Harvest Hopes

“Miss Zeldaaaaa!!”

Years of intense training kicked in when Link heard the child’s cry. Experience had him wrapping an arm around his wife’s shoulders, his feet falling into a practiced stance as he prepared to support her in the face of an impending missile. 

And thus, the missiles came; three of them, crashing into Zelda’s skirts and looking up at her with matching grins and cheerful cries of her name. 

“Miss Zelda! Miss Zelda!!”

“Well, hello to all of you!” Zelda smiled in delight as she bent down as far as she could — it wasn’t very far, with her rounded belly prohibiting most flexible movement — before giving each of them a fond touch to the cheek. “Are you enjoying the harvest festival?” she asked before giving Link a slight smile for the assist.

He nodded and rubbed her back, dutifully standing behind her as she spoke to the schoolchildren. It had been to raucous cheers and intense delight that Zelda had returned to Hateno, but the last few months had entailed far more traveling than either of them had really desired, especially Zelda who was eager to see how the future of Hyrule’s education was fairing. 

To say Zelda and Link had been ready to come home was a light understatement — having pulled the sages from their far-flung regions to justify their attendance.

“Yes!” the three cheered. One of the brave souls — a boy with dark hair and sticky hands — was showing Zelda the new purple scarf he’d just gotten at the market when Karin’s annoyed voice broke through. 

“There you are!” The brunette teenager hustled up behind the three and put her hands on her hips when they looked at her. “I told you to stay by the cider mill! Ugh, Mom is gonna kill me,” she mumbled pathetically before realizing her full audience. Her face paled as she looked between the Gerudo Chieftan and the Crown Prince of the Zora before her gaze fell on the princess of Hyrule.

“M-my apologies, Princess,” she stuttered before half-ways curtsying. The move was clearly unpracticed and unbalanced her, sending her tumbling to the side before a feathered hand righted her. 

“Careful!” Tulin chirped with a grin. “Steady on. You alright?” 

The question seemed to do anything but comfort the poor girl, who began stammering with a red face. Link felt a tug in his heart of sympathy. Oh, to be so young, and to have a hero come to your aid! He couldn’t blame her a bit for swooning, but when he saw her shaking hands, his protective streak was activated.

“Karin’s alright, isn’t she?” He said with a wink. She returned the look with a grateful smile before turning on her wayward trio. 

“What did I say about the cider mill?” Her hands pulled from Tulin’s to re-find their place on her hips. The three looked slightly abashed before their mischievous eyes looked at each other and they grinned. Link didn’t need time powers to know where this was going. 

“Sorry!” They cried before running off, splintering in three different directions. 

“Oh!! You – !” Karin started after one and then the other before pausing. Her lips formed a tight line before she huffed and kicked the dirt. Then, she froze and looked back at Zelda with wide eyes. “Apologies again, Prin– !”

“Oh, Karin!” Zelda cried, rushing forward, wrapping her in a hug before pulling back to gaze into the child’s brown eyes. “Why so formal? I have missed you so.” 

Karin melted into Zelda’s arms, returning the hug so tightly, Link watched her knuckles turn white. He turned to the side and smiled at Sidon, giving the two a moment to share whispers without active prying ears. 

“Is it always so wild in these parts?” Riju asked with a grin, and Link shrugged. 

“The princess is beloved by her people.” 

“As well she should be!” Sidon grinned, his green bride hanging from his arm. “She has done more than anyone can even imagine.” Yona nodded sagely. 

“Well, you country folk sure do know how to throw a party!” Riju said. “I, for one, cannot wait to try some of this spiced wine.” 

Link chuckled as Buliaria rapped the end of her blade against the ground. “Chief, I must object. You know you are not yet of age!”

“But it’s a partyyy!!” 

The sages quickly dissolved into an active debate about whether Riju should or should not partake. Sidon and Yunobo were stanch supporters, although somewhat confused by a need for age limits when it came to alcohol consumption. Yona, ever the practiced politician, expressed caution that Buliara leapt on. Tulin, for his part, was strangely silent, and Link followed his gaze. 

Zelda, who was running a comforting hand through Karin’s hair, met his eyes and gave him a watery smile. She whispered something more, something meant for just the two of them, before pulling back. 

“Thank you, Zelda,” Karin said softly. “I- I really should go now. I was supposed to watch those three tyrants today,” she grumbled. “I have to go find them even though it’ll probably take me all day, and the celebration will be over.” 

“I’ll help!” 

Link raised an eyebrow at Tulin’s quick chirp, but Zelda, for her part, did not seem surprised in the slightest. “That sounds very nice,” she hummed thoughtfully, rubbing Karin’s shoulders before looking at the girl. “Tulin is a very skilled searcher. I’m sure he’ll be able to help you locate them in no time.” 

“Sure can!” Tulin chirped. Link swore the young boy was puffing his chest out, but surely not – ? Then, as Tulin wrapped a casual wing around Karin’s shoulder and they walked away together, chatting animatedly about the annoyance younger siblings brought, Link cocked his head to the side, finding himself speechless. 

“Huh,” he mused. 

“What?” Zelda teased, sidling up to him and snaking her arm around his waist. “Did you think Tulin would never grow up in that way?” 

Link laughed. “No, I suppose I just… never gave it much thought?” He shrugged before turning an eye back on the sages, who had reached a tentative truce. “So, what’s the verdict?” he asked, looking at Riju. 

The young chieftain looked at him with dejected eyes, a slight pout to her lip. “Apparently, as I am a regent and any ground I stand on is Gerudo territory, I am still ‘not allowed,’ for another several years.” 

As she walked forward, an anxious Yunobo quickly followed behind to smooth tensions. Link looked up at Sidon; the crown prince was pointedly avoiding his gaze. 

“Is that true? The thing about whatever ground you’re on being your homeland?” 

Sidon shared an impish look with Buliara before shaking his head. “Ah, no it is not,” he chuckled. 

“Sidon!” Zelda chastised, kindly. “I did not take you for someone willing to pull a fast one on a friend!”

Sidon looked sheepish before nodding toward Buliara. “I lost a bet.” 

Link laughed. “A bet?! What kind of bet.” 

“Why…?” He sniffed exaggeratedly. “Are those… cinnamon buns?” The crown prince pulled his wife into the crowd. “‘fraid I can’t hear you over the smell, dear friend!” 

When Zelda and Link turned an imperious eye on Buliara, the only remaining member of their group, she was impassive. 

“My duty is to the chief,” she said simply before following everyone else, although Link saw a twinkle in her eye as she headed toward the festivities.

“Shall we?” He asked Zelda, holding out an arm. She nodded and took it with a soft smile. 

~*~

Their plan to attend the Hateno harvest festival as a group, to show the power of the united sages and their respective kingdoms, was quickly falling apart. 

But Link couldn’t find it in himself to complain. 

Sidon and Yona had disappeared sometime after face painting. Their group had been nabbed by a merchant and while she was busy painting Zelda’s arm with Silent Princesses, the pair had been all too excited to show Link their matching cheek paints — fish with overstated lips so that when they looked at each other and kissed it, well… looked like the fish were kissing, too. 

He knew the pregnancy had been making Zelda nauseous, but standing there watching his best friend make non-stop kissing faces with his wife had Link wondering if morning sickness was catchable. 

He certainly felt ill to his stomach. 

But it had been with a kind smile and a happy hand that he waved them off before turning back to his wife. She’d been deep in conversation with the painter, and when she made eye contact with Link, she’d made an effort to clear her face of any emotion. Link had wanted to frown at the observation but he gave her a small smile. Her moods had fluctuated so much; it was hard to tell what was important and what was a passing feeling. 

She’d been finished soon after that anyway, and it was hand in painted hand that they wandered toward the harvest alley. A particular merchant with a purple sweater and buckled shoes caught Zelda’s attention, and Link had been forced to listen for the better part of an hour as he explained the different varietals to a group of enraptured children — keeping their attention with plenty of “free samples.” 

Riju had made a joke about “fun” mushrooms that Link had found quite funny until Buliara chastised them for speaking in such casual tones around the small ones. Link had held his tongue as Riju ordered Buliara to have some fun — demanding she go and speak to the purple-haired Hylian woman she’d been watching all day. His shared snickers waited until Buliara wandered off with a sniff and slight complaint that she was only doing so because that purple-haired Hylian woman seemed like trouble. 

Riju had grabbed his hands afterward and whispered that she hoped the pair found trouble together. They’d giggled for a moment before Link saw Zelda’s stony face, staring into the middle distance between the mushroom merchant and the children. 

He turned back to Riju and suggested she go have some fun as well, nodding toward the festival games. He hadn’t needed to encourage her much, and he watched her and Yunobo stumble off toward the ring toss, loudly strategizing about which plushies to win. 

When he was sure it was just the two of them left, he’d sidled up to Zelda and whispered his worry in her ear, asking if she was alright. 

She jumped a bit, her hand finding her chest to settle her racing heart as she turned to him with a slight smile. She waved her hand. “I’m alright,” she said tightly. “My stomach is a little upset.” 

Link frowned. She’d barely eaten today. A couple crackers around 7 a.m., and then a bit of dry toast around 9 a.m. She had staunchly refused the eggs and sausages he’d made, and then later the oatmeal and cut fruit. 

“Can I feed you?” He asked, almost hating how pleading his voice was. 

Zelda laughed. “Yes, my love.” She took his hand and kissed it. “I could not deny you the pleasure.” 

He smiled, preening a bit under her gaze, and then he pulled her away from the mushroom vendors toward the smells where he knew a variety of festival food and drink awaited them. As he listed the options — so what if it was by memory? He’d been looking forward to this for months — he stopped when he caught Zelda’s shy eye. 

“You’re not hungry are you?” He asked, trying to hide the sullenness in his voice. 

She slowly shook her head no. Link held back a sigh. He was upset… He was worried. He frowned and bit his bottom lip as he looked around before spotting a stall that seemed to answer his prayers. 

“What about some tea?” he suggested. “With some honey?” he added quickly. 

Zelda paused in thought for a moment, seemingly rolling the opportunity around her mind for a moment. Then, she nodded. “Alright, tea and honey would be nice,” she said gently. “Oh!” 

The princess had not been prepared when Link darted forward, her hand still held tightly between his fingers. When he realized what he’d done, he turned back at her sheepishly, and she’d nudged him with her shoulder. They continued together.

The tea master, a wisened Sheikah with a tattoo of a dragon along his right arm, stood up stiffly when he saw them approach and greeted them with a squeaky “Hello!” that betrayed his age. 

Link waved in response, and Zelda, ever the professional, bowed shallowly before giving him a radiant smile and greeting. The tea master began babbling almost immediately, listing a variety of teas with an even wider variety of effects. Teas that would make one run faster, swim longer, breath deeper, and think more clearly. 

“Anything… calming?” Link interrupted the monologue.

“Calming?” He repeated. 

Link nodded. “Something relaxing or soothing?” 

“Oh!” The man exclaimed. “I have just the thing.” He knelt down behind his stall and pulled out a pouch. “It’s a bit… experimental but it is sure to give Her Highness the proper boost. Exactly the thing I’d recommend for a lady expecting.” 

“Sounds lovely,” Zelda said before turning to inspect some dried lavender. “Oh,” she said quickly. “With some honey, please.” 

The tea master nodded before quickly making preparations. While his wife was engaged, Link took the opportunity to kindly — but firmly — wrap an arm around the man’s arm and fix him with an intense gaze. 

“When you say ‘experimental,’” he murmured, with a jut of his chin. “Explain.”

“Ah?!” The man was clearly panicked as he looked between the Hero of Hyrule, eyes piercing, and the oblivious princess before he settled. “Ah! Nothing so experimental,” he explained quickly. Link raised an eyebrow. “Sundelions,” he explained, leaning in closer. “The new plant brought to us from the heavens. It is my secret ingredient.” He grinned and then frowned. “You won’t tell anyone, will you?” 

“Your secret is safe with me,” Link said, releasing the man to continue making the tea. The man bowed in gratitude, but the swordsman hardly noticed, watching the princess with intent focus. Her eyes roved over products, but he could see the disinterest, could feel in his bones something was… Something was wrong, something he couldn’t quite place.

“Here we are!” The tea master said, bringing a steaming mug towards Zelda. Link subtly moved in front of him, taking it from his hands. 

“The princess thanks – “ he started, but was swiftly interrupted when a throat cleared, and she appeared at his side. 

“Thank you,” she said gently, reaching a hand out to squeeze the tea master’s upper arm. “I'm very grateful,” Zelda said before turning an imperious eye on Link and taking the mug. She walked out of the stall without another look his direction and Link sighed. He bid the tea master goodbye and followed after her. 

As soon as he caught up to his wife’s form, which was moving towards the edge of the festival, she said, “What was that, Link?” 

“I did not wish for you to get burned,” he said easily. 

“I am not a child,” she said, turning on him with a stiff look. 

“I know that,” Link said gently. “I just…” He trailed off before sighing and giving her a small shrug. “I just want you to be safe.” 

Her eyes softened. “I- I know that,” she said quickly. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what is wrong with me.” 

And then there were tears and Link’s hands were on her shoulders, rubbing reassuringly. “It’s alright,” he murmured. “We’re alright,” he reassured before looking at her glassy green eyes. “Do you want to take your drink somewhere? Sit for a bit?” He looked down at her shoes. “I could rub your feet for a bit, if you want.” 

The relief was evident instantaneously. 

“Please,” she said urgently, and Link leapt into action. She hadn’t even needed to ask. 

~*~

Link had led Zelda away from the chaos of the festival with a gentle hand toward a tree where he spread a blanket and several pillows. Zelda had raised a small brow at Link’s use of the Purah Pad, but he’d shrugged, a slight burn to his cheeks. He always took preparations for her. Anything he could do, as much as he could do, for her. 

He helped her to the ground, and while Zelda adjusted the space to her liking, Link caught Cado’s eyes in the distance. The head of their guard, who’d been like a shadow ever since Zelda announced she was expecting, gave him a nod and Link relaxed. A perimeter had been set; they could enjoy some peace under the leaves, which had just this week blossomed into full color — red, yellow, and orange. 

Zelda was resting her eyes, leaning against a pillow under a great oak tree when Link shuffled in beside her and nudged her knee with his. When she blinked open an eye, he offered her the still-steaming mug of tea with a smile. 

“Thank you,” she murmured quietly, hands wrapping around the brown pottery. 

“Anything for you, my dear,” Link grinned, and Zelda rolled her eyes. 

“You know I don’t like when you say that,” she sniffed. “I’ve told you it reminds me of all those noble men, complaining about their dutiful wives asking for them to return from drinking at a reasonable hour.”

Link laughed. “And when have I ever left you alone to go drinking?” 

“Hmm,” Zelda mused, finger tapping her chin as she exaggerated her thought process before she leaned over and kissed Link’s cheek. Then she sat back with a sigh. “I suppose never.”

“That’s because I’m a good hus–”

“You like to do your drinking with me,” Zelda teased, eyes sparkling.

Link leaned into her cheek, planting several loud kisses down her chin and neck as Zelda squirmed away, fighting both the Hero of Hyrule and gravity, so as not to spill her tea. 

“A very good husband indeed!” Zelda cried. “Relief! Please!! I relent.” 

“That’s what I like to hear,” he teased. Link left her with one more wet smooch on the corner of her mouth for good measure before he backed away, leaving her in peace. One hand trailed along her back, rubbing soothing circles. 

He watched her for several seconds in silence; Zelda averted her gaze to stare at the patchwork blanket spread beneath them. With her free hand, she fussed with an errant bit of yarn. Link held back a sigh. She wasn’t going to talk about this freely, then. 

“Zelda,” he said carefully. 

She peeked at him from the corner of her eye before slowly swiveling her head toward him. “Yes?” The question was light, too casual for Link’s taste. 

He let out a soft breath. “What’s going on, my love?” 

She shrugged a single shoulder, and Link crept closer, molding his body around her back. 

“Zelda,” he intoned, his thumbs rubbing circles around her shoulders. “What’s going on?” The question was a murmur, barely audible above the distant festival music and noise of children gleefully screaming and playing.

“I thought it was a foot rub,” she replied. 

Link frowned for a moment before scooting around to look her in the eye. There was a mirthfulness to her gaze that gave him comfort. He chuckled and crawled to her feet, unlacing her boots with a grin. 

“If it is a foot rub my lady desires, it is a foot rub she will get.” He said before removing her socks. Before he started, however, he looked at her. “A foot rub in return for a couple of questions answered?”

Zelda considered the ultimatum for a moment, rocking her head back and forth before she acquiesced with a grin. “Alright,” she said. “Only seems fair.” 

It was with enthusiastic gusto that Link began rubbing Zelda’s feet, relishing as she relaxed against the pillows with a pleased hum, resting the warm mug against her chest between interlaced fingers. He watched her with mixed relief and trepidation. Courage may have been his greatest strength, but that didn’t mean he didn’t know fear. Fear had been his unwelcome companion for many years.

Zelda seemed to sense his discomfort as she cracked an eye open and watched him. When they met gazes, she let out a soft breath. 

“What’s going on, Zelda?” Link murmured. 

She frowned and raised the tea to her lips, taking an anxious sip before her brow furrowed and she looked so sick Link thought she was going to spit it out. He reached up for the mug, which she handed to him as her hands wiped her lips. 

“No good?” he asked, before giving the mixture a distrustful look. “I knew it was experimental but…” 

“No, it’s not that,” Zelda said plainly before sitting back against the pillows, a frown affixed to her chin. “It’s me.” 

Link scoffed and started to speak before she stilled him with a desperate look that shot a bolt of lightning down his spine, into his core. 

“Zelda,” he said gently, his breath catching in his throat when he saw glittering tears at the corner of her eyes. His hands cradled her feet, rubbing soothing circles. 

“I just -” Zelda started, and then the tears came full force. Link crawled closer, offering her a handkerchief, quietly affirmed in his duty of keeping the Purah Pad properly stocked. He sat with her as the tears came in full force. After a few moments, she took a staggering breath. 

“I know it’s stupid,” she said quietly. “And I thought I had put this behind me, but it’s like… every time I look around me. And I know there is so much joy and goodness, I know there is.” 

She said it like she was trying to convince herself and Link’s heart fractured a little. 

“I just can’t stop seeing their ghosts,” she murmured before meeting Link’s eyes. “Not… literally,” she clarified, and Link let out a soft breath. “I just mean…” She gestured nondescriptly around them. “We’ve lost so much. And I know we’ve gained many more beautiful things.” Zelda looked down, rubbing a gentle hand over her rounded middle. Light caught the gold band on her finger and reflected the sparkle in the tree leaves above them. 

“It’s okay,” Link said quickly, putting his hand over hers and squeezing gently. “It’s okay. I… I understand. You remember so much more and… It’s painful.”

“It’s just everything today,” Zelda grumbled. “Everything seems destined to knock me back on my feet and remind me of what we lost. From the blasted tea to the –” 

“The tea?” Link wrinkled his nose. “I thought it was an experimental flavor.” 

Zelda looked at him sheepishly before she shrugged. A nonchalant gesture meant to disarm, but only served to raise Link’s hackles. 

“I suppose something could be considered experimental if no on alive had tasted it before,” Zelda said carefully, and the pieces slotted into place. Link squeezed her hand. 

“I’m sorry,” he said gently. 

She shook her head. “It’s alright. It just…” She sighed. “There was this day. It was an awful day, on one hand. Ten thousand years in the past was puzzling to the mind for many reasons, but keeping up with all the turns of phrase and customs… It was like learning another language.

“Sonia had brought me to the garden to…” Zelda swallowed, her voice cracking just a bit. “Just to talk. She was like that, you know. Sweet, caring… maternal.” Zelda’s hand flexed on her stomach. “She would have been the best mother…

Zelda’s musing lasted for only a couple seconds before she shook herself and returned Link’s gaze. “I learned a lot from her.” 

“I know,” he said quietly. “You must miss her.” 

She nodded. “Every day, even though I didn’t know her very long. And that tea…” She shuddered. “One sip, and I was back in that garden, sitting with her under the summer sun. Only this time, it wasn’t relaxation that came to mind. No, all I could think about is whether I’ve done enough. Sonia and Rauru had such grand plans for their kingdom — only a few of which they shared with me. Plans that… never came to pass. I suppose I just wonder… would they be proud?” 

She looked back at the fall festival, which was in full swing. In the distance, Link heard a tambourine. 

“Or would they be ashamed that the person they put their faith in brought about the downfall of their kingdom? Twice.” She spat the last word, and Link immediately started shaking his head. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder. 

“Zelda,” he murmured. “You know that isn’t true.” 

“Do I?” She turned on him with a raised eyebrow before looking down. She raised her arm, painted with a blue Silent Princess design. “Is this not evidence enough?” 

Link frowned. He knew he was not a smart man. He could be creative, when destiny demanded it, but he would always be second to Zelda in wits. It was not uncommon that her train of logic left him behind. “Um, no,” he said simply. “I’m not sure I understand.” 

“When I was a child, children would get their faces painted at Castle Town festivals. Of course, I was not allowed to, but I always loved to see how happy the children would be and would watch their creative little minds consider the endless possibilities,” she said. “It was a common thing. Painters were abundant,” she emphasized. “Now children have but one opportunity? One small town in a giant country able to have a festival of this size with an activity of this sort.” She shook her head. “We have fallen so far…” 

Link rolled the notion around in his head for a moment. 

“My love,” he said gently. “You knew things could never be exactly the same.” 

“Of course not!” She said. “But I could do better, to provide more opportunities!” 

Link chuckled, which caught his wife’s ire, and he quickly added. “Yes, my love, but… have you not already provided more opportunities?”

When Zelda stayed silent, a simmering frown on her lips, he continued. 

“In the old Hyrule, if you wanted to be a painter… Do I recall correctly that you would have had to join the art guild?” 

Zelda paused. “Well… Yes, but –” 

“And wasn’t it rather expensive?” Link asked, rubbing a hand across his chin. “Now, granted, I never inquired, but I had… family that was interested, and I recall it being rather pricy to join.”

The princess paused, considering his words before nodding, acknowledging that his memory served him well in this instance. 

“Yes, it was mostly geared towards the children of nobility or wealthy merchants,” she admitted.

“In that case, could it not be argued that you are providing more opportunities?” 

Zelda wrinkled her nose. “Fine, that is one example. It still does not change the fact that our entire nation’s educational system was destroyed.” She looked forlornly at Hateno School, a shining beacon in the distance. “How can I begin to provide the children with the education they deserve? Sure, I’m smart and well-read but…” She shook her head. “I am nothing compared to my tutors.”

“I’m sure that’s not –” 

“Link,” she said stubbornly, in a tone that brokered no room for argument. “There used to be entire institutions dedicated solely to the craft of perfecting how to teach. I am nothing compared to my tutors… I am so inadequate to what they really need.”

Link frowned. “You are not –” 

“Do not argue with me on this,” she replied brokenly. “I know what I am.” 

He took a deep breath. As he started to reply, he was interrupted by the most absurd observation he’d heard to date. 

“Even the mushroom merchant was a more engaging lesson than me.” 

Link couldn’t help it. He barked a laugh. When Zelda looked at him, irritation flashing in her eyes, he squeezed her shoulder. “I’m sorry, love; it’s just ridiculous,” he said gently. “Those kids love you. They’re obsessed with you. They couldn’t ask for a better, more dedicated teacher.” 

“Perhaps that is because they do not know any better,” she mumbled. “If we were in the Old Hyrule –”

“If we were in the Old Hyrule, the children of Hateno wouldn’t have even had a school,” he said gently. “Remember, Hateno was a farmers’ settlement. Education was left to the parents.”

Zelda considered his words, picking at a bit of yarn next to her thigh. 

“Yes, Hyrule no longer has institutions of higher education, but the children of Hateno — the children of Hyrule you care so deeply about — wouldn’t have had access to those spaces anyway. They, too, would have been reserved for nobility, merchants of high social and financial standing, am I right?” 

Zelda paused. Then, she nodded. “Yes, you would be correct.” 

Link bundled her closer in his arms, running a hand through her hair before pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “I love you, Zelda.”

“I love you too, Link.” 

“And I remind you that I love you because — and this is part of the reason I love you — you are so fiercely critical, both of things that need to change and of yourself.” He rubbed her back. “Hyrule wasn’t built in a day, and you can’t rebuild it in five, ten, or even twenty years.”

“I know,” Zelda muttered petulantly.  

“I’m afraid this will be our life’s work,” Link said kindly. “I suppose you won’t mind sticking it out with me, would you?”  

Zelda snorted, tapped her chin exaggeratedly, and then sighed. “I suppose…” She looked at him, mirth blooming in her emerald eyes. “It would be best for the baby if their mother and father were still talking to each other, I guess.” 

Link laughed, his arms wrapping around her middle to teasingly tickle her. It was only a few moments of flailing before he acquiesced with a kiss on her nose. Then she relaxed against his chest with a self-satisfied sigh. Their fingers chased each other, briefly interlocking with a squeeze.

“You know,” he mused quietly, even as he was reticent to break the peace. “It’s kinda like the tea.” 

“The tea?” Zelda turned back to him with a raised eyebrow. 

“Yeah,” Link said, his chest rumbling under Zelda’s pointed ear. “If the heavens hadn’t fallen, we wouldn’t have access to this plant.” He touched Zelda’s cheek, tracing gentle lines with his thumb. “If the world hadn’t ended, I wouldn’t have had you. We wouldn’t have had this life together.” 

He leaned forward and slotted their lips together. 

“I love you Zelda,” he said when they broke apart, fingers touching a bit of her hair as they rested their foreheads against each other. “I’m glad I get to walk through this life with you, instead of three steps behind you.” 

Zelda blushed and nuzzled into his neck. He held her for a moment, until he felt fresh wetness on his skin. 

“Zelda,” he murmured, reaching for another handkerchief and handing to her. 

She pulled back and wiped her eyes. “I know, I’m sorry,” she said. 

“You don’t need to be sorry.” 

“I just miss them,” Zelda confessed. “I miss all of them so much it aches sometimes.” 

“I know, love.” He pulled her forward by the back of her head, kissing her brow. “I know. Perhaps we could… memorialize them somehow?”

“We’ve already built monuments,” Zelda replied softly. “It… doesn’t seem enough somehow.” 

Link nodded understandingly. “Perhaps because we built them to honor the people they were. Maybe we should consider how to honor not just who they were, but the type of life they lived. What they fought for. What they wanted for Hyrule — the safety and happiness they believed every citizen was entitled to.” 

Zelda’s eyes widened, green shiny stones. She sat up quickly. “You mean… like a scholarship?” 

“Uh… sure?” 

“Link!” Zelda cried. “You’re brilliant!” She dove forward and smattered kisses along his cheeks and chin before pulling back with wide eyes. She struggled to her feet before Link quickly ascended and helped her. 

“Happy to be of service,” he smiled. 

“Oh!” She grinned. “This gives me so, so many ideas!” 

He chuckled. He’d certainly unlocked something. 

“Oh, there’s so much work to do!” She grinned. He could see the mental lists she was already creating, choreographing work flow charts in her mind. Behind them, the festival bustled. Several whoops and cheers sounded as a small feathered Rito dove over the inhabitants, a Hylian carefully nestled on his back. 

Link sighed. Young love. He shook his head before grabbing Zelda’s hand and redirecting her attention towards the gathering. 

“Oh,” Zelda stopped short. “I suppose we should go back, shouldn’t we? Our friends are expecting us.” Zelda sighed. 

Link nodded, a slight smile on his lips. “You will have plenty of time for planning later,” Link promised. “A perfect activity while you’re on bed rest,” he suggested, to which Zelda firmly shook her head. 

“I am not going on bed rest, no matter what Purah says,” she sniffed.

“I’ll let you two fight it out,” Link said solemnly. He knew when battles were above his pay grade and Hylia’s Chosen Hero or no, he was not getting between the two scientists. 

“In the meantime,” he continued, gesturing toward town. “Shall we?” 

“We shall,” she grinned, before falling in step with him. 

As they returned to the festival, hand in hand, they were greeted by the warm and cozy sights of every race of Hyrule convening in their tiny town to have a joyous and lovely time. Sidon and Yona, still freshly in the honeymoon phase, were kissing and sneaking bedroom looks as often as they could — so often, Link found himself blushing and, a time or two, covering Tulin’s eyes. 

Tulin had found a fast friend in Karin and, ever the gentlebird, offered to help her watch the terror triplets. Yunobo had taken Buliara’s spot as Riju’s guard, trailing behind her with an anxious face, arms full of plushed animals as he asked “Haven’t we won enough, goro?”

Buliara was suspiciously absent, until Link found her by the canteen, chatting with a traveler named Jules that he was reintroduced to. Buliara hadn’t allowed him to linger long, making excuses on his behalf that he needed to see to his wife and check in on the Gerudo chieftain.  

The day of fun stretched into an evening of bustling activity, and an early night for the royal couple of Hyrule. As he wrapped an arm around Zelda’s yawning form and waltzed her back to their home under the stars, he smiled. 

There was no doubt that traveling in step with her was far preferable to trailing behind her heels. Silently, he thanked Hylia for the chance and prayed for all the souls they’d left behind. As he looked at Zelda’s sleepy face, he knew the future generation would be well cared for.