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sun-aries · 9 months

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Weathering the Storm (TP Zelink)

Here's one for the collection! Just some good ole angst for the soul!

Navy flags snapped atop their poles, the glass of the windows shook against the iron grates, and the rain pelted against the shingles of the roof: an unsteady rhythm that harmonized with the crackle of the firewood. It was the kind of night that left the queen reluctant to return home to her empty chambers.

But soon, her chambers wouldn’t be so empty anymore.

Zelda often wondered what it’d feel like, having him to come home to, to have his things mesh with hers, to crawl into bed beside him and see him dressed less than proper. Her face heated at the thought.

A long while had passed before he came to her study door, a knock so familiar under the weight of his hand that she knew it was him. At her clearance, Link entered with wet hair and a fresh set of clothes, but his boots were crusted with mud and flaking on the carpets. Training must’ve left him a mess during such a storm.

Unlike at his homestead in Ordon, knights didn't get to stay in on a rainy day. Instead, they worked twice as hard on the slick grounds and through the misty air. Needless to say, the knights were pushed to their limits and as second-in-command, Link was no exception.

“You look exhausted. You don’t want to turn in early?” She said this even though she selfishly wished he wouldn’t; she hadn’t seen him all day.

"Nah," he replied, but the tired undertone of his voice betrayed him. He'd had many worse days, of course, scouring through unforgiving temples and facing ruthless beasts. But a hard day was still a hard day, and even heroes were exhausted from time to time.

But now he had Zelda to return to, and after a nice hot bath, he was just glad to be back in her company. She was perched on the sofa before the fire, with her frayed blanket wrapped around her shoulders and a poetry book open in her palms. Her pale blue eyes were more radiant than the firelight, her small smile warmer than its heat.

The sofa shifted as he slumped into it and the fragrance from his bath oils filled the air. She set the small book aside and lifted the old blanket a touch higher. “Are you cold?”

His face stilted with a fluster. There was a pause before he smiled and carefully scooted closer. Warmth washed through him instantly, but it wasn’t from the blanket. Instead, it was the steady pressure of her shoulder and the accidental brush of her thigh against his. He often wondered what she thought of in a tender moment like this. Did it fluster her too?

Zelda turned her gaze back to the fire; though they were solemn, her eyes sparkled in the flitting flames, and her brown hair spilled over her shoulders, soft and dark in the shadows but gleaming like melted gold in the firelight.

His fingers found the frayed edges of the blanket and fixed it over his other shoulder. “Where’d you get this blanket?”

Zelda tensed. It didn’t seem like much of a question in his head but when he said it out loud, it fell heavy on the room like he’d dropped a brick in a still pond.

They were weeks away from marriage now. But there was still much about one another that they didn’t know: her status as queen had urged them to marry sooner, after all. It wasn’t typically a problem, especially on evenings like these where they could fill the silence with conversation.

But his question felt heavy in a way he hadn’t prepared for. He quickly threw more words out as if it’d ease the tension. “It seems like your favorite. Is it your baby blanket?”

She opened her mouth but nothing came from it. Instead, her pale eyes glazed over, going distant to a place he couldn’t follow. It took a moment for her to say, “No.” There was another pause, long and drawn out, where he thought she might leave it there. But instead Zelda said, “It’s from the tower.”

His mouth fell open then, the word “Oh,” slipping out without him really meaning to say it. It was a sensitive topic, and he’d never intentionally broached it. He’d seen the scars that riddled her body, fading into the smoothness of her skin; he’d heard her voice quiver with an uncharacteristic vulnerability when she spoke of it. “I’m sor-”

“It’s okay,” she interjected, clearly anticipating the apology. “It’s fine.”

But it wasn’t. Her fear still festered. It was in the screech of an iron door and the thud of heavy footsteps and the menacing torchlight pouring through a door or the raise of a hand or a voice. It was in the fall of twilight, when darkness dampened her contentment like a snuffer smothering a candle, and all she had was her blanket to shelter in.

Some irrational part of her was ashamed: thinking how foolish it was for the bearer of wisdom to be afraid of something that’s done and gone, or how inelegant it was for a queen to cower under her blanket at any unexpected noise. But until recently, she’d had the fortune of not disclosing it to anyone, of being alone at the worst of it in the privacy of her bedchambers.

Whether Link understood why or not, he’d already seen her flinch upon awakening in the desert. He’d learned that she’d suffered at the guard’s hands in the tower – and at times, she was certain he was just as fragile at the fall of night. She could share this with him.

“It’s just…one of the few things that brought me comfort. I couldn’t bear parting with it. When the time came to reconstruct the tower, I took it with me.”

Link’s hand fell on hers, sending that familiar trill from the Triforce rolling up her arm, and she suddenly realized she’d been tugging at a loose thread. “I get that,” he said; his voice had been so absent from the room that it almost startled her. But it brought her comfort instead. “I kept everything I found too.”

A skittish smile tugged at her lips. “You do have quite a bit of treasures.” When they worked out the logistics of it, he admitted he didn’t have much to bring when he’d move into her chambers. But he had a rather large trunk of odds and ends that he couldn’t seem to part with, one that started to gather dust in the back of his own closet.

He smiled sheepishly. “What else brought you comfort?”

She paused, giving his question a fair deal of thought before answering, “You,” she said. “And Midna of course. Knowing you were both defending this kingdom gave me a great deal of comfort. More than anything, for that matter.”

Guiltily, her words made his heart skip a beat. It killed him to think that she'd suffered all along, that he'd never considered it or done anything about it. They'd left her in the tower, thinking foolishly that she was safe there - as a princess ought to be - and carried on, while she stayed back and anticipated the inevitable abuse from the guard only steps away from her door.

And yet there was a strange consolation in knowing that Zelda thought of him – that thinking of him comforted her, even at the darkest of times. She’d relied on them to save the kingdom and at least in that he hadn’t failed her.

Looking down at their joined hands, he brushed her knuckles idly. “I thought about you too…” he admitted. “Me and Midna would talk about you a lot.”

“You did?”

“Yeah. Sometimes, she’d bring you up out of nowhere, but other times it was like she knew you were on my mind…” He shook his head, eyes fallen downcast, and when the fluster rekindled on his cheeks, he rose his bare hand to scratch it. “But I always worried about you. I just wish -”

She stopped him suddenly with a soft but firm kiss on his cheek. His hand froze against his face, eyes wide and staring blankly at the tapestry over her shoulder. Her lips lingered against his red hot skin; her breath filtered through her lips and carried to the hollow of his ear. “Wish nothing. You saved me.”

Her words sent his hand moving on its own accord, before he even realized that he’d broken free of his stupor, and thread into her hair, grasping her head and drawing her into an embrace. His face buried into her shoulder, catching whiff of her warm, familiar smell and holding it in his throat like it was something tangible.

“You’re safe now,” he agreed, his voice hitched with his breath, but she’d shuddered in his arms as he said it. It was a reminder – half-spoken to himself – a vow abridged to the ones they’d speak at the altar only weeks later.

When she regained some strength, she drew back far enough to find his eyes, alight with firelight - and maybe also his assertion, and said, “I know.”

#aries writes #BMTR #tp zelink #twilight princess #zelink #zelda and link #tp zelink fanfic #tp zelink fic #zelink fanfic #loz fic #tp link #tp zelda #princess zelda #twilight princess zelink #twilight princess link #twilight princess zelda #zelink fic

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skyyknights · 9 months

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Ao3 | @zelinkcommunity

The ballroom is crowded and stuffy, filled with lords and ladies and other such dignitaries, all flashing their jewels and silks and laughing with wine-soaked voices. Link watches them with apprehension from the back of the room, his tunic vivid green against the cream-colored walls as he scans the room for any signs of misconduct. Ever since his promotion to captain of Hyrule’s royal guard, one of his primary jobs has been to serve as a silent protector at events such as these.

This event, of course, is especially significant, although the dignitaries here clearly care more about showing off their wealth than paying respect to the princess, who is to be crowned queen of Hyrule at a ceremony tomorrow. Their near-drunken capers across the packed ballroom cause Link’s eyes to roll back in his head. He can’t imagine acting as wild and crazed as they are now– at least in human form. If he were a wolf at the moment, that would be an entirely different matter; he might just send a few tables flying, shattering the champagne-drenched fantasies of the lords and ladies.

The thought brings a smile to his face that is more beast than human, and quickly Link makes his expression go blank again, blue eyes making yet another scan of the room. Zelda has asked him before if he would like to participate in the various balls and celebrations in the castle, but always his answer has been a polite, yet resounding, no. He’s just a ranch hand; he wouldn’t know what to do with himself at events like this. So instead Zelda assigned him to serve as a kind of guardian instead, watching from the edges of fancy dinners and dances in case anything should happen.

He’s not really sure why he was chosen specifically, but he can’t say he minds all that much. Watching over these events gives him yet another excuse to be near the princess, who of course never acts with the wild, frenzied abandon some of her guests often fall into. Instead, she is always calm and serene, mingling with the crowd and making polite conversation, glass of punch balanced carefully in one hand. Every few minutes he looks her way to check that she’s all right, that no drunken lord is attempting anything less than appropriate. Sometimes she meets his gaze and offers a smile; other times as she walks past, she pauses to speak with him briefly. “Need any water?” she asks him then, and he always smiles and shakes his head.

Sometimes she’ll stand by him for more than a few minutes, watching the crowd with him and letting herself have a break from talking and smiling. During one of these times she even admitted, in a whisper so that none but him could hear, that she actually detests events such as these, that they wear at her energy, that sometimes the drunken capers make her uneasy.

“Princess,” Link told her then, blue eyes dark with the ferocity of a wolf, “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

She had smiled, dark hair curling against her cheek as she looked away from him across the ballroom. “I know you won’t.”

And since then he has kept that promise with utmost concern and sincerity. Even tonight, as various lords stagger to find a seat with the wine thick in their brains, Link is watchful and ready, sword strapped to his back in case anything should go wrong. The princess is currently taking a rest for the moment, leaning against the far wall of the room and sipping from a glass of water. Even from this distance he can see a few strands of hair have escaped her elaborate updo, framing her flushed face in dark tendrils.

Link feels himself swallow, his mouth going slightly dry.

In the next moment he tears his gaze away from her, mentally kicking himself. Hero he may be, but tomorrow she will be queen of Hyrule. There is no place for him in her story.

And yet, no matter how many times he reminds himself of his own humble background, his eyes return to her again and again, and not just because he’s checking for her safety. If he were merely looking for that purpose, then his heart wouldn’t begin to race every time he saw her. His brain wouldn’t empty of all rational thought every time she stopped to speak with him. His legs wouldn’t feel weak whenever he spotted her laughing at the other end of the room.

Link sighs, gaze dropping to his mud-encrusted boots. How true to form, and yet another reminder of how undeserving he is.

There is no room for a farm boy in the life of a queen.

Forcing himself to be resolute about that fact, Link straightens his shoulders, back braced against the wall. He’s nearly suffocating in the crowded space of the ballroom, sweat trickling down his back as he brushes damp hair from his eyes. He’ll be relieved when the ball is over later tonight, when, free of any further duties, he can slip out to the stables and saddle Epona for a lengthy moonlit ride.

Another sigh heaves from his chest, and he fights back a yawn, allowing himself a brief stretch. What he wouldn’t give to be in wolf form right now, free to arch his back and loosen up his stiff joints. But he’s not, and–

Link freezes, thoughts abruptly stuttering to a halt.

He’s not sure just how he knows, but someone is watching him.

People generally ignore the Hero of Twilight when they find out he was once a simple farm boy; being stared at is a foreign feeling. Although he was a novelty in the first few weeks after Ganondorf’s defeat, now that the excitement has worn off he might as well just be another piece of furniture against the wall. So the sudden weight of someone’s stare sends a chill up his spine, and instantly he is on alert, fingers tensing inside stiff leather gloves. He scans the ballroom, brows furrowing slightly, eyes darting past head after head in a search for whoever is watching him.

The feeling leaves him as quickly as it arrived, and he frowns, shoulders slumping in confusion. It must have just been a lord or lady who’s never seen him before, who wanted a brief look at the legendary Hero but nothing more. Typical. He shrugs to himself, stifling another yawn as he settles back against the wall, gaze drifting to the clock on a nearby mantel. Two more hours until freedom.

“Link?”

Startled, he jumps, banging his elbow on the wall. “Y– your Highness,” he stammers, flustered at her unexpected approach and cringing at the twang of his accent. Zelda slips around a final drunken guest and halts before him, her expression unreadable. Sweat has curled the loose tendrils around her face, and there is a flush in her cheeks as she tilts her head. “Are you all right? You looked rather alarmed just a moment ago.” Concern fractures her voice.

“Oh, yes, I’m fine.” He clears his throat, forcing himself to stand a bit straighter and trying desperately not to stare at her. She is absolutely stunning, radiant in an amethyst-hued dress with gold accents, but as usual she seems barely aware of her own beauty.

“Are you sure? Can I get you some water?” She surveys him with a trace of worry, hands clasped behind her back, characteristic white gloves ending at her bare upper arms. “It’s rather hot in here, is it not?”

“Yes– er, yes, your Majesty. It is.” Link swallows, considering her offer. He’s never accepted it before, but like she said, it’s unbearably hot in here, and he’s not sure he can go through two more hours without a drink. “I guess a drink would be nice, yeah.”

Her face breaks into a smile, something akin to relief mingled with amusement washing across it. “I never thought you would say yes. I’ll be right back, then.” She ducks out of sight into the crowd, swallowed quickly by a handful of nobles.

A moment later she is back, glass of water held carefully in her grasp. “Here you are,” Zelda says, proffering the glass to Link. He takes it from her gratefully, draining its contents in a gulp.

“Thank you, Princess,” he tells her, and she nods, face relaxing into a smile. Link chuckles slightly, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. “Guess I’ll have to get used to calling you queen instead, won’t I?”

Zelda tilts her head, brushing a loose strand of hair from her eyes. “You may call me whatever you wish,” she says demurely, eyes moving across the crowd before settling on him again. “I have no preference if it is you.”

He finds himself at a loss for words at that. “Um…thank you,” he stammers finally, feeling heat flood his cheeks. He doesn’t know quite what else to say.

She reaches to take the water glass from him, and before thinking Link blurts, “Are you ready for tomorrow?”

The future queen pauses, icy blue gaze taking him in.

After a long moment her lips quirk upwards. “Yes. Yes, I am.”

“I’m glad,” Link answers softly, noticing the way her eyelashes curl at the ends, royally gold eyeshadow shimmering just above.

Zelda clears her throat, fingers brushing his with an electric jolt as she takes the glass from him. “I’d better get back,” she murmurs, “to my guests.” He sees a flash of reluctance on her face before she turns away, lifting her head high with all the grace of a goddess. “Let me know if you need anything else,” she tells him over her shoulder, and then she is gone.

Link’s breath leaves him in a gusty whoosh of air, and he sighs, leaning back against the wall. His gaze follows the princess across the ballroom, longing mixed with emotions he can’t describe.

A moonlit ride doesn’t seem half as enticing now, not if it means he will be away from her.

Link’s gaze drops to the floor. He scarcely notices when the eyes from earlier fall upon him again.

—

The crown upon Zelda’s head is heavier than she is used to. She can feel its weight already burning into her neck and spine, a physical representation of the daily burden she must bear for her kingdom.

The coronation ceremony was just this afternoon, and after a period of rest in her chambers, Zelda is returning to the ballroom for a second, kingdom-wide celebration. Truth be told, she’s not looking forward to it much— last night’s events already drained her of most of her energy. Drunken lords and ladies cavorting about is not her idea of fun, but Zelda had been forced to plaster on a smile and endure it. Hopefully tonight will be better, as many of the villages will be in attendance along with the rich.

And tonight, he will be there again, a silent protector at the other end of the room. A friendly face to look to if she needs one.

A wolf if anything gets out of hand.

She can see him now as she approaches the double doors leading into the ballroom, the rich mauve skirts of her coronation gown sweeping behind her on the tiled floor. He stands flanked by two lower rank soldiers just outside the doors, arms behind his back, sword hanging at his side as always. She’s surprised to see him in something other than his green tunic— instead he wears armor over clothing similar to her own everyday gown. There is even a crown-like headpiece perched in his sandy hair, giving him a regal appearance.

Zelda thinks he looks faintly embarrassed as she halts before him. “Captain,” she greets him cordially, eyes surveying him up and down. The armor is perhaps a little big for him, but overall he looks exceptionally handsome in it.

Zelda’s cheeks flush at the thought, and she swallows. “What’s all this for?” she asks him, gesturing to his armor. The embarrassment on his face increases, and he coughs a little, excruciatingly aware of the sudden interest of the soldiers behind him. “It, er…I bought it during my journey,” he says finally. “I thought it might be fitting for the ball tonight.”

“Tired of your green tunic?” Zelda questions, though she doesn’t think that’s the case. He’s clearly uncomfortable in the flashy armor, so different from the humble hero’s tunic or his old clothing of Ordon.

Link gulps, looking everywhere but at her an d fidgeting just slightly. “No, not exactly. I just thought it might be a little…informal.”

And Zelda may be connecting things that don’t actually fit together, but suddenly she wonders if he wore this armor for her.

But surely it isn’t that. Surely that’s just her own wishful thinking.

“Well,” she finally manages to say, forcing herself to speak casually, “I think you look nice either way.”

She tells herself she’s imagining the red flush in his cheeks as she turns away and raps twice on the double doors of the ballroom. The muted chatter on the other side goes silent, and then a voice announces, “Presenting her Royal Majesty, Queen Zelda of Hyrule!”

The doors swing open, and a thousand eager faces look towards their new queen. She plasters a smile on her face and stands, hands regally clasped, for a moment before entering the ballroom, her skirts trailing behind her. Her citizens bow as she walks past, the awe in their faces clear as she makes her way to the throne situated at the front of the room.

She can hear Link behind her, his footsteps soft and sure as he silently lets the crowd know that the queen is guarded. He will not be by her side for long, but it is a comfort to know that he will at least remain nearby. No harm will come to her while he is around.

She can hear whispers erupting as they pass. The queen is so lovely, some say. Is that her hero behind her? murmur others. And Zelda bites her tongue, but still thinks what she cannot say— that yes, he is her hero, and hers alone.

But he might not know exactly how much he is hers, not yet.

Zelda reaches her throne and settles herself upon it, and Link slips away to stand by a far wall as usual, searching the ballroom for any signs of misconduct. As the festivities resume and lively music once more fills the air, she can’t help but let her eyes linger upon him— a dangerous habit. Last night, he nearly caught her staring; she looked away in the nick of time.

He is leaning slightly against the wall, posture rigid as he scans the ballroom for any suspicious or unruly characters. She barely recognizes him in his special armor, though it suits him well— just not as well as the green tunic of the hero. Nothing fits him as well as that does.

She spots a small group of people making their way towards him— a handful of children, a few adults. There is a blonde girl among them, a girl in a homespun Ordonian dress, and Zelda’s heart twists suddenly in her chest. This must be his childhood friend Ilia. She watches as Link, so stoic and solemn before, suddenly lights up at the sight of the Ordon group, his entire posture changing as he steps towards them.

The blonde girl leaps forward and flings her arms around his neck, and Zelda flinches and looks away. She should be mingling with her people anyway, not pining after the boy whose heart she has no chance with. She swallows carefully and stands, skirts gathered as she steps down from her throne and mingles with the people. Duty and honor. Courage and sacrifice. These are the things a queen must hold to. She cannot dwell on her own self-interests for too long, not that she has any chance with him anyway.

She has never had a chance. She knows this, and so she must let him go.

(He was never hers to begin with).

Link and Ilia— she wishes them well. They will make a good match, she thinks, tuning out the chatter of a mindless noble half-drunk on wine. Yes, they have her blessing, whenever they finally decide to tie the knot.

Zelda ignores the painful lump in her throat and forces herself to laugh and smile and listen to the brainless talk of dozens of lords and ladies. The villagers she speaks to have more intellect, more heart, but the nobles have a way of hemming her in so she cannot talk to anyone but them. She is suffocating, surrounded by their greedy smiles and all-too-familiar hands.

After an hour and a half of talking until her throat is dry, Zelda makes her way to the punch bowl at one end of the room and ladles herself a cup, drinking to ease the soreness in her throat. She refuses to let herself look in Link’s direction— he is probably still catching up with Ilia. No, Zelda does not plan on stopping by and asking if he needs water, not tonight. She will leave them well alone; no interference must occur on her part.

As these thoughts roll through Zelda’s mind, she is suddenly, uncomfortably aware of someone’s presence behind her.

“My queen,” a voice says, thick and syrupy and drenched in false sweetness, and Zelda’s skin crawls as she turns to see a man dressed in garish silks standing behind her. A half-empty goblet of wine is clutched in his left hand, and she can see reddish-purple smeared around his mouth. That, and the fact that he practically reeks of alcohol, alerts her to the fact that he has been drinking all evening— likely far more than he can handle.

“Zelda,” the man continues unsteadily. He steps towards her, stumbling slightly as a menacing grin works its way onto her face. “Our lovely ruler. Might I even say…ravishing.”

Zelda can feel her heart beginning to pound as the man leers at her, slamming his goblet onto the punch table. “I’m told,” the man says with slurred words, “that you’re an excellent dancer.” He smirks, waving a finger at her. “And perhaps you might be excellent in other areas, as well?”

Oh, Hylia—

Were she not in a public setting, Zelda would gladly punch this disgusting slob of a human being into the next dimension, but she is the queen and that is not looked on politely. She bites the inside of her cheek, drawing a deep breath to steady herself as she searches for an excuse.

“It isn’t that hard to say yes,” the man says drunkenly, taking another step towards her. He is so near now she can smell the wine on his breath. “So come on now, be a darling and—”

“Sir.”

The noble stiffens at the reprimand, anger flashing onto his lumpy face as he looks over Zelda’s shoulder.

A moment later, Link stands protectively beside Zelda, close enough that their arms are brushing. His hand rests on the hilt of his sword, and his eyes are narrowed dangerously as he looks at the noble with all the rabidity of a wolf. “Sir,” he repeats, his words laced with venom and lips pulled back in a snarl, “you need to step back.”

The man splutters, looking at Zelda indignantly. “Kindly dismiss your servant,” he enunciates, brow furrowed in outrage. “He has no business here.”

“I would not address him in that manner,” Zelda replies frostily, finally finding her voice. She moves a bit closer to Link, standing just behind him. “He is no servant.”

“Servant, guard, makes no difference to me,” the man sniffs pompously. “Dismiss him, please. I want to dance with my beauty.”

“Don’t speak to her like that,” Link growls, voice low. “She is your queen.”

“I’m very aware of that,” the noble says with a yawn. “Now get away from her, servant, or I’ll be forced to do something drastic.”

“I think you’ve got it the wrong way around,” Link snarls. “If you don’t move, I’ll be the one knocking you into next century.”

“I highly doubt that, pretty boy. You’re not her legendary hero, after all. You can’t do anything to me,” the man returns arrogantly, smirking as Link’s scowl deepens. He shoves Link aside and addresses Zelda again, the leer returning to his face. “Now, my lovely lady, if you’ll just—”

The noble is flying through the air before Zelda can process what has happened. He slams into the floor with a satisfying thud and lies stunned for a moment, staring up in shock as blood trickles from his nose.

“I have a few corrections in what you just said,” Link spits, looming over him with sword drawn. “I am the Hero. I just did punch you. And she—” his gaze flicks to Zelda, softening briefly before he continues— “is not your lovely lady.” Chest heaving with fury, Link leans forward, digging the toe of his boot into the noble’s ribs. “Have you got all that, or do I need to pound it into your thick drunken skull with my fist?”

The noble stammers for words, and a moment later scrambles to his feet and stumbles away through the crowd as Link waves over two guards. “Make sure he leaves the castle,” he mutters. “And double the guard on the queen’s door tonight.”

The soldiers slip away into the crowd to obey his orders, and Link turns to face Zelda, the rage clearing swiftly from his face. “I’m sorry about that,” he says to her, avoiding her gaze as he resheaths his sword. “I know you could’ve handled that easily, but I figured since we’re in here you couldn’t punch him or anything. I, on the other hand—” He grins, eyes crinkling. “I am your captain of the guard, after all. I can punch anyone if I want to. Except you, of course,” he quickly corrects himself, stumbling over his words. “I would never punch you anyway, I just meant—”

“I know what you meant,” Zelda laughs. “Thank you, I appreciate it greatly.” She bites her lip. “I’m sorry if I took you away from— from Ilia. I wouldn’t want to cut in—”

Link stares at her in bafflement before his face clears in sudden understanding. “Oh! Oh, no, Ilia and I are just friends. More like brother and sister than anything, if I’m honest. You weren’t doing anything, don’t worry. She went off a while ago to go meet Shad and Ashei, anyway.” He pauses, clearing his throat. “Um…and you’re never a bother, my lady. I would do anything for you.”

And somehow, staring up into his slightly wolfish eyes, Zelda knows she can believe that.

The hero smiles gently after a moment, his head dropping slightly. “I should probably get back to my station,” he says, voice suddenly rough.

“Wait.” Zelda hesitates, watching as his eyes snag back onto her face. “I…did you know that it’s customary for the captain of the guard to dance the ruler’s first dance as queen with her?”

Link’s eyes widen, and then a shy grin creeps onto his face. “No, I didn’t know that, actually. When was that first decreed?”

Zelda clears her throat, lips twitching. “Just— just now,” she says nonchalantly,

Link laughs in surprised delight. “Well, in that case, my queen, I would be honored.”

He extends his hand to her, and, heart pounding, Zelda slides her own palm onto his, their fingers linking firmly together. Link leads her onto the ballroom floor, where some kind of Hyrulean waltz is playing, and steps haltingly into position. “I’ve never danced before,” he admits, one corner of his mouth lifting in a smile. “Sorry in advance if I step on your feet.”

“I don’t mind.” She knows that to be true as he places one hand on her waist, her own moving to his shoulder. She’s taller than him, but somehow she fits perfectly in his arms. It feels right, she thinks as they whirl away across the ballroom, just the two of them. The people around them melt away, completely insignificant compared to the hero before her.

She might be imagining it, but there is a certain softness in his gaze as he twirls her clumsily, as they weave through the throng of dancers with her skirts sweeping against his legs. She thinks she could lose herself this way, here in his arms.

The dance ends all too soon, the music fading slowly, but Zelda and Link do not step away, still holding on to each other. Zelda meets his gaze. “Thank you,” she tells him with a smile, “for indulging me.”

“There’s no one I would rather have danced with, your Highness,” he replies with a grin, offering her a slight bow. And then, so unexpectedly she feels her eyes widen, he lifts her hand and brushes a kiss to her knuckles.

“I’ll see you around then, Prin— my queen,” he says softly, giving her hand a light squeeze.

The crowd swallows him quickly, but she soon spots him standing again at the wall. Something is different this time, however. Instead of being alert and upright, he is almost sagging against the wall, hands braced behind him, staring almost dreamily into the distance.

It could mean nothing.

But then, it could mean everything.

So Zelda crosses her fingers and hopes.

#sky types words #twilight princess #tp zelink #zelink week #tp #zelink #twilight princess zelink #tp link #tp zelda #link #zelda #legend of Zelda

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aegon-targaryen · 9 months

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Zelink Week Day 1 - Yearning

read on AO3 | read on FF.net | @zelinkcommunity

"We never work on archery," Zelda pointed out one day in the practice yard.

Link snorted. "You hit Ganondorf from fifty yards away on horseback. What's to work on?"

It had been ten months since that day, and four since they'd opened their hearts to each other. In the near-summer heat, she had forgone her crown, and he wore a loose Ordonian tunic that made no effort to conceal his scarred arms. The weather had drawn some of their friends out too—Auru and Telma traded information on a nearby bench; Ashei's attempt at teaching Ilia self-defense was devolving into giggles yet again.

"Always room for improvement," Zelda said.

Shrugging, Link plucked a bow from the rack and tossed it to her. She saw little action as queen and tended to favor magic in a fight, so she'd enlisted his help in keeping her other skills sharp.

He'd been reluctant to spar with her until they started to have fun. There was no danger here, no horror: just the simple satisfaction of their practice weapons smacking together, and that cool-eyed look of intense concentration on Link's face, and Zelda studying his every move like he was a puzzle to be solved. What she liked best was getting him to smile when she mastered something he'd taught her.

She had no delusions of beating him at swordplay, but this—the fletching soft between her fingers, the pull of the bowstring, the whole world narrowing down to the space between her and the target—Zelda had been born for this.

She could feel Link's eyes on her as she moved down the row of practice dummies and struck each one in the neck as easily as breathing. By the time she reached the end, the guards had paused their drills to cheer her on from across the courtyard.

"You just wanted an excuse to show off," Link accused, his eyebrows raised knowingly, his mouth sliding into a lopsided grin that crinkled the scar on his cheek. And he was right.

He understood her well enough to guess right.

For a brief moment, Zelda forgot the rest of the world. It felt less like falling and more like waking up on those bright spring mornings when dew sparkled the grass and birds greeted the dawn and everything felt reborn, even as the castle stepped into its old comforting routine.

That feeling terrified her down to the core.

Link had known so quickly, since that first warm day of the year when they'd gone out riding through Hyrule Field under the wonderfully clear sky. They had paused to let the horses drink, and at the glittering riverbank, the promise of spring made anything feel possible—even for Zelda and Link, with their scars and their broken hearts. She was standing just beside him, laughing at something he'd said, when Link caught her hands and looked into her eyes and told her quite simply: Zelda, I want you to know that I love you.

He hadn't expected her to say it back. He understood that she wasn't ready; he understood her fears and why she carried them. But now Zelda had that gift wrapped around her, like a warm cloak to keep her safe from any storm, and she had given him nothing in return.

The belltower announced the end of the castle's lunch break, and Zelda jumped at the sound, as though she hadn't been hearing it all her life. Link released a dejected sigh, trading glances with Ashei.

"We have to go," he told Zelda. "The merchant caravan we're escorting leaves in an hour."

"You'll return in a fortnight?" she replied, her voice sounding strange and remote to her own ears.

Link nodded. When they embraced, she found herself clinging hard to the leather strap that secured his scabbard to his back, and he pulled back with a frown. "Zelda? You okay?"

"Yes."

He furrowed his brow, a silent reminder that they'd once promised not to lie to one another.

"There is a knot I must untangle," Zelda admitted. "Let me do that, and I'll explain when you return."

"Okay," Link said reluctantly, kissing her forehead, then her lips, before he stepped away. "I'll see you later."

And those words, even though they used them all the time, snarled Zelda's thoughts even further. The last thing she needed was a reminder of Midna, who they'd both loved and lost. Even so, she repeated the phrase back, and when Link smiled, she returned that too—as always, she couldn't help herself.

Two weeks passed unremarkably: meetings, paperwork, audiences with her people. Hyrule was roaring back from the Twilight with a resilience Zelda could only hope to match. She had never been prouder to be its queen.

Yet she could not settle. Auru watched her rifle aimlessly through the documents strewn across the table. They were working quietly in a solar that overlooked the gardens, doors and windows wide open to welcome the warmth.

"Would you like to talk about it?" he asked.

"No," Zelda replied belligerently.

He took a slow sip of tea, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a manner she did not appreciate. As her childhood tutor, Auru was the closest thing she had left to family, and she was trying not to hide things from him anymore—partly because he was a shrewd old thing who could read her better than most. Still, she stayed quiet, her quill carving aggravated sentences into the parchment.

"If you're worried about Link, he's a good man," Auru began cautiously. "In fact, I doubt there is any man more worthy of you, Lady Queen."

"Link is a good man," Zelda agreed softly. He knew who she was and stayed anyway. He showed her the things he hid from the rest of the world. Somehow—after a life of trusting no one—trusting him had become second nature. "The danger does not come from him."

"It comes from you?" Auru guessed. When she didn't answer, he laid his hand over hers. "Lady Queen, you will not repeat your parents' mistakes. Nor should you spend your life apologizing for them."

"Even so, people will use Link against me. He will never have the peace he deserves."

"Has he asked you for peace?" asked a voice in the doorway. Telma sauntered in, her hands planted on her hips. Zelda pulled her hand away and straightened.

"You could have waited in my office," Auru said irritably. "You know better than to eavesdrop."

"I'd be a poor information broker if I did," Telma chuckled. "Besides, I only heard that last part. Lady Queen, if you want my advice: love is full of risks. Link has already accepted that; it's obvious every time he looks at you with those dreamy puppydog eyes. Now you must make your own decision."

With that, she snagged a cookie off the tray and ate it with the sumptuous delight of someone who never doubted herself.

Zelda wished for half that confidence. But she already knew her decision.

Later that night, she woke to a nudge at the protective spells that guarded her windows from intruders. Usually this meant a rat was trying to get in—once, an intrepid owl—but when Zelda dragged herself out of bed to check, her heart nearly stopped at the large silhouette against the starry sky.

Lethal magic was crackling in her palms before she realized she didn't need it. He was lucky that she would always recognize him, no matter how dark the night, no matter what skin he wore.

Zelda waved away the spell and let the wolf into her bedroom. He dropped to the floor and loped towards her, a silent shadow of sharp lines and bristling fur—except for the luminous blue of his eyes. Meeting his intent gaze sent Zelda back to the day he and Midna had delivered hope to her cold twilit prison, the day she had first realized she wasn't alone.

"Oh, Link," she said, fighting a sudden tightness in her throat. "What happened? Are you all right?"

He lolled his tongue out in a doggish smile to show her that he was. Trying not to laugh, Zelda knelt to touch the thick fur between his ears. He huffed out a long breath, pushing his head into her hand.

"Should I change you back?" she asked.

Link closed his eyes and nodded.

Zelda reached out with the traces of Twili magic left behind from her joining with Midna. Though it had been arduous and painful the first time she'd returned Link to his true form, months of refining the power made the process far smoother this time. The wolf still trembled in her lap as she unhooked the shadow crystal's claws from him, but before long Link was holding her in his human arms.

"Hey, Zelda," he murmured, and if she had any lingering doubts, they dispersed at the sound of her name in his weary voice.

"Link," she replied. "Are you certain you're all right?"

"Better now. Thanks. Sorry I woke you."

"I'm glad you did. Someone might have seen you in the daylight, and then we'd have all sorts of problems."

Link chuckled in a quiet way that betrayed his exhaustion. Zelda pulled back to look him over. His boots were muddy, his hair a bird's nest; he smelled of wolf and rain and the road. But he was safe, and a rush of affection made her lean forward to press her lips to his.

"I missed you too," he teased.

She tucked her hair behind her ears, cheeks burning. "Did something go wrong with the caravan?"

"A kid ran off. The rain had washed away his tracks by the time we realized, so…I transformed to sniff him out. I think he had fun. He thought I was a dog."

"How did everyone else react?"

"Ashei kept them calm," Link replied, looking down at his scarred palms. Like most of what he'd done during the Twilight, he kept this secret close for a reason. "She wasn't that surprised. She remembered seeing a wolf at the bar once, and on Snowpeak, but she didn't know that it was…that I was…"

A beast. A monster. He didn't finish the sentence, but she could hear it anyway, because that was how Link had seen himself for a long time—and, on his bad days, still did.

"But Ashei stood by you," Zelda pointed out, taking his hand. "You saved the child, and he wasn't afraid. They both saw what matters."

Link squeezed her fingers, but he looked skeptical, and she thought suddenly of the gift he'd given her by the riverside, how she drew it out to light the way when things grew dark. She was carrying the weight of a thankless kingdom, but Link loved her. She was a fraud with a heart of ice, but Link loved her. Her family was long dead and Midna long gone, but Link loved her.

She wanted him to give him that too: a shield to guard him against the world, against himself.

For now, Zelda took in the small smile Link sent her way, despite his slumping shoulders, and she said, "You're tired."

"Yeah. I should go." He kissed her cheek and stood, stretching out his limbs shakily.

The word tumbled out of its own volition: "Don't."

Link looked at her hand, which had grabbed his before he could step away, then at her face. He waited with a soft look in his eyes, a look like the slow shifting of sunset into peaceful night.

"Don't go," Zelda said after several hammering beats of her heart. "You're tired. I missed you. I—I want you to stay."

She never told him what she wanted. Her desires had gone into the ground with her mother's coffin, and she'd surrendered everything else to Hyrule, and for a long time, no other life had been possible. Until Midna. Until Link.

He wrapped his hands around hers and drew her to her feet. "Then I'm staying," he promised.

After he changed into the clean clothes she lent him, they climbed into Zelda's bed together. She had never shared it with anyone, but with Link, nothing was ever as frightening as she expected it to be. He settled down as though he'd always been there, curled up in bleary happiness.

"That problem you had before I left," he murmured. "Did you untangle it?"

Watching Link's lashes flutter as he tried to stay awake, counting all the scars she could see, Zelda replied, "Yes. I believe so."

"Knew you would."

"Go to sleep, Link. I'll tell you about it tomorrow."

He closed his eyes and slid away without argument. Zelda took a little longer, but she joined him when she was ready.

In the clean light of morning, she took the chance to study his face again. His mouth was soft and boyish. His hair was an ungodly mess. He had a scar on his cheek, another on his temple, more of them spilling down his collarbones to disappear under the borrowed shirt.

Half of Hyrule spoke longingly of the Hero's proud blue eyes, of his peerless skill, of the legend surrounding him. But he was no legend; he was just Link, and sleep smoothed out his sharp edges until he looked even younger than his eighteen years.

When he woke up, the first thing he did was nestle closer to her. Quiet lay over them like unbroken snow.

"Link," Zelda said after a while, "I love you."

He blinked his blue wolf-eyes. The blush started in his cheeks and grew until he was red from hairline to neck. He answered in a hushed voice, "I love you too."

"I'm sorry it took me so long."

"Don't be. I knew, or—hoped. But thank you for saying it."

"You knew?" Zelda repeated. "How?"

"It's in your voice," Link said, kissing her lips. "And your hands." His lips brushed her knuckles. "And the way you look at me and see everything." He kissed the corner of each eye, her forehead, the bridge of her nose, until she started giggling.

"You must be seeing everything too, if I've been that obvious," Zelda said when she'd caught her breath. That would have mortified her once, but now it filled her with courage, even stronger than what she'd felt the first time their eyes met—because she knew him now, and she knew the battles that lay ahead, and she knew they were worth fighting.

"You're awful cute when you blush," Link informed her.

"You should see yourself!" Zelda countered, poking him in the cheek.

He laughed, and neither of them moved for a long time. The battles could wait.

Thanks for reading! If you want more TP Zelink, consider checking out the chapter fic this is based on: As Dusk Falls!

#i'm writing again btw #zelink week 2023 #my writing #loz #tloz #tp #twilight princess #tp zelink #twilight princess zelink #zelink #zelink fanfiction #loz fanfiction #zelink community #zelinkcommunity

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writingnocturne · 4 months

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The Coming Spring

Twilight Princess Zelink

Rating: G

Word Count: 2299

Post-Game

This fic was written for SunAries on AO3 for a Secret Santa in a TP Zelink server! :) Happy holidays!

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youwouldntbelievehowigothere · 1 year

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Happy New Year!

#Twilight Princess Zelink #Skyward Sword Zelink #Zelink #zelda x link #tp zelink #ss zelink #New Years #loz #fan comic #fanart

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thecagedsong · 9 months

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Lol, been a couple of months since I advertised this fic on tumblr, but any Zelink friends want a Twilight Princess fic that starts with friends exchanging letters to something more? I offer a complex politically minded Zelda and an innocent, fierce (kinda a simp) Link and an entire kingdom willing to tease them about their relationship status.

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Dear Hero (69386 words) by thecagedsong Chapters: 21/? Fandom: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Zelda/Link Characters: Zelda (Legend of Zelda), Link (Legend of Zelda), Ilia (Legend of Zelda), Ashei (Legend of Zelda) Additional Tags: Post-Twilight Princess, epistle, Letters, (love letters), Worldbuilding, more characters but those are the main named ones, The Author Regrets Nothing, Salt and Light Summary: Link has returned to Ordon now that Twilight has settled, but Zelda doesn't let something as small as distance keep her from confiding in the one person that has a chance of relating to the pressure she's under. As long as he's willing to read she's willing to write. Link isn't quite sure what's going on, but he can answer some letters . . . and teach her messengers the sword . . . and spend some holidays with Zelda so she doesn't feel so alone . . . and-

#zelink #twilight princess zelink #tp zelink #Dear Hero #Letters fic #Just posted Chapter 21 #but I'll probably get the rest of it posted before the end of august #this is the one everyone votes on #legend of zelda #Link and Zelda

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sparrowsworkshop · 1 year

Photo

A certain someone, yes? This art was made for @zeldaelmo and her lovely fic “Close Enough,” part of her Zelink Advent Calendar! You can read it on AO3 or right here on Tumblr! She’s a great writer and the fic is incredibly sweet, please check it out! 💖 I’m so excited to finally share this!!! Drawing this was a blast, and gave me an excuse to listen to lots of fun Christmas music (including this very fluffy Owl City song on loop) while I was working on it, lol. Thanks again, Zelmo, for the chance to collab with you! ✨

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lunarayx · 1 year

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will there ever be a timeline or story where the power triforce is used for good? nintendo plz

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shellshooked · 2 years

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Panel redraw

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art-rica · 2 months

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yield

#tp zelink #twilight princess zelink #twilight princess #twilight princess link #twilight princess zelda #legend of zelda

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pastelsandpining · 10 months

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i just think the dance from cinderella matches their first dance very well

wedding week entry: first dance

#it’s what they deserve #zelink #tp zelink #twilight princess #twilight princess zelink #tp link #tp zelda #zelink wedding week #prompt week #first dance #i’m such a sucker for tp zelink #they’re just so pretty

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sun-aries · 4 months

Link

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Link/Zelda (Legend of Zelda) Characters: Link (Legend of Zelda), Zelda (Legend of Zelda) Additional Tags: Romance, Fluff, Secret Santa, zelink, tp zelink, post tp zelink, Twilight Princess, Twilight Princess zelink, TP Link - Freeform, tp zelda - Freeform, zelda and link - Freeform, post TP Summary:

Zelda tells Link about a certain tradition, and he can't stop thinking about it until the stroke of midnight. This is for @linktheacehero! Happy Holidays from your Secret Santa!

#tp zelink #secret santas #twilght princess #twilight princess zelink #zelink #tp #tp link #tp zelda #post tp fic #post tp zelink #holiday fic #fluff

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skyyknights · 11 months

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Too Much

Ao3

Too much.

It’s all too much.

Zelda sets her quill down atop the parchment spread on the table before her, pressing her fingertips lightly against her forehead. The overlapping chatter of dozens of council members swirls around her, making her head pound, and the room is hot and stifling. She can’t think or breathe or focus, suffocating in a time loop of endless noise and chaos.

Something has to change. She can’t take much more of this, trapped amid handfuls of other bodies, her brain threatening to implode from all the noises in the room. She can feel her body trembling as her heart beats out of control, as loud in her ears as the voices around her.

Zelda comes to a decision swiftly, lowering her hand from her forehead and drawing a breath to steady her nerves. “Gentlemen,” she announces after a moment, her voice barely making an impact in the deafening room. She sighs and pushes out her chair, standing and bracing her hands on the table for added emphasis. “Gentlemen.”

The chatter dwindles abruptly as every head in the room swivels to look at the soon-to-be queen. She clears her parched throat, gaze falling to the empty glass at her seat. It was emptied long ago, and in the chaos no one thought to refill it. “I think we’ve had enough discussion for today,” Zelda says, doing her best to keep the strained fragility from her voice. “We’ll resume this meeting tomorrow.”

“But Highness–!” one council member protests.

“Your Grace, I must beg a private audience with you–” intones another.

“Tomorrow,” Zelda enunciates firmly, stepping away from the table. She holds up one gloved hand as a third man tries to interject. “I have some– business to attend to at the moment.” Quickly she walks towards the door before her face can give away the lie. “I will see you at tomorrow’s meeting, gentlemen.”

The door slams shut behind her, sealing away the instant burst of chatter that erupts behind her back, and Zelda paces quickly away down the hall, lifting her skirts and breaking into a run as she sprints through the corridors. There is nobody around her now, but still the voices swirl thickly in her head, loud and insistent, hot against her skin.

Zelda peels desperately at her gloves as she runs, tearing them off and letting them fall to the tiled floor. She slams into one of the heavy doors leading out to the courtyard and shoves it open, stumbling out into the cool evening air before collapsing in the grass, arms braced in front of her as she pants for air. Too much. It’s too much. She can’t handle the constant voices and pressure and hot rooms and disorientation–

A door opens, then falls shut, and footsteps approach her through the grass. “Princess?” a quiet voice says, and Zelda blinks, pulled momentarily from the nausea threatening to overwhelm her. Boots appear in her line of vision, brown leather caked in mud. She swallows the sour taste in her mouth and looks up, greeted by a face she knows all too well.

“Link,” Zelda says softly, blinking and taking a breath before shifting position so her legs are curled beneath her. She doesn’t have the strength to stand again, and she knows he won’t mind her not rising to greet him. “What are you doing here?”

The hero smiles gently, crouching in front of her and holding out his hand, in which he holds a glass of water. “I figured you might need this,” he says kindly, his soft Ordonian accent punctuating his words. “I know how hot those meetings can get.”

Zelda stares at him for a moment, lips parted, before gratefully taking the glass with shaking hands. She drains the contents quickly and lowers it, exhaling slowly. “Thank you,” she tells Link, aware of the concern in his eyes as he looks at her. “I needed that.” There’s a pause, and then she frowns slightly, looking up at him again. “How did you know?”

“Oh.” Link looks embarrassed, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand and not meeting her gaze. “Well, I was, um, sitting outside the meeting room. I saw you come out.”

“You did?” Zelda blinks, trying to recollect whether she saw him sitting there or not, but she can’t remember. The nausea hits her again, and she recoils, dropping the glass and wrapping her arms around her stomach. “I’m sorry,” she mumbles through gritted teeth, focusing on a patch of grass and trying to breathe deeply. “I’m usually fine with meetings, but today–”

“That’s only natural,” Link is quick to reassure her, scooting closer. He lays a cautious hand on her arm. “You’re still recovering from the Twilight and all. Makes sense you’re not fully yourself.”

“I suppose,” Zelda agrees slowly, sagging in relief as the nausea subsides. She just feels so tired, drained of all her former energy. Like she’s still trapped in the upper room of her castle, unable to do anything besides stare at the rain falling outside. She digs her fingers into the grass on either side of her and shuts her eyes for a moment, enjoying the feel of the fading sun on her face and reminding herself that Hyrule is safe.

Link’s hand remains on her arm, a gentle pressure that grounds her to the earth. “Is there anything else I can do for you, Princess?”

Zelda cracks one eye, glancing over at his lightly freckled face. “You can call me Zelda, for starters,” she says in a serious tone, but her lips twitch upwards in the beginnings of a smile.

Link laughs, his blue eyes crinkling with mirth. “I could, but I’m not going to,” he tells her with a grin, then frowns slightly. “Do you have more meetings today?”

Zelda shakes her head in response. “No, thankfully. Tomorrow I will, but I can’t handle any more today.” She presses a hand to her forehead, her eyes slipping shut. “I’m just…so exhausted. And all of the people and voices and details, they’re just so much, I–”

Link’s hand rubs gently up and down her arm, and Zelda leans into his touch. “It’s okay, Princess,” Link murmurs, voice soft and reassuring. “It’s going to be all right.” He pauses, clearing his throat before continuing. “Perhaps…if it would help at all, I could attend your next meeting with you?”

Zelda’s eyes snap open, focusing on his face, which is swiftly turning red from his previous question. “You…would be willing to do that for me?” she asks slowly, feeling warmth rise into her own cheeks at his earnest nod. “I can’t tell you how much that would mean.”

“Anything for you, Princess,” Link tells her quietly, mouth curved upwards in a smile. “As always.”

Zelda has never been one for impulsive actions, but she can’t resist the sweet sincerity beaming in his eyes. She leans forward and wraps her arms around him in a tight hug, burying her face in the crook of his neck. She can hear his pulse beating rapidly against his jawline as he, after a long moment of silence, gently enfolds her with his own arms, returning the hug. “Thank you, Link,” Zelda mumbles against his shoulder, giving him a light squeeze and listening to the sound of his heartbeat. “You always know just what to do.”

She can’t see Link’s smile, but she can hear it in his voice as he tightens his hold on her. “You’re welcome…Zelda.”

#sky types words #tp #twilight princess #tp zelink #zelink #tp link #tp zelda #link #zelda #twilight princess zelink #legend of zelda #tloz #loz #loz fic #zelink fic

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