Chapter Text
It started with her hands.
“Ah!” Zelda’s gasping yelp was quickly quieted by her left hand flying to her mouth. She set the knife down onto the cutting board, pepper juice leaking onto the wood.
“You alright?” Link asked, stopping his work and leaving a half-mixed bread dough in the bowl. “Did you cut yourself?”
She shook her head, took her hand away from her mouth, and flexed it a few times, barely restraining a hiss of pain. “I just need to wash the juice out and put some gloves on.”
Before Link could ask what she meant by that, she grabbed a pitcher of water from the shelf above the prep table. As it splashed over her left hand, Link’s stomach dropped.
Angry, red splotches covered her skin. Even on her right hand, weeping cracks gleamed between her fingers. When she set the pitcher back onto the shelf, Link caught her arm before she turned toward the stairs. “What happened to you? Did you get into some poisonous vines? I’ve got some antidotes for creeping plants.”
She wriggled out of his grasp, holding her fists close to her chest and out of his view. “It’s nothing I’m not used to. It just flared up because of the cold snap.”
Despite her assurances that the problem was minor, Link couldn’t stop thinking about the way she phrased it. The next day, when he returned from the East Wind with a tin of warm safflina salve, she gratefully slathered it on, only wincing a little. She gave him a pained smile, shaking and flexing her hands to try to distract herself. “The pain means it’s working, at least.”
At the banquet to celebrate the Domain’s successful salmon season, Zelda couldn’t ignore the shining statue of Princess Mipha, her eyes drawn to the late princess’s stone features. A thousand condolences and apologies were made to King Dorephan and the rest of the Domain. No one more appreciated these, and assured her more that the apologies were unnecessary, than Prince Sidon.
Almost a year had passed since the defeat of the Calamity. Vah Ruta had gone inactive immediately following the Champions departing for the next world, as had the other Divine Beasts. Without pilots, the Beasts sat dormant in their former pilot’s homes. As excited and amazed as the denizens of the Domain were to have the Divine Beast and to see its great power displayed against the Calamity, having a giant mountain of inactive Sheikah tech cluttering their otherwise clear hunting waters was not ideal.
Zelda fiddled with the Sheikah Slate, looking over the main terminal in Vah Ruta’s center chamber. The blue backlight gave her face a pale blue sheen in the dimness of the control room. Her hands trembled slightly as she tapped away on the screen. While the weeping sores had dried up, spots of red remained, tiny dark blisters just under the surface. She hadn’t complained since she burned herself with pepper juice - Link never let her run out of salve.
“It is a magnificent display of technology,” Prince Sidon observed, his feet splashing across the floor, unbothered by the six inches of water that never quite seemed to drain out. “I can only imagine the thrill my sister had getting to control it in battle. The magic that shot across the sky from Ruta’s trunk lit up the night!”
Link remembered well the beams of Sheikah magic that struck the Calamity in the Sanctum. Though it didn’t defeat the demon outright, he doubted whether he could have taken on Ganon without the Champions’ assistance. “I’m very grateful for Mipha’s help. And for yours, Sidon. I couldn’t have tamed the Beast and freed it from the Blight without you.”
“Ha, I’m glad I was able to help!” Sidon laughed, his sharp teeth displayed in a bright grin. “And I’m happy that my sister is finally at peace. You and Princess Zelda have done so much to undo the damage of the Calamity. That is an example I wish to follow, should I be so lucky to take over the throne from my father.”
The terminal lit up in bright blue. Beneath their feet, Ruta hummed to life, a heartbeat of spinning waterwheels and grinding stone. Zelda let out a breath of relief. “There. I’ve got her active. Now we just need to head up to the top and navigate her to where she can rest out of the way of the Domain.”
“Wonderful!” Sidon exclaimed, throwing his arms wide. “I believe the quickest way to the top is that waterfall there. Hop on and I’ll carry you both up.”
Zelda climbed onto Sidon’s back, the Sheikah Slate secure on her hip. When Link crossed his arm over hers, holding them both to their friend, her skin was colder than he expected.
Water rushed around them as Sidon swam vertically, carrying them both to the top of Vah Ruta. The cool, night air refreshed Link, the heat of early summer crowding on them during the day. When Sidon pointed ahead to a hill on the far side of the Domain, Zelda tapped the location into the Slate, her hair still dripping.
With the first lurching step of the Divine Beast, Link had to grab the terminal to steady himself. Zelda, not far from him, gripped the terminal so tightly that her knuckles turned white. By the third step, while Link had gathered more of his bearings, Zelda shook, her eyes wide and her breath short and quick. He took a step toward her to check on her, but jumped back when she started retching.
“Your Highness?!” Prince Sidon exclaimed, rushing over to her. “What’s-?!”
Zelda furiously shook her head, her breathing heavier as she fought through her body’s attempts to purge itself. She unclipped the Slate from her hip and shoved it into Link’s hands, then sprinted toward the side of the Beast.
Only when Vah Ruta at last ended its short trek to the other hill did Zelda return, her face pale and her eyes reddened. She didn’t offer a word of explanation, nor did they ask her for one.
That evening, back in the inn at the Domain, Link handed her a glass of cool water to sip on, watching her carefully. She hadn’t appeared ill when they arrived at the Domain that morning, or until they reached the inside of the Divine Beast. Link couldn’t account for it, spinning his wheels trying to piece her sudden illness together.
When she drained the glass, handing it back to him, Link had almost resigned himself to hearing no explanation at all.
“...Sorry,” she whispered, her voice no louder than a breath. She rubbed a stray tear away with the heel of her palm. The redness of her hands contrasted starkly with the paleness in her face. “I… I think it was the fish.”
Link thought back to the banquet. All kinds of dishes were on display that evening. Salmon in various cuts, served with roe, herbs, kelp, rice, and fruit, accompanied by buttered snails and small cakes of crab, graced the Zora king’s wide table. It was one of the most beautiful sights he’d seen in weeks! Having tried a little of everything, Link couldn’t think of any of it that tasted at all off. He refilled her water glass. “What makes you think that?”
She gratefully accepted the water again, taking a slow, careful sip. “Because the smell of it on the way back made me want to puke again.”
Link frowned, sitting next to her on the bed, which creaked slightly under his weight. “Are you allergic to salmon?”
Zelda grimaced, taking another sip to stave off the nausea. “Not before. I’ll be fine. It should only last a couple weeks, hopefully.”
“It…what?” Link asked, incredulous.
Setting the half-empty glass onto the table beside the bed, Zelda leaned over and blew out the candle, leaving Link in the dark.
While salmon was back on Zelda’s plate again by the solstice, she picked at it, and everything else, sparingly.
Letters from the tribal leaders stacked up on her desk, some tucked under books and shoved in drawers. She’d get to them, she promised. She started many reply letters, leaving them all over the house - on the counter, in the larder, under the stairs, on the table. She’d start one, take it with her as she wrote and completed her daily chores, then leave it whenever she had to set it down for a moment. Likewise, Link was getting a little tired of finding quills in the laundry bin and spice tins in the stable.
Whenever he brought the letters and other items back to their proper location, Zelda thanked him profusely, apologizing for her forgetfulness. Her hands had started to clear up significantly in the heat of the summer.
The clouds overhead drifted sparsely, dotting the pink and violet sky and complimenting the early stars. A breeze blew in from the ocean’s waves, water gently lapping on the shore of Hateno Bay. A basket of bread, preserves, and a new bottle of palm wine sat between them on the blanket. One of the last warm days of autumn urged Link to make the most of it.
Zelda smiled, closing her eyes and listening to the gulls in the distance. “This is wonderful, Link. Thank you.”
He offered her a glass of the sweet wine. “I’m glad. You seemed stressed. I thought a dinner on the beach would help.”
Her smile faltered slightly, but quickly resumed when she accepted the wine. She swirled it around the glass, letting the aroma lift into the air. “Thank you…” She took a small sip of the wine, falling into the silence of the ocean for a few seconds before continuing. “Truthfully, I have been very stressed lately. I asked for status reports from the tribes on the damage from the Calamity. I’m trying to prioritize the most immediate problems, like moving the rest of the Divine Beasts. But…Goddess…the casualties.” She sipped the wine again, wincing slightly as she swallowed. “I knew it was bad. I could see the devastation when I went to face the Calamity at the castle all those years ago. I just had no idea…”
Wordlessly, Link set his hand over Zelda’s. It was almost smooth.
She set the wine down, digging the glass’s stem into the sand to keep it upright. The stars twinkled out at them from the horizon - dark sea meeting dark sky. “I can’t undo it all,” she admitted, her voice tight. “My thoughts are so full of grief for Hyrule that- that I don’t have room in my head for anything else. I try to keep it straight; what needs to be done, and what has been done, and what has already started, but it’s hard. There’s just so much-"
“Hey,” Link soothed, giving her hand a slight squeeze. “You don’t have to do it alone. I’m here. The Champion descendants are here, and the new tribal leaders. This isn’t something you need to fix by yourself.”
She went quiet again, sniffling a little and trying not to let any more tears fall. “I…I know.” She laced her fingers with his, the fabric of the blanket bunching up slightly. “I’m sorry. I should be more resilient than this.”
Gingerly, Link brought her hand to his lips, placing a soft kiss on her ink-stained knuckles. “It’s alright. No one expects you to weather it alone. You’ve got all of us to support you. Hyrule wasn’t built overnight. It won’t be rebuilt overnight, either. Don’t put that pressure on yourself.”
Seeming to accept his placation, at least for now, Zelda let her hand fall from his. The seagulls circled closer, no doubt the smell of bread drawing them in. She watched their flight silently, her green eyes tracking their path. “Thank you,” she said finally, breaking the quiet. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
Link gave her shoulder a playful nudge. “You’d do just fine without me. You’re the princess. I’m just some guy with a glowing sword.”
“Ha!” Zelda laughed, the tension of the conversation shattering. “You are far more than a guy with a glowing sword, Sir Knight,” she teased, nudging him back. “You are just as much, if not more, invaluable than I am.”
“Hm,” Link hummed in thought, leaning back on his hands. “How can that be true? To call me more invaluable than you, I mean. Surely, if I was worth more than you, then there’d be a value. Can’t have it both ways.”
“Oh, hush!” Zelda rolled her eyes, her smile only brightening further at his terrible joke. “Am I not permitted to compliment you?”
Link shook his head, glad to finally get her laughing again. “Only in mathematically sensible ways.”
“That so?” Zelda grabbed the loaf of bread from the basket, tearing off a small piece. “Then I’ll have to come up with some better ones. Perhaps with an abacus this time.”
A snorting laugh escaped him. He took the bread from her when she had torn off her piece, trying to ignore how small of a piece she’d gotten. “I’d expect nothing less from you.”
To his delight, she ate more of the bread loaf than he did by the end of their picnic, though she only drank half her wine. He drained the rest of her glass as they packed up the basket.
Zelda shook the sand from their blanket before folding it up, trying her best to get all the little grains out of it. “Thank you for tonight, by the way. I needed an evening out.”
“You’re welcome.” Link refrained from commenting further on her stress-level that prompted him to plan the event. As he packed up the wine bottle and re-corked it, he double-checked the paper label. Chessica signed every bottle personally, marking the contents and bottling date. By all accounts, it should have been Zelda’s favorite. “Did you not like the wine?”
“Hm? Oh, yes, very much!” Zelda promised, tucking the folded blanket under her arm. “I just couldn’t drink very much of it. It felt like broken glass when it hit my stomach.”
Despite his alarm at such a statement, Zelda appeared completely unaffected. In fact, she had already started up the trail to the village. “Well, come on! We should get home before it gets too dark to see our way.”
The months continued on in their new Hyrule, seasons rolling one into another until spring showed its green face again. Flowers and sprouts popped up all over the front yard of their home. A small garden grew by the day. Zelda came inside at the end of every afternoon, smiling with dirt on her cheeks and a new observation on botany on her mind. Link had taken to leaving an extra tin of salve by the wash basin. With as frequently as she washed her hands of earth, she stripped away whatever meager protections her skin naturally produced. Even if she never complained, he still kept watch on her hands.
She stretched her wrists and flexed her strengthened arms, her hair tied back with one of his blue bands. “The peas are coming in nicely. I wasn’t sure these varieties would work well together, but they appear to be cross-breeding with no trouble. I hadn’t thought about experimenting with plants before. Thank you for suggesting it!”
Link grinned, resuming his kneading of the bread for tomorrow’s breakfast. He preferred to prepare it the evening before and let it rise overnight, to avoid the hassle of waking up early. “Anything to keep you from trying to feed me frogs again.”
“Hey! It was a very successful study!” Zelda huffed, obviously trying to hide her laugh behind a veneer of feigned annoyance. When she reached over him to get to the palm wine on the shelf above, she took the opportunity to sneak a kiss. “Besides, it was only a little frog.”
“Felt a lot bigger when I tried to swallow it!” Link protested, laughing. “They work much better in elixirs than raw!”
The cork popped off; sweet wine splashed into two glasses on the table. “It was for science,” she assured him, still not doing a good job of hiding her laugh. She swirled the last remaining bit of wine around the bottle, checking its volume, and promptly drank the rest of it straight from the dark glass.
Link tossed a dish rag over the bread bowl, leaving it on the counter to rise through the evening and into the morning. “Save some for me!” He protested, playfully grabbing at the bottle.
“No, it’s mine!” Zelda proclaimed, darting to the other side of the table, clutching the bottle to her chest and giggling. “I already poured you a glass! And it’s my favorite!” To prove her point, she tipped the bottle back into her mouth again, distracted just long enough for Link to leap over the table and grab her around the waist. She squealed when he picked her up, trying to wiggle free and keep the precious wine all to herself. “No fair!”
“Oh, I think it’s plenty fair,” Link teased. He peppered her neck with kisses, relishing her laughter and half-hearted attempts to escape him. He at last captured her lips with his, the taste of sweet palm flooding his senses. When he finally pulled away, resting his forehead against hers, he wondered who was more intoxicated by the thrill of it. “I bought it, after all.”
Pouting, she clutched the bottle closer. “And you’ll let me drink the rest of it because you love me and want me to be happy, of course.”
Link snorted, loosing his grip on her. “A dirty move, appealing to my weakness for you.” Even when he let his hands rest gently on her hips, she made no further attempt to escape. Rather, she set the (now empty) bottle down on the table, letting her arms rest over his shoulders.
“I’m nothing if not full of such devious tricks,” she warned, smiling more with every kiss. “Urbosa taught me everything I needed to know.”
“Did she now?” Link couldn’t exactly imagine Zelda being overly-thrilled to sit through a formal Voe and You class. He imagined her father would disapprove of such a “distraction”, as hiding their affection for each other was difficult enough without the acknowledgment of the Gerudo Champion. “Did she make you an expert on men?”
The flush on Zelda’s cheeks could have been attributed to the wine. “A novice, at best,” she admitted, her eyes continuing to dart down to his lips again. “You were a difficult example to study.”
Always willing to please her, he kissed her again and again, drawing more giggles from her each time. “So was I the frog in this experiment?”
Her cheeks puffed out just like a frog, her pout over-exaggerated. “You were more of a pea plant, I’d say. The frog was a single event. I have every intention of studying you for a long time.”
“Mhm,” Link hummed, dotting a line of kisses just under her jaw. “Just don’t try to breed me.”
“Hgh!” Zelda gasped, her cheeks flushing an even brighter red. She tried to produce coherent words several times in vain before finally settling on: “That is not a discussion I am adequately prepared for at the moment!”
Link couldn’t remember the last time he had laughed so hard for so long.