Chapter Text
Link smells different.
It's the first thing Zelda notices the morning after their fated battle with Calamity Ganon. They were so exhausted at the battle's end that it had been all they could do to drag themselves astride Link's poor mare and let her pick their way toward Wetland Stable; Zelda had barely noticed the world around her, vision almost fuzzy with fatigue.
They'd taken turns bathing with a bucket of frigid river water and a sliver of coarse soap that Link had dug up from the depths of his apparently bottomless pouch, hiding in the cover of the thicket of trees, each taking turns while the other kept watch. Zelda had shivered her way into a spare set of Link's clothing, twisting her hair to get the water out as she waited for him to take his turn.
The stable is crowded. Apparently, once things had calmed down and the red had bled from the skies after the battle, adventurers had flocked to the stables around Central Hyrule in search of excitement. They would have had to sleep outside with the rest of the visitors, but one of the early arrivals had taken one look at how dead on her feet Zelda seemed while Link was braiding her damp hair, and took pity on her.
Zelda had insisted that Link share with her, unwilling to leave him to fend for himself among all the people outside. She drew comfort from his presence, after being separated for so long.
"You're as exhausted as I am." She'd argued when he'd tried to refuse. "The bed is big enough for both of us." And then, when he'd protested on the bounds of propriety, she'd lowered her voice and reminded him that "It's not like any of these people know who we are. The old rules don't exactly apply anymore."
He'd eventually caved, no doubt because he was too tired to argue—besides, it was likely that the sweet siren song of a real bed for the first time in weeks had been too alluring a temptation to ignore. After a few moments of awkwardness, they'd curled around each other and both dropped into a sound, dreamless sleep almost immediately.
She wakes with her nose pressed into his chest, mind pleasantly quiet for the first time in a century. She can hear voices beyond the drapes that hide them from the rest of the world, intermixed with the whinnies of horses and the barking of a dog. His scent wraps around her, comforting after the horrors she's endured for the past hundred years.
She thinks it's the soap that makes him smell strange. It makes sense; with the destruction of Hyrule Castle and Castle Town, luxuries like scented soaps and hair oils are probably hard to come by, especially when one is on the move. But the closer she burrows into him in the soft, downy mattress of their shared bed, the more she realises that it's just… his scent. She could swear that it's changed from what it used to be.
She burrows closer and presses her nose into the fabric covering his chest.
She writes it off as misremembering his smell; omegas aren't exactly known for their powerful noses, and it's been a hundred long years since she was in close proximity with him. Of course her closest friend smells good to her, after a century of acrid malice and death; he's a beta, and betas generally smell pleasant, if they smell of anything at all.
She feels him take a deep breath, his nose buried in her hair. "Good morning, Princess." His voice rumbles under her nose in his chest, thick from sleep. He presses his face further into the crown of her head for a moment, before carefully removing his arm from around her waist.
She yawns, reluctantly releasing her hold on him in return, rolling to sit up on the side of the bed. "Good morning, Link."
She rubs her face before undoing the braid in her hair. It falls around her in a wavy mess as she runs her hand through it, but at least it feels clean.
Link mutters something about food and disappears, leaving her sitting on the side of the bed, bleary eyed and still not quite alert. She flops backwards and rolls onto her side, scooping the pillow toward her face with both arms. It's faint, but after spending all night in the bed, it still smells a little bit like him.
She must doze off a little, because he's back within what feels like moments, two steaming bowls of porridge in hand. He sits on the ground at her feet as they eat, Zelda savouring every bland bite. What had been the last thing she ate? Some kind of rice ball in Kakariko, she thinks, but she isn't sure. They hadn't even eaten last night, too tired to do more than wash so they wouldn't dirty the stable's bed.
"I have another horse stabled here." Link tells her when he takes her empty bowl from her hands. "You'll be able to ride your own to Kakariko."
"Another horse?" She asks with raised eyebrows.
He presses his lips together, nodding. "I found it out near the ruins of Sanidin Park and brought it over here for after we defeated Ganon." He shrugs. "I figured you'd need a new one, so…"
She lowers her eyes to her hands, folding them in her lap. "Thank you."
"I'll go get them ready." He stands. "There's a latrine out back, if you need to go."
She does. She slips in, does her business, and creeps back around the front of the stable, looking for Link in the crowd. There are at least half a dozen people saddling up horses, laughing and joking with each other as if the world hadn't almost ended yesterday.
A sharp, acidic smell fills her nostrils as one of the men sidles closer to her. She eyes him warily; it's not an unpleasant smell, exactly—similar to a citrus fruit, almost—but she knows what it means. She's caught the scent of enough alphas in the royal court to recognise one close to rut.
"Hello, miss." The man, more than a head taller than her and twice as broad, leans on the side of the stable's wall. "What's a pretty little thing like you doing in this dangerous neck of the woods?"
Her hackles rise, even as the alpha flashes her what she's sure he thinks is a charming smile. Too bad for him, she's used to actual charm.
"She's with me."
They both jump at Link's voice, the man turning to assess the new threat. Link's eyes are narrowed at him as he steps around the man, placing himself between Zelda and the stranger. She immediately feels better, the tense set of her shoulders relaxing.
"With you?" The stranger almost sneers.
"She's under my protection." Link's voice is as firm as Zelda's ever heard it.
For one awful moment, Zelda thinks the alpha is going to push his luck. They're not known for thinking with the head on their shoulders, after all. Typically large and aggressive, they make good fighters, but even the strongest alpha had never been any match for Link back in their day.
It had commonly been believed that Link had been blessed by the Goddess in more ways than just being chosen by the Master Sword. Being a beta, he'd always been clear-headed, but had also somehow gained all the physical strength of an alpha—albeit without the bulk that typically comes along with it. It had led many people to underestimate him based purely on his size, which had ended up in more than one injury in the training yard until people had learned to take him seriously.
Fortunately, it seems like the man knows what's good for him. After a moment of sizing Link up, during which time her knight raises his hand to loosely grasp the hilt of his sword, the man backs down with a muttered feh. They watch him turn his back and stride away in silence, before Link lowers his hand and sighs.
"Apologies, Princess." He bows his head. "I shouldn't have left you unprotected."
"Nonsense." She dismisses the incident. "We're in public; I doubt I was in any real danger. Are the horses ready?" She's suddenly itching to be on the move. She wants to see Impa.
"They are." He gestures for her to walk ahead of him.
Her breath catches in her chest when she finishes rounding the stable and their mounts come into view. "Oh…"
Link shifts a little. "I know it's not the same as having Luna back, but I heard about a white horse, and I thought…"
Zelda steps forward to take the muzzle of the horse between her hands. He lets her, bowing his head to allow her to pet him. "He's beautiful. What's his name?"
"Uh… Cloud." Link rubs the back of his neck, cheeks slightly pink. "You can rename him if you like."
"No, it's perfect." She beams at him. "Thank you. Where did you get the royal gear from?"
Link swings up onto his mare; Zelda pushes herself up onto Clouds back, settling in the saddle a little stiffly. It's been a long time since she's ridden on her own.
"One of the workers at Outskirt Stable said it'd been handed down in his family since the Calamity." He gently nudges his horse onto the road, raising a hand in farewell to the stable owner. Zelda follows him. "I guess they found it after the chaos died down."
"That must mean that Luna got away, then." Zelda's heart stings at the memory of her old mare. "She was the only one wearing it who wouldn't have been in the castle stables at the time. I'm surprised the leather has held up this well after so long."
"I don't think they ever actually used it." Link supplies thoughtfully.
She hums thoughtfully, and that's all that's said between them for the time being.
Their trip to Kakariko is briefer than Zelda would have liked, but Link is uneasy with all the attention on him. Zelda is given to understand that the sheikah are better informed than most of Hyrule about Calamity Ganon and the battle that took place two days before their arrival; the celebratory mood is overpowering, for both of them.
Zelda handles it better than Link, though, too taken with being around actual people again, but she takes pity on him on the second day and announces their intentions to move on in the morning. Impa seems to understand, gifting her with a supply of suppressants and bidding them farewell with little more than a request that they visit once they're sufficiently recovered from their ordeal.
His entire posture relaxes once they're beyond the gates, no doubt glad to be out of public view. "It's a day and a half ride to Hateno." He informs her once they're out on the road. "Unfortunately, there are no stables between here and there, so we'll be forced to sleep under the stars tonight. I'm sorry, I don't even have a tent."
"That's alright." She actually looks forward to watching the skies turn overhead as they rest. "You mentioned that you had a home in Hateno. Will you tell me about it?"
"There isn't much to tell." He shrugs, guiding his horse across the dilapidated Kakariko Bridge. Zelda's mount picks his way across the shattered stonework, and she muses that it's in desperate need of repairs. Time has not been kind. "It's a small house on the outskirts of the village. Very private."
"That sounds lovely." She sighs. Privacy is a luxury that she's rarely been afforded, being the Crown Princess of Hyrule.
They skirt the edge of Blatchery plain, taking the dirt path towards Fort Hateno. There's a yawning pit in the middle of Zelda's stomach as she looks over the broken hulls of the guardians, remembering the battle that took place here so very long ago.
"How much do you remember of that day?" She asks quietly, when they stop for a quick lunch in the shadows of the ruins of the fort.
Link looks out over the shattered field, dotted with the empty hulls of ancient war machina. "Enough."
She lowers her eyes. "I'm sorry."
He frowns at her. "What for? It's not your fault."
"If I'd awakened my power sooner—"
A hand comes to rest on her knee, and she freezes. Link would never have dared touch her so familiarly before. He's always been very careful about maintaining a polite physical distance, even when assisting her with physical tasks. His touch has always been very economical, despite how powerfully Zelda may have wished it to be otherwise.
Her breath is stolen as he gives her knee a gentle squeeze. "It's not your fault." He reminds her. "It's like Urbosa said—things happened the way they did because they had to."
"She said that?" Zelda's voice breaks a little at the mention of her dear friend.
Link nods. "All of the Champions were very concerned for your welfare." He admits, and she feels tears prick at her eyes.
Her friends… they'd spent a hundred years in solitude, trapped within their own tombs, doomed because of her failure… she covers her mouth with her hand and desperately tries not to cry.
He scoots closer to her, the warm touch on her knee replaced by one on her back. She feels ashamed—he's one of the ones who suffered the most because of her shortcomings. And yet here she is, accepting comfort from him.
The tears come in waves; Zelda cries and cries and cries, finally letting go the pent-up grief of a century of loneliness. Link is a steady presence at her side, hand running up and down her spine in a soothing motion. He doesn't say anything—because what can anyone say to make it better? Their lives are gone. And now, in the aftermath of their destiny, they have nothing but each other.
She's exhausted by the time she finishes crying; too exhausted to keep riding. Link leads her to a wooden cabin just inside the tree line, knocking on the door before pushing it open with a creak of the hinges.
"Looks like he's out." He murmurs, steering Zelda to sit on the lone bed. He trudges over to a writing desk and picks up a piece of paper, scanning it briefly. "We're in luck. The guy who owns this place is away for a few days. We can stay here tonight."
She sniffles. "Isn't that trespassing?"
He shrugs. "He lets travellers stay here all the time. I've slept here more than once before."
She folds her hands miserably in her lap. "If you're sure he won't mind…"
"He won't."
She allows herself to be cajoled into resting, laying her head on the surprisingly soft pillow. It's not as comfortable as the stable bed they'd shared, but it's better than sleeping on the ground.
"Will you share with me again?" She asks timidly, watching him putter about the cottage.
He looks at her, face half-shadowed against the light spilling in from outside. She can't make out his expression. "If you insist on it."
"I do." She informs him. "I could barely sleep without you nearby in Kakariko."
His expression is unreadable in the shadows, but he nods. "Alright, then."
They settle in for the afternoon. Link spends some time hunting for food in the immediate area, while Zelda locks the door and promises not to answer it until he gets back. She spends the time by the window, examining the small wooden box Impa had gifted her.
Inside there are two clearly labelled jars. "They're given to every omega in the village." Impa had told her. "These little pills are suppressants. They will not make your heat go away completely, but they will make it manageable. And they will make it harder for roaming alphas to pick up your scent. The only caveat is that they must be started at the very beginning of a cycle to be effective. So, I'm sorry, but you will have to endure at least one before you can start taking them."
She'd pointed to the other jar, containing small cloth bags. "These contain a tea that will flush an omega's body after spending a heat with a partner, to prevent any… unwanted souvenirs. Not that I think for a moment that Link will allow you to be put into such a position, but I would be remiss if I didn't give them to you, just in case."
Zelda has never taken a suppressant before—there had been some debate among the clergy a hundred years ago as to whether or not they would pollute her body and prevent her powers from manifesting, ultimately deciding that it would be better to err on the side of caution and forbid them. She had spent three heats, the year before the Great Calamity, locked inside her chambers with a veritable army of betas standing guard outside to prevent any opportunistic alphas in the castle from taking advantage.
It had been uncomfortable, bordering on painful—an ache that would not abate, no matter what she tried. She'd been forbidden the usual tools that omegas employed when riding out a heat, reduced to nothing but her own hand and begging the Goddess for relief.
She'd been mortified, in the days after, barely able to look anyone in the eye—but particularly Link, who had been head of her personal guard during those times.
She'd been glad, at first, that he'd been a beta. She'd hated him enough on principle, because of what he represented—to have him panting after her while she prepared to deal with her body betraying her, like the other alphas in the castle, would have been altogether too much.
But as time had gone on, and she'd grown to know him, then love him, she'd begun to despair over it. She'd fancied herself heartbroken when she'd realised she was in love with him: It could never have been, on two fronts—designation and rank. Traditionally, an omega princess had to wed an alpha, for the strength of the Crown. No alpha would bend the knee to a beta—or worse, an omega. In the eyes of the world, he was unfit by both metrics.
Zelda's traitorous heart hadn't cared. She'd wanted him—even in the depths of her final heat, when her body would have accepted any man, she'd burned for him in particular. It had been torture, that she could not have him.
Of course, she knows better now. That pain had been nothing to the heart-shattering grief of holding the man she loved as he died. Now, even if he never wants her the way she does him, even though the barriers between them are stripped away, she will simply be content with the fact that he is alive.
He returns as she's putting the box back into the saddlebag she'd stuffed it in upon their departure. She can smell the metallic tang of blood wafting in from outside when she unbolts the door for him, though he's clearly made efforts to rid his clothing of it—a giant wet patch stains the front of his tunic. "What's that?"
"A gift from Impa." She answers, chewing on her lip and returning to putting it away. Truth be told, she's not exactly sure where she is in her cycle—a hundred years is a long time, but her body seems to have paused when she was swallowed up by Ganon. It stands to reason that it has resumed from the moment it was stopped, now that she's free. She's just not quite sure where she was.
She should probably broach the subject with him. He's expressed his desire to continue being her protector—meaning, he's going to have to deal with the fickleness of her biology as well, even if only tangentially.
She clears her throat, face flaming in embarrassment. But they're both adults. They can discuss this. "She reminded me—I'm not quite sure where I was in my cycle, but I think it will be that time soon."
He pauses in unbuckling his baldric; she can see his brows furrowed in thought. "You were about three weeks out, if I recall." He says, and she burns in shame that he knows this. He would have had to keep just as much track of it as she had, in order to protect her from rogue alphas. "We'll have to make preparations." He continues nonchalantly.
She nods miserably. "I'm sorry—in advance." She murmurs. "It's not a pleasant time."
His hand comes to rest on her shoulder. "It's alright, Princess." He says softly. "You can't help it."
"At least it should only be the one cycle." She says with false brightness, skin burning under his hand. "Impa gave me suppressants that I can start when it's over."
He gives her shoulder a gentle squeeze before letting go. "We'll manage."
She likes the sound of that. We.
Zelda falls in love with his little house as soon as she sees it. Knowing that she gets to decorate it however she wants—he'd told her so on the way into town—makes her positively giddy.
The weapons are the first to go. The Champion's arms are placed in a chest and stored under the stairs, tokens of their lost friends that they're not willing to part with—but the rest are sold to a wandering merchant for a decent chunk of rupees. Link gives her these funds to purchase what she wants—furniture, clothing, anything.
She turns the entire back half of the loft into a nest, humming as she tests the feel of Link's stash of blankets against the skin of her arms. There's nothing like the refined cotton or soft linens of her old home, but the wool from the goats is the closest thing to luxurious that she can find.
It's not until she's nearly done, fluffing the downy pillows that she'd bought from a passing merchant, that she realises she's built it with both of them in mind. Reality crashes into her like a lynel charge: Link had salvaged the old bed she'd discarded and set it up under the stairs for his use, giving her the upstairs for her sleeping quarters. He will not be using the nest with her.
She's decidedly less enthusiastic as she adds the finishing touches. She steals his cloak for her nest and buries it in the blankets; she'd prefer his champion tunic, but he still wears it on a daily basis.
After two days, it's complete. It's comfortable to sleep in, if slightly too large for her—Link helps her hang curtains around it to give her privacy for when she goes into heat when on the suppressants, but they have to get through this initial one first. He probably won't be able to be in the house for it; she already feels guilty about kicking him out of his own home, but it's only for a few days.
She dreads it. The loss of control that comes with her heat is humiliating. She doesn't want anyone to see her like that—particularly Link. She takes solace in the fact that it will be only once, and Link is far too polite to mention it to her face.
It's her fifth day in the village when she wakes up and notices something wrong. She carefully climbs down the stairs, nose first; there's a strange scent in the house that's both alien and oddly familiar.
She finds Link sitting on the edge of his bed with his head in his hands, privacy curtain thrown back. She sniffs at the air cautiously, and steps back. The scent is coming from him. "Link?"
"I feel strange." His voice is rough. "It's hot in here."
She stands aside as he stands and stumbles to the door, not even bothering to pull on his tunic. He stands barefoot in the grass, shaking his head and running his hand through his hair. She watches from the doorway, sniffing the air around him. It's definitely him she can smell. "Are you alright?"
He rubs his face with both hands, his shoulders expanding as he takes a deep, shuddering breath. "I think there's something wrong with me."
Cautiously, she creeps closer. Skirting around him so that he can see her, she presses her hand to his forehead. "You're warm." She murmurs.
And then it happens: This close to him, his scent wraps around her like a blanket and her body starts to feel warm and tingly all over.
She's immediately horrified. She's not due for her heat yet! She should still have at least another half a month! But there's no denying it: When Link meets her eyes, dazed as he is, she feels an electric tingle begin at the base of her spine and spread out to her fingers and toes.
He can clearly smell it: His gaze sharpens and he sniffs the air.
She stumbles back a few feet. "But you're a beta!"
She's humiliated. The one comfort she has—that he won't be able to smell how badly she wants him—is apparently no longer true at all.
He shakes his head violently. "Of course I'm a beta."
"You smell like an alpha." She accuses. "Do you remember that time, at the Exchange?"
They'd been on their way home, Zelda's pre-heat having started a week earlier than anticipated, and had stopped in the Hyrule Exchange town for the night. The Commander had posted every single beta he'd had for her protection, since the place was crawling with alphas—but one had managed to sneak up on her using the latrine. He hadn't managed to touch her, thanks to Link getting suspicious of how long she was taking and sneaking around the back, but she shudders to think of what may have happened had he not been there.
The scent of rut has been stuck in her nose ever since. She doesn't know how it's happened—is it even possible to present this late?—but Link has apparently become an alpha.
It shouldn't be possible. She has never heard of this happening. Not once.
"That's impossible." Link shakes his head. "I've been a confirmed beta since I was thirteen."
"I know what a pre-rut smells like, Link." She assures him, trying to keep her voice level. It's easier out here than it is inside, standing upwind of him. "Maybe we should go and see Purah. She might know how this happened."
"It's not possible." He shakes his head, obstinate. "You can't change a designation, Princess."
"Well if that's not it," she cajoles, "then you're sick. And if you're sick, Purah is the closest thing to a doctor this village has." She cajoles. "Please, Link."
He hesitates for a moment, before finally nodding. "Alright."
She doesn't even knock before pushing the door to the lab open, calling out her old friend's name. "Purah!"
The diminutive sheikah woman-turned-girl squawks in surprise, and there's a thump, the table in the middle of the room rattling. "Princess?" She barks, crawling out from underneath it with a scowl and rubbing her forehead. "What in Hyrule is the matter? You made me hit my head!"
"There's something wrong with Link." Zelda points behind her, where Link is standing a few feet behind. Apparently, he's feeling more and more uncomfortable the more time he spends in her presence.
She tries not to be hurt.
"I'm not a doctor." Purah snaps, dusting off her knees. "Send him to bed with a warm blanket and some soup—no illness has ever killed him before."
"Purah, please." Zelda entreats. "We woke up, and he smelled different. And he can smell me. I swear—I don't know how it happened, but I think he's become an alpha!"
That arrests Purah's attention. She stops short, frowning up at Zelda. "You know that's not possible, Princess." She says slowly.
"Betas don't smell like he does right now." She counters. "Please just examine him." Zelda begs. "Please. Humour me?"
Purah takes a moment to peer into Zelda's face. Whatever she sees, it makes her sigh. "Alright. Come on in, Linky!" She calls, waving him in.
He hesitates in the doorway, eyes darting between Zelda and Purah, before coming and sitting on one of the chairs at the table. Purah climbs onto the one next to him, leaning forward and peering into his face. "Tell me exactly what happened." She instructs slowly.
Link obeys haltingly, explaining about how he woke up feeling overheated and antsy. How Zelda's presence exacerbated the symptoms—how he is sure he's a beta, but he's never felt like this before in his life.
Purah nods along, hands on her hips as she stands on the chair. "Tell me, Linky," she begins, "would you say your nose is the same as it was before the Great Calamity, or can you smell things you never could before?"
"I can smell more." He admits. "A lot more."
"Can you smell the Princess from all the way over there?" Purah asks. Zelda is standing on the other side of the room, hovering anxiously.
Link nods. "I can."
Purah hums. "That's odd. No beta should have a sense of smell that strong." She admits. "And your pupils are unusually dilated. Give me your hand." He does, and she presses her fingers to his wrist, taking his pulse. "Heartbeat is strong, if a little fast. You are displaying the physical symptoms of a pre-rut…"
"I can smell it on him." Zelda supplies. Even if she hadn't been reduced to a child's body—which means she is pre-designation and wouldn't be able to smell either of them anyway—Purah is a beta. Most people are.
"I trust your nose more than mine on that one." Purah shrugs. "You've smelled more alphas than I have."
"It's not possible." Link reiterates. "No one has ever presented this late. I've been confirmed as a beta for over a hundred years." There's irritation in his tone now. "I was one when I went into the Shrine of Resurrection, and I was one when I came out of it. If I were an alpha, the Princess's cycle would have affected me a hundred years ago."
"Could the Shrine have changed his designation, Purah?" Zelda asks, eyes widening. They knew so little about it… was it possible?
Purah shakes her head. "No. We did a little more research based on the writings we found. The Shrine of Resurrection can only restore a body to perfect health, repairing and dam—" she cuts off, eyes narrowing at Link.
"…what?" He asks, leaning away from her sharp gaze.
"Take off your shirt, Link." She says very seriously. "I have a theory. If I'm right, I'll be able to see it."
"See what?"
"Just do it!" She snaps, and Link nearly scowls at her. That's unusual—Link is usually the most placid person Zelda knows.
He obeys though, unbuckling the baldric over his shoulder and dropping the Master Sword to the floor along with it. He sheds his champions' tunic and his undershirt, sitting in the middle of the Ancient Tech Lab in just his trousers.
Zelda's breath catches at the sight of his skin. It's pocked and lined with scars—some old, some newer. They don't take away from his beauty, but they do speak of the litany of pain and suffering that has been his life.
Purah beckons him closer. "Face me and tilt your head to the right, please." He does, and her fingers search around the hollow of his shoulder—where, Zelda knows, the gland that rules their designations resides. She spends a few moments poking around before hissing and waving Zelda over. "Come look at this, Princess. What do you make of it?"
Zelda creeps closer, bending and pushing her hair back to examine the spot that Purah is pointing to. She has to breathe through her mouth to stop his scent from beginning to fog her mind.
Link's body is riddled with scars, yes, so it takes her a moment to see what Purah is pointing to. "Is that a puncture wound?" She guesses, tilting her head to look at the almost perfectly round scar resting right above the gland.
"It is." Purah huffs. "I know what's happening here."
Zelda straightens. "What is it?"
"You can put your clothes back on, Linky." Purah sighs, hopping down from her chair.
"What's wrong with me?" Link asks, shrugging his undershirt back on.
Purah shakes her head. "Nothing, anymore."
"Anymore?" Zelda parrots. "What do you mean, 'anymore'?"
"The Shrine of Resurrection repairs any and all damage done to the body of the person placed inside it." Purah's voice, though childishly high, has the telltale tone of a lecture. Zelda has heard it many a time before. "That includes both the injuries that landed them there in the first place—such as the ones you received during the Great Calamity," she nods at Link, "—as well as older ones that may have happened years ago."
Zelda and Link look at each other, worry etched on both of their faces. "What are you saying, Purah?" Zelda's voice is small.
"I'm saying Link was never a beta to begin with. He's always been an alpha." She shakes her head. "At some point, he underwent a procedure called 'Stunting'. The Shrine reversed that process when he was placed inside it."
"Stunting?" Zelda echoes, baffled. "I've never heard of it."
"Most people haven't." Purah explains, eyes sympathetic as they rest on Link. "An alpha, or an omega, can be rendered similar to a beta, if the gland is damaged. The method was developed to control predatory alphas who caused trouble, but was later restricted to use on prisoners, and priests who volunteered because they wanted to cast off the impurities of the flesh to commune with the Goddess."
"Wait, so it just turns them into a beta?" Zelda asks with growing wonder. What might it be like, to cast off the need to ever undergo a heat ever again?
"It makes them similar to a beta." Purah corrects. "In omegas, it merely stops the heat cycle and nesting impulse. In alphas, if done early enough, it actually stunts their physical growth, making them smaller than they otherwise would have been. It stops aggression and violent behaviours, too. It doesn't prevent the formation of the knot," Zelda's cheeks grow warm at this, "but it effectively stops its function."
"So why doesn't everyone do it?" Zelda queries, blinking. "It seems like it would solve a lot of problems."
"Because it renders the subject unable to experience sexual arousal, and therefore—in a man's case—unable to produce offspring." Purah frowns up at her. "And for women, it makes intercourse painful no matter what. Don't even think about it, Your Highness."
That is like a stone in the pit of her stomach. "That's awful."
"Why, though?" Link shakes his head. "I don't understand. I never even started to present as an alpha."
"I could only guess." Purah crosses her arms and frowns. "I can tell you though, that there's only one person in all of Hyrule that could have given the order."
"Father." Zelda breathes. It makes perfect sense when she thinks about it. "He must have thought it would make you easier to control." She sinks onto the seat next to Link, the one Purah had vacated. Her knees feel decidedly weak.
Purah taps her foot, frowning. "He may have also been trying to keep Link away from the throne." She surmises. At their incredulous expressions, she rolls her eyes. "Oh, come on. The two of you were a very popular topic of gossip back in the day. I remember when you were children and Link had just pulled the Master Sword—people were already calling for a betrothal, despite the fact that he was unlikely to be an alpha, since neither of his parents were one."
"And an omega Princess must wed an alpha." Zelda realises with horror. "He thought Link wasn't good enough to be King, so he castrated him?!" Her voice is so shrill that both Link and Purah shrink away from her.
"If someone had detected even the slightest change in scent when you first started presenting," Purah says to Link, as Zelda sits there with her head spinning—and not from his scent—"they would have reported it to His Majesty. You had enough training accidents in the early days—it would have been easy for one of the castle doctors to do it while you were unconscious and then claim the injury was as a result of some kind of accident."
"Oh, Link, I'm so sorry." Zelda laments, reaching to take his hand. "If I had known—I don't—my father—"
"It's not your fault, Princess." He says softly, squeezing her hand before letting go. "It was His Majesty that made the decision, not you. From the sounds of it, it was likely before we ever met."
"Still, I can't help but feel a little responsible." She murmurs morosely. "It was my father who ordered it."
"But not you. So, please, don't feel responsible." He says with finality. To Purah, he asks, "So what happens now?" Zelda doesn't know how he's so calm. She can't imagine learning that someone in a position of authority over her had unilaterally made a decision about her body and her future without her input or knowledge. It's bad enough that it betrays her all on its own every three months.
Purah shrugs. "You go into rut. It's been about three months since you woke up, so the timing is right. The two of you will need to make arrangements—your rut will trigger the Princess's heat, and that'll be a mess that you'll want to sort out before too long."
"How long do we have?" Link's voice is rough, hands fisted against his knees.
Purah hums, finger to her chin. "Typically, a pre-rut or a pre-heat lasts about seven days. But with an alpha and omega feeding off each other? You've got about two days of lucidity before it hits." She shrugs. "One of you can come here, I suppose, but I'll need to wait for Symin to come back from his survey tonight to begin preparing my bedroom for it."
"The Princess will come here." Link stands abruptly. "I want her protected while she's vulnerable."
Zelda wants to argue, but Purah nods solemnly. "That's a good idea. I'll send Symin for her in the morning."
"And we'll be safe tonight?" Link confirms.
"Should be, as long as you're sleeping apart." Purah nods. "But it would probably be a good idea for you to stay indoors, Linky. There are a few omegas in town that might get all hot and bothered." She winks, cackling, and Zelda wants to sink into the ground and disappear as he sputters. "We'll find you some suppressants for when it's all over, to prevent this from happening again. Princess, do you have any for yourself?"
She nods morosely. "Impa gave me some."
"Good." Purah nods firmly. "Bring them with you when you get here tomorrow afternoon."
"I will." She murmurs. "But for now I want to go home."
She knows it's silly. Link is being rational—practical, even—in sending her to stay with Purah. She and Symin are both betas—she'll be safe with them. But her pre-heat has very firmly started. She can feel it in the pit of her stomach, a slight warmth spreading through her body and causing her to feel flushed.
She feels rejected. He hadn't even hesitated to send her away.
She packs herself a bag, making sure to stuff his cloak in among the blankets she's taking to make herself a temporary nest in Purah's bedroom. She'd worked so hard on the one in the loft, and now she won't even get to use it.
She declines dinner when he calls her down, curling into a ball in her gutted nest of a bed and chastising herself. What, did she think that he'd magically want her now, after everything is said and done? He'd never shown any interest in her before the Calamity, and he certainly doesn't seem to be interested now, even though he's literally about to go into rut.
Even after everything, she's still a silly little girl, after all.
Her rational mind tells herself not to be ridiculous. But this close to a heat, it's easy to let emotion take hold.
"Princess?" Link calls from outside her privacy curtain. "Are you alright?"
No, she's not alright. The love of her life has rejected her.
Yes, she's fine. She's glad he's being practical.
Goddess, sometimes she hates being an omega.
"I'll be fine." She says from under her arm, where it's resting over the top of her head. She envies his rationality. How is he so collected over this? But then, omegas are far more emotional creatures, sensitive to the feelings of the people they love. Given that Link is the only person left that she loves, she's become especially attached.
She hears the curtains shift and the soft pad of bare feet against the wood floor of the loft. There's a muted thud of ceramic coming to rest against wood. "You should eat something."
"I'm not hungry."
"You haven't eaten all day." He argues. They'd skipped breakfast in their hurry to get to Purah's, and she'd declined lunch when they got home. "You have to eat something."
"I'm not hungry." She repeats.
She hears a soft sigh. "Purah will eat me alive if I send you to her without feeding you in the morning." He says, surprisingly softly.
"So don't send me." She mumbles.
She can feel the tension in Link's body, even if she can't see him. It's in his voice when he says "You know I have to."
"Why?" She whines as she finally sits up and looks at him. He looks rough, hair askew and pupils larger than normal. He looks wonderful. "I never said I wanted to go!"
"Because it is my job to protect you from opportunistic alphas." He growls, and it sends a trickle of heat slithering down her spine. He must scent it, because he steps back a full foot. "You're not thinking clearly." He says slowly, as if to a child. "We're not talking about this now."
"I am thinking perfectly clearly." She scowls at him. "I'm not so far into my pre-heat that I've lost my senses yet."
"Princess—"
"Have you lost your head yet?" She challenges.
He shakes his head. "No, but—"
"You're further along than I am." She points out. "And if you're thinking straight, then I certainly am."
"No, you're not." He insists. "Because if you were, you'd never suggest such a thing. It's not safe—"
"You are the only thing that makes me feel safe anymore!" She blurts, and he freezes. "You don't understand—you've never been through this before, so you can't know—but it's awful to go through it alone."
"I've known enough alphas in the old days—"
"And they all had suppressants." She reminds him. "I can almost guarantee you that you've never known an alpha who has had to endure a rut alone without them. And if they're anything like a heat, then it's more than miserable. It's painful. Your rational mind shuts down and all you can think about is—" her cheeks flush hot and she can't get the words out, but he seems to understand her if the red of his face is any indication, "—and you spend the entire time wondering what's wrong with you, because there's no one there with you."
She hates that she's on the verge of tears, nose stinging and chest aching. She's got at least a day before she's so far gone that she doesn't care who she's with, but for now his rejection hurts.
He makes a pained sound in the back of his throat. "I can't ask you to—" he aborts his words. "I could never forgive myself if I used you to make this easier for me."
"You're not asking." She reaches for him, and he takes her hand with hesitation. She cradles it with both of hers, thumbs gently smoothing over the back of his hand. "I'm offering. And I'm being at least just as selfish for it, since it would help me too."
She can read the hesitation on his face, looking up at him through her eyelashes. Maybe she's playing dirty, appealing to his sense of duty. He has always been a helpful person.
"I'm not asking you to marry me." She says softly. "We never have to speak of it again, if you prefer." She offers, turning his hand over to press her thumbs into his palm. His hand in warm in hers.
"What if you get pregnant?" He asks quietly. He's considering it.
"There's a jar of tea, in the box of suppressants Impa gave me." She lets go of his hand to reach into the drawer by the bed, pulling out the little box and lifting the lid to show him. "If I drink it once a day for three days after the end, there won't be any… lasting consequences."
He sits heavily on the bed next to her. A thrill runs from the top of her head to the tips of her toes when she turns to look at him, box clutched in her hands. He runs his over his face. "Alphas are aggressive. I don't want to hurt you."
"You won't." She assures him. "An omega's body is built to take it." She doesn't realise quite what she's said until the words are out of her mouth, flushing darkly.
He chokes at her accidental innuendo.
"We're friends." She hurries past it. "I trust you."
He stares at her for a long moment. Maybe her hope shows on her face, because he sighs and grips the sides of his head, fisting his hands in his hair. "Okay." He mutters to himself. "Okay. Just this once."
There's a tension that settles over the house after Link's agreement. He sits and watches her eat every bite of the food he'd brought her before retreating downstairs to sleep in his own bed. Zelda hums as she reconstructs her nest, falling asleep with her nose pressed into his cloak.
In the morning, Symin is understandably confused when Zelda answers the door and refuses to leave.
"We've talked about it," she assures him through a crack between the door and the frame, not opening it fully, "and we've decided that I'm going to stay with him. Tell Purah this was my idea, not Link's. And if you could procure some provisions for us it would be appreciated. We'll pay you back when it's all over, but I don't think it's safe for us to go into town today."
Having only been in residence for a few days, they haven't exactly stocked the larder yet. Honestly, it could not have happened at a more inconvenient time.
They do what they can to prepare. Symin returns within a few hours, laden down with bread and fresh fruits and vegetables. Meat will be difficult to keep for seven whole days, so he picked them up some dried strips of beef from the East Wind. It will keep them fed.
He's hesitant to leave her, likely fearing Purah's wrath. But Zelda shuts the door in his face after thanking him, and he's forced to go home.
Her mind grows foggier by the hour, but she's still aware enough to help Link with what she can. He prepares them a hearty meal that will last them the first two days, banks the fire to keep it warm until it burns out the next day, and generally burns off anxious energy with exercise. She doesn't hide the way her eyes follow him, figuring that there's no point anymore, given what they've agreed to do.
She steals his champion's tunic when he discards it for sleep that night, smuggling it up into her nest and burying it beneath the pillows.