Chapter Text
Now freed from the Castle walls, their destination became a little clearer. They needn't go far. Castle Town was easy enough to get lost in for a couple of hours. So long as they were back by dawn, no one would know the difference.
Tall stone and wood structures hid them from the flickering streetlamps. A royal guard's uniform, bright blue and red and gold and white, was not easily overlooked when caught in the light. Likewise, the fine gown of a princess turned many heads when she wore it to her father's court. It would turn just as many in the streets of Castle Town. An odd sort of thrill accompanied the idea. They were bright targets, anomalies in the mundane. One unfortunate spotting and they'd have to run back to the Castle before news of their escape was shouted to the whole of Hyrule.
Yet, there were enough alleyways. Though some ended abruptly, blocked by gates or tall stacks of crates and barrels, they were never without a direction. There was a lot of shadow to explore when there was nothing but time to kill.
"Why are you still awake, Link?" Zelda asked, her hand still firmly in his. It wasn't really necessary anymore, if it ever was, yet she couldn't let him go for more than a moment, like a tether on a boat. Out here, in the darkness, he would hide her.
"Oh, well," Link shrugged, rounding a corner to explore the next alley. So far, their trek had found little more than stray cats and the back doors to businesses, but it was still worthwhile. Every now and then, some color would appear. Paint, chalk, she couldn't tell. Designs and images dotted Castle Town, beauty in all the secret places. It amused her to think how much her father would have hated these scattered murals, some clearly half-painted over by the owners of the canvas walls; beauty kept cropping up despite the will of authority. "I guess I was also thinking about the woods," he admitted. "There's something about those woods that, I don't know, unsettles me?" When she gave him an odd look, he continued. "I'm not scared, that's not what I mean. But there's an anticipation. I can't describe it."
As little of an explanation as that was, it was still more pleasant than the thoughts that plagued her when she thought of the task ahead of them. "I'd rather be unsettled than condemned."
Link stopped, turning back toward her. More color peeked out from over his shoulder. The exagerrated stalks of painted grain almost matched his hair. "You keep saying things like that. Why do you think it will be terrible?"
"How could it not be?" Zelda said. "I'm pledged to be married to a stranger! I will never have the freedom to choose with whom I spend the rest of my life."
For several seconds, Link didn't answer. She couldn't blame him for it. If she were in his position, she would be just as much at a loss of what to say. There was no comfort that could be given in light of so great an injustice.
"…I get it."
Of all the sentiments she expected - pity, plattitudes, optimism - never did she expect empathy. And, though she hoped that he couldn't truly empathize with her plight, her curiosity demanded satisfaction. The mystery continued to unfold before her.
"What do you mean?" Zelda asked, hardly daring to speak the words.
The clock tolled twice.
Link squeezed her hand, his brows furrowed, his attention set on their hands together, as if the tether might snap if it weren't carefully watched. "When I was very young, I promised Princess Mipha that I would marry her someday. And the princess, well, she laughed, and she told me that I had to grow up first. But from that day on, as far as anyone at the Domain was concerned, we were as good as betrothed." He took a breath, as if a great weight had settled on his shoulders. "It's not like I never had the opportunity to rescind, of course. I just…accepted it."
She'd heard of such silly promises before. She was sure she'd made some of her own, fascinated with some person or other that she had no business marrying. Because, really, who takes a child at their word on such matters? That Princess Mipha would not dissuade him was a little concerning, but, she supposed, Mipha did give him a choice.
"Do you still?"
He hesitated, his jaw shifting with his thoughts. "…Yes. I don't really have an alternative path for me, at this point. I've accepted the engagement gift. But…"
"But what?" Zelda asked, her curiosity building with every word he spoke, every new data point she uncovered.
"She's a Zora, you know?" Link sighed. "She was an adult when I met her. She'll probably still be in her prime when I die. I'll be with her my whole life, but sometimes I think about what she'll do when I'm gone. She'll live another lifetime after that."
While that answer was hardly what she expected, she couldn't fault him. He was a good man. No one could accuse him of callousness. "Lots of couples have such fears."
Link shook his head. "It's not a fear. It's a certainty. I've pledged myself to someone who will only ever call me her first husband. In the end, I'm going to leave her alone."
She'd never considered the implications of such a promise. The lifespan differences of the tribes of Hyrule hadn't concerned her much before. King Dorephan ascended to the throne at the same time as her grandmother. Yet, one lived, and the other was long dead. "Does that bother you?"
"It does. A lot. I don't want her to bear the loss of a spouse for hundreds of years."
A familiar weight settled on her chest, pushing the air from her lungs. "Because you love her."
Again, he hesitated. She'd…never known hesitation at such a statement to be a good sign. "…I love her the same way I did when I was a child, making promises I couldn't keep."
His words wrapped around her mind, an enigma she had to solve. She couldn't let him go without understanding him fully. "What do you mean by that? Is that love not enough?"
He winced slightly, a rare sight from him. "No, I- it is. It's fine. I just…" His eyes briefly met hers before falling again to the uneven ground they stood on. "I didn't know there was another kind."
In her studies, she'd often come across moments like this. The calculation was almost right, the diagrams almost perfect. She'd stood at the precipice of a discovery, her heart a fluttering bird inside of her, bursting with excitement at the revelation of the next step. If she concentrated hard enough, she could feel the same quickened beat through his glove. She wanted to study it for a lifetime. "And…now you know?"
His fingers wrapped tightly around hers. His eyes, as blue as the Guardian- no, bluer still, at last met hers. She'd never seen a smile so sad. She'd never felt a cracking voice as keenly as his. "Now I know."
She couldn't name it, the force that overtook her in that moment. Desperation, perhaps. A desperate, futile attempt to have something that she never could. To pretend, for a night, that they weren't both pledged to someone they could never be in love with.
His back hit the wall as her lips met his. A muffled gasp of surprise soon melted into something much warmer, much deeper. She released his hand only to set hers on his cheeks, aligning herself with him in all the ways she'd read about but never tried before. It wasn't the soft, delicate kiss of a confession, or the hungry, passionate kiss of heated lovers. It was awkward and off-center. It was knowing that they would only ever get one chance to know what happiness could feel like, until the bell tolled five times. And, as inexperienced as she was, she was going to make the most of it. In the morning, the sun would rise, and she'd again be pledged to a stranger, and he would be pledged to a princess who took a child's promise as the truth.
His hands found her shoulders, rising up her neck, his fingers tangling in her hair. A part of her wanted to laugh at the thought that he'd probably never kissed a girl with hair. He'd never kissed a Hylian, and in that, they were equal. Her arms wrapped around his neck, holding on to him, her last light in the darkness. With every thought of what awaited them in the morning, her desperation grew.
She couldn't kill the flower that now wound around her, a vine binding her to him. She wouldn't kill the flower now, not now that she knew why it grew. It was the beautiful color she could take with her into the dark alleyways, the reminder that somewhere, in another life, she might have had happiness. Even if this was only for a night, she would cherish every moment.
With every stolen breath, every press of his body against hers, every angle he tried just to get as close as possible, her heart soared and crashed back down again. He had to watch her marry someone else. He stood by her and protected her and fought for her and stayed at the walls of a desert town just to be near her. Did he want to kiss her, alone in that cabin, as badly as she wanted to kiss him? Did he also wonder what it could have been like if this weren't their only kiss?
Parting from him, if only to catch her breath, was still too far. Her forehead against his, their noses touching, their breath mingling in the cool air, all sent her heart into a greater turmoil of desire and despair. If she could, she would run with him, not just to Castle Town, but far, far away. Somewhere that the Calamity wouldn't reach them. Somewhere that pointless promises wouldn't catch them.
"Zelda," Link breathed, sending shivers down her spine. Her name was never so lovely in anyone else's voice. "You're beautiful."
She wanted nothing more than to stay there, in the darkness, hidden from her father and his fiancee and the responsibilities that awaited them both. His hair was softer than she imagined, slipping between her fingers like flax-colored silk. "Link," She let one hand fall, tracing the shape of his neck, her fingertips entranced by his rapid pulse. "Were we anyone but ourselves-"
"I know," he answered, his lips meeting hers again. Deeper and deeper she fell, her heart so full that she prayed it didn't shatter entirely when they had to break it. Whatever shards were left, when it was all said and done and they were married to other people, she would hold them close and remember the taste of his lips.
The quarter-hour rang.
Her hands traced the shape of his jaw, his neck. She wondered all the more what he felt like under the high collar of his uniform, but resigned herself only to imagining. It was a line not worth crossing - as risky as it was to kiss her knight in the alley, anything much more would land them both in danger. Gerudo Town's laws would look lenient in light of her father's wrath. She couldn't escape the king's orders, but he could.
She drew back a moment, her heart cracking at the thought she had to express. "Link, I can't get out of my arrangement."
"Shh," Link softly kissed her forehead, letting his hands rest on her waist. "Let's not talk about that."
As desperately as she wanted to give in and agree, she couldn't abide. "Quickly, Link. Let me say what I must, and then I'll say no more on it."
Reluctantly, and pouting almost like a disappointed puppy, he drew back. Even in the shadows, his eyes shone, catching the scant moonlight.
Every moment she spent in speech was a moment not spent committing him to memory. Despite her scrambled thoughts, she had to speak. "I need you to promise me that you'll marry someone you can love. I don't care if that's Mipha or anyone else. Promise me that you'll have enough love for the both of us."
"Zel-" Unable to stop himself, he pressed his lips to hers, as if she were the only air in a flooded cave. With every kiss, he survived just a little longer. "I will. But, I need you to promise that you'll try to love whoever pulls the sword. If there's any chance that you could be happy, don't close yourself off from it."
She wanted to laugh at so ridiculous a request. Yet, she couldn't make herself do it. Her heart ached the longer she looked at him, the longer she spent in his presence. How could she ever love anyone other than him? If there were some way that they could be together, she would give up everything else. "I- I'll try," she swore.
"Good," Link said, pressing his fleeting kisses to her jawline. "Is that all? Can we get back to-?"
She captured his lips again, cutting him off.
As content as she would have been to stay in the shadows with him forever, at the third toll, they had to return to the Castle.
At the fourth, he resumed his post at her door - but not before seeing her to bed, even if she would only get an hour's worth of rest. The mark he left just below the neckline of her gown was more than enough to keep her awake until dawn.
Time marched onward, cruelly, unrelenting. Morning would come - and with the morning, the end of anything that might have been.
