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Zelda hurried through a corridor. Every once in a while, she had to pause and tug sheets of fabric from between her legs. This gown had been designed to make a statement with its trailing skirt, multiple petticoats, and the heavy golden banner hanging from her belt. Her knees smarted from knocking into it so many times on her flight through the castle.
War councils were the worst kind of meeting, three long hours in a single, stuffy chamber. The candles sputtered and burned low in their sconces from lack of oxygen. Zelda had been seated by her father, though in a corner and mostly ignored. Chairs skidded behind the old generals whenever they stood to gesture emphatically at the map spread upon the table.
“We have to face the possibility of utter defeat,” one said.
“The natural harbours of Faron and Necluda will make good shelters for ships,” another agreed, tapping the locations with a quill. Zelda watched flecks of ink fly from the nib and sink into the paper, permanently marring the lands of her kingdom. “Send a Rito courier to the regions and have them begin building at once.”
King Rhoam nodded. “We must not forget the strength of our allies. Do not forget the Divine Beasts. They are equipped to withstand a barrage of attacks and are spacious enough inside. The Rito, Goron, Zora and Gerudo will be grateful for a means of evacuation.”
Their thoughtless, unspoken blame hung in the stale air and pressed down upon Zelda’s head, rather like the diadem sitting above her ears. It was thick, heavy, and always left a mark when removed at the end of the evening. Zelda folded her hands on her lap beneath the table. If there was defeat, it was hers entirely. To the detriment of not only Hylians, but also the other peoples under the crown. Her Champions, her friends: Revali, Daruk, Mipha and Urbosa… whose voice she imagined while the men ignored her.
“Patience, my little bird. Your time will come.”
The castle groundskeepers captured young pigeons and housed them in cages, hoping that their constant coos would provide the royal gardens with a pastoral atmosphere. Zelda had witnessed confused birds beating their wings against the bars. Those who managed to escape would be returned to the cages sporting handsome bejewelled anklets, rendering them too burdened to fly away.
Zelda had her own gold to reckon with, upon her head and around her waist. She swayed slightly upon rising from her chair when the meeting was adjourned. She would have stumbled hadn’t Link appeared at her side, silently offering his arm for support.
Had this been mere months earlier, Zelda would have resented such an action, and before her father’s advisors to boot. But instead, she curled her fingers around his elbow and allowed herself to be escorted from the chamber.
She released herself once they were out of sight of the others, and that was when she had picked up her skirts and fled. Zelda couldn’t explain it — every step in tandem with Link had filled her with the strangest anxiety. Nothing like her hours in the springs or before Hylia’s altar, but a far more turbulent, active, lively restlessness that ate away at her insides. And it was always only with Link.
Zelda was grateful that it always faded away once she let go of him. To his good nature, he didn’t question it. He was still with her now, a shadow in royal maroon and blue. The corridor’s thick carpet silenced every tread of his white boots. Nobody has spoken to him either, as if he wasn’t a full captain of her guard. If Link had been serving a more… capable princess, perhaps they would treat him with more respect.
They walked beneath another archway into a spacious hall. It was one of many foyers that connected corridors to one another, a cave in the warren that was Hyrule Castle. Zelda calculated that they were near the western wall, considering the streams of sun filtering in through glass skylights. She and Link stepped up to the polished wooden banister at the edge of the landing. It wrapped around the upper floor before pouring down a wide staircase that touched the centre of the room a comfortable distance away from tall double doors. They were closed at the moment, cast-iron handles embedded into aged wood.
Zelda looked down and sighed. She really didn’t have a destination in mind; she had only wanted to put as much distance between herself and the meeting room. And Link had dutifully followed her, of course. Her belt clinked when she leaned against the balcony rail in fatigue, and he drew closer to join her there.
“In Zora’s Domain, there are rails like this all over.” Link studied the landing. Wherever there were waterfalls, they always curve outward right over the water. I spent hours sliding on them.”
“Sadly, we are not in Zora’s Domain. No water slides for us.”
Link touched the wood with one gloved finger. Zelda watched as it glided smooth along the grain thanks to the heavy varnish applied to its surface. “It might be possible.”
Zelda frowned. “You can’t be serious.”
“I’m always serious,” he said. The edges of his mouth twitched. “You used to say so constantly.”
They were long reconciled, so she should have told him off for such cheek! But Link glanced over at her and protests wilted upon her tongue at the challenge in his gaze. She swallowed them with embarrassment.
“There is no lake to cushion the fall,” she tried. “Father will be very displeased if I add physical injury to my long list of mistakes.”
“You won’t fall. Have some courage.”
“Exercise some wisdom,” she shot back.
“Look,” Link said, suddenly hitching a leg up, “it’s simple. I’ll go first and show you.”
Before Zelda could protest again, he was off. Her loyal knight demonstrated an unparalleled fearlessness in his rapid descent: legs kicked out into the air, arms waving for balance, torso twisted to face forward and the tails of his tabard flapping loudly upon the wood. It was so comical compared to his usual soldier’s severity. Zelda clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle.
Link seemed to spring from the end of the railing, jumping an impressive distance away from the stair and landing on his feet. He turned and spied her smiling. With a smirk of his own, he lifted his arms and beckoned.
This is ridiculous, Zelda thought to herself. But she removed her belt with shaking fingers. There was a muffled THUNK as it fell to the carpet. She felt so much lighter.
Zelda cautiously hoisted herself atop the spindly railing. The banister stretched beneath her in very steep slope, narrow and untrustworthy. Her eyes followed it to the end, where Link was still waiting for her. He had lowered his arms slightly in hesitation, watching her with wide eyes and lips parted in mild surprise.
Zelda let go and flew.
She was weightless and exhilarated. The ride was effortless and terrifying. Her silken skirts were like oil upon the glossy rail, picking up speed as she lifted her arms. The long sleeves of her gown flapped in the wind that caught her hair and set it dancing behind her. Zelda had never felt so unfettered and free in... she didn’t even remember when.
Then the ground rose to meet her. She had not prepared for the end; panic shot through her before she tumbled off the banister with her legs uselessly tangled in the petticoats. But even before she could cry out, hands reached out around her waist and she was enveloped in warmth.
“Got you,” Link murmured. They spun around slowly as the momentum of her flight ebbed away. Zelda’s heart hammered against her ribs while her mind seemed to go numb. Agitation rushed through her veins even if she was practically limp in his arms. They were muscled and strong around her back, holding her so much closer than ever before. The braid lining the royal guard uniform collar scratched against her cheek, and the smell of starch filled her nose. She gasped for air, trying not to exhale into his ear.
Link gently lowered Zelda to the floor. She was trembling with what had to be leftovers from the adrenaline rush, a little weak-kneed and wobbly. So she didn’t let go to his shoulders, and he kept an arm around her back, watching and waiting for a sign from her that everything was alright.
Zelda caught her breath, willed herself to act calm, and said, “That… it was fun.”
Link grinned. It was wickedly triumphant, almost impish.
“Again,” he commanded and suddenly there was pressure upon the small of her back — brief and gentle, but to Zelda it could have been a mighty shove. She stumbled over the hem of her skirt as they hurried back up the stairs, and Link’s touch became firm when he caught her and gave support all the way back to the top.
Zelda didn’t wait until he had reached the bottom this time, she clambered atop the banister and was flying once again. Link had only just turned around when she felt herself sailing off the rail; he was close enough to catch her mid-air by her legs instead. He loosened his grip just enough to let her slide down to where their eyes could finally meet. Nose to nose, she could even feel the humid warmth of a single word issued from his mouth: “Again!”
She bundled her skirt around one hand and clutched his with the other as they ran back up the steps side by side. Link leaped upon the banister even before they reached the very top, his laughter tumbling like water flowing down the smooth surface of a silver railing that curled over a glittering lake. And Zelda was a bird swooping down to meet him, the wind beneath her wings Link’s smile that kept her spirits aloft even when gravity tried to pull her to earth.
Just as she fell into him, the doors began to open behind him. She glimpsed the glint of a crown and silver-white hair over the hem of her spinning skirts just as Link twirled her around again. He was oblivious to their audience, laughing so freely that it vibrated right through his chest and through her body too — until he came face to face with the King.
Link immediately quieted and dropped his arms, and Zelda slowly stepped away from him. They adjusted their clothes nervously, he with a completely red face and she smoothing out her rumpled skirts, stomach lurching when she remembered the pile of gold she had left at the top of the staircase.
Her father continued to regard them both with a solemn eye. He stood still upon the threshold of the hall, flanked by two of the same generals at the council. They gawked openly, and the King’s face was unreadable stone. Zelda racked her brain to think of something — an explanation, an excuse — but it was empty save for the ghost of Link holding her.
Then, the King bowed his head. “Princess,” he said. “Captain.”
And he went marching away. Zelda spied a smile hidden in his flowing beard as he gestured with one hand for the generals to follow him. They did so with a stammer and a scramble, heads jerking back to glance at Zelda and Link before changing their minds halfway to hurry after the King instead.
Hinges squeaked as the heavy doors swung shut, the thud echoing off the stone walls. Zelda and Link looked at each other, stunned.
Seconds ticked away silently, stretching into early evening as evidenced from the rich hues streaming in from the windows above them. Sunbeams spilled upon Link’s head, casting a shadow over his downcast eyes. They glanced up and blinked in surprise when she reached over and grasped his hand. Her heart seemed to leap into her stomach, but she knew now to enjoy it, to let her feelings dance in delight at his touch.
“Again,” Zelda said.
Link lit up, an innocent, adorable grin spreading across his face. He squeezed her fingers back, and they turned together towards the stairs and flew.