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She’d just… appeared out of nowhere, one day. Even Midna, when she could be coaxed out of his shadow, admitted that she had no idea where she’d come from. Spirited, he thought, and insatiably curious, she had thrown him for a loop when she’d appeared before him in a shower of golden light late one afternoon in Faron Woods with nothing but the strange, robe-like dress she’d been wearing.
She was from the future, they’d deduced after speaking to the nearby light spirit, from some far-off time well beyond this one. She’d been praying at the Spring of Courage—a landmark he’d never heard of—when a bright light had appeared and transported her here, to ages past.
“The Goddess must have had a reason to bring me here,” she’d asserted. “Perhaps I am to learn something. Or do something. I do not know.”
“Maybe,” he’d agreed. Privately, he figured it was just some weird magic going awry.
He’d offered to escort her to Kakariko Village, since he was on his way to check on the children there, and she’d agreed eagerly. She’d seemed disheartened when he admitted that he hadn’t heard of the sheikah tribe, but had rallied soon enough, claiming that they had been very secretive for much of their history.
“The shaman in Kakariko might be able to help,” he’d offered, and she’d nodded, biting her lip and staring between the trees.
When they’d hiked to a bluff to overlook Hyrule Field beyond the forest, she took in the kingdom—the nation that she claimed to be the heir to—with the eyes of an excited child.
“The geography is so different!” She’d exclaimed. “I don’t recognise anything!”
“Kakariko is over that way,” he pointed to the mountains in the east. “We’ve got another two or three day’s walk in the forest, then eight days in the field once we clear the trees. I was forced to leave my horse behind in Lanayru, so we can’t ride there.”
“I’m quite used to walking long distances,” she assured him, casting her gaze in that direction. “Is that Death Mountain?”
When they’d bedded down for the night, he’d told her of Zant, and what he knew of Midna’s story, and the sacrifice of the Princess Zelda of this time. She’d seemed sombre, hearing the tale, and he’d apologised for not being able to dedicate his time to helping her right then.
She’d waved him off. “Of course, you must save your kingdom before anything else,” she’d asserted. “I shall be just fine in Kakariko Village until your duty is discharged. Assuming they’ll have me, of course.”
He couldn’t think of any reason they wouldn’t, and said so—especially considering they’d already taken in Ilia and the children from his village. She’d smiled wanly at the reassurance, and they’d gone to sleep on opposite sides of the campfire, with Midna keeping watch.
It wasn’t until the second morning of their hike that anything had gone awry.
“What beautiful flowers,” Zelda hummed, standing with him on the edge of a large wild flowerbed, strewn between a copse of slender trees. They’d taken a wrong turn somewhere in the forest and stumbled into a part he’d never visited before. Not catastrophic; he could navigate their way out once the sun rose a little higher. “They look familiar; are they a kind you recognise?”
They were not. He shook his head.
She crept closer, bending down to pick one and sniffing at it delicately. “It has a subtle perfume.” She held it out to him, and he obliged by smelling it. It was soft, slightly sweet, and entirely feminine.
She sighed and dropped the flower. “Shall we move on, do you think?”
He shook his head. “Not until I can see the sun through the trees. Otherwise, we’ll just get more lost. We may as well have an early lunch.”
She’d agreed, and they’d split up to search for firewood. The smell of the little pink and white flowers wafted around them as they waded through the meadow to collect sticks and fallen branches; it was an ideal place for a picnic, at least.
Zelda sighed, enjoying the delicate fragrance in the air as she laid in the grass and waited for their lunch to cook. Link had shot a wild rabbit—she had deliberately not looked as he skinned and gutted the poor creature—and had cut it into chunks to cook on skewers beside the fire.
The day had warmed pleasantly for early spring, she thought, eyes narrowed to slits as she watched the clouds pass overhead. Her thumb slid idly back and forth over her abdomen as she shifted her shoulders to get more comfortable.
It really was very warm.
“Has it rained recently?” she asked, wondering if the heat was due to humidity. The air felt cool and dry on her skin, but she failed to see any other explanation.
“No,” he shook his head, turning their meat. “It’s been dry since the end of winter. This part of Hyrule doesn’t usually get a lot of rain until summer.”
She hummed in acknowledgement, turning her head to watch him. He’d shed his tunic and chain mail in deference to the warming day, crouching by the fire in only a linen undershirt and trousers. His arms, she could see from where he’d pushed the sleeves up to his elbows, were deceptively muscular under all that fabric he’d been wearing the day before.
Her belly warmed pleasantly as she imagined running her fingertips over the ridges of his biceps, tongue darting out to lick her lips unconsciously. She sat up, pressing her thighs together as he plucked a skewer and held it out to her.
She picked at her food, not hungry in the slightest. His arms had become a point of fascination for her, flexing as he lifted his own meal to his lips; she watched as his tongue darted out to lick the corner of his mouth as he ate, and something squirmed in her belly.
She was breathing heavily, the scent of the flowers almost overwhelming, now. Dimly, as she took a bite, a warning sounded in the back of her mind.
‘We must be careful not to let any of the pollen get into your mouth or nose, Princess. His Majesty may just kill me if you’re exposed to its effects.’
Purah had been antsy about her examining… examining…
She looked back out over the field, a sliver of horror slicing through the heat in her body. “I know what these flowers are!” she scrambled to her feet, legs wobbly. “They’re fairy hearts!”
Link blinked up at her. “You have them in your time?”
“They’re used as a medicine,” she recalled. It had been two years ago; Purah had been overseeing the production of a batch of elixirs. She had been entirely too young to be exposed to such a thing, her father had reprimanded later, when he discovered her involvement. “When the stamens are boiled, they produce an elixir that helps struggling couples to conceive. But in their natural state—” she clapped a hand over her mouth and nose. “We have to leave,” she announced, muffled by her palm. “The pollen is a potent aphrodisiac; it makes the victim lose all sense, until all they can think about is…”
She couldn’t finish her sentence, but Link seemed to have gotten the message. Looking around, he stood. “Shit. The flowers are everywhere.” He started picking up his things. “Hurry.”
It took them entirely too long. By the time they broke camp, Zelda was panting and resting against a tree, her legs wobbling too much to support her. She whined, sliding to the ground.
Link looked panicked for a moment, before—“Midna! Change me!”
Zelda watched as the twilit magic he’d explained to her the day before shrouded him, leaving a wolf in his place as the imp shrank back under his shadow, no doubt eager to avoid her own exposure. It was just as well, she thought. The pollen might not affect him as a wolf. It was a good idea. It was… it was…
She sighed, sprawling to her side. Link trotted over to her and nosed at her neck, whining and nudging her to move. She batted him away, sitting up again and pulling at her clothing. “It’s so hot,” she muttered. “Why is it so hot?”
The cool morning air was bliss on her breasts as she pulled the top of her prayer gown down, then reached behind her. Fumbling with the clasp on her golden belt, she rubbed her thighs together to combat the ache blooming between her legs. She reached down to tear her sandals off before she lifted her dress over her head. Last to go were her smallclothes, Zelda sighing in relief as she freed herself at last.
“Goddess, that’s better,” she breathed, laying on her back on top of the discarded fabric of her gown. Her hair fanned out among the petals, the scent stirring and sending another wave of heat through her body to centre in her loins.
Of their own accord, her fingers began trailing a burning path down her body; down past her breasts, over her belly, to come between her thighs. She was pulsing there, now, wet and achy and needing… needing… something.
She moaned at the first featherlight stroke on her clit. She was not very practiced in the art of masturbation, not having had the time nor inclination to indulge much—but she applied herself with enthusiasm, exploring the folds of her own sex in experimentation.
She found a rhythm that she liked, rubbing at her clit with one hand while the other rolled a nipple between her fingers. She gasped, and writhed, and whimpered as she chased that all-consuming something, only to cry out in despair as it seemed to drift just beyond her reach.
“No,” she whined, rubbing frantically at herself as it slipped further away. “No, no, no…”
She froze when sharp teeth closed around her wrist, hot breath panting against damp skin.
Looking down her body (when had she spread her legs so wide?), she spotted Link, still in wolf form, staring at her with her wrist in his mouth. She tugged, ever so gently, and he released her—only to lower his great muzzle and give her a long, messy lick.
A dim part of her brain registered that the transformation had not saved him, after all. The rest of it turned to mush as he growled against her tender flesh and curled his tongue inside her, causing her back to arch off the ground, mouth open in a soundless scream.
Her thighs shook as he withdrew his tongue, circling it around her clit before huffing a warm breath against her wetness. She whimpered as he licked at her, rolling her nipples between her fingers and pressing herself against his muzzle, begging “Please, please please…”
She wasn’t sure how long he stayed between her thighs; time seemed to blur into one incoherent jumble, reduced to heat and wet until he lifted his head and growled at her.
She blinked at him, blearily. “Huh?”
He growled again. She stared at him blankly, wondering why he’d stopped attending to her until he huffed, padded around to her side, and nosed at her waist.
“Do you want me to turn over?” she asked, blinking blearily at him. He whuffed in what she assumed as an affirmative, and she heaved herself onto her belly. “Like this?”
He growled, pressing his nose beneath her belly and pushing upward. She rose to her hands and knees, only guessing at what it was he wanted. “Like this?”
He whuffed again, wagging his tail once in approval before he disappeared behind her. She didn’t have time to ask questions before she felt him lift himself against her backside, furry legs on either side of her waist.
He’d mounted her, she realised with an illicit thrill as he started shifting his hips, and was trying to steer himself inside her.
Had she been in her right mind, Zelda would have been appalled. But, befuddled as she was by the pollen, she merely wiggled her backside in an attempt to help him. When that failed, she reached back, grasped him, lined him up, and—
He slammed inside her, making her gasp at the suddenness of it. He was not gentle; he did not pause. She cried out at the feel of him thrusting, thrusting, thrusting at speeds she wasn’t sure a human man could match, paws scrabbling at her sides. His fur was rough against her skin, claws scratching bright welts against tender flesh as he single-mindedly fucked into her.
Her world reduced to the beast astride her, to the pistoning of his cock spearing her open at an inhuman pace. She lowered her head to rest against her folded arms, pressing her backside against him and panting into the fabric of her gown. Her hair, strewn around her head, gleamed in the sun as she opened her eyes a sliver and turned her face to the side, crying out and shuddering.
He was growling at her back; she felt drool leaking onto the base of her spine. Her knees were no doubt grazed and her sweaty body was littered with dirt and forest debris. None of it registered as more than background sensation as she reached a hand down between her legs and began to circle at her clit, moaning at the electric thrill the combination of cock and fingers elicited.
She thrust back against him as well as she could, not matching his speed but more than matching his enthusiasm. That something she’d been chasing earlier welled up, faster and stronger than it had before. She heaved in great, sobbing breaths, crying out when it finally washed over her, heat spreading from head to toe and causing her core to convulse around the cock still thrusting hard into her.
She slumped, almost limp as she tried to catch her breath, backside still in the air and mind blissfully empty as Link gave a few hard, final jerks against her. She registered the swelling inside her as he stilled after one last, hard thrust, panting and snarling, when she tried to crawl forward to uncouple from him.
He growled. She felt a tugging at her entrance, and froze, remembering too late about one particular aspect of canine anatomy.
He was stuck inside her. He had mated with her, as canines do, and his knot had swelled to lock them together.
“Oh, no,” she breathed, horror washing over her.
What had they done? What had she done?
She began to breathe heavily, this time in anxiety.
How long would they stay like this? She’d observed the dogs in the stables remain tied for almost an hour, one time, she recalled with horror. They wouldn’t be stuck together like this for that long, surely?
She wallowed in humiliation as she pushed herself to her hands and knees to get her face off the ground. Of all the ways she had imagined her first time—which had usually involved wondering which politically advantageous suitor would be the least unbearable to her—wandering into a cluster of fairy hearts and mating with a wolf had not been on her list. At least the wolf was truly a man, she tried to console herself, though it wasn’t quite as effective as she’d hoped.
She had no idea how long they stayed like that, shifting only slightly to spare her knees as much as possible. She recalled the stablemaster telling her it was best to let things run their course with the dogs, when she’d asked why he didn’t separate them. It was nature’s way, he’d explained, to ensure there would be puppies coming from the mating.
She shrank from the mental image of giving birth to a litter of wolf cubs, lowering her head to bury her face in her arms with a groan.
Then—to yet another wave of horror—she felt the effects of the pollen begin to trickle down her spine once again.
“Link, get off!” she cried, trying to tug away. She winced when he barked sharply and hauled her back with his front paws, scratching her skin. “But—the flowers!”
But they were still stuck, and she couldn’t see a way out of the predicament without injuring one of them. There was nothing to do but wait as it built again, that befuddlement that overtook their senses the first time, and sense started to fade away. For as long as they were tied, they couldn’t escape.
It took them faster, this time. Probably due to the pollen already in their systems, she thought distantly as her whole body relaxed, and she started to feel that sweet ache between her thighs once again.
She was only aware that they were free when she felt him begin to fuck her again, shuddering at the sensation as she reached down to touch herself. She indulged for a few short moments before, in a burst of clarity as she realised that he would end up knotting inside her again, she remembered that they weren’t alone.
“Midna!” she called, voice strangled. “Change him back!”
She didn’t know why she hadn’t thought of it before. She didn’t know why Midna hadn’t seen their predicament and done something about it, before. Later, she would be angry and mortified; for now, she was only relieved when she felt the shift of his form behind her, even as she whined at the sudden empty sensation after being full for so long.
She felt his seed drip down her thighs as he withdrew through the transformation. She felt bereft at the emptiness, pushing her hips back toward him with a whimper.
She wasn’t left empty for long. She heard the clinking of a belt, then a rustling of fabric behind her; a moment later, a human hand took her hip in a bruising grip, and a longer, thicker cock pressed her open as he thrust inside.
It nearly knocked the wind from her, the sheer size of him; he was much bigger inside her in human form than as a beast. His other hand came to grasp the other hip, squeezing as he pushed her forward before yanking her hard against him. She cried out, hands fisting in the fabric beneath her, as the man behind her began to fuck her in earnest.
Link fucked her like a man possessed.
He’d been irritated at the interruption as the change took hold of him, but quickly recognised the benefits of having human hands over paws. She was tighter like this, too; he watched himself disappear inside silky pink skin, groaning as she shuddered and contracted around him.
He gripped the flesh of her hips, his fingertips white from the strength of his hold. She cried out as he yanked her backwards, driving himself into her cunt with force.
“Fuck,” he groaned, breathing heavily. Sweat ran down his bare back; he tossed his head to get his damp hair out of his face, grunting with the effort of his punishing pace.
“Oh, please,” Zelda whimpered, reaching down to touch herself. “Please…”
It felt like his body moved on its own; he bent forward, wrapping a hand around her throat and hauling her to her knees to bounce on his thighs. She cried out at the change, choking a little with the force of his fingers. He relaxed his grip, but didn’t get go, holding her in place as he drove himself up and into her, chasing the bliss coiling at the base of his spine.
With his other hand, he curled it over her waist and buried it at the apex of her thighs. She was so slick, a mixture of her own moisture and his seed making both fingertips and cock slide smoothly against flushed flesh. Her cries became high and warbling, golden head tossed back against his shoulder and eyes staring, unseeing, into the sky.
He was rewarded for his attentions; like this, in this form, her orgasm felt even more powerful as she contracted around him with an almost-scream. Her entire body convulsed, squirming in his grip as though trying to escape the onslaught of sensation; he held her fast, fucking into her even as her panting breaths became edged with sobbing desperation from overstimulation and her hands came up to clutch at his arms.
He held her to him as he came, pulsing inside her body even as she still fluttered around him. Burying his face in her neck, he inhaled the scent of sweat and flowers from her skin. He just held her for a moment, releasing her throat to wrap an arm around her waist.
He couldn’t say at which point sense came back fully; it trickled back in bits and pieces, until all he could feel was mortified at his own behaviour.
At least they weren’t physically stuck together this time.
He released her, and she sprang away from him as if putting distance between them would erase what had already occurred. She didn’t so much as look at him as she fumbled her way back into her clothing, the pure white of the fabric soiled with dirt and forest debris. There were flowers crushed beneath where they had rutted like animals in the dirt, looking sad and wilted compared to the rest of the nearby patch.
He had to clear his throat several times to get it to work, tucking himself back into his trousers and doing up his belt. “We… we should get moving.” He said to his knees, pulling on his linen undershirt.
“Yes,” she said faintly, climbing onto unsteady feet with a wince. “That would probably be best.”
He picked up his weapons and stuffed his tunic into his pack, awkwardness permeating the air as they fled north; the sun had finally come to a point where it could be seen overhead, giving him the means to navigate once again.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured to his back, after a few agonising minutes. The flowers were far from view, but he imagined he could still smell their sweet perfume on the breeze. He doubted the memory of it would ever truly leave him.
He froze, turning to look at her incredulously and wincing as he caught her walking with a slight stagger. “What the hell are you sorry for?” he blurted, inwardly smacking himself when he saw her expression shutter.
“I didn’t identify the flowers soon enough,” she avoided his eyes. “I’ve seen them before, but it was so long ago…”
He took a deep breath, turning and using his newly obtained sword to slash his way through a thicket of bushes. “It’s not your fault,” he grunted.
“But if I’d recognised them soon enough, we wouldn’t have stayed.”
He sighed, stopping and turning again. He waited until she looked up at him, cheeks rosy and mouth pressed into a thin line. “Princess,” he said carefully. “I was the one who led us there. I was the one who insisted we stay until I could navigate without getting lost. I’ve grown up exploring these woods for as long as I can remember, and I’ve never even seen them before.”
“But—” she stammered. “You were making sensible decisions based on the information you had—”
It was ridiculous, he thought, that she was trying to take the blame for it. “It’s not your fault,” he said firmly. “In fact,” he continued, “if we’re going to blame anyone, we can blame the gods for bringing you here and guiding us to that place.”
She gaped at him, mouth open. “What?” she croaked.
“Princess, I know that path we set out on,” he said. “I know the way from the spring to Hyrule Field. I know it. I’ve taken that path a dozen times; I do not get lost.” He raised his arms in a shrug. “But apparently, I did. How else do people get lost in familiar territory without some kind of outside intervention?”
“Then—you’re suggesting that the gods had us stumble upon it for a reason?” she was aghast. “What possible reason could there be for… for that?”
“I don’t know,” he shook his head. “But if you’re going to blame anyone for anything, blame the gods. It works for everyone else.”
She tossed her head, tangled golden hair shining in a sunbeam filtering between the leaves and a little of her regal bearing reappearing despite her dishevelled appearance. “If we were in my father’s halls, we would be punished for blasphemy.”
He snorts. “Well, we’re not.”
“No,” she says softly, lowering her eyes again. “I suppose we’re not.”
He sighs. “Look, I just mean… it’s no one’s fault. Not really. It just… it happened because… we were just unfortunate enough to not realise where we were, that’s all.”
She was quiet for a long moment, staring at her feet. “I suppose so,” she eventually agreed, though her tone was unsure.
They were silent for a long moment. Link took a deep breath, then frowned; the scent of the flowers still lingered in his nose. “Can you still smell them, or am I imagining it?”
She went very still. “I… I thought I was imagining it,” she lifted a lock and sniffed at her hair, eyes wide. “I think the pollen is on our clothes. I can still smell it in my hair.”
“Then we need to find a river and wash everything,” he determined, and she nodded with wide eyes. “Come on. I think I know where the nearest one is.”
Their trek through the forest was long, Zelda’s head getting foggier as the day stretched on. No longer being in direct contact with the flowers meant that they weren’t affected as quickly, but the symptoms didn’t appear to be any less potent for it.
Her thighs ached from their earlier… encounter. She’d peeked when she slipped behind a low shrub to relieve herself, and discovered five little bruises spread out across each hip from where he had gripped her. She was sure that, if she had a mirror, there would probably have been a red mark on her throat when he first let her go.
They didn’t speak on it, keeping conversation short and utilitarian. At some point, he recognised a landmark, and expressed surprise that they’d apparently wandered so incredibly deeply into the forest in such a short time.
That had made her wonder—had he been right? Had the gods really directed them there? What purpose could it possibly serve?
They travelled for most of the afternoon, the shadows of the trees starting to get long before they stumbled to a stop. Her breath was coming in sharp pants now, her thighs—the earlier ache transformed into that sweet neediness once again—slick with want and entirely unwilling to carry her any further.
Ahead, Link staggered, resting his hand against a boulder. He cursed under his breath, turning to look at her. A thrill shot down her spine to pool between her legs as he took a step toward her with a determined glint in his eye.
She thought she could hear water in the distance, but the last vestiges of rational thought were driven from her mind as he reached for her waist, backing her up against the boulder. There was a small outcrop at the base that she found herself stepping onto as he roughly rucked her dress up with one hand and fumbled with his trousers with the other.
She hooked a knee over his waist as he leant into her, lips pressing hotly against the column of her throat. One of his hands slid between their bodies and pressed two fingers inside her, thumb coming up to circle at her clit as he panted against sweaty flesh with a muffled, “fuck.”
If she’d had the power of speech, she could have told him that she didn’t need preparation. Instead, she whined, pressing down against his hand and slipping one of her own beneath the linen of his shirt. The other fisted in the fabric as he crowded her against the rock, stone scraping at the exposed skin of her back.
“Oh, goddess,” she gasped, clenching around his fingers.
“Fuck, Zelda,” he gasped, pulling his hand away and lifting her other thigh. She wobbled a bit, bracing her weight against the rock at her back as he fumbled with something below. The fabric of her gown thwarted her view when she gazed down, but she was intimately aware of the moment he lined himself up and plunged home inside her.
She cried out, legs flexing around his waist, ankles locking behind his back to draw him closer as he gripped her thighs. Like this, she could only clutch at him as he growled into her throat, rutting up and into her at a determined pace.
She was only dimly aware of the world as he fucked her, pubic bone grinding against the apex of her sex with every pass. The hand under his shirt dug her fingernails into the flesh of his back, making him hiss against her skin. She shuddered, and cried out, and whimpered as he took her, mouth open and breathing laboured as she tried to reciprocate as best she could.
Caught between the hardness of his body and the solid stone at her back, Zelda trembled. Her eyes slid closed, only opened a sliver to blindly watch the shadows play on the tree trunks around them. Her world began and ended with the hot hardness moving inside her, driving her closer, closer, ever closer to bliss; she raked her nails down his back, arms and legs pulling him as near as was physically possible.
She never wanted it to end. She wanted to feel this sweet burn for the rest of her life.
“Please,” she begged. “Please, don’t stop.”
He didn’t.
He groaned something that her addled brain couldn’t make out, thrusting so hard she felt the stone scrape against her back. Her dress had slipped down past her breasts with the force of their coupling, her nipples skating against his torso as he moved. Electricity ran from each point of contact between their bodies, coalescing in a blinding heat that unfurled from her core to the rest of her body, sweeping her under and making her cry out hoarsely as she reached her zenith.
He wasn’t done. Even as it began to become too much for her, he kept moving, pulling back and pressing inside again at a frantic pace, his hot breath coming faster against the skin of her throat. She squeezed her eyes shut, whimpering, curling into him, until—
He came with a groan, grip tight on her thighs as he pushed himself inside her for the final time. She shook as they held still for a moment, him still holding her up and buried deep inside her, simply taking a moment to breathe.
He pressed his forehead to her shoulder for just a moment, muttering “This has to be some kind of divine prank.”
She surprised them both by laughing breathlessly, perhaps a little lightheaded. “It must,” she agreed, hissing as he slid out of her and slowly lowered her legs to allow her to stand under her own power once again. “It’s simply too absurd to be otherwise.”
“We’re not far from the river,” he turned away from her, allowing her only the barest glimpse of him as he tucked himself back into his trousers. “Come on, before it happens again.”
She righted her gown and took a moment, leaning against the rock until she was sure her legs would work properly. The ache that had been there all afternoon had returned, making her wince as she took her first wobbly steps.
The river, when they came across it only a few minutes later, was blissfully cool against her skin. They stripped in turns, Link allowing Zelda to wade into the water first to clean the fluids from her skin.
She hissed at the stinging in her back, trying to look over her shoulder. Turning her back to Link, who was keeping watch in the other direction on the bank, she called out, “Are there scratches on my back?”
He glanced at her, wincing. “A few,” he confirmed. “I’m sorry.”
She shook her head, sinking gingerly beneath the water. “It’s okay. I mean—it wasn’t your fault.”
He had been right, she realised; neither of them were to blame for this catastrophe.
The slept by the fire that night, wrapped up in blankets dug up from the depths of Link’s pack—ones that had not been exposed to the pollen. Their clothes hung from nearby branches as Zelda’s eyes slipped closed into a—thankfully, blessedly dreamless—exhausted sleep.
They arrived in Kakariko without further incident ten days later. Link had only briefly explained Zelda’s appearance to a surprisingly welcoming Renado before departing again the next morning, staying only just long enough to rest and resupply.
Zelda was left to the tender mercies of the children of Link’s home village. She smiled, and told the cover story they’d agreed on while travelling—that she’d come from a village so small that it didn’t even have a name, deep in the forests of Faron.
She distracted herself and tried, desperately, to ignore the passing of the sun and moon as time dragged on.
Link returned, briefly, to speak with the zora prince who was convalescing in the inn, but was gone just as quickly. His absence was marked with long stretches of nothing as she kept the amnesiac Ilia and rambunctious children company, taking deep breaths to calm the new rolling in her stomach.
By his second visit, to help Ilia recover her memory, her monthly bleeding had failed to arrive for the second time. She hid from him. Quite easily, as he was more concerned with his childhood friend—or was she a sweetheart, she wondered, watching them talk by the spring from her window—to pay much mind to her beyond a quick greeting and apology for taking so long.
Her belly started to swell rapidly after that second visit, and she could no longer deny that she was with child. She hid it with loose clothing at first, but she and Ilia shared a room—it was only a matter of time before the other girl caught her preparing for bed and saw.
She told the story haltingly—not of her origin, but of the flowers, and the day that had changed her life forever. Ilia was sympathetic, and angry with her friend for leaving Zelda alone for so long.
“He doesn’t know,” Zelda shook her head at this. “I tried to ignore it at first, honestly, so I never told him I even suspected,” she admitted shamefacedly. “And he has a… a sacred duty. This will only distract him.”
Ilia cooled her temper, taking Zelda’s hands in her own. “You have to tell him,” she said softly. “It’s not like you’ll be able to hide it for much longer, anyway.”
“I will,” Zelda agreed with closed eyes. “The next time he visits the village.”
Ilia gave her hands an encouraging squeeze. “I’ve known Link since I was very small,” she said fondly. “He will be a wonderful father. Goodness knows he already has enough practice wrangling children, with how often Talo, Malo, and Beth beg him to entertain them. And he’s so gentle with Colin.”
“I did notice that,” Zelda admitted with a tremulous smile. “The children worship him.”
“They like you, too, you know,” Ilia observed, releasing her hands and moving to close the shutters in the window. “Every other day I hear them admiring how smart and pretty you are.”
Zelda’s cheeks warmed. “I thought you would be angry,” she admitted.
“What, about you and Link?” Ilia’s smile was wry as she sat on her own bed. “I’m not mad. Disappointed, maybe. I… I care deeply for Link. He’s my best friend in the world, and I’d hoped, maybe, one day… but I know him; he’ll want to do right by you.”
Zelda took a moment to parse those words. “You mean—marriage?”
Ilia blinked at her. “Of course.”
“But we… barely know each other.”
Ilia raised her eyebrows. “So?” she asked, then frowned a little. “I don’t know how things are in your village, but in Hyrule… women who have children out of wedlock aren’t…”
“They’re looked down upon,” Zelda guessed. “Yes, it’s much the same where I’m from.” The Goddess knew, if her father saw her in this state, he would disown her on the spot, only heir or no. “But I do not wish to trap him, especially if the two of you have an understanding.”
“There’s no understanding,” Ilia shook her head. “I was hopeful, that’s all. I mean, he’s the only man in the village around my age. And besides, Link wouldn’t abandon his child,” she nodded with finality. “If I know him at all, it’ll be the first thing out of his mouth. He’s always said that all he really wants is a family.”
Zelda pressed her lips into a line, considering this. “Perhaps,” she allowed, and leaned over to blow out the candle.
Link rides into Kakariko a month after the defeat of Ganondorf, exhausted and ready to escort the children home.
There had been parades, and feasts, and ceremonies, upon their return from seeing Midna off to her home world. He’d told the story of the Zelda of the future to the Princess on their way home, and she’d frowned, promising to look into it. She had said, however, that time magic was outside of her realm of knowledge, and there were very few who were said to have ever mastered the art.
“I agree with her supposition,” she’d said gravely. “The gods must have drawn her to this age for a reason. Perhaps, in time, we may discover it; perhaps we may never know, and her presence here was simply preordained for some reason beyond our understanding.”
It was with those grim tidings that he returned to Kakariko Village, five months after leaving the future princess there for the first time.
Ilia spotted him first, a strange look spreading across her face at the sight of him. He knew he looked haggard after being on the road for eight days, but still—to turn and rush the children indoors at the sight of him was uncalled for.
Until he caught a flash of golden hair, and Zelda came into view.
His brain stuttered to a stop as she gingerly picked her way toward him. His eyes dropped to the hand resting protectively on her swollen belly, her expression unsure as she came to a halt before him.
“Hello, Link,” she said, voice wavering.
“Uh, hi,” he stammered, eyes dropping down to her belly. “You’re…”
“With child,” she confirmed. “I… I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I was… I was afraid, to be honest.” She gave a humourless laugh. “Judging by the timing, I’m over halfway to my delivery.”
His legs felt a little unsteady in a way that had nothing to do with the fact that he’d just spent eight days on horseback. “I… see.”
They stood in silence, tension heavy between them.
“Are you well?” Zelda asked timidly. “We heard an explosion from Central Hyrule some weeks ago, but when word never came…”
He shook himself a little, guiding her to sit on the porch of a nearby building. She sat gingerly, hands smoothing absently over her belly. He was transfixed by the sight as he took a seat beside her. “I’m fine,” he said, clearing his throat. “I accompanied Midna back to her home world, and then the princess wanted me to stay in town for a while—for the celebrations.”
Zelda’s eyes were far away, even as she smiled. “The people need to see their hero,” she said softly. “My father often told me that.”
“That’s what she said,” he agreed. “Are you—” he hesitated, took a breath, and tried again. “Are you well?”
She blinked at him, coming back to herself. “I’m a little unmoored,” she admitted with a crooked smile. “Everything is changing so rapidly, and I hardly know my own body anymore,” she said with a huff.
“I’m sorry,” he blurted.
She snorts. “Didn’t we agree that this was the fault of the gods?” she asked wryly. Then, softer, she said, “I’ve come to believe that you were correct. The first time I felt her moving inside me, I felt such… such peace as I have never known. It was almost as if… as if I knew that this was right, that this was supposed to happen. It was… Hylia’s purpose. It was why she brought me here, and why she guided us to that place.”
“How do you know?” he frowned, unsure.
She shrugged. “I just do. I can’t explain it.”
They sat with that for a moment. Then, he asked “How do you know it’s a girl?”
“I just do,” she said softly, smiling down at her belly and running a gentle hand over the swell. “I’ve known it from the first. She’s strong, too.” She reached out toward him, and he put his hand in hers a little apprehensively. He opened his mouth to object when she flattened his palm against the tight swell of her belly, but she interrupted him. “She’s kicking. Do you feel her?”
He did, he realised with a thrill. There was a faint thumping beneath his hand, the first signs of a new life. He drew a shuddering breath, pressing a little more firmly, eager to feel it again. “Does she do this a lot?” he asked as another nudge beat against his palm.
“Yes,” she chuckled. “But she was still before you arrived. I think she knows her father.”
Father. He had avoided thinking that world thus far, but it hit him with force nonetheless. In a few months, he would be a father.
“I do not expect anything from you,” she said with a small frown, misreading his expression. “Impaz visited a little while ago—she’s of the sheikah tribe, did you know? I recognised their symbol on one of her books. I told her the whole of my story, and she sent a message to her people. It took some doing to get them to believe me, but they do. They assured me that they will keep track of my bloodline until my disappearance in the future, so that Hyrule will not be lost to the threats of my original time. And I—and the child—will be provided for.”
He stared at her. “You’ll… leave?”
She shrugged with one shoulder. “I don’t exactly have many options, Link,” she admitted. “I’ve no family. I can hardly claim to be a relative of the royal family, since their family tree is meticulously documented.”
“You’ve got me,” he said quickly. “It’s—it’s my child, too. I’m responsible for her.”
Zelda’s smile is brittle. “I would not keep her from you, regardless.”
“Marry me,” he blurted. “Let me… let me be the one to provide for my child.”
Zelda sniffled, wiping at misty eyes. “Ilia told me that you would propose,” she admitted with a wet chuckle. “Are you sure? You would marry a woman who is little more than a stranger to you?”
He nodded firmly. “I don’t know how much she’s told you about me, but I’m an orphan,” he told her. “I don’t remember my parents. I was simply found wandering in the woods when I was a boy, with no memory to speak of. This child… she’s my only family.”
Zelda went very quiet at this revelation, before taking a deep breath. “Very well,” she agrees. “I will marry you. But I must warn you; I was born a royal princess. I know nothing about how to run a commoner’s household.”
Link laughs a little hoarsely. “You don’t have to worry about that,” he admits. “The princess has granted me lands and fortune, as a reward for my service. You’ll probably have an easier time managing a household full of servants than I will. You see, we need each other after all.”
She laughed at that, smiling for real this time. “Perhaps Hylia also sent me here to rescue you from your own reward,” she teased, squeezing his hand where it still rested on her belly. Then, more sincerely, “I hope that we will grow to be friends.”
“I’m sure we will,” he grinned, lifting the back of her hand to his lips.
She smiled in return.