#tp zelink fanfiction

[nocturnalfandomartist]

🌫 Silver and Shimmering 🌫

We may not have got TP for Switch, but have this instead! >:) A commission I did for @aegon-targaryen and her fic "As Dusk Falls." Read it on ao3!

He lifted her chin until she looked at him. And there was such a gentleness in his eyes, like the misty light that seeped through Zelda’s curtains when rain washed the kingdom clean, and everything was silver and shimmering and so lovely that she wanted to take it in her arms and guard it from harm. “Tell me what you’re thinking when you look at me like that,” she said in a trembling voice, gripping his wrist, needing confirmation that he was real.

Link’s hands, scarred and gentle, came up to cradle hers. Without breaking her gaze, he pressed his lips to her knuckles and answered softly, “I’m thinking that I don’t want to say goodbye.”

The art is based on the snippet above. Even that little portion blew me away! Her writing, from the other fics I've read as well, is some of the best I've ever read. If you haven't read her work before, GO DO IT!!!! It will make your day! Or ruin it, if you find the angst. Whichever. Both are fantastic.

Time Elapsed: 9 hours, 24 minutes

Program Used: Ibis Paint X

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[aegon-targaryen]

Lost and Found

Zelink Week Day 1: Under the Stars | TP Zelink | read on AO3) | @zelinkcommunity

On the other side of the suspension bridge, Link took a deep breath of chilly air and released it in a long gust. From the back of her horse, Zelda could see the tension leaving his shoulders, could see the absent smile tugging at his lips. Trees bent down over the path to greet them with the sunset colors of autumn.

She had never visited Ordona before, but she did owe its Light Spirit a debt. She sent a silent prayer towards the spring as they rode past, as thanks for rescuing her and Link from Ganondorf’s warpath over a year ago. That was the first moment of quiet the two of them ever shared—his hand outstretched across the golden water, his fierce eyes softening as Zelda slid her fingers through his—but not the last.

“We’re here,” Link said, dismounting in the next clearing. Zelda’s eyes found the massive oak and followed the ladder up to the door carved into its trunk. As usual, he’d been overly modest in his description.

They tended to the horses and carried their bags up the ladder. The curved walls of the oak were lined with bookshelves and tools from the life he’d left behind. Wind rustled the forest outside, making the treehouse creak around them, and a faint smile flickered across Link’s face at the sound. He brushed his fingers over the wooden tabletop, finding it free of dust, and said with a sigh, “I keep telling Uli she doesn’t have to come in here and clean.”

“Is the bed up there?” Zelda wondered, studying the series of lofts overhead.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Link countered in a deadpan voice he must have picked up from Midna.

She swatted him playfully. “And here I was about to compliment your home!”

“Thanks. I’m glad you finally gave in.”

“Well, you were…persistent.”

“The harvest festival—”

“—only comes once a year, yes.” Zelda smiled at him. “But if I return to find my kingdom overthrown, I expect you to deal with the fallout.”

“You’ll return to find everything just as you left it,” Link decided, kissing her forehead, “because your hard work has paid off, and your people love you, and you deserve a break.”

Heat rose to her cheeks, and she was still trying to formulate a response when a shout rang out from the clearing outside: “Link’s here!”

Grinning from ear-to-ear, he pulled her back out into the brisk day. A group of children was running to meet him, and as soon as he dropped down from the ladder, the three older ones pounced, tackling him to the ground in a tangled heap of cheers and laughter. One little boy with round cheeks and a stoic expression stood apart, watching Zelda’s descent.

“Queen Zelda,” he greeted. “When you have time, I have several business propositions to discuss.”

Link had warned her about this. Zelda met the boy’s eyes solemnly. “You must be Malo. I owe you my thanks for repairing Castle Town’s southern bridge and remodeling that store in the square. Both have done wonders for commerce.”

He nodded, taking compliment as his due, though the almost imperceptible twitch of his mouth gave Zelda the impression that he wasn’t used to being taken seriously. On the ground, Link was still laughing with a kind of reckless abandon he’d rarely shown when they first came to know each other in the days and weeks after Midna’s departure. The entire world seemed a ruin then, and joy long out of reach; now it was right here in this sunlit clearing, wrapped around Zelda like a warm cloak.

She’d heard enough about these children that she could guess their names even before being told. Colin resembled his father, though something of his sweet, shy demeanor also reminded her of Link. Talo seemed the complete opposite of his brother, loud and curious, and Beth kept staring longingly at Zelda’s fine silk riding skirts and dark Sheikah cloak.

The children towed Link down towards the village, where people were rolling out log tables and hanging lanterns from the trees. She knew Rusl from his time in Castle Town; some of the others dipped into awkward bows or curtsies, and the mayor started stuttering out a formal greeting before Link stopped them with a roll of his eyes.

“Call me Zelda,” she said, the words unfamiliar and a little uncertain in her mouth—but she wasn’t here as queen; she was here as someone who mattered to Link.

And what a weightless feeling that was.

“Where’s Uli?” Link asked Rusl.

“Cooking. By the way, Fado could use your help with the goats.”

“How is he not better at that by now?” Link muttered, glancing at Zelda apologetically. “Fine, but we’re going to see Uli first.”

He led her across a shallow creek and up to a cottage on the hill. The moment he opened the door, the smell of pumpkin and cloves drifted outside, making Zelda sigh with longing. There was an older blond woman at the stove—looking remarkably serene despite the toddler bumbling around her legs and the mountain of dirty dishes in the sink—and another face she knew well from the Resistance.

“You came!” Ilia sang, rushing around the table to pull her into an embrace. Zelda hugged her back, surprised but smiling. The older woman kissed Link’s cheek and put her young daughter in his arms, crossing the room to take Zelda’s hands.

“Welcome, Zelda,” she said so warmly that it ached—in a sweet way, though. “I’m Uli. I’m so glad to finally meet you.”

“Thank you, Uli. I feel the same way.”

“I should go make sure Fado hasn’t been trampled by goats,” Link said, meeting Zelda’s eyes over the toddler’s head as she tried to grab at his earring. “You want to come with, or…?”

“I’ll stay and help.”

He smiled, glancing between her and his best friend and the woman who had raised him before he set the child down, stepping outside.

Uli took Zelda’s cloak as she shrugged it off. “Perhaps some tea? Please don’t feel obligated to help.”

“Link has been teaching me to cook,” Zelda replied, sensing her uncertainty about how to host a queen. “I’m always eager to practice.”

“Oh, wonderful. Perhaps you could chop those onions.”

Zelda got to work. She could still see Link through the window—Colin and Talo were shrieking in delight as they dangled from each of his arms; Beth clung to his legs, and he was pretending they all weighed a thousand pounds as he trudged dramatically towards the ranch with Malo trailing somberly behind.

“He looks good,” Uli observed.

“He looks happy,” Ilia agreed fondly.

Hearing the relief in their voices, it struck Zelda that the Link she saw out there, so removed from fear and doubt, was who he’d been before they met. He’d made peace with what he’d done for Hyrule—as much as anyone could—but that didn’t mean he would ever be carefree again.

Her eyes stung. Because of the onions, of course, nothing else.

“I’m grateful to you,” Uli said quietly, following her gaze out the window. “He’s been through so much that Rusl and I don’t understand. But he says that you see him clearly.”

That was true. No matter how different their backgrounds, there was so much Zelda shared with Link. The memories of neverending dusk, of wolves with bloody muzzles, of Midna’s coy smirk and stubborn pride. The scar Zelda’s unwilling blade had carved beneath his eye; the lightning-marks climbing up her limbs from when he’d redirected magic at her puppeted body. They were tied together in a way that had terrified Zelda at first—but that was before she’d loved him.

She wiped her stinging eyes and said simply, “He sees me too.”

For a long while, it was just the three women in the kitchen: chopping vegetables, making easy conversation, keeping the toddler out of mischief. Link popped his head in to see if Zelda needed rescuing, but she sent him off with a smile. The shadows grew long and the dishes came together one by one: pumpkin soup, pumpkin fritters, meat-stuffed pumpkin, pumpkin pie…

“Are we making anything that doesn’t include pumpkin?” she wondered at one point.

Ilia peered at her in bafflement. “Why would we?”

That seemed a fair point. The house smelled absolutely divine by the time they were ready to carry everything outside. The villagers were lighting paper lanterns to offset the fading daylight, turning Ordon into a world of flickering fireflies.

Dinner was a noisy affair, with everyone passing food and pumpkin cider around the log tables and shouting to be heard. To her own surprise, Zelda didn’t mind the noise. She liked the simple delight on the children’s faces when she answered their questions about life in the castle, the pride she felt when Link complimented her cooking, the teasing stories everyone told about his childhood. It was like the villagers all formed a circle together, and Zelda was inside its protection without question, despite her status and her past.

When the adults had a few pints down, someone broke out a country fiddle and began playing a lively tune that made the children jump up immediately. Everyone else followed but for Uli and Rusl, who lingered for a moment, exchanging glances while their daughter wriggled impatiently on the bench in between them.

“We just want you to know how happy we are that you came,” Rusl told Zelda quietly. “I don’t know what use a little farming town could possibly be for a queen, but you’ll always be welcome in Ordon.”

“Always,” Uli added quietly, and there was something perceptive in her soft gaze that suddenly reminded Zelda of her own mother, witty and devoted and six years gone. She managed a grateful nod as the couple finally got their daughter’s cooperation and joined the dance.

Colin grabbed his little sister’s hands, bouncing her around to the beat, while Uli and Rusl flowed together like an old river following its familiar banks. Ilia was giggling at her father as he stumbled through the steps. These people had suffered greatly under the Twilight—and surely they weren’t strangers to hardship before that, all the way out here at the mercy of the seasons—but they loved each other so freely, so simply, that it made Zelda’s throat constrict.

She had so much now: Link, Auru, her other friends in the Resistance, and a whole castle of people she was finally learning how to trust. But her family was long gone. And it was at times like this that she felt them most acutely. Her father wouldn’t have associated with these people, but she could almost see her mother dancing to the fiddle with her skirts swirling around her, unrestrained by duty or propriety.

Link’s hand found hers under the table. “You okay?”

“I—yes. It’s only…”

When she trailed off, Link squeezed her hand and suggested quietly, “Let’s go look at the stars.”

Zelda breathed out a sigh of relief as he led her towards the river, allowing the laughter and lanternlight to fade behind them. The sky over Ordon was breathtakingly clear, unimpeded by the lights of Castle Town. Instead of admiring its majesty, she buried her face in Link’s shoulder for a moment, feeling the rhythm of his pulse and the warmth of his hands as he stroked her hair.

“It must be hard for you to be here,” he ventured after a while. “I’m sorry.”

“Your family is wonderful,” Zelda said honestly. “It’s simply…complicated, for me. But it’s complicated for you to be with a queen, and that hasn’t stopped you. This won’t stop me.”

“I would never try to replace what you lost. But I’m here, Zelda. I’m always here.”

“I know,” she said, finally turning her gaze skyward. She’d spent a thousand sleepless nights this way, wishing she could pluck just one of those distant lights out of the black canvas to guide her path. Maybe she’d succeeded after all—because she had Link at her side now, keeping her company when everything else seemed dark. “Thank you, Link. For being here.”

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be,” he said, drawing her in for a long kiss. She felt a smile tugging at his lips before he pulled away. “Except maybe my treehouse. I never got the chance to show you the bed.”

She laughed. “That’s for later. Would you teach me how Ordonians dance first? I only know the waltz.”

“Oh, Zelda,” Link said with all the soft sincerity of starlight, “I’d love to.”

When they returned to the music and the gentle orange glow of the lanterns, everyone smiled at Zelda in a way that reached past some barrier deep inside her to embrace the lonely, frightened girl she’d once been, before the landslide of events that started with Midna’s sharp-toothed grin and led to this moment, to these people. Link brought her into the circle, and under the gentle glow of the stars, Zelda learned to dance.

.

.

.

[dubiiousfood]

Weighed heavily with the grief from the first year anniversary of his wife's death, Link, now in his old age, having seen and experienced so much in his lifetime begins losing faith in the world he now lives in.

Apart from this, his daughter, who is due to give birth to his first grandchild, the next heir to the throne at any given time also lingers at the back of his mind. After all that's happened in this life, in his old age Link has forgotten what it was to love, to feel, to remember. Maybe this baby is just what he needs to remember who exactly he is once again.

[hurricane105]

WIP Wednesday

TP Zelink marriage of convenience go brrrrrr

--

"I'll do it. But Zelda, can we keep this cat?"

Her eyebrows rise.

"Please? I promise I'll take care of him. You won't have to touch him unless you want to." Maybe this was what he had been missing since Ordon - animal companionship. Being a wolf himself did not count.

He watches her consider it. Will she say yes, to him and to this burgeoning partnership they're building in the wake of the Twilight?

Even the cat watches her, seemingly aware that she's the real decision-maker here.

"All right. If you can get the cat to the castle, you can keep it."

The ceramics booth seller had apparently heard the entire conversation. "Here, you can have one of my extra crates!"

Link flashes the seller a smile of thanks as he takes the crate and sets it on the ground. The cat trots forward, sniffing the edge of the crate, and Link scoops him up and sets the lid on top.

"Meeeoooowww!"

"Poor baby," Link coos through the slats, "It's just for a few minutes, I promise." He looks up to see Zelda giving him a surprised look, like she hadn't expected him to talk to his new pet.

Or maybe she's surprised at how quickly a cat carrier solution was offered. Yeah, that's probably it.

"What are you going to name him?" she asks as they walk home, indignant cat complaining in the crate Link carries. "Mittens?"

"Zelda, everyone names their cats Mittens or Socks."

"So you're saying that those names are off limits."

"Of course. We've got to have a name that suits this fine gentleman."

--

-Two Different Worlds (already to 23k words!) The idea of Link finding a cat and saying "please can we keep him" would not leave my head

[rottencandyapp1es-writeblog]

Written in Blood

(Post-Twilight Princess Zelink) (SFE)

"Hyrule is not a kingdom of honor."

Link blinked, attempting to process Zelda's words as he stared up at her, dressed in full royal regalia, long chestnut brown hair neatly braided and fastened in place by her crown, gloved hands folded neatly in front of her. The light from a large crack in the ceiling glaringly bounced off the paldrons weighing on Zelda's shoulders, threatening to blind him.

And yet, he refused to looked away.

"There is no hope or prosperity to be found here."

She began to slowly glide towards him, her ice-blue eyes never leaving his aquamarine.

"The horrors that threatened us were tempered by our very own hands. They will always return."

Zelda stopped in front of Link, mere inches away, and placed a hand on his cheek. Her thumb gently ran over the very prominent scar upon it. His mouth went dry.

He didn't look away.

"There is nothing but pain and suffering to be had here." she said, clearly but quietly. "I must remain and atone for the sins I inherited," she hesitantly began to draw her hand away, "but you shouldn't have to. You can still go home, and leave this cursed kingdom behind for good."

Before she could fully withdraw, Link grabbed her hand with a ferocity that shocked the both of them, their eyes as wide as saucers. In a soft, clear voice, Link finally spoke.

"I'm not leaving."

[writingnocturne]

ZelinkTines

Day 3 - Reunion

OoT Zelink & TP Zelink (TP Ending)

Link and Zelda have at last defeated Ganondorf. With this, a lingering memory in their soul may finally move on and live anew.

Word Count: 855

Rating: T

I've had this idea for a while, and I'm hoping I did it justice... :')

[zelink5ever]

One more entry for Zelink Week 2023, for the prompt “In Another Life.”

Link travels outside of Ordon for the first time in his life to go to Hyrule and give a gift to the royal family. He never imagines he might actually meet the princess. Or: Twilight Princess AU where the twilight part never happens.

I've been obsessed with this idea for literally years: Link was already on his way to see the princess even before anything ever called him to it. Thanks to Zelink Week 2023, I finally got around to writing something for it! @zelinkcommunity

[linksthoughtbrambles]

Crow's Feet

A short post-game TP Zelink story that's kind of sad, but also hopeful. ~5100 words. Also on Ao3.

---

The first time Zelda rode through Ordon, she’d been a child.

Her father and mother had ridden in front of her, speaking much of the way—soft smiles.  Her father’s crow’s-feet had not yet appeared, his face smooth and full of a rapt attention, hanging on her mother’s every word; her smiles, in return, full of a strength Zelda had tried to fill in her absence years later, a valiance and a dedication to her people outstripping all else.

She remembered children playing, stopping to watch their procession through their little village on their way to the far-off southern shores.  One boy had caught her eye among them as her parents stopped, briefly speaking to the elder townsfolk.  He’d seemed shy, barely able to meet her eyes, though she couldn’t take her own off him.

The next time she’d seen him, she’d already fallen: a shadow—less than vapor.

He’d restored her.  Her kingdom, too.

She’d offered it to him: her kingdom.  Herself.  Hoped to watch his crow’s feet appear, as her father’s had before the shadows came to engulf him.  He could look her in the eye, now, after their shared fate.

He chose not to.

She’d respected it—his  loyalty to the woman who already loved him.  He’d promised.

Zelda did understand.

She just couldn’t forget.

---

Years.  Years.

Her advisors avoided the subject of her marriage.  Her rapier never left her side.  Her new throne stood singular, three new Goddesses suspended behind her, the breath of life stagnant, gilded metal.

The governor of Faron Provence invited her to his son’s wedding, finally, in lieu of the marriage they’d hoped for to Zelda herself.  South.

She took many deep breaths in the coming weeks.

---

The second time Zelda rode through Ordon, she held her breath.

The Mayor, of course, came forward to meet them: Bo—a friendly man.  He spoke with her advisor, Minsh, of the wet year they’d had and its effect on their legume crops, Minsh commiserating as central Hyrule had suffered the same.  Zelda listened.

Then she saw him.

He carried a heavy sack on his back, two small children at his side.  They exclaimed at the decorated horses, at Hyrule’s golden banners.

He met her eyes.

He nodded with a small smile as the children began inundating the soldiers with questions.

His wife emerged from a small house, her hair longer, still pulled off to the side, now in a tie with its straw-colored strands draped over her shoulder to run down her chest.  She handed him an envelope, receiving a wide, friendly smile in return; then she saw Zelda’s eyes on her.  She gasped, eyes wide with something more than awe at the Queen of the realm in her village.

Link did not look Zelda’s way again.

---

Their return fell on a late evening, a dusk of lavender blue-fall embracing the dome of the sky.  Lights cheered windows and caressed the air as gentle fireflies.  The procession threaded the village, unhurried.  Not far to the north, a short path through stone glimmered with a multitude of those pulsing firefly lights, and Zelda held a gloved hand up, her voice soft as she called for a halt.  She’d meant to visit each Spring in her time—what better moment than when filled with the light of such life?

She ventured in alone at first.  She would invite her people to see this lovely sight, but she wished for a few moments alone: herself, the Spring, and the golden glow.  A glimmer of something shimmering, more compact for the span of a breath above the surface of the water drew her eye, and with it a silhouette.

She knew immediately, even before he turned at the sound of her steps.

He drew a soft, unbidden breath; he sank onto bended knee.

“Your Highness,” he said, his voice ever quiet, a light hint of rasp.

“Please,” she said in volume of the water’s rippling sounds.  “Rise, Link.”

He did obey, though hesitance split each bend of joints in two or three, the pulsing light behind him dividing each further so he seemed almost to exit one stance and enter the next as a statue reshaped, chiseled by time’s minutia, his face dark against its unconcerned ebbs and flows.

She moved toward the Spring, wishing to see him to the fullest in the dwindling dusk and swelling lifelight.  She kept her distance from him.

The light played as refracted through valley-wide water-waves on his solemn face, the gold as gentle strokes of a soft brush on canvas primed with the deep hues of twilight.

“Are you well?” she asked.

He nodded, shadows caressing his face above that small smile he’d saved yet again for her.  “And you, Princess?”

Her thumbs and forefingers met before her.

His smile sank with his eyes.  She thought, for a moment, he struggled to tear his eyes from her as they moved groundward—as though her dress were the object of his interest, her outline his threshold of restraint.

“I am well, Link.  Thank you,” she said.

The way he looked at her.

It’s not as though her life were secret.  Not from anyone in the kingdom.  No husband.  No heirs.

She wondered if the shifting glow would hide it—that the risen corners of her mouth reached that far only, her eyes as polished glass.  “Were those your children I saw on our way south?”

His teeth appeared this time: a true smile, a grin reaching where hers had aspired, firefly light flitting in and out of his clarified gaze.   “Yeah.  Two of them.”

“You have more?”

“A baby girl.”

Those corners of her mouth flickered up and down so many times.

“May I ask their names?” she breathed.

“Of course, Your Highness.  My boys are Matti and Sammel- um.  Sam.”  A laugh puffed out his nose as he hooked a hand around the back of his neck and rubbed, his face half-downturned.  The shadows overtook his face only for Zelda—the light still glimmered in his eyes, her reflection as illusion made reality within the man before her.  “My baby girl is Ayla.”

“So like your wife’s name,” she said.  She wished she hadn’t.  He turned his head to follow the fireflies coalescing in visual harmony, lazy circles over the Spring, his own harmony, the turn of his seasons, the mark of sun upon the dark.

“They’re different enough,” he whispered.

She didn’t ask why he’d done it.  She had, once—once was enough.

“May I call my people in?” she asked, voice absent in breath.  Others could bask in the beauty as she no longer could.

He nodded.  “Yes, Your Highness.  Of course.”

---

Minsh recommended marriage to the son of a wealthy landowner in southern Tabantha.  Zelda declined.

---

The Baron of Hebra province visited Central Hyrule.  He remained nearly two months.  He behaved with charming kindness, and none who had dealings with him in Hebra found him to be unfair—except those who behaved unfairly themselves.  He asked for Zelda’s hand in marriage.

She squeezed his upturned hand, smiling down at him, at his respect for her, his fervency as he knelt before her.

She declined.

---

Minsh presented a detailed account of all the eligible suitors of renown in Hyrule.  The painstaking nature of his work made itself evident in its smallest details, which Zelda appreciated.

She spent nearly two weeks reviewing it.

She sat on her balcony one night, sipping a delicate chamomile tea.  It would not help her sleep.

She resolved to invite three of them to visit her.

She did not write the letters.

---

Minsh presented news on Zelda’s three most favorable suitors.  One had married.

---

Zelda’s mirror revealed a woman no longer possessed of the beauty of early youth.  She stood regal, her face stately, the set of her jaw strong, her eyes glittering and keen, her skin with a dusting of freckles high on her cheeks despite her lady’s maid’s insistence on avoiding direct sunlight.  The thought-lines on her forehead appeared as she considered herself.

---

Zelda’s second most favorable suitor married.

---

Minsh began giving regular updates on the status of those men in the kingdom whose alliance would be favorable.  His voice waxed quiet.

---

The third time Zelda rode through Ordon, she vowed to move with swiftness.  They would be in a hurry.  There would be little time to stop and speak.  The unrest between the islands to the south and the seafarers at the mouth of the river had grown to need mediation.  Other attempts at reconciliation had failed.  Zelda’s reputation preceded her.  Few failed to wither beneath her penetrating gaze.  No one failed to notice the rapier at her side.  It tended to spur agreement forward.

She had avoided it in truth—allowed the situation to simmer.  She nearly wrote to him to request he take a family trip.  She should not see him.

She should not see him.

They rode at a brisk trot, yet cease they did once more, the procession too rare and obvious for the townsfolk to ignore.  This time, children stopped them first in their excitement.  Mayor Bo soon joined them, polite, yet adamant about showing off their new mill.

“Link put most of it together, bless him.  We’d never have managed this grinding stone without him.”

Zelda attempted to put the man out of mind as she inspected the water-powered mechanism, thankful the man himself was a goatherd and not a miller.

They remained an hour, and upon their release Zelda made for her horse with purposeful strides.

“There she is, dad!”

Her heart sank.

“Ayla- she’s the Queen.  We mustn’t-“

“But I want to meet her!  Please?”

A wistful smile threatened Zelda’s mouth.

She turned.

“Hello, Link,” she said, stately as ever, though with uncustomary softness.

His eyes.  They’d changed, somehow.  His skin sun-darkened.  It made the brightness of his eyes a shock, and perhaps that explained it—yet more clarified as his daughter pulled him toward her by the hand: very fine lines—a bare sign of wear.

“You must be Ayla,” Zelda said, turning her eyes on the girl upon her last word.

“You know my name?!”

“Ayla- remember-“

“Your Highness!  Yes.  I’m sorry about that, Your Highness.  I’m not used to talking to royal people.”  The girl’s face seemed a smooth facsimile of her father’s.

“That’s alright,” Zelda said.  “It is easy, is it not, to be overwhelmed by one’s emotions?”

“YES!” Ayla said with a little jump and tightly clenched fists.

Zelda watched the child’s face—not her father’s.  His stature waited, placid, at the edge of her sight.  “I am very pleased to meet you, child.”

“Me too, Your Highness!  I want to hear the story!”

“…Story?”

“Dad never wants to tell it.”  The girl tossed a purse-lipped glare her father’s way.  “He’s all shy about it, but mom said he saved the world with you!”

Zelda’s face fell without falling.  Her indulgent smile remained.  “I see.”  She sighed so lightly a child would mistake it for a mere breath.  “Very well.  If I am to tell it, however, I would ask for all the children to hear it.  What do you think?”

“But they’re not all here now!”

“We shall return here in five days’ time.  Can you see the path far to the south?”

“I can see it way far south if I hang on the weathervane!”

Zelda’s eyebrows shot up, Link’s feet shuffling in the telltale sign of his hand rising to grip the back of his neck.  “Indeed?  Very well.  The next time you see our banners off in the distance, I would ask that you gather all the children in the village to hear the story with you.  What do you think little one?  Is that fair?”

“Yes!!!” the child exclaimed!

Time.  It bought her time to think and prepare, and perhaps to be able to meet Link’s eyes.

---

She told the story beginning just after noon on the fifth day.  The entire village attended.  She spoke from a seat made of a high stump at her own insistence—a place where many could gather about her to sit in soft grass.  She needed no throne to speak truth.

She met his eyes at the right times.

He added to her story in his quiet manner, a few words, enough to bring soft laughter to her: moments of illusion.

She wished.

When her story ended, the children predictably asked question after question.  They ended up taking dinner in the village, sharing the fine wine and mead they’d brought with them.

Zelda returned to her echoing home.

---

Zelda’s third most preferred suitor married.

The first two had children.

---

Years.

Zelda’s mirror knew another, now.  One with softness about her eyes not borne of empathy: a permanent visitation.

Minsh made one final plea for her marriage, if only to continue the royal line.

She tried.

She asked Minsh to write in her stead.

Suitors came.

To say they all impressed her would be untrue.  The Baron of Hebra, now with grey in his beard, attended, his wife of six years having passed on.

Zelda nearly said yes.

She wept in his presence.

He didn’t have the heart to press her further.

He left with assurance.  He would wait should she change her mind.  Even should her courses cease, he would have her.

---

Her heart beat slow.  Calm, always.  Her kingdom thrived.  She would sink as the Sun turning sky to nigthshade and platinum-blond in a single stroke, though deep rose would emerge brief, a chaste kiss against the sky before dark.

Minsh had commissioned a thorough study of the royal family tree.  Should Zelda’s line fail, the next in line for the throne would be her elder cousin Riett, who had married the now-governor of Faron Zelda had visited so many years ago—she’d witnessed their wedding.  Their two children, both female, struck Zelda as a sign, for the royal heredity had always been female lest it break from the throne.  Perhaps Riett had never truly split from it.  Perhaps the Goddesses knew, had always known, Zelda’s heart would end this path, necessitating another.

She knew she must travel again.  Mere letters would not suffice.

She took so much air in deep, close-eyed breaths.

To circumvent Ordon made no sense.  Her heart must bear its own silent sentinel once more.

They would come to her eventually, of course, should time take Zelda’s continuance from her, but that hadn’t happened yet.

---

Zelda rode through Ordon on her stallion.  He’d calmed with the years ,though he’d always taken to her.

The town stood so quiet.

Mayor Bo’s face displayed sags and hollows, new and yet a signature of time.  He spoke with Minsh only briefly.  The smallest village children exclaimed at the horses.  None of them were Link’s.

They rode on.

Zelda had expected her face to fall upon seeing him.

It fell far further with her hope of doing so.

---

She spent six weeks in Faron.  She became reacquainted with her kind, fair-hearted cousin.  She would make a fine queen in the case of Zelda’s passing.  The children’s dispositions appeased her fears—her kingdom would not suffer for her heart’s immobility.  Hyrule would continue.  Their administration of Faron told their story for them.

Their ride back had taken on a bit more spring, and spring it was—babbling brooks and sweet twitterings of birds wooing mates.

Zelda watched beauty of sky and grass pass her by.

She both hoped and dreaded a glimpse of him as they rode through the village.

She would receive one wish regardless.

There he was.

He held a mallet, hammering new fenceposts into place—not about his own house.  Ever-kind.

His cheeks stood stark, every bit as hollow as the Mayor’s had been.  Greyed.  Zelda’s lips parted.

Minsh turned to her, expectant.

They’d nearly reached him, and he did not look.

Something stopped the procession ahead, the horses falling into stillnesss.  A child held something out expectantly to the captain far in front.  She heard his laughter.

Link did not look.

A brief hesitation, a motion and cessation, and then she dismounted.

He knew.  His eyes found hers.

He did not smile.

She approached, small steps, pinched brows.

“Link,” she said.

He nodded.  “Good afternoon, Your Highness.”

Too many breaths passed.

“Are you well?” she asked.

His chin moved as though to answer her.

No sound issued.

“…You are... not?” she asked, a depth skirted.

His eyelids sank, so slow, shutting with a flutter.  “Forgive me, Your Highness.  An- an illness passed through.  Ilia died.”

Zelda’s heart found her throat, blood at the apex of her senses, so overwhelmingly loud.

The village had seemed subdued already.  Time had passed.  “H- how long?”

“…Nearly two months.”

Just.  It had just happened before her last passage.

It took so long to find her voice.

“I am… so sorry for your loss, Link.”  Her voice wavered.

She meant it.

Tears threatened her.  It hurt.

She couldn’t imagine his.

“Thank you,” he said.  So soft.  Heavy.

She bowed her head.

After a time, Minsh appeared at her side.  He informed her of their readiness.

She said goodbye.

She mounted and left with tears freely falling.

More fell within the confines of her bedchamber.  They drenched her pillow night after night.

Cruel.

It would be cruel of her to ask him now.

---

Years.

Her heart hurt.

---

It became difficult to see herself in the face her mirror showed her.

Crow’s feet.

Her voice turned hard, though not unkind.  Final.  Finality.  Decisions as weights to be placed and not moved.

---

Minsh recommended marriage one more time.  He’d come to see her late in the evening—no longer uncustomary for him, for they could speak more frankly out of sight of the court.

“My courses shall pass soon,” Zelda reminded him, working a soothing cream into her hands’skin.

Minsh’s head tilted sideways, then the other way.  “Perhaps… or perhaps not, Your Majesty, but… this is not about producing an heir.”

Her hands stilled.

She turned in her seat, turned away from the mirror on her vanity.  “What do you mean?”

The look he turned on her—it fell so soft.  “You are unhappy, my queen.”

Her nostrils flared.  Tears already stung.  “It is of little import.”

His chin pressed upward, pressed his lips together.  “I respectfully disagree.”

“There is no suitor I wish to marry.”

“I did not mean to suggest you should choose a suitor,” he said.

She shut her eyes to turn forward again.  She would not see what the mirror had to show her.  “It would be selfish of me.  Presumptuous at best.”

“Then you know who I would say to ask.”

She remembered to continue treating her hands.

“… Please, Majesty.  Go to him.”

“I ought not.”

“I beg you.  I beg you on your own heart’s behalf.  Ask him.”

“He could not possibly say no should I ask.  I- I know my own heart.  I would be arrogant to assume I know his.  He refused once and has endured much.  I cannot ask him to endure a marriage he may not want.”

“…Go to him, then,” Minsh said, his voice a whispered plea.  “Please, my dear.  For my sake if not for your own.  I… cannot bear… do you know, Your Majesty, how long it has been since you smiled?”

“I smile every day,” she said with a scoff.

“You pretend to smile.  That is not the same thing.”

She lowered her moistened hands, fingertips on the many hair-thin lines upon them.

---

She rode alone but for her rapier and her ever-present bow, though none but her knew of it.

Should she fall, it would be of little import.  The kingdom rested in security, its heirs established should need be.

Need would likely be, she told herself.

She reached Ordon at sunset, osmotic reds, golds, and oranges on the horizon, an issuance from the Sun’s farewell, the sky blooming fall marigolds.

She dismounted near his house, its windows dark.  She did not knock.

She led her stallion around back, finding a willowy girl of perhaps twelve years filling troughs with water.

“Ayla?” Zelda asked.

The girl turned, nearly dropping her large bucket.  “Your Majesty,” she said, voice high and breathy.

Zelda tried to smile.  “I… was hoping to see your father.”  Not speak with him.  No.  He would do any speaking.

The girl looked down, holding her bucket in hands suddenly pressed together at her front.  “He… at this time of day, sometimes he goes to the Spring.  He…” she paused, then shrugged, eyes flicking back up to Zelda’s for a moment.  “He doesn’t want us to see him be sad.”

Zelda’s eyes stung.  “I understand.  Thank you.”

“I think he would like to see you, Your Majesty.”

A short puff of air left Zelda’s nose.  “Alright then, Ayla.  I… shall see if that is so.”

She found him there.

The firefly lights once more, though they’d gathered not only above the water, but above him, swirling in a whirlwind of impossible slowness, far nearer to his hair than she’d have thought, especially since he sat.

The large log hadn’t been there all those years go.

Perhaps he’d placed it.  Perhaps he’d sat there with his wife, arms about each other.  Or perhaps he’d moved it after her death.

Or perhaps it wasn’t him at all.

Yet there he sat upon it, his fingers threaded through each other, his mouth rested upon them, eyes shut in immobility.

She approached with as much quiet as she could manage, but the slight turn of his head said he heard her.

“I’m okay, Ayla,” he said, turning-

-then saw her.

His shoulders fell as he straightened, half-turned on the log to watch her move, so like all those years ago, she moving to stand where the fireflies would reveal his countenance.

Shock.

Shame flamed her face.  She clasped her hands loosely before her, her arms straight and head bowed, and closed her eyes.

She should not have come.  She had intruded upon him.

One does not spend more than twenty years with a dear friend and fail to come to love them every bit as earnestly as the sudden strike of unexpected passion.

He doesn’t want us to see him be sad, the girl had said.

He still grieved his wife.

Minsh had meant well, but she would not stay.  She turned from the spring to leave him in peace.

He rose at her first step.  “Wait,” he said.  She stilled as he approached her, stopping only a few feet to her side.  “Please…”

“Forgive me,” she whispered to the cool grass, its color the ever-blue of blanketing twilight.  “I traveled here at the request of my chief advisor.  I ought not have.”

“…Why?”  The subtle sounds of the shimmering spring nearly drowned his question, consequence all but lost in even so little noise.

Her feet shifted.  “I have intruded upon you.  It was most inconsiderate of me.”

A breath passed.  “I meant why did he ask you to come here.  Your majesty,” he added, with a softness entirely different from quiet—a tone she had not heard since they parted ways all those years ago.

It brought tears to her eyes.  The blanket of sky fell nearer to ground as she considered the dent her thumbs made in her skin.

She could not tell him.  She’d promised herself she would not.  She would ask nothing of him.  He owed her nothing—quite the reverse.  He had saved her from the grip of pure evil, and yes, she’d aided him in battle but she could just as easily have gifted him her magic, allowed him to wield the bow of light.  She had wished to redeem herself.   She had done that, at least.

And what if he did owe her?  Would she hold a debt over him, compel him to bed her without love?

No.  She would die first.

“Forgive me,” she said once more, her voice wavering with resumed steps, hurried, fervent, toward the gate, near black in absent sun despite the thrum of thousands of lights behind her.

“Princ- Your Highness, please, please wait!”  He jogged after her, coming to rest with bare feet shoulder-width apart in her direct path.

She hadn’t noticed at first, his shoeless feet, his trousers rolled up to the knee.  She supposed he’d waded into the sparkling spring with the last rays of sun.  With barely any light remaining, she couldn’t tell whether his skin glistened with moisture.  She found herself staring at the arch of one foot, waiting for a sharp glimmer of reflected light.

His hands met before his stomach.  “I’d hoped to see you again,” he said.

Why? she didn’t ask, hope a selfish thing.

His hands twitched toward her, then stretched outward, palms up.

She considered them.

She so wished to take them.

“Please,” he whispered.

She closed her eyes once more.  Any choice to be made here must be his.  She held her own hands out, palms down, and waited.

His warmth on them drove a sound from her as her chest curled in, constricting her lungs, her face tight and pinched as she refused to believe.  That would not be fair to her should she be mistaken.  She would cease to be capable of sight—need to trust to her horse entirely to carry her back north, toward home.

Her fingers rested in a gentle curve over his; his thumbs each settled on her knuckles.  He remained that way, still, as crickets played a few bars of their nightly music, then stroked her there softly.

She bit her lip.

“I thought of you,” Link said.  “A lot.”

She shook her head.

“It’s true.”

She opened her eyes just enough to see their joined hands.

“I… I loved my wife.  So much,” he said.

Zelda nodded.

“But my mind would drift toward you,” he whispered with the barest tremor.  “And… then… you didn’t marry.”

Her first tear fell.

He gathered both of her hands in one of his, then used the other to brush that drop from her skin.  His hand lingered there, curled against her cheek.  “Why didn’t you?”

She promised herself she would not say, but she couldn’t help but look at him.

Her eyes must have grown accustomed to the low light.  The look on his face—as though they were young again.  As though he’d just taken her hands, so like this, to explain—to tell her no.  He seemed every bit as anxious now as he had in that moment.

“Was it me?” he asked.

Her face could not be stopped.

Her upper lip lost slow ground against her lower, propelled by her weakening chin, her nostrils flaring and everywhere around her eyes threatening to pinch them shut.

It only took a few moments for liquid to flow freely on her cheeks, finding that hand of his and then his shoulder as he pressed her to him.

“I’m sorry,” he said—high and tremulous.

She felt his chest shudder, his own moisture striking her hair and shoulder.

He stroked her hair.  Many strokes—long, soft—lingering.

She couldn’t explain it.  Didn’t know why this felt more like coming home than returning to her castle ever had.

She barely knew him, in truth.

She could count the number of times they’d spoken on her fingers.

She didn’t understand.

They sniffled and breathed soft, fluttering puffs of air against each other—his chest, her hair.

“You had to hurt one of us,” Zelda said.

His arms tightened around her.

“It did have to be me.  We’d barely spoken.”

“That doesn’t mean it hurt any less,” he said.

She pressed her face harder to his shoulder.

He began walking them back toward the fireflies, the spring, their embrace unbroken, his feet nudging hers step by step.

She smiled against him.

He didn’t stop until they reached the very edge of the water, its nightly shivers.  He pulled back and turned her gently to the side, hands on her biceps, stepping so all those little lives lit their faces.  He smiled at her—it compelled her to touch his face, the corners of his eyes where they reached for his temples.

Crow’s feet.

He let her feel him, that smile growing sad as he watched her expression flicker.  “Not what you remember?” he asked.

“It’s not that,” she said.  “I simply recall… my father.  His eyes had lines like these.  They appeared not long before he passed.”

He caught her hands in his and kissed the backs of both sets of fingers.  Her breath caught then, too.

“There’s time,” Link said.

“Does that mean- does it mean you will-“ She wished to ask so badly.

“Will marry you?” he asked.

She just stared at him.

“I will if you still want me, Zelda.  I… come here to think.  About a lot of things.  But lately, I keep thinking, maybe I’ll ride into Castle Town.  Maybe I’ll ask for an audience with the queen.  Maybe… maybe I’ll see if she still wants me after all this time and after I hurt her so badly.”  The eyes he turned on her were full of something.  Not remorse, no—he’d already said he loved his wife—and not pity, either.  She wasn’t some helpless creature.  She could have had any of countless husbands.  She nearly took one.

She just hadn’t quite let go.

That was it—in his eyes.  He hadn’t quite let go, either.

“I still want you,” she said, some tone in her voice seeming to stimulate the hovering insects near her to fluoresce in echo of her words.

That hand of his which had stroked her cheek returned.  The other followed it.

His face drew nearer.

She had kissed a man.  One man.  A few times.

Never Link.

The muscles beneath her navel quivered.

His lips touched hers, so soft, so gentle, yet sweeping, a meeting of more than the outermost surface, and in a moment the tips of their tongues touched.  They met three times before Link deepened the kiss.  Zelda leaned into him, snaking her arms around his neck with a high sound riding on a sigh as her body relaxed into his, as his hands found her waist, then her hips, his fingers splaying to feel more of her.  When he pulled back, both their eyes lay more than half lidded, fixed on each other.

“I have them too,” Zelda said.

“What?”

“Crow’s feet.”

A puff left his nose as one side of his mouth turned up.  “I like them.”

She blinked, watching his deepen the more his smile did.

“So do I,” she said.

---

Follow this link for my masterlist.

[ladyhoneydee]

30 Day Song(fic) Challenge: Day 1

Today’s fic for my homebrew Song(fic) Challenge is for the prompt “favorite album opener”, and I just had to go with the song “State of Grace” by Taylor Swift, for her album “Red”! The drums and guitar bring on a sensation of motion and autumn that is perfect for the rest of the album, in my opinion.

a gentle wildness

Game: Twilight Princess, post-canon

Pairing: Zelink

Word Count: 817

Keywords: introspection, healing, romantic

“Even if she were to have the gift of prophecy, as ancestresses past had held, she never would have seen him coming.”

Read the fic on Ao3, or under the cut!

She’d been told the stories before she was old enough to walk.

A princess would be born in a castle—that’s you!—and she would be filled with so much goodness and light that it would drizzle from her fingers like raindrops off of a forest leaf. She would sing and the birds would sing back; she would speak and the people would remove their hats just to hear her words a little more clearly. She would grow strong and beautiful and virtuous and full of glory, glory, and she would raise her kingdom—why wasn’t it a Queendom, if she had the blood of the gods? hush now, that’s just not how the story goes—to even greater heights, while she waited for the clouds of evil to cover the sun. 

But she wouldn’t be alone. Because a hero would be born, and he would emerge from the town next to the castle—or a small village on the coast!—or from the hamlet home of a family of royal guardsmen—or the mists of an ancient forest!—and he would walk to the castle with the wind on his back, and he would take her hand, and the gale of his might would drive away the darkening clouds. 

She had been carefully coached on the course her life would take. It was truly unfortunate that she had failed at every turn.

Life? Or death?! 

And the sword had clattered to the marble floor with the metallic toll of a funeral bell. 

Midna…I believe I understand now just who and what you are…

And the light she had so diligently clutched to her chest—even after her own body had vanished in twilight and she had crafted a facsimile so convincing even a feral wolf might stand down in awe—flowed freely from her palms and into the weak frame of a truly beautiful soul, leaving her emptier than a cracked glass. 

It stood to reason that the man who came to her aid would be different than the stories had told her, as well. 

A shepherd. A keeper of flocks, a defender of the weak. A man who had learned the bow to hunt wild rabbits and deer before he ever aimed it between the eyes of a bokoblin; a man who had learned the sword to please his father and entertain his brother, despite neither being a blood relation. He had come to her not tall and strong with the wind at his back, but furred and frenzied with a imp resting upon it; and he had returned to her again with a whine on his tongue and a begging tail between his legs and the imp on his back gone inky blue with pooling blood and shadow beneath her skin; and he had taken her hand like an equal when at last she saw him on two legs rather than four. 

He may have been blessed by the goddesses, but there was not a hint of their marble polish in his touch. His was a gentle wildness all his own. 

Even if she were to have the gift of prophecy, as ancestresses past had held, she never would have seen him coming. 

They had both been wrecked by the fallout of a kingdom crumbled. They bonded over hearts shattered into mosaics, like the mirror of their mutual beloved. Each night, she put herself to bed while tremulously imagining his room empty in the next morning’s light, and the door swinging on its hinges, as he returned where he belonged. Each noon, he took lunch with her in her office, and ferried papers from her desk to her council and back, and looked upon her with such steadfastness she thought she might be sick. 

She was the most warlike queen in an age. Her accuracy with her bow was greater than even the deadliest of her sharpshooters; she trained with a rapier until only the hero could best her. She incorporated armor into her daily dress, so that if she were ever trapped in her throne room again, she could fight her way out without the need to risk everything precious to her. She entered the council room with a savage grace that spoke her determination to do right by her people without a word lilted from her tongue. 

And yet, when he led her by the hand to a quiet room, and four blue eyes and two pairs of chapped lips met in the heartbeat-silence, that armor came crashing down with the wave of the greatest joy she’d ever tasted. 

She had been born to rule with a hand of gold, with her word law writ upon stone. She led instead with scarred palms and an open heart and a grace that came not from the skies above, but was cultivated within.

She walked forward into twilight and daybreak alike with love, a man of gentle wildness at her side. 

[youwouldntbelievehowigothere]

@zelink5ever @zelinkcommunity

hope you enjoy! (I hope I didn't mess anything up, sending it from this blog, but I am stingingcake, this is just my Zelda side blog lol).

https://archiveofourown.org/works/53745997

But this is a Twiilght Princess Zelink regency AU!

(This time actually with the link to the story so sorry!! Im travelling right now)

[voidc4t-fiction]

『 LEGEND OF ZELDA 』 - works & projects

(includes WIPs, on-going works, completed works, abandoned works and plans)

▹ Rooftops | male!Sheik/Link | hurt/gen Summary: Sheik isn't sure how to deal with all of these conflicting emotions inside of his head, so he seeks solitude high up on a roof. wordcount: 3k

▹ c o u r a g e | male!Sheik/Link | angst Summary: The final battle against Ganondorf has left the hero gravely injured, regretting one thing he'd never done. Never risked. wordcount: 1k

▹ working title - Letters | male!Sheik/Link | hurt/angst Summary: This is a gift for a dear friend of mine, so no spoilers! wordcount: 1.5k+

▹ working title - In the Dead of Night | male!Sheik/Link | smut summary: as the label says - smut. wordcount: 1k+

▹ working title - End of the Line | male!Sheik/Link | angst summary: At the end of his journey, after defeating and sealing Ganondorf, Link gets sent back in time by Zelda. Hyrule has a chance to recover and to prosper once again, yet where does that leave the hero's guide? wordcount: 1k+

▹ working title - Leap of Faith | male!Sheik/Link | action/romance summary: based on the prompt 'Trust'. wordcount: 1k+

▹ working title - Destiny's Burden | male!Sheik/Link | angst/hurt wordcount: 400+

▹ working title - Warm Summer Rain | male!Sheik/Link | gen summary: Sheik had always enjoyed the rain, liked the sound and the smell of it. So he doesn't mind when he and Link get caught in a surprising downpour. (also now Link smells like rain, a bonus) wordcount: 700+

▹ working title - captured | male!Sheik, Link | action/gen summary: Their mission goes wrong this time, getting themselves captured by Ganondorf's lakeys and held in a cell - awaiting to be retrieved by the Demon King himself. A fate far worse than death.

▹ working title - Familiar Walls | male!Sheik, Link | angst/hurt summary: Link once again finds himself in Impas house, only this time the circumstances are different. wordcount: 300+

▹ Chains of Destiny | male!Sheik/Link | adventure/drama | AU Summary: With the last great calamity being centuries in the past, peace had settled over the kingdom of Hyrule once more. But as nothing would last for eternity, concerning prophecies had started to reveal themselves to Princess Zelda. With all signs pointing to an imminent threat on the horizon the kingdom of Hyrule would once again need the aid of the courageous hero of legends - the only issue being said hero had made is abundantly clear that he wanted nothing to do with his destiny. Link had vanished from Hyrule many years ago at the age of nine and nobody has seen him since. So the proficient tracker and assassin, a Sheikah by the name of Sheik, is tasked with retrieving the missing hero. A wild goosechase across kingdom borders ensues. author's note: AU, set in an era sometime after OoT and TP, male!Sheik is his own person wordcount: 9k+ epic/multi-chapter >> masterpost <<

▹ Whispers of Time | Zelda!Sheik/Link | adventure/romance Summary: Stories fade into tales over time which are retold at cozy campfires and in good company at local taverns but are slightly embellished, slightly altered. Important details gradually getting lost as the wheel of time moves on. And if enough time passes those tales turn into legends, with not many remembering the names of the heroes anymore, much less of any companions but rather the heroic deeds that took place. So in time nobody will be able to recall the name of the courageous Sheikah anymore, the one who braved the obstacles that were thrown in front of them alongside the Hero of Time and aided him along his journey of slaying the cruel Gerudo King Ganondorf. Nor will they remember Navi or any other friends that stood beside the Hero in their brave battle against Evil. author's note: a retelling of a kind of OoT but with different twists and storyline deviations, Zelda is Sheik wordcount: 25k+ epic/multi-chapter

▹ Twilight's Shadow | Zelda/Link | action/adventure/drama Summary: They had called her 'Ice Queen' among other things ever since she'd taken up the throne of the Kingdom of Hyrule. But that couldn't be further from the truth. When the Twilight engulfs Hyrule, Zelda rises to the challenge, joining the hero on his quest to lift the curtain of shadows that lays over the land and defeat the Twilight Emperor, Zant. author's note: semi-AU, yet the story follows the TP timeline/story wordcount: 7k+ epic/multi-chapter

▹ In Another Life | male!Sheik/Link | AU/romance/action summary: Zelink Week 2023 prompt, repurposed. wordcount: 4.5k+

this place looks empty, doesn't it?

this place looks empty, doesn't it?

Breathless - Sheik/Link (wc 800+) | Yearning - Sheik/Link (wc 200+) | Different - Malon/Link (wc 400+) | Letters - Sheik/Link (wc 1.5k+) | Absence - Sheik/Link | Kiss Me - Sheik/Link | Forbidden - Sheik/Link NSFW (wc 1k+) |

[aegon-targaryen]

Ghosts That We Knew

Zelink Week Day 2: Fading | TP Zelink | read on AO3) | @zelinkcommunity

Link dreamed of a golden wolf.

He bounded through a forest of mist, weaving through the towering trees that stood guard over this ancient place. Link’s paws kicked up leaves as he raced to catch up. Snatches of sound caught his attention from time to time—music, voices, a child’s giggle—but he kept to his course.

Yet the bright coat of his quarry disappeared from view, and when he slowed to a halt, he found himself in a clearing he would recognize anywhere. A sword waited at its center. He was padding forward to answer its call when the golden wolf emerged from the fog, his single eye glowing with crimson sorrow.

Turn back, he said with all the terrible gravity of time. Go and do not falter, my child.

Link sat up sharply, grasping his surroundings with the speed of someone shaped by deadly times: Ordon, safety, a sword within reach, Zelda in his bed.

Zelda in his bed. A foolish grin tugged at his lips. They’d spent plenty of nights together in the castle, but something about having her here was so enthralling. She was stirring now, rolling over to face him, and he tried to wipe the stupid look off his face.

“Link?” she mumbled sleepily. “Did you have a nightmare?”

“Just a weird dream,” he assured her, laying back down under the dark oaken ceiling of his treehouse. Dawn and the journey back to Castle Town were still a few hours away. As always, a part of him longed to stay, but at least he would take with him the memory of Zelda dancing under the harvest festival lanterns, of Ordon welcoming her the same way they’d welcomed Link when he was only a lost little boy.

“I had one too,” Zelda said. “The scribe’s meeting minutes transformed into a Chu that terrorized my Council.”

He laughed. “You would dream about meeting minutes.”

“Now tell me about yours. It’s only fair.”

Go and do not falter, my child. Those words had been with Link when he dealt Ganondorf the ending blow, the final mercy, just like he’d been taught. “Well…did I ever tell you about the Hero’s Shade?”

“I don’t believe so.”

“He was a spirit, I guess. Sometimes a wolf, sometimes a skeleton in armor. He brought me into some…other realm and taught me some of his techniques.”

“The Hero’s Shade,” Zelda mused. “He called himself that?”

Link frowned, trying to remember. “I’m not sure. But it felt right to me.”

She was quiet for some time, though he could practically hear the gears of her mind turning. Eventually she reached through the darkness to touch his cheek and said, “Can you go back to sleep? Or shall we take a walk?”

Wide awake now, he followed her outside, where the harvest moon bathed the sleeping village in its silver glow. Other than the crickets singing in the tall grass, Ordon was quiet in a way Castle Town never was. Link loved his tiny room above Telma’s bar and his work in the Resistance; he’d even grown to love Hyrule Castle, because Zelda was there. But coming home was always like drawing his first breath after days underwater.

They passed by their sleeping horses and continued on to the Light Spirit’s spring. This place always felt different at night, cast in a strange glow unlike either the sun’s heat or the moon’s gleam. Zelda’s boots sank into the white sand as she wandered along the water’s edge.

“I know you don’t like to be called Hero,” she said quietly. “But—you are aware there was one before you?”

“Yeah.” Link had worn his tunic, carried his weapons, walked in his footsteps. “I figured the Shade had something to do with him.”

“He lived hundreds of years ago, but perhaps some part of him…lingered, as ghosts sometimes do.”

He’d seen plenty of ghosts as a wolf, but only one had spoken to him. Without asking a single question, the Shade understood who Link was and what he needed to learn. He’d understood the enemy, too. “He faced Ganondorf, didn’t he? Before the Sages sent him to the Twilight Realm?”

“Yes. The hero’s story is largely forgotten across Hyrule, but he was close with an ancestor of mine. She kept a journal, if you’d like to know more.”

Link couldn’t help but remember the curse Ganondorf had uttered with his last breath: The history of light and shadow will be written in blood. There had been so much weight to those words, a sense of that history reaching back further than Link could conceive, a sense that it would continue long past his lifetime.

The full force of it felt suddenly awful here in this spring, where fate had come roaring out of the forest to claim him last year, where he’d returned as a wolf and killed his first shadow beast in the same spot where Ilia used to bathe Epona. His predecessor had been hurt in the same way. All that sorrow had been evident in his rusted armor, his heavy sword, his single crimson eye.

Yet he hadn’t been alone. Link looked at Zelda and remembered hearing her name in passing as a child, thinking to himself: I know her. Remembered meeting her eyes in that tower, feeling like the sun had broken through stifling twilight to clear away any doubt: I know her.

“There was another you,” he breathed. “And there was another me.”

Her brow creased thoughtfully, such a familiar expression that his heart twisted in his chest. “I hadn’t thought about it that way, but…yes.”

“It happened before. Will it happen again?”

Zelda drew closer, glowing like magic in the spring’s unearthly light, her dark hair spilling loose over her white nightgown. She touched the scar on Link’s cheek and said softly, “Not for a long time, I hope. But if it does, we will face it together.”

.

.

.

After breakfast came the hardest part of home: saying goodbye. While Uli stuffed Link’s saddlebags with as many snacks as possible, Beth tried to convince Zelda to bring her back to the castle and make her a princess. Rusl lost the battle with his wriggling toddler and handed her to Link, who was happy to bounce her up and down on his hip until she settled.

“She likes you more than me,” Rusl grumbled.

“Hey,” Link said, tapping the Triforce on the back of his left hand. “I already had this when you found me in Faron, right?”

Rusl raised his eyebrows. “Yes. Are you wondering about your birth parents?”

“It’s all right if you are,” Uli said, pausing her struggle with the saddlebags. “I only wish we were able to find you some answers.”

Link was wondering more about the wheels of time, the Goddesses who spun them, and an ancient ghost who called him my child. “No,” he answered, ruffling his little sister’s hair before he handed her back to Rusl. “You gave me everything I needed.”

Uli inspected his face with a smile, then turned to hug Zelda, who accepted the embrace with her slow smile—the kind that bloomed so uncertainly across her face, as though she was afraid someone would come and take it away. But she held onto it this time, beaming at Link over Uli’s shoulder, and the sight made him happy enough to lessen the pain of leaving.

.

.

.

Tucked away in a forgotten corner of Hyrule Castle was a graveyard accessible only to those who knew its secrets—at least, that was what Zelda said as she waved the illusory entrance away. It felt like stepping into a different realm blanketed by silence and thick grey mist, where there had just been sunlight and clear skies on the other side of the wall.

Since the Twilight, the crooked headstones had been straightened and the rubble cleared away. The thought of her coming here alone to weave her magic through her family’s resting place made Link proud and sad in equal measure.

“I’ve…actually been here,” he admitted sheepishly. “I was looking for a key to get me inside the castle, so…I burrowed under the wall. Sorry.”

Zelda’s mouth twitched. “Don’t be. My mother, at least, would have found that amusing.”

She halted under an enormous oak tree, its branches reaching far enough to brush the courtyard’s stone walls. Link still remembered the words inscribed on the tombstone, because they’d itched at the back of his mind on his first visit: The cursed swordsman sleeps beneath the sacred tree.

“He’s buried here?”

“I don’t believe so,” Zelda replied, pulling a weathered book from the pocket of her cloak and flipping through until she found a certain page and handed it over. “This is what my ancestor wrote.”

All they found were broken pieces of his armor, the journal said. People keep telling me he could have survived. But I am old enough to prefer hard truths over false hope. He’s gone. I know it in my soul. 

Tears sprang to Link’s eyes. “Where did he die, then?”

Far away, said a voice that creaked like the branches of the old oak, and they turned to find the golden wolf behind them, his image blurring and reforming into the spectral skeleton who had trained Link. Too far.

“It’s you,” Zelda breathed.

The Shade’s gaze snagged on her face as she drew closer, and he went still, his sword hanging loosely from his ruined fingers. His translucent form pulsed in and out of being with every breath. Princess, he said in a faint whisper.

Zelda had been queen for some time now, but she just smiled at him sadly. “Have you been here all this time?”

His red eye shifted to Link. I returned when the beast did. It should never have fallen on anyone else.

“No, that’s…” Link’s throat was tightening. When Zelda touched his arm, he swallowed hard and continued. “It wasn’t anyone’s fault. You made me strong enough to win.”

And now you have won. Stay the course. Leave the sword where it lies. Do not falter as I did.

“I—I never do, thanks to you.”

Stay with her, the Shade insisted. Treasure her. Be there long enough to say goodbye.

Zelda raised her head suddenly, digging around in her cloak pocket. Link only caught a brief glimpse of what she produced—a painted miniature of a golden-haired woman—before the Shade choked out a sound that was undoubtedly, devastatingly human.

“She treasured you too,” Zelda promised. “She felt you go, and knew it wasn’t your fault. She…she wrote…” Her free hand brushed Link’s, tilting the journal towards her so she could read aloud. “I buried those pieces of armor in a garden we both loved. The cursed swordsman and all the weight he carried will rest here. But the rest of him is free. I can feel him in the earth, in the wind’s song, in the beat of my heart.”

“She was right,” Link realized. “You’re what he left behind. But the beast is dead, and we’re—we’re going to be okay. You can rest now. Is that why you’re here? Because you’re ready to rest?”

The Shade stared at him in wordless disbelief.

Zelda wiped her eyes and kept reading. “Neither of us were strangers to regret—how could it be otherwise with the lives we’ve led? But we had so much sweetness, too. It was worth the sorrow. I hope he remembered that at the end.”

I did, the Shade whispered. Of course I did.

“She would want you to find peace,” Zelda told him gently.

She…she would. Yes. I believe it’s time.

His form was blurring around the edges. Link blinked hard, finally allowing his tears to fall, and searched himself for the right words to give the spirit of his predecessor, who had fought so hard and lost so much, who had returned to help him take down their common enemy.

In the end, all he could say was, “Thank you.”

The Shade looked down at the portrait, then at Link and Zelda, huddled together in the graveyard with tears in their eyes. Write a happier story, he told them as he faded slowly into the mist, replaced by a golden wolf that bounded towards freedom.

Wind gusted through the courtyard, so sudden and so strong that Link wrapped his arms around Zelda to keep them both anchored to the earth. When he raised his head, the tears had dried on his cheeks, and the Hero’s Shade was gone.

Zelda brought the portrait closer, turning it around to study the golden-haired woman. Though the only crown she wore was a simple circlet of rubies, there was something in her proud shoulders that made it clear she was a queen. Her forehead was creased with worry lines, but her smile was bright, and her eyes…

Link took Zelda’s face in his scarred hands, meeting her gaze: the color of an early morning sky, after the dawn dwindles and a new day begins. No wonder he’d known her so instantly, so naturally. And that was before he understood what it was like to love her, to be graced with the trust she found so hard to bestow, to unravel the parts of himself only she could understand.

Maybe she was thinking the same thing, for she pressed a soft kiss to the scar on his cheek.

“I wouldn’t choose anything else,” Link breathed when he finally found his voice. “I—no matter what happened before, or what happens next…”

“I wouldn’t either.” Zelda held the portrait close to her heart, and though her eyes were her ancestor’s, that small, precious smile he’d first fallen in love with was all her own. “She was right. It was worth the sorrow.”

.

.

.

[sun-aries]

Sunshower (18+)

Okay I finally finished it! Here's this WIP that I previewed a few months ago ':)

This takes place a couple months after their wedding!

Warning: SMUT ahead

On a day where the sun shone bright, they didn't expect to have any trouble on a short trip across the countryside. Eldin Bridge, an old and well-worn bridge on the eastern ends of the kingdom, was in desperate need of repairs, and so the queen wanted to personally assess the damage before conducting a thorough inspection.

While no one was quite comfortable allowing the queen to go unaccompanied, she was fairly miffed at the suggestion of having an entourage only a short way away from the castle, and so they settled on having her husband, the second-in-command and hero of their kingdom, singularly accompany her to and from the bridge. Mounting Epona, they rode through the eastern throughway and arrived in less than an hour.

Though he couldn't tell why, Link had a strange inkling that something was off. There was nobody in sight, save for lone creatures roaming the fields, and the weather seemed fine. Still, he trusted his instincts, and he kept his eyes and ears on high alert as he followed her along the span of the bridge.

Honestly, he wasn't surprised at all that it was in need of repairs. On his travels, he'd noticed the cracks and crumbles of the stone; a large chunk of it was even whisked away to the outskirts of the kingdom before he and Midna found and returned it. In its current state, it was likely not safe to use for much longer.

But it was a bit difficult to focus on the bridge and its durability. It was a rare thing for them to spend their days together, she with her council and he with the knights.

She was focused and diligent, analyzing every crack, humming to herself and taking notes at every stop. Hands folded behind his back, he trailed her quietly - save for the few times she threw a question his way - and paid attention to the way she took notes, the way her lips pressed together in thought and her body arched when she leaned in to inspect something.

Then, there was a drop on his shoulder. He raised his head to the glaring sun rays and the brilliant blue sky, unsullied by stormy clouds, and frowned. "Zelda," he said, cutting through the silence, and she hummed in response. "Do you feel something?" She turned to him then, brow raised, and it happened again. "It's raining."

"What?"

"It's-" He paused, momentarily questioning his own sanity before repeating, "It's raining." Before either could deliberate this strange notion, a torrent of rain rippled over them and Zelda gasped, throwing her hands out at the sudden downfall.

Being in the heart of the countryside was in no way a good place to be amidst a sudden storm, but fortunately, Link knew every crevice of the country, and so he grabbed her hand and sprinted forward to the other end of the bridge. Tucking her notes against her chest, she followed blindly, even when he took her to the most crumbled corner and yelled, "Jump!"

Normally, she'd be able to follow without issue, but as she landed on the wet and uneven chunk of stone, her heel slipped. Zelda let out a short scream as she imagined plummeting to her death, before she felt Link's hands envelop her waist and pull her to him.

She pressed herself to his chest, trembling, and let out a shaky sigh. Her heart was racing and she was soaked, her hair and clothes saturated with the onslaught of rain, and her notes were now lost to the chasm. Link was in no better state: his blond hair was darkened to a caramel brown and water dripped from the hem of his clothes.

"Are you o-" When she peeled away from him, their eyes met and the words died in his throat. He felt blood rush to his cheeks.

It was the way her dark wet hair pasted to her skin, against her flushed cheeks and fair shoulders, while a few stray aways curled around her temples. Her clothes, heavy and laden, clung to her body and accented every curve. It was the way her lips were red and her breath was warm that made his pulse thrum against his wrist.

Zelda caught his slip-up, naturally - easily, and searched his face. And it took less than precisely two seconds for her to realize why. His heated gaze roamed her, unconcious but unrestrained, and even lingered at her cleavage. It was evident what was going through his mind.

Link realized he'd been caught by the time their eyes met, his cheeks terribly flustered and eyes wide. He swallowed and her breath caught.

It would be terribly improper to get carried away. And yet -

Their lips met in a frenzy. Should they have given it a second thought, they might've realized how absurd it was. Two warriors stranded in the middle of the countryside, chilled to the bone, and this was what they came up with.

But her back hit the wall, her hips pinned to the stone, and neither of them really thought twice. His body rolled against hers, each thrust sending a surge of heat through her body.

"Link," she breathed before kissing him again, grabbing hold of his shoulders and pulling him closer. "We shouldn't."

"I know," Link growled. He then veered off to her neck, scattering a dozen more kisses, and Zelda moaned, throwing her head back against the stone.

His lips travelled to her collarbone, drinking up the raindrops that lingered. She was panting softly but it rang like thunder in his ears. His hands cupped her hips, rolling encouragingly in his grip, as his tongue followed the rivulets that trickled down her chest.

Had she worn one of her regular layered outfits, the sight might've been different, but as it was, her body was practically visible beneath the flimsy dress. The white of her skirts was translucent, her long legs outined by the gossamer fabric, and the burgundy bodice was drawn tight around her breasts.

The sight was irresistible. Everything she did was so addictive, so exhilarating; every pant sent a shudder down his spine, every taste leaving him breathless.

Holding him by the shoulders, as firm as the rocks of Death Mountain, she squeezed a little tighter when he fell to a knee. Link looked up at her with an intensity in his eyes that made her shiver. His wet bangs fixed to his forehead, the ends draping over his wild eyes and shedding droplets of water.

"You're so beautiful." The heat of his palms burned through her clothes, his fingertips pressing into her in a way that told her he wasn't letting go anytime soon.

Lovingly, Zelda swept aside his bangs and cupped his cheeks. "Touch me," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. Despite the downpour, he heard her command loud and clear.

One hand gripped her sleeve from behind and pulled it down with a few short tugs. It was drawn taut beneath her breasts, pushing them up in an enticing way. His eyes met hers again and found no timidity nor shame in them. Zelda bore herself to him with dignity; she even basked in his gaze, and he smiled.

When his tongue found her nipple, she gasped breathlessly, watching him devour her like a forbidden fruit. The taste of the rainwater mixed with her sweat, salty and cold, was revitalizing.

At the same time, Link peeled her skirts from her legs and bunched them up at her waist, immensely grateful that there were none of the typical layers beneath. When he found the apex of her legs, he rubbed the heel of his palm against her and she let out a cry. She tossed her head against the wall and matched his rhythm with small, keen thrusts of her hips.

"Link, please just-" Her words fell on a paticularly loud moan when he tucked his hand into her panties, right where she wanted him. "Yes." His fingers hooked into her before thrusting deep and measured, and it left her gasping.

Her fingers fanned over the sides of his neck and tilted his jaw upwards, pulling on him like the reins of a stead so that their eyes might meet. His gaze was staved, droplets of rainwater dripping from his hair and following the seam of his gaping mouth.

Just the way that he touched her, deep but slow, hungry but savouring, showed her how much he loved her. Every kiss was indulgent, every touch reverent; the intensity in which Link wanted her made her body tremor.

She moaned, locking her fingers at the back of his neck and pulling him up to kiss her frantically. He made a noise from the sudden collision of their mouths and his movements in her faltered for just a moment. But her kiss encouraged him to quicken his pace and when they parted, he leaned his forehead against the wall, just over her shoulder, his heavy breaths echoing in the shell of her ear.

His hungry eyes were drunk with passion, staring blankly at the sharp line of her brow, and he whispered, "Does this feel good?"

Turning her head the slightest, she rested her cheek against his, heat burning between them. Breathlessly, she answered, "It's so...so good."

His stomach lurched: her voice, her pleasure, it was all too much; he couldn't stand it anymore. His pulse went into overdrive and he suddenly pulled away.

Tucking his hands beneath her, he lifted her clear off the ground, his years of being a goat herder finally paying off. She gasped, grabbing hold of him to steady herself, and he flashed her a wolfish grin, his wild eyes shimmering with laughter. Even then, in the peak of their pleasure and the depths of their deprivation, he was himself: handsome and rugged, yet charming and boyish.

Then, pressing her further against the wall for stability, he freed himself from his trousers. As her ankles locked behind him, he entered her in one swift thrust, and Zelda cried out, her voice getting lost to the heavy rain.

He moved within her with slow but deliberate movements, punctuated with soft grunts in her ear. One of his hands held her steady and the other cupped her cheek – tender as always but just a little bit rough, a little bit desperate. Pleasure jolted through her, settling in the place they connected. "Please," she begged, "don't stop."

"I won't." His words were unfaltering, his voice a low tenor, and it made her whimper. Her muscles clenched around him, unwilling to let go, and she wrenched his head back to catch his lips, drinking him in with open-mouthed kisses. When they parted, she could see the desire in his face, his eyes clouded and lost in hers.

His patience was thinning by the moment, his want mounting to an apex, and Zelda felt it as his hips snapped against her. Needing to feel her pulse against him, he dropped his hand from her cheek and snaked it between them, rubbing her where she needed it the most.

She gasped. "Link…!" Her toes curled in her boots, clicking behind him, enthralled by his brazen ways. "Link, I'll-"

"Please." She stilled for a moment as her entire body went taut, curling up against him and gripping his shoulders for dear life. He buried his face against her neck and murmured, "Zelda." Tracing the expanse of her neck with his lips, he drank up the raindrops gathered in her collarbone, and she angled her head to help.

Every sensation, his tongue, his fingers, his member inside her, sparked something inside her, setting her on fire despite her drenched clothes. She coiled her arms around his neck and cried out against his shoulder, clinging onto him as her orgasm came over her. It coursed through her in ripples, causing her to spasm against him and cry out in pleasure.

It only revigorated him, hastening his thrusts into her tight passage, deep and desperate. Retracting his hand from between them, he reached behind her and cradled her head, fingers laced in the wet locks of her hair. Zelda cried out again from the embrace, amplified by his rough and desperate rutting, and his orgasm ripped through him, sharp and sudden. His cry was muffled against her neck and drowned out by the rain still pouring outside.

There was a still moment as their shudders died down and the rainfall gradually replaced the ringing in their ears. Even as Link gently set her down, his lips continued their journey across her neck, just indulging in her taste and smell, permeated with sweat and rainwater, and the warmth radiating off her. Her skirts fell heavily against her legs and his hand drifted down her back, fingers sifting through her hair.

"That was..." Zelda started breathlessly, "unexpected."

Link leaned his forehead against hers, his breath fanning her lips. "I'm sorry, it's just-" He licked his lips. "You...I've never seen you like that."

"Like what?"

"You're soaking wet from the rain." He let out a timid laugh. "I couldn't resist."

The heat returned to her cheeks and she simply smiled coyly. "Perhaps we should stay out in the rain more often then."

"Yes, please."

[hurricane105]

Me reading my own unfinished fic: wow this is great! I can hardly wait to see what the author writes next!

[liv-andletdie]

Oh wow, I wanted to ask for puppy love and went to your Ao3 only to find out that I never left Kudos! I must have read it before I had an Ao3 account. 😅

Anyway, that's fixed now and I would like to hear more about Zelda's thoughts when she left for Castle Town again.

For anyone interested the scene can be found here in Puppy Love Chapter 5 "The Departure"

HELLO!! Sorry this is so late, Work has been kind of occupying a lot of my time recently (Christmas in Retail in not fun) but I'm really excited to finally answer this and to talk a bit about Puppy Love! so without further ado...

Zelda is going through a lot in this chapter, so let's break it down beat by beat.

At the beginning she is... I think the best word would be humiliated. Not as in "Link has maliciously made her feel bad." but in the sense of "She has made a fool of herself." During her time in Ordon she's sort of built up this romance in her head - or that's what she's telling herself. She always knew she was going to have to leave and go back to Castleton at some point because Work[tm] but she had been purposefully trying not to think about it. She has been indulging in playing out a little country romance.

Now I feel the need to clarify this by saying that Zelda has complicated feelings surrounding relationships and what's expected of her. I won't go too in depth because it'll come up in a future fic (if I every actually get round to writing it) so the TLDR is this: For the first time in a while Zelda has felt like she wants to pursue a romantic relationship with someone. However, she has convinced herself that Link doesn't actually reciprocate these feelings.

In her mind, she's let herself get comfortable with the idea of going on dates with the cute country vet. She's started to daydream about getting to know him better and getting to be known by him. She wants, for the first time in a long time, she wants.

But the timing is off.

So when we see her at the beginning of this chapter, standing in the rain and muttering to herself, she's actually giving herself a bit of a telling off. "So you don't get to be the main character in a cheesy romance novel. Grow up. It's okay. You're going to be okay"

(Also, just as we see that Link has a plan for their final meeting "Bring the medicine, check on the dog, see Zelda, say goodbye to Zelda, try to be charming so Zelda doesn’t think he’s weird, manage a suave goodbye so the last memory she has of him won’t be him having to run off to deal with a goat emergency, and then leave." Zelda ALSO had one. "Take Naru to the vets for a check up, see Link, show that I can be a normal person who doesn't start crying over my dog eating a chocolate cake or an earring, be cute and charming so his last memory of me isn't fumblingly trying to ask for his number, and leave" - only when Zelda went to the surgery she saw that he wasn't there and, well, that scuppered that plan.)

So she's a little preoccupied with trying to sort out her dog and her luggage and her emotions when Dr Wolfe shows up out of nowhere!

 “What an unexpected surprise” she said, feigning a smile “I’d offer you in for a cup of coffee but as you can see I’m…” she trailed off, eyes casting down to look at her feet.

She fully wasn't expecting to see him. She was dealing with the fact that she wasn't going to get a proper goodbye from him and then dealing with the fact that she maybe shouldn't be allowed to be upset about that because they've only met a handful of times and it's not like she means anything to him.

But he's here, with her prescription, which causes the little hopeful voice she's been trying to smother to pipe up and say "maybe he wants you to stay as much as you want to stay?"

And then he mentions that he's just doing his job.

Now we get to see Link's thoughts here but Zelda doesn't have that luxury. We know that it's just an excuse to see her again but... well.

“Of course,” she murmured, shoulders drooping a little as if the idea that he was only there for business hurt her in some way. 

It hurts. In the small moments before, she lets herself think that there is something else here, that maybe he might actually like her back, but those are dashed and the "reasonable" part of her says "of course he's doing something nice, he's a good person. You're not special."

After that they fall into their little back and forth before it's time to for her to actually leave.

“Link…” she started, [...] She looked like she wanted to say something more, her thoughts visibly dancing in her eyes. He wanted to ask her what was on her mind, to get her to open up to him. She worked up the courage to speak, a large intake of breath to steady her thoughts. And as she spoke he knew it wasn’t all that she wanted to say.

“Thank you.”

Zelda wants, in this moment, to stay. She doesn't want to go without at least making sure that Link is partially aware of her feelings. She wants to say "I'll miss you" she wants to ask "Can I come back?" or "Would you like it if I came back?" or "Is there a place for me here in Ordon with you? do I have something to come back for?". She wants to tell him that he's made her time in Ordon a happy one, that getting to meet him has made her feel things that she hasn't felt in years. But all she can make herself say is "Thank you."

Thank you for looking out for Naru. Thank you for comforting me. Thank you for playing fetch in the park with us and bringing us the medicine and just being so kind and lovely and You!

And then it's over. Link gives her the jar with the goat's milk and wishes her well and then it's goodbye. She gets into the taxi and drives off fully believing that she has missed her last chance at a romance with Dr Link Wolfe. Her biggest what if.

Thank you so much for this ask! It was a real pleasure to get to talk about Puppy Love and Zelda again. I promise I am working on the sequel but Retail at Christmas! so hopefully 2024 is the year we see these two finally go on their first date haha!

I hope you're having a wonderful time and Happy Holidays!!