#remember that Christmas is a time where you're allowed to share your more personal beliefs about God and the meaning of life

[thecagedsong]

Title: Can the Goddess Hear My Heart Over the Bells?

Theme: Bells

Fandom/Character(s): Legend of Zelda; Link/Zelda

Warnings (if applicable): N/A

Word Count: 5,818

@12daysofchristmas

Zelda comes from a long line of priestesses of Hylia, but in modern Hyrule she tries to hide the fact because people would find it embarrassing. Then her cute college classmate comes for the Midwinter worship with his sister, and Zelda still has to perform the bell dance, even with him watching.

~~~~~

 “Have a goodnight Zelda! And say hi to Link for me after your test tomorrow!” Mipha cheered for her, touching her arm gently before letting her go. Their paths usually diverged here and Zelda shot her a grateful smile, despite the teasing about Link. The Zora dove headfirst in the water while Zelda got on the bus.

Mipha didn’t have to wait at the bus stop for Zelda, especially since the Zora had difficulties with winter generally, but the girl had insisted. Once Zelda mentioned she didn’t like waiting for the bus alone, Mipha had insisted she wait with Zelda every day after their biology class.

Noticing a couple of people from her school were also on the bus, Zelda waited until they had all gotten off before getting off herself and doubling back to her home. Zelda named another number in the prime number sequence with each step up the ridiculous stairs to her family’s shrine.

At her door, Zelda took off her shoes and knelt before the small goddess statute there.

To the Goddess, I give praise for my family’s joy and safety, and thank her for wisdom and learning I am able to accumulate at university. I am honored by the protection She gives those I love, and ask for power to continue to keep them well. I am honored by the courage She grants me to face the cold winter and daunting university tests. May our blessings continue as we listen to her guidance and hold to our faith. Adimen.

Zelda stood up, stretched, and walked to where Father stirred a large pot of soup.

“Welcome home, Dear,” Dad said, “Destroy another test? Biology was today, right?”

“No more biology for the year,” Zelda said, grabbing a spoon to sample their dinner. “And just Hylian history to finish. Hmmm!” she hummed her delight at the dish and took another spoonful.

“You two turn into barbarians without me here? I set the table and everything, but clearly you’d both rather eat standing over the pot,” a new voice chimed in.

Zelda dropped her spoon in the soup as she spun around. “Mark!” she shrieked jumping forward with her arms out.  Her brother awkwardly caught her, but returned her hug. “You weren’t supposed to come home until this weekend!”

“I finished my final essay earlier than expected,” he said, letting her go. She gave him one last squeeze before sitting down at the table.

“So does that mean you’re all done with your degree?” Father asked, bringing the soup to the table.

“So long as I pass everything,” he said. “I’ll know first week of January if I'm going to lose my job offer, die under the mountain of my student loans, and have to sell my kidneys on the black market.”

Zelda snorted, “Like you know how to find the black market.”

“I’m sure you did fine,” Dad assured him.

“Dad, did you know? About Mark coming home early?”

“Not at all, a complete surprise. Good thing last weekend we converted his room back to his bedroom and took out the plasmascreen TV and billards table,” Dad joked.

“You did not,” Mark scoffed, serving everyone. He paused, “You didn’t, right?”

“Of course not,” Zelda said, indignantly, “The billiards table has always been in the garage, your room was my spa room. Ignore the nail polish stain on the pillows.”

“Brat,” he said affectionately.

 ~~~~

 “You don’t have to watch me practice, I know it must be boring,” Zelda said, letting him tie up the traditional headpiece. Impa, her assistant at the shrine, would do it during the actual ceremony.

“You know, I was always jealous of you,” Mark said, flicking a bell hanging from the elaborate crown. “Of the time you got to spend with Mom practicing for this. That you’re the special one in the family.”

“That’s silly, I was the one always jealous of you. You got to read books with Dad while I had to drill the same eight dances over and over again,” Zelda said, looking both of them over in the mirror. Sheika Tears were painted in red down her cheeks, while Hylia’s triforce repeated on her forehead and the headpiece, and the neckline of her white dress. “I had to fight to even be allowed to go to university instead of work at the shrine.”

“And you’ll fight to have a job and be the high priestess. And then you’ll do both amazingly well until you die. You have Hylian History tomorrow, so I know you are completely familiar with the amazing feats of all the Zeldas that have come before you,” Mark said. “Priestesses of Hylia and world-shakers at the same time.”

“Their feats were because they were princesses, no one bothered writing anything about them once they became priestesses,” she said. “It was because they were princesses that they could save the kingdom, unless you’re talking about all those goddess blessings the myths talk about. And I think I would know if I could do magic.”

Mark smiled in the mirror, “But I know my sister, and maybe you aren’t rewinding time or setting fire to Twilight, but you are going to be a Zelda for the history books, just wait.”

“You’re supposed to get less religious as you go away to university,” Zelda pointed out, “Realize the Gerudo lighting was simply channeled electricity, figure out that it’s impossible to resurrect someone from the dead so that they continue to be young and health after 100 years, that sort of thing.”

“Call me a rebel then,” Mark said, “Did that happen to you? Did university convince you our maternal bloodline is simply a bunch of really good story tellers?”

“Well . . .” Zelda shifted in her seat, not sure how to answer. Not sure of the answer. “At the very least, I shouldn’t have to be a priestess if there is no great incarnation of pure evil to vanquish. I should be able to spend all my time studying if I’m not going to be called upon to imprison the incarnation of darkness.”

“Now who’s being silly. You have perfect memory recall and have always grasped academic concepts, and their flaws, immediately,” Mark said. “You’re goddess-blessed with an impossibly big brain, so you have some spare time to practice the midwinter’s dance. But not that much time, ready?”

“Ready,” Zelda said, letting him help her up.

Her every step tinkled with the bells on her costume and from the bells in her hand. Mark seated himself out of the way and turned the lights to the way they would be at the ceremony.

Farore’s wind was the breath in her lungs, feeding the Din’s fire and electricity of her heart and brain, letting her movements be as smooth as Nayru’s water, until time beat against Nayru’s ice with bells. Hylia was the goddess gifted with guarding and wielding the powers of the Three, the one charged with seeing the Three’s creation prosper. By the fourth turn, Zelda let herself feel what it was to by Hylia’s mouthpiece and body.

Embarrassing as it was, Zelda’s faith hadn’t been shaken by her university education at all.

  ~~~~~~

Zelda finished with her test ridiculously early, there was still half the time left for her classmates to continue their furious scratching. She had filled the essay sections to the brim, then scribbled her conclusion paragraphs on the back of the papers, and had already edited them. But, not wanting to be known as the brainiac like she had been in high school, Zelda waited until she heard at least one other student stand up with their test in hand to do the same.

Of course that one student had to be Link Faron. Zelda really hoped she wasn’t blushing as she made her way down the stairs opposite him. He was Mipha’s childhood friend, and ridiculously attractive. He was shorter than her by an inch, she shouldn’t be this attracted to him, but she was, and,

Oh Hylia, he was waiting for her at the door.

Mipha had had a small crush on him since childhood, but Zelda had been interested since he helped retrieve her favorite pen when it fell during the second week of classes. She had been gone for him since he defended ecological conservation efforts as a decentralized local movement with respectful funding distribution as opposed to an oppressive authoritarian conservation for maximum resource output that was the current majority party favored ideology.

“Hi Link,” she said, her voice a pitch higher than it should be as she closed the door behind them. Zelda cleared her throat, “Hi Link. Was this your last final for the semester?”

It was the last day of finals before winter break, of course it was his last final. But hair escaped his ponytail as he shook his head, framing the most intense blue eyes she had ever seen.

“I have a paper due at midnight,” he said casually, “I’m letting it sit for another couple hours before giving it a last revision and submitting it tonight. Was this your last one?”

“Yep, I’m free as a bird,” Zelda said.

“Cool . . . hey, do you want to grab lun—”

“Yes! I mean, sure,” Zelda said. “Sorry, I’m a little frazzled—from the test! I better have lunch and a small rest before trying to navigate public transit and heading home, haha.”

“Great,” Link said. “Anywhere you want to go to celebrate being done with your first semester of finals?”

“No particular preference, you?”

“No particular preference,” he mirrored her with a smile, but it wasn’t mocking, more like something he just wanted to try saying. “Since one of us has to make a decision, what about the Milk Bar?”

“Sounds perfect,” she said, letting him change direction.

Things got quiet, but Zelda couldn’t think of anything to say that wasn’t school related, and it felt silly to talk about school related stuff when they were on the cusp of break and this was one of the few times in her life she didn’t want to talk about school or academics.

“So, any plans for the holidays?” Link asked.

Was he casually making conversation not about school, or was he trying to see if she was free to ask her on a date? She wasn’t prepared to be asked on a date! Mipha had a crush on him too, for years longer than Zelda, was she even allowed to say yes? What if he wanted to go out one of the nights she had to perform the ceremony? What if—

NO! Keep it cool. He wasn’t asking her out, he was making polite conversation. Be polite back.

“My brother attends Lorule University,” Zelda said, “He came back early, so we’re going to spend some time together while he’s home as a family. I’m going ice skating with Mipha at some point, but other than that I don’t have any definitive plans. What about you?”

“My dad travels around for the military, so my little sister Aryll is actually coming to visit me here in Castletown for Midwinters,” Link said. “Any recommendations on where to take her? I’ve been buried under school work and haven’t explored too much of the city myself.”

“What does Aryll like?” Zelda asked. “Is she into sculpture art like you? Because the Waker River Gardens is absolutely beautiful this time of year, but people don’t tend to go in Winter because of the cold.”

“How did you know I like statute art?” Link asked as they approached the restaurant.

“Oh, uh, Mipha mentioned it,” Zelda said, really hoping she wasn’t coming across as creepy. Curse her perfect memory. “She said that you were friends growing up, and you were majoring in art and teaching.” Wrong. He was double majoring in Art and History Education.

“I’m double majoring in Art and History Education,” Link corrected her with a smile. Zelda mentally patted herself on the back. “So a first year history course was a little easy for me. Hence finishing the test so early. I’m not sure which one I’m going to like more, art or history education, so I’m filling my schedule with both and letting fate take me. Are you majoring in history? You always had such good answers in class.”

“Nope, I’m a bio-chem major, this is just a GE credit,” Zelda said. “But my family has always been big on history, so it wasn’t a terribly challenging course for me either. But it was fun.”

They arrived at the Milk Bar and gave their orders before sitting down at a table.

“Is that why your parents named you ‘Zelda’?” Link asked, not seeing her flinch, “because they like history?”

Hylia, why could she only think of stupid answers? “It’s a family name” was stupid, “my name’s actually illegal because they never took the law off the books forbidding my family from naming their daughters ‘Zelda’ after the fall of the monarchy, isn’t that funny?” was worse. “Yes, because they loved the history that said I have to be named Zelda so any possible heroes of legend and/or incarnations of evil could find me and allow me to assist/confront them with my non-existent goddess-descendant powers,” was so far off the table she shouldn’t even be thinking it.

“Er, you don’t have to answer that,” Link said when her pause lasted a bit too long. “You must get that a lot, sorry. It was just a bit surreal to have Professor Rauru call upon ‘Miss Zelda’ for an in-depth analysis of historical interracial politics.”

“It’s okay, I did get it a lot,” Zelda admitted, “sorry for freaking out a little, spending middle school being called ‘Princess Zelda, Queen of Freaks’ still hits me sometimes.” Stupid! How did she manage to come up with a more embarrassing response than all the others. She rushed, “I mean, haha, I’m over it. It’s just a name. And I’m not the only one named after historical figures, Link, the Hero of Hyrule, so . . .” And it was getting worse, she couldn’t look away from her lap. Please cooperate mouth, “So . . . it’s not as unusual as you would think?”

Nope. Call it a day. Worst work she had ever put forth in a conversation. Only thing left was to leave awkwardly and hope they never cross paths again.

“Actually I think—”

“You’re right, sometimes parents do give us ridiculous names to live up to,” Link said, speaking over her. Zelda stopped reaching for her bag and looked up. He smiled gentle, his hands on the table, “Mom always says that my name came to her in a dream, and Dad was hoping I’d turn into a great warrior that would follow his footsteps into the military. He’s always groaned about how my name was wasted on an artist and aspiring teacher.”

“Link is the name of a peacemaker,” Zelda defended, leaning forward and staring him straight in the eye. “In times of chaos and strife, a peacemaker means being a warrior that protects those who wish to stop fighting from those that wont stop. The heroes of Links past were successful against evil because they pulled tools and philosophies and lessons and fighting styles from every people of Hyrule. In times of peace, to be a peacemaker means connecting people across cultures in different ways. Through art, which is universal and touches the light of intelligence and soul of fire within all of us. Or teaching, affirming ideals of peace and understanding before the weight of the prior generations’ grudges take hold. Your chosen professions honor the name ‘Link’ and every Link that has gone before you through the annuls of time approves of your decisions.”

Link’s mouth was hanging open by the end of her speech.

Why had she said that? The words didn’t feel like they came from her, but they were true. She felt their truth down to her soul, but it was like they had been whispered in her ear, and she commanded to speak, more than something she would ever say on her own.

Especially not to Link.

Oh Hylia, Link hadn’t moved.

Though Hylia might be the problem. Gosh, this was so embarrassing. Why did her freaky priestess background make her passionately spout truths when she wasn’t as the Shrine?

She felt blood flooding to her face in flushed embarrassment, and she snatched up her bag, “Oh Hylia, sorry about that! I can’t believe I said that. Uh, just ignore me, please. Please. I’m just going to tell them to wrap my food to go, sorry. Bye Link.”

She stood up and started walking to the counter when something grabbed at her backpack, stopping her in her tracks.

“No, please don’t go, it’s fine, it’s cool, I swear,” Link said. A glance back showed that he was blushing too, immediately releasing her bag. “You caught me off guard, but that’s one of the things I like about you. You’re always 100% sincere. It’s . . . it’s cool. Someone as smart as you could probably go around making everyone feel stupid, but you care more about saying what you actually think and feel and it’s cool. Don’t be embarrassed for saying something really cool.”

Zelda stared at him for a moment, trying to figure out if he meant all that or not.

He managed to turn redder, “And now I’ve used cool like four, no, five times in a row, showing I’m clearly the weird one and you should probably leave.”

“I don’t want to leave if you don’t want me to leave,” Zelda managed, taking small glances at him then away from him.

“I don’t want you to leave.”

“Awesome, does that mean I can give you your food now or what?” a girl said, jolting both of them from their heads. The girl popped her bubblegum and waited.

“Yes, please, right here,” Zelda said, hurriedly sitting back down. “Sorry.”

The girl shrugged, put the food down, and walked away.

“So, uhh, moving on,” Zelda said, “What do you think about taking Aryll to the Waker River Gardens?”

“I think it’s a good idea,” Link said. “She’s more into knitting craft wise, but we spent some summers in the Waker Islands . . . .”

The red slowly receded from their faces as they managed to have a good, not intense, conversation. She helped him plan out different things to do with Aryll, and he let her infodump on some of the local history.

Then he walked her to her bus stop, so they could keep talking.

The bus was coming and he quickly asked, “So, do you, uh, want to join me and Aryll at the Waker River gardens? The day after Midwinters? If you’re not busy, Aryll would love to hear you talk about the sculptures, I’m sometimes too quiet for her on my own.”

The bus arrived, she only had a second to decide. “Yes, I’d love to. Um, I’ll get your phone number from Mipha?” she said, drifting towards the loading door.

“Please. See you soon,” Link said, still smiling at her.

Zelda nodded. Got on the bus. Sat herself in the farthest corner she could, pulled as many folds of her scarf in front of her mouth as she could and squealed as the bus drove away.

Missing Link, staring at her through the bus window, still able to hear it.

 The week coming up to Midwinters passed by in a blur of dance practice and texting Link. Zelda did get Mipha’s blessing to pursue Link, since Link had asked Mipha about Zelda too and she wasn’t one to stand in the way of true love for a childhood crush. Mark caught on, but didn’t tease her too much. Dad teased her more, but he was so busy preparing the shrine for the three-night ceremony, he couldn’t do it nearly enough to actually affect her.

Freshly bathed in blessed spring on their property, wearing the pine robe she had donned during Farore’s day, Zelda waited for her cue as Dad and Mark got the attendees to quiet down so they could start.

It seemed like there were more people here than usually attended. Hylia worship had fallen out of style with Castletown the last two-hundred years of industrial progress. Some she recognized, like Impa’s family with their snow-sheikah hair, they came every year, and most were tourists fascinated by the fact that she was descended from a straight maternal line of royalty and priestesses, rather than actually here to obtain blessings from the Goddess. Some faces she recognized from elsewhere, like Professor Rauru.

Luckily his eyesight was going and the Midwinter’s ceremony was the one ceremony that she didn’t speak, symbolizing the years of confinement and time-biding Hylia often required of her followers before blessing them with power to overthrow the darkness. He would definitely recognize her voice, but without her speaking, she’d be just Hylia’s Priestess.

Then she caught a truly familiar face, sitting with a blonde girl.

Link.

Zelda shoved the curtain closed and backed up, accidently overturning the brazier and bringing Impa towards her in worry.

“Zelda? What’s wrong?”

“Link’s in the crowd,” Zelda said, about to kneel and clean up the ashes. Impa forcefully yanked her away and looked pointedly at her dress. Right. Divine representatives of the goddess shouldn’t have ashes on their knees before going through their devotions if they could avoid it.

What did that matter? Link’s in the crowd! He was going to see her be weird and undress halfway and see her get her face painted with crazy symbols and watch her walk with bells all over her and he’s never going to see her as a maybe girlfriend ever again!

“Breathe Zelda,” Impa instructed. “Breathe, it’s fine. You’re okay.”

“But Link doesn’t know I’m this Zelda,” she emphasized. “He’s going to think I’m a freak. It takes years of study to understand the symbols and appreciate them, he’s here as a tourist and going to think I’m a religious nutcase.”

Impa opened her mouth to respond.

“And don’t say that it’s my fault for not telling him. My childhood trauma is not my fault.”

“I wasn’t going to say that,” Impa sighed. She scrubbed her hands clean then pushed Zelda’s still wet hair back behind one ear. “I was going to say that this is who you are. You are part of all the women who have come before you, and your legacy will become part of every daughter that descends from you. You have nothing to be ashamed of.”

“You’re going to paint the triforce on my forehead,” Zelda pointed out, wringing her hands. “And he’s going to watch you take off the robe and sew the new robe onto me. How could he possibly find me attractive after that!”

“Your father found your mother’s faith attractive,” Impa pointed out. “And I found my husband’s faith attractive. To believe something with your whole heart,” the drums silenced, their cue to enter the stage. “That’s what it means to live,” she finished with a whisper. “He’s not worthy of you if he doesn’t see the beauty of this ceremony.”

“But I really, really like him,” Zelda whimpered.

“Do you love Hylia more?”

That wasn’t fair.

It also wasn’t wrong. Zelda closed her eyes and let her head hang forward. She took a deep breath.

“Go, I will follow.”

“Hylia cares about your love life more than most,” Impa promised with a kiss to her brow. Wrinkled hands squeezed hers. “Trust Her. You will be loved. And it would be a precious story if your true love was named Link.”

Impa walked out and Zelda made herself breath another prayer.

To the Goddess, I give praise for the wisdom of my ancestors in continuing to honor her and the values she guards. I am honored by the strength given to endure all trials of my faith. I am honored by the courage She grants me to risk my heart for my faith in Her and all my ancestors before me. May Her blessings see me through this night with wisdom to perform correctly according to ancient practices, strength to endure without embarrassment, and courage to proclaim my faith of greater importance than the feelings my heart. Adimen.

Impa hit the gong that was Zelda’s cue.

Zelda had practiced enough to do this blindfolded. So she made her eyes unfocus on the crowd as she stepped into the firelight, her hair damp but no longer dripping.

The hour long ceremony felt longer.

Impa disrobed her, returning Farore’s gifts of courage, claimed between the fall equinox and midwinters, to the sky by burning the fabric. Her undershift, which modestly gathered above her bust and fell to her knees, was slowly covered with Midwinter’s clothes and bells, her outfit built on top of her to drumming of the assistants and occasionally flute. Impa spoke of each piece as it layered on her. What it represented. Finishing with her dry, now plyable hair.

Zelda held still when she was supposed to still and moved when she was to ring the bells at her wrists, ears, hair, knees, and ankles. She closed her eyes as Impa applied the facepaint.

And with a breath, Zelda turned her head to more clearly be seen by the audience.

Hylia, to you I give the shame I have been holding onto. I choose you and the traditions of my mothers. I repent of my embarrassment. Let me be your avatar.

Let Link see us as one and decide for himself if I am still someone he seeks.

Impa was doing the final stroke of the triforce, and it wasn’t her hand caressing Zelda’s shoulder in a hug. Impa stepped back, and still more gentle hands helped her stand up and walk like water, breathing in Farore’s wind to fuel the fire inside her.

Except the fire wasn’t just inside her anymore. It wasn’t tucked like a battery in her heart. It felt like her breath was setting fire to the very blood in her veins. Blood pushed through her like rivers of lava, but she was not burned. The air sweeping through her lungs wasn’t a human breath, but the wind rushing through the mountain peaks of Lanyru. She felt like she had become one with Hyrule. 

Do not speak, Daughter. Know that we are here with you, always. Hylia shines on you and protects Hyrule still.

A thousand voices at once should not be that gentle.

Tears gathered in her eyes, her only available response to overwhelming love, and she did not speak as she continued her dance. The tears acted as their own blindfold, as constant as the water flowing from the Zora’s Domain into Lake Hylia, but she no longer cared about the eyes of the audience, only that the powers within her and surrounding her knew to protect all those watching, and all those that weren’t.

To each direction she rang the bells and felt her love for the races connected to those cardinal points. Gorons to the North. Zora to the Northeast. Sheikah to the East. And so forth until all the peoples on Hylia’s land, under Hylia’s protection, were blessed with another year of the Goddess’s protection from evil and the desires and whispers of destruction.

The dance turned faster, but Zelda didn’t miss a single step, her body its own chorus, its own promise, that with every step of the goddess’s representative, it was a step that worked for Hyrule’s prosperity and piece. Zelda’s every step should ring out like this, always, but instead of chimes, love for the people around her and her desire for their protection should emanate from her for all to see and understand.

She would. She would. She would.

The dance wound down, so did the flames and the lights until everything was plunged into darkness, the drums and other instruments finally ceasing.  

Zelda stood up, the bells heralding what eyes couldn’t see. She danced forward again for every direction, for every people, and she swore she could see the blue of Link’s eyes in the darkness when the cloudy, moonless night meant no one saw anything, until a leap took her behind the curtain to the northwest leaving silence behind.

Zelda held stiller than she had the whole rest of the ceremony as Father turned the electric lights back on, thanked everyone for attending Hylia’s blessing, please leave a donation on your way out, and Happy Midwinter to everyone, gods all bless.

When the shrine had emptied out of the main ceremonial area, Impa arrived and respectfully removed the bells, wrapping them for next year with barely a sound. Then helped clean her face and help her out of the white midwinter’s dress. This newly made dress would be donned and dismantled come Nayru’s day in two months.

Zelda would normally change into her pajama’s from here, exhausted, and go to bed to wait Midwinter’s morning, but Mark called out as he handed her a bag of her clothes through the curtain.

“You’re gonna want these this time,” he said vaguely. “Your boyfriend asked to see you.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Zelda said. “And he’s probably waiting to tell me I’m never going to be.” She tried to feel hurt at the statement, now that the ceremony and strength from her ancestors had passed.

But she felt fine. Zelda had chosen her faith and it was the right decision.

Now was probably the best time for Link to break her heart, with the high of the ceremony, he’d barely be able to scratch it.

“Impa, I don’t remember you painting this one,” Zelda said, frowning at the triforce on the back of her right hand. She rubbed at it, but it wouldn’t come off. “Impa?”

“Oh, my dear girl,” Impa said, putting her hands over Zelda’s. Impa’s deep set eyes were smiling and watery, “It’s not paint or ink. It’s a mark from the Goddess that you have come fully into your power as her avatar on Earth. You’re going to need gloves if you want to hide that. And if my grandmother was right, not even gloves will truly work, not when you’re doing the goddess’s business with her full might.”

“Did . . . did Mom have this?” Zelda asked.

Impa shook her head, “Your mother was an excellent Priestess of Hylia, but the Goddess did not mark her in this way.”

“Are you dressed? Can I see? Dad’s whipping up a cake right now to celebrate claiming your divine birthright, by the way. Told you you were special.”

“I’m dressed,” Zelda said, still marveling at her hand.

“Let me see,” Mark said, coming through the curtains and stopping at her shoulder. He whistled, “That’s way better than a tattoo. It was glowing during your dance.”

“Really?”

“Really, it was super cool during the darkness part. We can experiment later,” Mark decided, pushing her shoulder the way he came in, “Boyfriend now.”

“Not my boyfriend,” she said, her face flushing a little as she let him push her out towards the exit. She had been the goddess’s avatar and blessed the kingdom of Hyrule less than an hour ago, she could talk to Link.

And even if she word vomited like last time, Zelda would be okay.

She could be as embarrassing as her worst moment, and she would be okay.

Zelda grinned and picked up the pace.

“Link, hi!” Zelda said, rounding the corner to where he was waiting at the top of the steps.

“Zelda,” he said, his hand going to his hair.

“Did I see you here with your sister earlier?” Zelda asked, looking around for her.

“Aryll was cold, and she promised to wait in the car so long as I made sure you were still coming with us to the Gardens the day after tomorrow.”

Link shoved his hands in his pockets after he stopped fiddling with his hair.

“So . . . you were waiting for me?” Zelda prompted. Not scared of his answer in the least.

Link nodded, “Yeah, I asked your dad if I could see you. He almost said no, but your brother stepped in and said he’d ask you. Umm, so Zelda is a family name?”

Zelda giggled, “Just a bit.”

“Isn’t technically still illegal for members of your family to be named Zelda?” he said, then his eyes widened, “Not that I’m going to report you to the police or anything.”

“My ancestors figured that so long as they left off the fact that I am technically Zelda IV-XXIII, and my legal name is only Zelda Baker, people wouldn’t accuse us of trying to reclaim our ancestral position as heads of state,” Zelda said.

“You are the 4,023rd Zelda to bear the name?” Link asked.

“My family kept good records.”

Link groaned, “You are literally descended royalty and the Goddess’s avatar in mortal form.” His hand came out of his pocket to cover his eyes, “And you are not making this easy on me.”

“I’ll be quiet while you tell me what you’re trying to say,” Zelda promised sincerely.

He peeked at her through his fingers.

Zelda mimed locking her lips shut.

He took a deep breath.

“Okay,” he said, facing her again. “Zelda Baker, I really like you. I mean really like you. Would the Royal Goddess Zelda XXIII, consider going on a date with plain old mortal me?”

“The Royal Goddess Zelda isn’t going to come out again until Nayru’s day,” Zelda told him, grinning. “But Zelda Baker would love to go on a date with you.”

“Really?” he asked, perking up. “Umm, how does breakfast at Telma’s sound? We can pick Aryll up and go to the Gardens after.”

“It sounds perfect.”

“Great,” Link said, smiling goofily.

For a moment Zelda felt a warm hand on her back, pushing her to go one step forward. And maybe it was just the memory, the residual confidence, but Zelda took that step forward.

“Can I . . .” Zelda asked, taking the second step to be very clearly in his personal space.

“Whatever you want,” Link promised, not moving away.

“Can I kiss you?” she asked, a little shyness coming back at actually voicing the request. It sounded juvenile, like a real adult would be able to read body language and immediately understand if this was allowed or not, like in the movies. But this was Zelda’s first kiss. She wanted to be sure and clear.

“Yes,” he said, and his hand came up to cup Zelda’ cheek and pull her lips to his. His lips moved against hers, and she didn’t quite know what to do, but she pressed forward more, hoping he understood she liked what was happening.

Suddenly overwhelmed, she pulled back, her face feeling hot.

“Goodnight Link,” she said, still smiling. “I’ll see you Tuesday at Telmas, 8:00.”

“Goodnight Zelda,” he said, and waved as she escaped back to her house.

This time Zelda didn’t deny it when Mark called Link her boyfriend.