with a giggle.
He tensed and pulled away to her dismay. He searched her face. “Should I not?”
Her breathing was shallow. “I… I don’t know,” she was flustered. “I do not know where we stand anymore.”
He watched her for a moment, his eyes softening before he finally spoke, "I had forgotten where we left off,” he said, scratchy and velvet, and a hundred years of yearning pooled in her belly. “I remember now.”
Her heart sang. Her brain fizzled and popped, suddenly filled with static, the only signal received was the feel of his hair on her fingers and his hands at her waist. She stared and blinked at him, trying to hide the elation exposed on her face. She attempted to form words but they died before they even reached her throat.
He watched her every move, seeming to give her ample opportunity to push him away. Instead, she leaned back into him, moving them to the music.
He ran his hands up her arms to her shoulders, caressed the sides of her neck, then trailed his fingers down the lengths of her hair. She scratched her nails gently across the back of his neck and ears.
They breathed closer and closer together, the tension between them pulled so taught she thought she might snap. He found the ends of her hair that grazed the waist of her pants and followed the silk to grip her bottom firmly, boldly, before returning to her hips.
She looked at him in shock, quickly scanning the room to see everyone else engrossed in their own worlds, barely noticing them. Meeting his gaze, his eyes were filled with a highly familiar mischief and intensity.
He was playing the game! He was trying to fluster her and it was working! She was about to lose, the words were about to tumble from her lips- she couldn’t help it- it was the Noble Pursuits-
“I’m in love with you,” he shattered the tension into a million pieces without hesitation.
Stunned, she found her hand against his cheek, where he nuzzled into it. Her body was shaking, and until it tumbled out, she didn’t realize it was because she was laughing. “You just lost, my knight,” she babbled.
His hands found her face as well and he pulled her into a searing kiss, gripping her body tightly against his, clawing at her as if it would physically pain him to let her go.
When they broke apart and breathed into each other, he shook his head against her forehead. “Zelda.”
Her legs turned to molten lava at the sound of her name in new Link’s voice. The Link who woke for her, searched for her, fought for her, loved her.
“There are no losers here.”