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As he awakens, sweaty, to a chill breeze on his back and a distinct lack of blankets, Link muses to himself that this particular experience had very much not been listed in the job description of "Champion of Hyrule."
Duties on that list included "wield the Sword that Seals the Darkness" and "unite the denizens of the realm to lift the curse upon the land" and "protect the princess." They had even grown to include "participate in the princess's experiments" and "die for the princess" and "save the kingdom after being essentially resurrected" and "rescue the princess from the evil machinations of cursed dragons and ancient usurpers."
If he had a rupee for every time that last one happened, he'd have two rupees. Which isn't a lot, but it's interesting that it's happened twice.
"Falling in love with the princess" definitely wasn't supposed to be on there, but he penciled that one in anyway. He wouldn't let anyone else even dare to try.
The current experience most definitely isn't on there even after his extensive experiential revision process, though. No one could have foreseen that the princess, upon her second (or third, depending on if it counted that she was also a dragon) salvation from a dragon, would still have a foot halfway in the draconic door.
Zelda's tail curls tighter around Link, as though sensing his embarrassing and introspective line of thought and heading it off at the pass.
"Mmmmmmhhhhhlink...." she mumbles into her pillow, and nuzzles her head into it. Link narrowly avoids losing an eye to the - antlers? Horns? - jutting behind her head, with reflexes blessed by the goddess and honed by a few harsh lessons from some Lynels.
Ah. He realizes that the sweatiness comes from his front pushed flush to the draconic furnace that is Zelda's back. She'd turned into a space heater since her stint as an immortal being. The chill comes from the fact that his back is completely exposed to the elements. She's hoarded the blankets again.
Truly, the crown was a cruel mistress.
"Princess," he whispers, gently nuzzling her shoulder with his nose. "You did it again." He tugs on the blankets.
His vision blurs, his world lurches, and suddenly he is on his back with Zelda atop him. On either side of his head, pearlescent teal claws pierce his pillow. Boring into his eyes are coruscating rings of color, and the Queen Ascendant of Hyrule has her literal fangs bared inches from his throat. A guttural growl just shy of a roar reverberates through the shattered idyll of the room.
It is the most beautiful sight he has ever seen.
A breathless moment passes. He's tempted to lean forward and press those fangs into his throat, but before he can act upon that impulse Zelda's eyes return to their normal brilliant blue and a bright red flush scatters itself across her face.
"Oh goddess, Link, I'm so sorry! Oh, no..." She carefully pulls her hands back from the pillow, squeezes her eyes shut in concentration, and wills the claws back into her nails. "The hoarding instinct is much harder to control when I'm half asleep. Normally the only thing I want to keep all to myself is y--"
Her eyes widen yet again and she buries her face in her hands. "I'm going to go shower," she mumbles, and bolts from her position on top of him.
Link stares at the ceiling, willing his racing heartbeat to slow down and the blood to return to the rest of his body. He clears his throat, sits up with the perforated pillow on his lap, and decides that even if this duty isn't in the job description, it is so worth it.
--
Link makes steak and potatoes for breakfast, because Zelda's nutritional needs have changed. She needs more iron. It has nothing to do with wanting to see the fangs that he can still feel pressed against his pulse point. He promises.
Shut up, stupid sexy fanged Sidon and Mipha in his head. Go away. He doesn't have a type.
Freshly showered, Zelda makes her way to the table. Today she's wearing that ancient-looking dress that she returned to Hylian-hood in - she claims it feels less restrictive and she has more room for her tail. She runs a brush through her short hair. A fang catches her lip as she carefully maneuvers the brush around her horns.
Link is convinced she's trying to murder him. Those biceps and shoulders are criminal, when exposed like this. Especially when the sun dapples across the patches of iridescent scales left on them. And that's to say nothing of her collarbones.
Focus, Link. You'll burn the steak.
When he puts the plate down in front of her, her eyes gleam with predatory intent. He goes a little breathless and his heart skips when he sees her fangs sink into her meal. She moans in delight, smiling around the bloody meat. Her tail quivers.
He has a type.
--
After the plates are cleared away, Zelda immediately resumes researching and obsessively noting her condition. They venture out into the yard.
"I am the first ever documented appearance of a draconic Hylian! Not only is it important to catalogue these changes for scientific posterity, one also must consider their effect on future generations, or how it interacts with the divine blessing of the Goddess on the royal lineage! Are these traits heritable? Is this sort of trait acquisition possible with other organisms? If I lose connection to the sacred stone, do these changes go away? How has it affected my life span? Is it narcissistic to write a dissertation on myself if I'm literally the only observable case? Hand me my forceps, please, Link."
Link can't give her answers to those questions, so he opts to just hand her the forceps.
"Today I would like to test the durability of my scales. I've got them on my forearms, as well as several other places, so I'm wondering if I could use them to defend against blades like a vambrace."
"Princess --"
"Link. What have I told you about this. When we're alone, I'm Zelda, and you're my Link. In public we have to be Princess and Sir Knight, but I will not have it in my home. We are equals. Both blessed by the goddess, both survivors, both triumphant over Ganon and his ilk." She smiles at him softly.
He does not note the possessive form of his name. He steadfastly does not.
"... Zelda." She beams. "You don't need a vambrace. I'm here. I'd take that blade before it could ever reach you. And I have my own vambraces." He frowns. She raises an eyebrow in challenge.
"And what if I want to protect you? I don't take kindly to my things being taken, as you might remember from this morning..." She trails off briefly and blushes at that. "... Sorry, again. But even then, if they work well I could fashion a vambrace out of them for you. And I could replace it regularly so it doesn't get worn out. Death will not take you from me again." She tugs on a forearm scale and winces slightly as it comes free. "Ugh. Like someone tugging on my hair, but... Wider? Difficult to categorize." She sets the scale down and scribbles on the Purah Pad.
Link couldn't argue with her reasoning even if she hadn't knocked the breath out of him with her words, so instead he picks up the scale and places it on a stump.
Casting about for the closest sword he can find - a well-kept royal blade, restored from the corrosion left behind from Ganon's curse - he unsheathes it and runs through a few quick drills to limber up. No doubt Zelda will ask for varying directions and strengths of blows, so he wants to make sure he doesn't pull anything or step up too suddenly.
Zelda clears her throat behind him. She's been watching. "Actually, I was wondering if you could use the Master Sword. I'd like to start with the highest intensity option to determine if this is worth it in the long run." She stares intently at him. Her tail flicks.
"Zelda, I don't know if the Goddess would approve of her holy blade being used for experimentation --"
"And who, my dear Link, is the vessel of the goddess upon this mortal plane?" She smiles sweetly, and goddess dammit Link stop looking at her fangs -- "as far as anyone knows, what I say is what the Goddess says. And the Goddess says hit that scale with your sword and hit it hard." A hungry edge lines her last word.
Link swallows, and obeys.
He sheathes the royal blade and unlimbers the Master Sword from his back. He assumes the neutral standing position, forehead almost touching the flat of the blade as he holds it steady in front of him. He raises it to the sky, and it glows bright blue as he brings it down, releasing a mighty shout from the bottom of his diaphragm.
"HYAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH --"
Upon impact with the scale, several things happen in quick succession.
A high, clear sound like a bell tolling a single pure note rings out over the cozy lawn space.
A flash of blue light explodes from the impact site like a miniature sun flaring to life.
A shockwave physically blows Link back into the air. He scrambles to turn it into a backflip and mostly succeeds, skidding backwards into a shaky three point landing and burying the point of the Master Sword into the ground to steady himself.
There is a thunderous roar as Zelda appears next to him, all of the draconic traces of her body streaming golden light. Her arm snaps out as if to protect him and three golden triangles briefly etch themselves onto the back of her outstretched hand.
All at once, everything winks out, and the idyll is restored.
Steadying his breathing, he stands, flicking his sword to clean any dirt off it and clicking it back into the scabbard with practiced ease. Zelda remains in front of him, hand still outstretched and hackles raised. The roar has quieted to a growl that resonates in his chest.
"...Zelda?"
All at once, Zelda snaps out of her reverie and whips her hands back to her sides. She clears her throat again and breathes deeply in a rhythm that Link recognizes as a calming exercise. Her hands flex at her sides, claws sliding in and out with faint snikts.
"I'm okay, Zelda. Are you hurt? You shouldn't throw yourself in front of me like that."
She turns around and fixes him with a defiant stare. "I have not even begun to protect you as much as you are owed. You have saved me and all of Hyrule time and again. I've only been able to rescue you three times. It's my turn." She flicks him on the nose, whirls on her heel and stalks off towards where the Purah Pad lays forgotten in the grass, abandoned during the commotion. "Again. This time with an arrow. And take off your shirt."
He splutters, gapes at her in shock. She shrugs at him and walks to where she can see his back, leaning on a convenient rock. "It's for science. I'm running a parallel study on Hylian physiology, specifically the musculature of the upper back." She flutters her eyelashes innocently.
Link is still frozen and speechless. "Well? Are you waiting for a royal mandate?" Her pupils shrink to slits and he thinks he sees rainbows begin to swirl over bright blue irises. "Or do you need further motivation?"
Link swallows. She can't know how into this he is. There's no way.
Her claws come out against the back of the Purah Pad. His eyes flick to them. When his gaze meets hers once more, she's grinning mischievously with her fangs out.
Hell. She knows.
"...yes, Your Majesty." He smiles impishly.
The outraged look on her face is well worth the pain of the pebble she throws at him. "It's Zelda!"
--
After a rigorous morning of experimentation and some... Minor delays that result in bruises on his knees, a pricked scalp, a completely ruined shirt, stinging lines down his back, and a bandage firmly taped to the crook of his neck, they set out on Zelda's planned pilgrimage to a Goddess Statue.
It's a largely uneventful pilgrimage, and they manage to reach the forest statue with minimal fuss, making up for the morning's lost time. Link falls into the familiar stance from over a century ago, back facing Zelda and the statue and Master Sword ready. Back then, he would simply stare forward, not daring to intrude upon a holy Communion between Goddess and vessel.
Today, if he sneaks a glance or two over his shoulder to admire his princess and her radiant beauty -- well, consider it his reward for saving the damn realm a couple times.
Though nowadays, radiant is quite a literal term. As she prays, soft light illuminates the space around her. From this angle, it almost looks like the origin point is her clasped hands, or her heart.
A breeze whispers in from nowhere, rustling the silent princess flowers blooming around the clearing. Zelda's golden hair gently sways, parting around the luminescent teal horns upon her crown. He muses idly that wearing an actual crown might actually pose a challenge for his princess, now.
His idle glance has fully turned into reverent gazing, at this point. He draws his gaze further down, noting the definition of her arms in the sleeveless dress, the corded muscle of her shoulders and neck, the arch of her back as she kneels in supplication, the smooth and ample curve below her waist, and how her tail has wrapped itself around her legs.
From this angle, he can see the angry red mark under her jaw he'd left this morning. He smiles to himself at the memory of leaving it there. And of how strong those arms and shoulders really were. And how nice it felt to be constricted by a dragon's tail.
She finishes her prayer, but does not rise from her knees yet. Instead, she side-eyes him from over her shoulder. He's been caught looking. He clears his throat, expecting chastisement, but Zelda slips her tongue from between still-red lips and traces it over a fang, sharp enough to draw blood.
He has to whip his face around to parade standard before he gives into temptation and desecrates a holy place. Zelda cackles.
--
The journey back is when it all goes a bit wrong.
A sudden storm rolls in with alarming speed, forcing them to duck further into the woods than anticipated to avoid the torrential downpour. The path floods, cutting them off from the preferred path, so they have to detour through a particularly dense snarl of woods. Link has to dispatch a few bokoblin camps on the way. He makes sure Zelda is safe behind cover before he sallies forth each time, much to Zelda's annoyance. "Link, I am literally the light dragon, the Sage of Time, I fought the King of Darkness, I went toe to toe with Calamity Ganon and won, and I have survived since the inception of this kingdom --"
He puts a finger to her lips. "Goddess duty. Please, princess, for my vanity. Also, your father would come back as a ghost again and kill me if I let you get hurt by a lowly bokoblin, of all things."
She bites his finger. He yelps and whips it back. "He wouldn't dare. You're mine. The instant he came after you I would simply banish his ghost with divine light, father or no. And bold of you to assume that I would let myself be hurt by a 'lowly bokoblin,' as you say." She makes heavy air quotes and snorts in derision. "But fine! Engage in your chauvinistic compulsions, sir knight. I'll sit here and entertain myself." She sits down with a huff. "I suppose it's fine to watch one's toys play with themselves once in a while."
A pause.
"Snrk-- "
"I said what I said. And I highly doubt bokoblins care about courtly etiquette, so the rule about calling me by my name still stands." She sticks her tongue out.
He unsheathes a Gerudo blade and spins it through the air a few times. "Well then, Princess Zelda," he grins, "enjoy the show."
--
In his defense, the show was going pretty well until the lynel showed up.
He'd cleared out the camp and was on his way to retrieve his princess when he heard a crashing through the trees and whirled to guard against a hulking centaur swinging a ludicrous axe. Only Hylia-touched reflexes let him unsheathe the Master Sword in time.
In fact, not to toot his own horn, it had still been going decently well until a loose rock screwed up his jump.
Instead of leaping into a majestic forward slash, he'd stumbled off to the side, and the lynel had rewarded him with an axe blow to the ribs for his trouble. He went flying.
Head swimming with pain, he takes quick stock of his state as soon as he stops skidding across the ground. The Master Sword scattered out of his grip at the apex of his flight, his shield flew off somewhere in the opposite direction. The lynel is rapidly bearing down upon him. His right arm is bleeding from sliding against rough ground and might be dislocated or sprained. As far as he can tell, the blunt axe hasn't carved through his leather armor, but he's going to have a hell of a bruise if he survives the next thirty seconds.
Scratch that, five. The lynel leaps. Link grimaces and braces for impact, vambraces crossed above his head, shoulder screaming. Should've strapped scales to them before he left the house, stupid --
Something slams into the lynel from the side, sending it staggering into the mud with a flash of blue. A high, clear tolling bell followed by an earth-shattering roar cuts through the white noise of the rain. A shockwave knocks Link back on his haunches and whips wet bangs from his face.
Link blinks, and sees before him for the second time today the most beautiful thing he's ever beheld.
Zelda stands hunched like a prowling predator, muscles in her neck and shoulder taut and jumping, claws out, lips snarling back and fangs sharper than ever. Her eyes are whorls of rainbow color set in black sclera, her horns glow blindingly blue, her scales ablaze with golden fire, and her dress billows around her in a nonexistent gale. Her tail lashes and undulates behind her, like a murderous snake attached to a divine being. The ground trembles with her fury. Even nearly doubled over, covering her vulnerable front, she towers over everything else by sheer presence alone.
The lynel staggers back to its hooves, its flank rent with five glowing scratches spilling blood and golden sparks. It roars a challenge.
She opens her mouth and growls one single word:
"Mine."
Zelda raises her right hand, claws extended to the sky. Three triangles traced in golden flame emblazon themselves on the back of her hand. She splays her fingers wide, and chops her hand down like she's swatting an insect.
A brilliant beam of sunlight pierces through the storm, as though Hylia herself cast down a spear from the heavens. The rain abruptly stops as an eye forms instantly, and the smell of spring fills the air.
The beam of light strikes the lynel. There is a clap like thunder, a gale-force shockwave, and Link's vision whites out.
When he finishes blinking the spots from his eyes, there is nothing left of the lynel but a smoking crater filled with silent princesses. His wounds have knitted themselves closed, and when he exhales he sees golden motes upon his breath.
Link thinks he's just witnessed divine judgment.
Before he can even fully process the literal smiting that he's borne witness to - does Zelda want him to write this down? - someone hauls him up by the collar. Zelda checks him for wounds frantically, then tilts his chin up. He finds himself staring deeply into crazed, rainbow eyes, slit pupils, black sclera, and hot dragon breath on his lips. "Mine," Zelda whispers, and she lays claim to his next breath, as is her right.
He moans when fangs pierce his bottom lip. Whines when sharp claws prick the sides of his face. Pants when blood from his lip runs down his neck. Gasps when Zelda's tongue follows it.
She smiles at his pulse point and bites down.
Link collapses onto his back. Zelda straddles him. She takes his next hour, too.
--
Once they both return to their senses, Zelda rolls off Link and belabors him with a chorus of "I told you so" and "that could have been so much worse" and "what would you do without me" and "how did you manage to survive so long while I was gone" and "honestly why are men like this." His slightly breathless suggestion that it was fine, he had a fairy tonic in his bag, is met with incredulous rage.
"A fairy tonic. A FAIRY TONIC. Oh yes, a foolproof solution that has never once gone wrong ever! What if you get separated from the bag, Link? What if it breaks? What if it revives you and then you get killed again immediately after?! The best case scenario with a fairy tonic is to not die and therefore not need the tonic!" Zelda is screeching by the end of her tirade.
She suddenly stops and narrows her eyes. "How many times have you needed to use a fairy tonic in the time between us parting and us meeting again?"
Link nervously clears his throat.
"Never mind. Don't answer that. My next royal decree is that you think before you act. And let me help from the get-go next time. You are mine, body and soul, life and limb, as I am yours. We are bound together by prophecy, fate, and sheer fucking will. Let me protect you." Her eyes flick downward. "You're lucky you're pretty and also currently shirtless, else I'd throw you in the dungeon for endangering the crown jewel. " She huffs and lays back down. "Fairy tonic."
Did she just call him the crown jewel?
...Did she just say fuck?
--
After another delay or two, they finally leave the clearing. Link's shirt has been rendered unsalvageable. How does this keep happening?
"Link, I need you to record your observations of the previous incident as an uninvolved third party," Zelda says primly, handing him the Purah Pad and her stylus. "First-hand testimony from a participant only goes so far for scientific integrity."
"Zelda," he says a little weakly, "scientific integrity is the last thing on my mind right now. Also, I would like to think I was very much a participant, especially in the last hour or two of the --"
Zelda puts a claw against his torn lips to silence him. "That, my dear Link, was not part of the experiment. That was royal fiat." She smirks. "You are quite the devoted vassal." Evidently she's gotten over the fairy tonic.
Link sighs and takes the stylus. "Honestly, I'm inclined to believe absolutely no one would doubt your ability to smite people. I think they already assumed you could."
"But now thanks to the Purah Pad we have empirical observations! And evidence! A spot on the map where we can point to and say exactly how those flowers and that geographical formation came to be there!" She wiggles with excitement. It is quite the flattering movement. "WEATHER DATA!"
Link points his eyes skyward and prays to Hylia for strength. Damnable hips of hers. At this rate, he'll end up just as much of a husk as the King of Darkness by nightfall.
He smiles anyway. It's a fate he'll welcome gladly, if it keeps her this happy.
--
They make it out of the forest a couple hours later. The sunset is painted in brilliant hues of orange, violet, and pink across the sky. Deep indigo and blue streaks of leftover storm clouds slice across the canvas. Zelda stares up at it in wonder, and walks towards the horizon.
"You know, it was so beautiful when I was up in the clouds. I would follow the sun as it rose and set every day, because it was so radiant and warm. So constant. Even on cloudy days, all I had to do was soar higher and there it was, waiting behind the veil. It kept me company, when I couldn't remember who I was." She smiles wistfully. "I miss it sometimes. But... I'd almost forgotten how beautiful it could be from down here, too." She turns to Link, eyes twinkling and remnants of that soft smile playing around her lips.
He snaps a picture with the Purah Pad he hasn't yet relinquished. The last rays of today's sun give Zelda a vermillion halo, contrasted against the aqua blue of her horns.
"Yeah," he agrees, and meets her smile with his own. "It is beautiful down here."
--
As they settle down in bed for the night, Zelda once again makes herself a little nest. She hoards the blankets and the pillows, assembles a few stuffed dolls in the center as though they were eggs, and settles into the lot with the Purah Pad and a stylus between her teeth.
Link clambers into bed beside her with a book. She journals down her final observations for the day, kisses him, and in a few minutes does her best impression of a donut, curling around her pile of things.
Link chuckles and turns back to his book. Approximately thirty seconds go by before he feels a scaly tail wrapping around his shoulders. It tugs. He doesn't resist.
He ends up once again pressed against Zelda's sweltering body heat, blanketless, borderline strangled by a dragon's tail and covered in the marks of a dragon's claim.
He smiles into Zelda's hair, closes his eyes, and supposes being part of a dragon's hoard isn't so bad, after all.