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Zelda frowns at the Summerwing Butterfly she’s examining. Its wings fan open lazily over a rock it’s perched upon, as if putting itself on display for the Princess. She doesn’t grab it for the elixir she had told him she needed it for, opting to glare at it instead.
Link knows what’s bothering her. She needs the butterfly to make a warming elixir for her visit to the Spring of Wisdom in two days, on her birthday. She’s not to so much as think about anything Sheikah Technology related, not until she can prove to her father she’s mastered the sealing power she has thus far failed to awaken. Her father had been particularly cruel in his latest scolding, and with no more ancient tinkering to distract her from his disdain, she has yet to cheer up. Link isn’t sure she ever will, but he can’t blame her. He isn’t sure how best to support her, besides letting her accompany him on his outing to gather the ingredients she needs for her elixir.
“His expectations are too high, Princess,” Link says softly. She doesn’t so much as flinch at his voice, continuing to stare at the Summerwing, which has perhaps sensed her hesitancy to capture it and has continued lounging in front of her. “It doesn’t mean anything; he’s always disappointed in people.”
Zelda lets out a huff of air, and the butterfly finally jumps from the rock, lazily fluttering over to a nearby tree. Zelda follows it. “Not true. My father adores you,” Zelda says. Her voice is deceptively casual, empty of all the bitterness he’s sure she must be hiding. “There was a whole week I was absolutely certain he was going to send me away to the Forgotten Temple, not to return without my powers, and he would just adopt you as the new next in line in my absence.”
Zelda leans in to examine the butterfly closer, and Link doesn’t know what to say next. He has always been extremely intimidated by the King, for a handful of reasons, and while he has gotten the impression that the King was not disappointed in him the way he was in his own daughter, he has never felt like the King adored him.
“I suppose there’s still time for that, though. If he wasn’t so ashamed of me, he’d probably have already asked, no, begged you to marry me just so he could sneak you into the family with some form of legitimacy…” Link hates it when she talks about herself like this, like she’s the problem, but his hands have gotten sweaty at the ideas she’s given him. “You know what?” She says, turning from the butterfly to look at him, her face light, humorous, and again, casual. “I bet he still might ask,” she says.
A dozen Summerwing Butterflies awaken inside his stomach, uncomfortably warm and unsettling. Link feels like he’s had a botched potion, that he’s hallucinating. He can’t imagine King Rhoam sitting him down in his office and asking him (no, begging him) to marry the Princess; it’s impossible, an inappropriate fantasy for him to have, one he can’t entertain if he’s going to have to continue to swallow his feelings for the Princess. And he will have to continue to swallow his feelings for the Princess, because her father will not be asking him to marry her.
“Oh, he’ll let you say no, don’t worry!” Zelda reassures him, misinterpreting his momentary distress. “He wouldn’t make you do that, no matter how badly he’d want you to. I’m sure he’d let you retire with a new title and an estate, provided you visited often enough for him to parade you around the castle grounds and sing your praises. Maybe he’d throw in some vast richest for good measure. But he won’t make you marry me; he knows how unfair that would be.”
Unfair? That isn’t the word Link would use to describe it. He deflects, trying to purge his mind of any ideas surrounding any sort of betrothal to Zelda. “But he’d make you marry me?” Link asks, immediately realizing what a stupid question it is. His mind is too busy drowning in thoughts of being engaged and then married to Zelda to come up with anything better to say. He frowns at the butterfly, pretending to study its wings, but every time he blinks, he sees her behind his eyelids, smiling in white, sleeping peacefully beside him in bed, leaning in close to—Link stops blinking.
Zelda laughs. “I’m the Princess, it’s my job to marry whoever my father picks out for me so I may carry on Hylia’s line,” she says, like he should have known this. He does know it. “Sure, if I was able to procure a suitable candidate, he might consider letting me have a say, if I’d managed to accomplish anything by that time… but if I were to pick someone, he’d need to arrange approvals by the courts and his advisors, and it would appear a bit off-trend for him to be accommodating to my desires as things currently stand.”
Link can’t look at her face, can’t meet her eyes, so instead he stares at the butterfly.
“A love match was never in the cards for me, though,” she says, her voice far away. “More than likely, my father will select someone for me, and it’s all I can hope that whoever he is, he’s tolerable.”
Link frowns. This isn’t news. He’s never been so delusional as to presume himself to be a suitable option for the Princess; but he tries not to think about who, then, is. The thought of someone she finds merely tolerable beside her forever… he doesn’t like it. It’s silly for him to even acknowledge such a feeling; his job is not to like or dislike anything about the Princess; his job is to keep her safe until the Calamity, defeat the Calamity with her, and then… and then his job is done. Once the threat is gone, he will be reassigned, and Zelda will be… Crown Princess of Hyrule, only living descendant of the Goddess Hylia. Doubtless her father will marry her off as quickly as he is able in an attempt to secure an heir for Hyrule’s future. Link will be entirely out of the picture; never again to be by her side, not even like this. “That doesn’t seem fair,” Link says dumbly.
Zelda smiles at him like he’s a toddler, adorably and foolishly optimistic. “And?” She asks.
She’s right. What about her life has been fair? So what if she succeeds in sealing Ganon away, in saving the entire kingdom? Her duty does not end when Ganon dies; she will not get to retire to vast riches on a beautiful estate. Preventing the end of Hyrule just means more Hyrule for her to lead.
She turns her attention back to the butterfly, finally scooping it off the tree and into the small box she brought for it. “At this point, honestly, he should really just get on with it; the sooner I can produce an heir, the better off we all are, because maybe she’ll be able to do what I can’t—”
“Stop,” Link says, interrupting her, shaking his head. “Please.”
She blinks at him before her cheeks flush. “Sorry,” she mumbles, tucking the box into her bag.
Link regrets every part of this conversation. The butterflies in his stomach flap their wings too aggressively, churning his insides like butter. “You won’t need an heir to stop Calamity Ganon,” he says, the pause between her apology and his response just a bit too long.
Zelda looks back up at him, a sadness in her eyes that she had not let him see before. She cannot laugh off the royal shackles of her father’s unforgiving grip on her future as easily as she pretends.
“Now or later, it will have to happen,” she says eventually, eyes falling down into her lap. “If Hylia’s line dies with me…” she pauses again, and Link sees her shrink on herself just a little. He resists the urge to reach out to her to try to comfort her. What could he even say or do to help? “I won’t let it happen,” she says. “I’ll get that right, if nothing else, even if my father selects the most ghoulish beast in the kingdom.”
The silence after her statement hangs uncomfortably in the air.
“Oh, Goddess, I just had the most horrible thought,” Zelda says, looking over at Link with wide eyes. He stares back stupidly, waiting for her to finish. “What if he picks the court favorite and I have to marry the Baron of Mabe, His Pretentiousness?”
Link had met the Baron of Mabe, His Pretentiousness, precisely one time before, and it took only seven minutes and forty three seconds for him to seriously consider “accidentally” maiming the foul man. Zelda is right that the court loves him, although Link has no idea why, but perhaps it has to do with his truly awful poetry. “I’d kill him,” Link says easily.
Zelda’s eyebrows shoot up. “You’d kill the Baron of Mabe if he were to become engaged to me?”
Link shrugs. “Maybe not if you asked me nicely not to.”
She stifles a smile. “I can’t say I’d be able to bring myself to do that.”
Link makes a show of shrugging again. “Then I’d probably kill him, yeah. He’s insufferable.”
Her smile almost looks happy, but her eyes hold all the same sadness from before. “Do you know what you’ll ask my father for?” She asks him quietly. “If we are successful enough that there is still a kingdom to repay you, of course,” she muses.
Truthfully, the answer is no. Link has tried not to think about it too much, because defeating Calamity Ganon will mean Hyrule is safe, and there is no further threat to Princess Zelda, and she will no longer need her appointed knight. If Zelda is right, he will shortly thereafter be replaced by a man hand picked by her father to be her husband, perhaps even an exceptionally ghoulish one like the Baron of Mabe. No title or estate will ease the aching he knows he’ll feel at her absence; their souls are too familiar, too connected to make indefinite separation bearable. He wouldn’t just lose her; he would lose a part of himself as well.
If there is anything King Rhoam could offer Link as repayment for saving Hyrule, it would be to make sure there is no Hyrule left to be saved, only a free Princess for him to follow for the rest of his days.
Zelda interprets his silence as contemplation. “You should start thinking now,” Zelda tells him. “If we make it that far… you could ask my father for anything you wanted, and he would give it to you.”
It’s too bad, then, that what Link really wants is not the King’s to give.
Link is worried he knows exactly why the King has called him into his private office this evening. It’s been nearly a month since they defeated the Calamity, and things have finally started to settle again. Though the damage to the castle is extensive, and many are still healing from their wounds from the battle, the anxiety surrounding the newly-fallen peace has wilted away as people begin to let themselves feel safe again. The lack of monsters, blood moon, and rogue Guardians has finally sunk in.
Which means things are starting to become business as usual. Not exactly the way they were before, but close enough.
Link knocks on the door, taking a deep breath to ready himself for the conversation.
“Come in,” King Rhoam calls from behind the door, and Link grabs the handle and opens the door, kneeling immediately upon entry.
The King is doing parchmentwork. Link supposes there is a lot of parchmentwork to be done when one is the King. Not that he would ever know. Not that he should ever know. Link scolds himself for supposing anything at all.
“Please, sit,” the King gestures to the chair on the other side of his enormous desk, not even looking up as he finishes reading the page and pulls out his quill to sign.
Link sits, and he waits.
Only a few seconds later, the King sets the piece of parchment aside, sighs, and then finally turns his attention toward Link. “Well, boy?” The King prompts him.
Link doesn’t know what the King wants to hear from him. He frowns in confusion.
“It’s been twenty-seven days since you saved the entire kingdom. You haven’t asked me for so much as a raise.”
Link isn’t sure what to say.
“I know you understand duty too well to believe your job is over, but, Link,” the King says his name, and Link becomes even more nervous, now. “You saved everyone in Hyrule. You deserve a vacation, don’t you think? Perhaps a title? Tell me how I can repay you for your service, please.”
Link knows what he wants to ask for. He’s known for a while now, actually. He wants that house across the bridge in Hateno Village, the new one. He wants the black castle horse, Charcoal, who he’s ridden ever since being assigned to his current post. Most of all, he wants to take a certain blonde Princess with him to that house in Hateno on the back of that black horse, so she can spend her days at Purah’s tech lab and her nights in his arms, and he never wants to have to leave her ever again.
Even if by some Goddess-given miracle, the Princess wanted Link the way he wanted her, and the King was somehow okay with that, he doesn’t think the King would give him that.
Link swallows, but his throat feels dry. “I don’t want anything, Your Majesty,” he says, “except to be able to continue serving the Crown to the extent that I am able.”
The King doesn’t look pleased with his answer. “You want nothing else?” He asks sternly. “Not even a raise?”
“If Your Majesty deems a raise appropriate, then—”
“Link,” the King interrupts. “Don’t play games with me right now, boy. What is it you want?”
Link hopes Zelda’s appraisal all those months ago was correct and that he isn’t about to be dismissed from his post. “Your Majesty…” he starts, clearing his throat. “What I want most is not yours to offer,” he says.
The King frowns. “You are in love with Princess Mipha then, aren’t you?” The King muses. “I could speak to King Dorephan, not that it would really be necessary; I’m sure both King Dorephan and Princess Mipha would have no objections.”
“No, Your Majesty, it’s not Princess Mipha,” Link says, unable to say the words out loud. It’s a violation of his oath, for him to want Princess Zelda, much less for him to say it out loud. To say it out loud to her father, who is also the King?
The King stares at him for a moment. “You do mean my daughter then, correct?” He asks.
Link feels all the color drain out of his face. He nods, knowing there is no use in denying it. “I’m sorry, Your Majesty,” Link starts, wondering what damage control can be done. His throat is dry, it hurts to talk, but he presses on. “I promise I’ve never let anything distract me from her safety or my duty.”
It takes all of the courage in Link’s body to meet the King’s stern gaze. The King doesn’t look angry, Link thinks, but he doesn’t look not angry. He sighs. “You think you’re deserving of her?” He asks finally. Disapprovingly.
A question no honest man could answer yes to, Link thinks. “No,” he breathes. Hylia’s Chosen Hero or not, Wielder of the Sword that Seals the Darkness or not, Hero of Hyrule or not… none of those titles make him deserving of her.
“And yet you ask for her hand anyway.”
“Your Majesty, I would not presume to be worthy of asking for her hand.” It’s never been harder for Link to use his voice; he has to fight to get the words out.
“Do you not want her hand?” King Rhoam asks.
Link tries to swallow, but both his mouth and throat are too dry. He can’t say what he’s thinking (that he wants more than just her hand but he’d thank Hylia for as much of her as she was willing to give him), and he has to repeat what he intends to say to himself multiple times before he opens his mouth to croak out, “I-I do want her hand, Your Majesty.”
King Rhoam doesn’t look pleased with his answer. “So you’ve saved the entire kingdom, the only thing you want as a reward is the Princess’s hand in marriage, but you won’t ask for it when your King prompts you.”
Link is melting off his seat under the King’s eyes. He can’t speak, so he nods weakly.
King Rhoam looks even less pleased with this answer. “Does the Hero of Hyrule have any suggestions as to who else might be worthy?”
As if Link would share. He shakes his head, his mouth firmly shut.
The King frowns. “I don’t think I could convince her to accept a betrothal to anyone else at this point,” he sighs, his eyes falling back to the parchment in front of him. “If you were to ask... it would save me quite a bit of trouble.”
Link doesn’t move, doesn’t breathe. He’s certain he misheard, misunderstood.
“But I can attempt to make alternative arrangements for her, if you have no intentions.”
“Y-your Majesty?” Link chokes on his own words.
“You’ve seen the way she looks at you, right, boy?” The King looks unamused, as if waiting for Link to stop messing around. “Why did you think the court poet hates you so?”
Link frowns, his eyes falling to his lap. Sure, the Princess is always radiant when she smiles at him, but that’s just how she is. The sparkle in her eyes, the way she glows, has nothing to do with the fact that she’s looking at him. Right? As for the court poet… well, he has always been a bit gruff, Link realizes.
“If you do not wish to ask, the least I could do is offer you a title. How would you feel about becoming the Duke of Hateno?” King Rhoam asks.
Link feels lightheaded. “Your Majesty,” he starts, words failing him again. Talking has never been his strong suit, especially under pressure. The King raises an eyebrow, as if asking him to continue. “I didn’t—the Princess, I haven’t—would she…?” He’s used up all his air, and he can’t inhale any more. Surely he’s going to pass out.
King Rhoam sighs. “I doubt there is much I can tell you of my daughter that either she has not told you herself or you have not already figured out. After what she’s been through… after what I put her through…” Link hears the regret in the King’s voice. “She did her duty better than anyone could have asked her. She, like you, saved the entire kingdom. Without her, there would be no Hyrule left. And yet… it’s my fault, Link. I was too hard on her. When the Late Queen Zelda passed, this kingdom lost their Queen, I lost my beloved wife, but dear Zelda… she lost a mother and a father, because after that day, I was only ever a lousy King to her. I failed her in many ways, but perhaps that way most of all.
“It matters not who she would want beside her on that throne. I taught her too well that she has no right to ask, and so she will not. Even if it means she will be denying herself all future happiness.”
Link blinks at the King dumbly, his words spinning around in his head, refusing to settle. King Rhoam is right; he has not told Link anything he didn’t already know, but he has connected too many things together in a way Link can’t quite process yet.
“So unless you intend to ask anything of her,” the King starts pointedly, “I will attempt to make alternative arrangements. And, I will make this clear, I should not blame you, should you choose simply to retire as the Duke of Hateno,” he says, his tired eyes looking over his desk. Link isn’t sure how he can keep it all straight. “Perhaps you need some time to think?”
Link nods. He doesn’t need time to think; that’s not the problem. As intimidating as Link finds the mountain of parchmentwork on the King’s desk; as little as he cares for the courtiers and their formality, as much as he wants Zelda in that Hateno house all to himself, he’d happily set up camp in the castle lock up if it meant he could be with her. But unlike the King, Link cannot justify making decisions about Princess Zelda’s future without asking her first.
“Very well. A week from tonight, you are to return to me with your decision.”
Link nods, bowing respectfully before scurrying towards the door.
“But Link?” The King says before he has a chance to fully escape, to breathe again and attempt to collect his thoughts. “Twenty-seven days. It would be improper for the Crown to offer you nothing at all for your great service. If you do not ask for something, then you will force me to choose your reward for you.” It’s not a threat, not really. But it feels like one.
Link nods again. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Dismissed,” the King sighs, before returning his full attention back to the mountains of parchment on his desk.
Once out of the King’s line of sight, Link practically runs to the stable, where he spends all night brushing Charcoal, hoping the sounds of her soft nickers will help him clear his mind and gather his courage.
They don’t.
“Princess,” Link says to her in the library the next day. This isn’t the private location he had been hoping for, but he has one week, so he can’t get picky. He doesn’t have time to wait for the right moment.
She’s writing in the margins of a book—a bad habit nobody has ever had the guts to tell her to break on account of her being the Princess and also on account of her having helpfully notated about a third of the books in the Royal library. “Hm?” She hums out, her eyes still crinkled in focus as she furiously scribbles away.
Link is not a coward. While he’s no stranger to fear (despite the misconceptions), he’s always had equal or greater bravery to overcome that fear. He bears the Triforce of Courage, for Din’s sake! But as he watches the Princess of Hyrule glare at a botany compendium, pursing her lips, he thinks that maybe, for the first time, he is not brave enough to overcome this fear.
Zelda lets him flounder for a bit, finishing her thought in the margin before turning to meet his eyes with her glowing green ones. “What is it, Link?” She asks him, as if to remind him.
The library is quiet. Though they are in a secluded corner, it would be incredibly easy for any gossip monger to sneak a listen. Though the whispers of the Princess’s powerlessness have faded, whispers of her distractibility, her lack of duty, have not. Being accused of cavorting around with her knight attendant? Link thinks it wouldn’t take much for that rumor to take off. The last thing she needs is a scandal to give anyone another excuse to talk.
“Link?” Zelda asks him, leaning towards him a bit, her eyes wide. She can see the anxiety on his face, and it’s worrying her.
“Do you want to go on a ride tomorrow evening?” Link asks bluntly, painfully aware that it sounds like he’s asking her out on a date. He’s asked her this question before, many times, but never with that hesitation before. Never like it meant something.
“That sounds like a lovely idea,” Zelda says, smiling a little before turning back to her botany book. “But tomorrow evening I have a meeting with Sir Komali regarding the trade deals proposed by the Rito.” Her voice is far away, like she’s already left for the meeting.
“What about the evening after?” Link asks, no hesitation this time, afraid he’ll lose his nerve if he doesn’t press.
Zelda looks back at him with narrowed eyes. “I have devotionals, same as I do every Thursday. Is something the matter, Link?” She asks, suspicious.
Link feels his throat dry up. Is she avoiding him? Does she know? Did her father warn her, and she is trying to give him a hint? Should he back away? “No,” he says, his voice scratchy.
Zelda is still examining him, attempting to figure out his secret. “I know I’ve been stuck in the castle a lot recently. If you want a break, though, you needn’t wait for me to get some fresh air. I’ll be perfectly safe here in the castle,” she says.
She thinks he has cabin fever. He does, just a little. He doesn’t like sitting around the castle all day, she’s right. But he doesn’t sit most of the day. He trains, runs drills, even occasionally has assignments. The Hero of Hyrule and almost certainly soon-to-be captain of the Royal Guard does not spend his days sitting around in the castle, even when he can’t get out. Though he always wants more time out of the castle walls (preferably with the Princess), he is not anxious to get out. He doesn’t want to go on the ride for the fresh air.
He’s running out of options, though. There’s only so much he can ask of her, only so many requests a knight can make of his Princess in the castle library.
Zelda hasn’t stopped looking at him, and perhaps she can read the disappointment on his face.
“Would you want to go on a ride tonight?” She asks quietly.
It’s already late. Past eight, in fact. Link nods before he can stop himself, before he can think about the consequences to his actions.
Zelda smiles. “I’ll see you at the stables at nine, then,” she says, closing her book, gathering her things, and whirl winding away before Link can figure out what happened.
Link is at the stables at quarter to nine. It’s less suspicious if he’s hanging around the stables late than if she is; he spends enough time there anyway. He’s brushing out Charcoal when he hears her footsteps. He turns around to find her a bit closer to him than he expected, his breath catching in his throat as he meets her eyes.
“Ready to go?” She asks, and he nods.
“Mint is ready, too,” Link says, but Zelda only moves around to Charcoal’s side.
“Mint is too bright, she’ll draw attention,” she muses, mischief dripping off her tone. “We could probably both ride Charcoal, though, hm? Do you think she could handle it?”
Link blinks dumbly at her. His eyes are wide, too wide, and he knows it, but for just a moment, he registers what’s happening: they’re sneaking out. He’s sneaking out with the Princess of Hyrule, and she doesn’t want to get caught. Of course she doesn’t want to take her own (bright white!) horse. That’s why she’s got her plain traveling cloak on, too.
“She can handle it,” Link says, after a too-long pause. His mouth feels dry. Maybe he shouldn’t have agreed to this—does it look worse for the Princess of Hyrule to be spotted sneaking out with her knight on her own white horse, or sharing a horse with him?
“The ride was your idea, so you should lead,” she says, and Link sees the glint in her eye, and for just a fraction of a second, before he can think better of it, he almost thinks she’s flirting with him.
He pushes that thought away quickly. Just because he’s going to ask her to marry him tonight doesn’t mean he should get any ideas.
He hops on Charcoal’s back, scooting forward in the saddle, then holding his hand out to help Zelda up. She grabs it with hers, and he swears he feels electricity through his gloves at her touch before pulling her up.
Link has only shared a horse with the Princess one other time, under very different circumstances. They were both so distressed that the intimacy of it hardly registered.
This time, Zelda scoots up close behind him, pressing her body against his, her arms reaching around his abdomen to hold onto him. Every inch of his skin is on fire, and he has to blink a few times before he can orient himself like this. She’s never been this close to him before when the situation did not demand it, never so casually.
“Well? We don’t have all night,” Zelda says softly into his ear, her lips so close to his skin that he has to stop himself from shivering.
So he ushers Charcoal forward, praying to any and all gods that she can’t hear or feel how fast and hard his heart beats.
He doesn’t stop until they reach Sanidin Park. Zelda was quiet the entire ride, and Link can’t feel his arms, or his legs, or anything, really, with how nervous he is, so when they stop and Zelda sits up a bit to make sure this is the final destination before hopping off Charcoal completely, they haven’t said a word to each other.
“So are you finally going to tell me why you wanted to go on a ride?” Zelda says to him as he hops off after her.
Link is still too nervous. He doesn’t really know where to start. He hasn’t prepared anything. He doesn’t even have anything to offer her, like a ring or some other token. It feels cheap. He feels cheap. Why did he think this was a good idea, anyway? His assessment that he was unworthy was wholly correct. Is he not insulting her by having the audacity to even ask? What an ego he must have to have brought her out here with his intentions. “It’s a nice night,” Link says, walking to the edge of the pavilion to look at the castle, almost small in the distance, and the brilliant starry sky above it.
“You’re starting to scare me, you know,” she says, walking next to him and leaning up against the stone wall.
Link is quiet again. Where does he start?
“You’re leaving, aren’t you?” She whispers.
Link turns to look at her, startled. “What?” He asks.
When she turns to look at him, he sees the tears welling up in her eyes. “I knew it would happen eventually, you hate being at the castle, and I…”
Link is shaking his head, fighting his hands, which so desperately want to reach out, to cup her cheek, and brush away the tear running down it. Against his will, he reaches out and holds her face anyway, and to his surprise, she leans into his touch.
“I understand, it would be unfair of me to ask you to stay…” she says, her voice breaking in the middle. Her own has reached up to hold his, as if holding it in place.
“I’m not leaving, Zelda,” Link says finally, cursing himself for taking so long to get the words out.
“… you aren’t?” She asks, looking up at him with wide eyes. She hasn’t let go of his hand. Through his gloves, the surface of her skin is so hot it burns him, pulling him into her.
“No,” he says, his thumb tracing over her cheek before he can stop it. Oh, what it must feel like to brush the skin of her face with his bare hand… “I’m not leaving, not if you don’t want me to.”
Zelda lets out a noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “You shouldn’t stay just because I don’t want you to leave,” she mumbles out.
“That’s not—” Link stops himself before saying something he knows would only make things worse. “I don’t want to leave,” he says.
Zelda drops her hand, and though Link isn’t ready to stop touching her, he drops his, too, knowing he’s overstayed his welcome. “It’s okay, Link,” she says calmly, turning back to look at the castle from afar. “You have given up so much for this kingdom… and for me.” She pauses, and Link can barely breathe. “You shouldn’t have to give anything else up. You deserve to be able to find your own happiness.”
“Leaving wouldn’t bring me happiness.” Not unless I could take you with me.
“But staying cooped up in the castle library with me all evening will?” She asks, her voice soft. She’s not arguing with him; her doubt is undeterrable.
Link frowns. “The King invited me into his study last night,” he changes the subject, resigning that he won’t be able to convince her of the truth yet. “He asked me what I wanted as a reward for saving the kingdom.” He hasn’t stopped staring at her, willing her to turn to face him. “He told me if I didn’t ask him for anything, he would choose a reward for me.”
She doesn’t seem to notice his eyes raking over every inch of her face, her gaze still stuck on the castle. “What did you ask him for?” She asks. The wind tugs on her hair, pulling a curtain of blonde locks between them.
“I told him I’d have to ask you first.”
Zelda laughs. “What could you possibly need my permission to ask for, Link?” She says, tucking the curtain of hair behind her ear and her shoulder, turning to face him finally.
Triforce of Courage or not, Link thinks he’ll melt under the Princess’s green eyes. What if she changes her mind? What if, upon hearing his proclamation of his love for her, she wants him to leave? What if she cannot stand the sight of him once she learns the truth? What if the King was wrong, and she feels nothing for him? What if he’ll never get to see her again?
He swallows his pride and his fear. He’ll leave, if she wants him to. He’d do anything she asked of him, always, no matter how much it hurt. “You,” he says, forcing the word out despite how badly it wants to stay caught in his throat.
The smile falls off Zelda’s face. She blinks three times at him, eyes widening ever so slightly. Link’s stomach drops between his wobbling knees.
“Me?” She asks, her voice pitched upwards.
Link nods, before settling down onto one knee before her. He’s a fool to not have a ring, but where could he have gotten one on such short notice? He never let himself entertain such outlandish fantasies as marrying the Princess before; to have a ring would have been preposterous. But to not have one… it feels insulting.
She just keeps blinking at him, like he spoke Ancient Hylian to her, like he sprouted Zora gills or Rito wings. His heart skips and makes up for lost beats all at once at her silence, making his chest ache with anxiety. He doesn’t know how long it will take her to get the words out, to tell him no. He owes her the time to craft her undoubtedly gracious denial. Doesn’t he?
“He let you?” Zelda asks quietly.
“Hm?” Link asks, not following.
“My father said you could?” She clarifies.
He nods. His heart beats loud enough to almost drown out her voice.
She smiles so brightly that it could have been the sun choosing to rise again, letting out an almost laugh. “Yes, obviously,” she says, smiling wider, reaching down to grab Link’s hands on his knee.
Obviously. He stumbles up when she pulls, nearly falling over with surprise. “Yes?” He clarifies, his hands holding tightly on to hers, feeling the electricity of her touch through his gloves. His heart stutters in his chest, missing beats again.
She nods, still smiling at him. “Yes,” she breathes. “Of course.”
He drops her hands to wrap his arms around her, to pull her close to him, and she wraps her arms around him, too. He buries his face in her hair at the crook of her neck, relishing in how it feels to hold her this close to him, to know she wants him this close, too. For a moment, he’s content to hold her like that, to feel the warmth of her body as she fits so perfectly against him.
“Of course?” He whispers into her ear, too high on the relief of not having to leave her that he isn’t sure he heard her properly.
“Yes, of course, Link,” she chokes out, and Link realizes she’s crying. He pulls away just enough to cup her face in his hands, to examine the source of her sadness, but she’s smiling. “Did you think I would say no?” She laughs shakily.
Link drops his hands to immediately pull off his wretched gloves, but he stops short of caressing her face. “I had hoped you wouldn’t,” he says weakly. He brushes his thumb across her cheek to wipe away a tear, his fingertips burning where he touched her.
She reaches up to grab his hand again, to hold it to her face. Her skin is impossibly soft, impossibly warm, and for an immeasurably long moment, Link thinks he must be dreaming. “I didn’t think I was that subtle,” she whispers.
He slides his hands beneath her chin, tipping her face upward just enough that he can lean forward to press his lips against hers, and she melts into him, her arms wrapping around him to pull him closer. He’s lightheaded at the taste of her; he’d fall over if she weren’t holding him so tightly.
He has to pull away to catch his breath, to stop his head from spinning. “Too subtle for me,” he breathes.
She’s still smiling at him, though, and her eyes are still damp. “I can make my feelings clear for you, if they aren’t already,” she giggles, sliding a hand onto his shoulder, and Link wastes no time pulling her in to kiss her again. Her fingers tangle in his hair, and he’s already breathless again, but he doesn’t want to pull away, wouldn’t dream of denying her.
Eventually, she pulls away, and his eyes flutter open to her face, glowing, radiant, like the sun. “Did that clear it up?” She asks.
Link is still out of breath, but he needs oxygen less than he needs her. “I might need some more clarification,” he says, and she throws her head back in a raucous laugh.
“As much as you need, love,” she whispers, kissing him again, needier this time, and he obliges her. Love. He reaches around to hold the back of her head, to feel her silky hair slide under his fingers, and she pulls on his tunic. He leans at her insistence, pliant to her will.
He’s dizzy, high on her presence and her affection for him. When she nips on his bottom lip, he groans into her mouth. His free hand snakes around her waist, the delicious curve of her body, pulling her into him.
“Link,” she gasps into his mouth, and he pauses. She pulls away just a bit, and he lets her, but he doesn’t remove his hands from her hair or her waist. “You’ll have to stay in the castle forever,” she says, blinking at him.
Her green eyes are wide with concern, her cheeks flushed, and her kiss-swollen lips are parted so that she can catch her breath. Link’s head swims with how beautiful she is, how badly he wants to kiss her again, how demanding the sudden heat in his core is, but he settles with moving his hand to her face again to rub his thumb across her cheek. “I know,” he says, leaning down to kiss her cheek, to let her continue to talk, because she won’t let him off that easily but Hylia, he wants to kiss her!
“You hate the castle,” she says.
“You’ve mentioned,” he says, moving to kiss her jaw instead. Her skin is hot there, and he hasn’t kissed her there yet.
She’s still breathing heavily, but she tilts her head to make it easier for him. “Don’t you want to leave the castle?” Her voice is small.
“Not if I can’t take you with me,” Link says, kissing her neck now, enjoying the way her breath catches in her throat, how he can feel it under her skin. She moans so quietly he wouldn’t be able to hear it were he not so close, but the sound is sweet in his ears. His grip around her waist tightens ever so slightly.
“Link, it’s hard for me to—to think, when you do that,” she sputters, and he smiles into her neck.
Her shirt is not as high-collared as it could be, but it is perfectly modest for a princess. Too modest for him to have easy access to her collarbone, unfortunately, so he tugs on the collar just enough that he can kiss her there. He pauses, his eyes stuck on the delicious flesh there. “Do you want me to stop?” He asks.
“A preposterous question,” she huffs, which is not a no, so he holds himself inches from her, waiting for her permission. “You’re teasing me,” she grumbles.
He presses a single chaste kiss to her collarbone before pulling away entirely to look at her face again. He grabs her hands to hold in his, giving them a gentle squeeze. “Nothing would make me happier than getting to be with you, Zelda. Castle or not. Nothing else matters.”
She stares at him, her jaw slack, until she exhales suddenly. “We need to go back to the castle right now,” she pants, pulling him over to Charcoal.
Link’s heart stops. “What? Why?” He asks, letting her pull him.
“I can’t be out here alone with you,” she says flatly, dropping his hand. Charcoal is unbothered by their approach, having found an apple tree with apples in biting distance.
“Is—did I—” Link starts, his chest constricting with anxiety. Did he upset her? He hadn’t meant to…
“Get on the horse,” Zelda commands, pointing at Charcoal.
He frowns, moving slowly over to the Princess and the horse. He pauses in front of her. She doesn’t meet his eyes, looking at nothing off to the side. “Is everything okay?” He asks softly.
She gazes at him deeply, then, the way she looks at the stars in the sky or the circuit board of an ancient machine or a Silent Princess thriving in the midst of weeds and rocks. Her hands reach up for his cheeks, holding his face delicately, almost too delicately, sending tingles down his spine and stoking the fire in his core that still hasn’t gone out. “Yes, love, everything is more than okay,” she whispers. Love. His heart stutters in his chest again. “But any longer out here with you and I’ll never want to go back, and my father will send the whole Royal Guard after you for kidnapping the Princess.”
Link can’t hold back the dopey smile spreading across his face. As if the Royal Guard would be foolish enough to go after him, after having trained with him. “If Her Highness wishes…”
She pinches one of his cheeks playfully before dropping her hands. “Perhaps another day. Tonight, on the horse,” she gestures, and Link nods dutifully, rubbing Charcoal’s neck to pull her attention away from the apple tree before hopping on and holding out his hand to Zelda. She takes it hopping up behind him again, wrapping her arms around him once more.
He nudges Charcoal’s side, and she neighs irritably at being pulled away from her apple tree, but she turns to trot back toward the castle.
“Your presence will be required in my chambers tonight, however,” Zelda hums into his ear. Her lips brush against his earlobe, and he forgets how to breathe. She kisses him softly there, right below his ear, and his entire body goes so weak he’s worried he might fall off Charcoal entirely. Were it not for her ironclad grip around his middle, he just might have. “Royal orders,” she adds, before resting her head against his shoulder.
“As my Princess commands,” Links says, nudging Charcoal to pick up the speed, never in his life wanting to be back in the castle as much as he does right now.
When Link arrives at the door to the King’s study, his heart beats louder than his knuckles knock on the door. It doesn’t matter that the King already told him yes, that Zelda already told him yes (which, he realized, was all the permission he needed—whether the King approved or not, Zelda said yes, which meant Link would marry her; he would find a way), he can’t shake the fear that he’s about to get the scolding of a lifetime from the King, and perhaps fired as well.
“Come in,” King Rhoam calls, and Link enters, dropping to his knee immediately. “I didn’t expect you back so soon, Link,” the King says. “Please, sit.”
Link scrambles to his feet, sitting at the chair across from the King again. King Rhoam is again busy with parchmentwork, and Link doesn’t let himself think about whether he would one day occupy that chair. He would only ever be Prince Consort at most, never holding more power than Zelda, which is perfectly fine by him.
He should stop figuring anything at all. He is going to marry the Princess, and nothing else really matters.
The King is looking at him expectantly. Link should be used to the feeling of no air in his lungs, by now, but he isn’t, and he can’t figure out how to speak.
“Did you or did you not come here to tell me something, Link?” The King prompts him.
Link clears his throat. “I thought about what we talked about,” Link says. The King is still staring at him. “I still cannot presume to be worthy enough to ask for Princess Zelda’s hand,” he continues. He’d thought about what he would say, but he hadn’t practiced. Between bringing Zelda back from Sanidin Park, how long it took to say goodbye to her in her chambers (she had only let him leave with the promise that he would return immediately as soon as his meeting with the King ended), and the walk here, he hadn’t had the time. “But there’s nothing else I could even think to ask for. If you won’t give me your blessing, then at least let me continue to serve the Crown in whatever capacity I’m able.”
Link thinks he must be hallucinating, because King Rhoam rolls his eyes before resting his head in hand. “Hylia, boy, I already gave you my blessing,” he grumbles. “You have my blessing to marry my daughter. You can relax, please, I’m not going to fire you.”
Link’s shoulders relax just a little, and he feels air in his lungs again. The King said yes.
“You’ll still need a title, which no one would object to, considering your service, so as long as you have no objections to becoming the Duke of Hateno, we can announce the engagement after.”
“Duke of Hateno?” Link asks.
The King looks almost irritated with him. “Yes,” he says.
“I would have an estate there?” Link asks.
“You could have whatever you want there, Link, is something about this confusing to you?” The King asks impatiently.
“No,” Link says, collecting his thoughts. “There’s a cottage there I have always liked.”
“It’s yours,” the King says.
“And I’m quite fond of my horse, Charcoal, as well,” Link says.
“You can hand pick a hundred horses, Link,” the King says.
“That’s all,” Link says.
The King gives him another stern look. “Very well. I’ll name you Duke of Hateno within the week and have your estate arranged for you. You can announce your courtship with my daughter whenever you see fit, provided its after I have titled you.”
Link nods.
“Anything else?” Anything else. Link knows Zelda must be Queen one day, that the only other thing he could possibly as for is impossible. And besides that, what else would there even be for him to ask for?
“That’s all,” Link says.
King Rhoam nods. “Alright. If there’s nothing else…” He looks back at his parchment.
Link understand the dismissal. He stands up, bowing deeply before turning to leave. “Thank you, Your Majesty,” he says as he grabs the door handle.
“Thank you, Link. I trust you’ll do right by her?” His voice is stern, but not hostile.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Link says to him.
King Rhoam stares at him for a moment, before nodding again. “I suppose you wouldn’t choose now to start letting me down. You may go.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Link says before leaving the King’s study.
He pauses after closing the door behind him, taking a breath, attempting to collect himself, to process his thoughts, everything that just happened, before deciding that he doesn’t have to. The Princess is waiting for him, and she will be tomorrow and the day after and the day after that. He can process later, on his own time. Now, all he has to do is go be with her and not make her wait a moment longer.