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“Please Link? My dad loves you.”
“I feel like ‘loves’ is stretching it.”
A pause.
“Alright. Well you’re the only one of my friends that my dad thinks is respectable.”
“What happened to Riju?”
“Over Din’s Day she didn’t like the way the pumpkin was roasted and spent the entire evening discretely feeding bits and pieces to Terrako. At the end of the night the stupid dog wandered over to dad and threw up all over his feet. Riju lost it and has been banished from holiday gatherings for the foreseeable future.”
Link snorts a laugh as the pout on Zelda’s face deepens. “Don’t laugh!” she protests. “I’m desperate here.”
“Why can’t you just go alone?”
“And listen to my dad lecture me for three hours about the importance of social respectability and why I need to take over his company? I don’t think so.” Zelda taps her fingers against the mug. “Come on Link, pretty please? I’ll owe you one.”
Link looks at her. Her green eyes are bright and lively under the cheery lighting of the café. Kass’s new holiday jingle about joy and peace is playing softly in the background. With the light flush painting her cheeks and the glow of her hair like a golden crown, he knows that he’s a goner.
He sighs. “When is dinner with your dad?”
She squeals, jumping up from her seat to throw her arms clumsily around his shoulders. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
Her cheek is pressed against his, her breath tickling his ears. He breathes her in for a moment and his traitorous heart gives a hard thump. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
She pulls back, smiling from ear to ear, and says, “It’s next weekend. We have dinner on Nayru’s Eve at the house. I usually stay the night since dad lives obnoxiously far, but you don’t have to. Though…” she taps her finger on her chin speculatively, “the house has trail access for some nice hikes that you might like. We could go hiking on Nayru’s Day, if you wanted to pack a bag.”
“With your dad?”
Zelda scoffs. “Of course not! Could you imagine that man standing amongst trees? He would get dirt on his shoes. The horror!”
“I’ll let you know,” he tells her. “I have to check to see what Grandma and Aryll are doing.”
“Oh!” Zelda’s eyes widen. “I totally forgot about them! Do they need you home for Nayru’s Eve? You don’t have to come for the whole thing.”
“Nah, it should be fine. We celebrate Farore’s Day at our house and I make the trip home for that.”
“Okay. Just let me know if that changes.” She glances at her watch. “Oh shoot! I’ve got to run—I need to pick up Terrako from the groomers.”
Zelda picks up her mug and finishes her tea with two quick gulps. Setting her mug down and picking up her bag, she leans over to give Link a one-armed hug and drops a quick kiss on the cheek. “I’ll text you the details. Thanks again! You’re the best!”
“Yeah, yeah,” he mutters affectionately.
She beams at him and it warms him better than his coffee ever could. The spot where her lips touched his face still tingles. He’s always had trouble saying no to her. As she pushes out the door of the café, she turns and wiggles her mittened hands at him before stepping out onto the snowy sidewalk. He watches through the café window as she hurries along, lazy snowflakes catching in her hair as she goes.
He lets out a slow breath.
“Ah it warms these old bones to see Nayru's holiday magic at work,” a croaky voice says.
“Wha—” Link whips his head away from the window and to the old Zora next to him. “What?”
“You know how it goes. Nayru’s Eve dinner with your most beloved one. A hike in the woods. Cold toes, but warmer hearts.”
“What? Who are you? Have you been standing there listening to our conversation?”
The old Zora pulls a tray out from behind him. The nametag on his apron reads ‘Kapson’. “We’re offering customers a free sample of the peppermint hot chocolate we’ve got on the menu for the holidays.” He holds the tray out to Link. “You want one?”
“No! I’m trying to—Can you—” Link sputters, “Can you leave me alone? Actually, I’m going to leave.” He eyes the old Zora, who tilts his head at him expectantly. “You shouldn’t…stand around spying on your customers. It’s super weird.”
Kapson’s weathered face wrinkles even more as he smiles. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, sir.”
Link only shakes his head as he slides his arms into his winter jacket. He leaves the table, glancing back to see the old Zora approach another table with his tray of samples. Weird.
The morning of The Dinner, Link receives a frantic call from Zelda.
“Emergency change of plans. Can I come over?” she asks, slightly breathless.
Link, who’d spent the morning stress baking, looks around at the clutter in his kitchen. “Uh…right now?”
“Yes, I need to update you on the changes.” She sounds uncharacteristically frazzled. “I might have messed up.”
“Messed up? Is everything okay?”
“Yes. Fine. Probably. Can I come over?” she asks again.
Link quickly calculates how long it would take for him to make his small apartment presentable. “Yeah, how long will you be?”
“You’re the best! Thank you! I’m just wrapping some stuff up now, be there in ten!” The line clicks off.
With a huff, Link sets to work piling all his dirty dishes and bowls into the sink. Zelda is a regular at his place, so she wouldn’t be shocked by the clutter, but he still doesn’t want her to think he is a slob. He rushes through his place like a small cleaning tornado before finishing up the last of his baking.
True to her word, she arrives nearly precisely ten minutes after their call, just as he is pulling a batch of scones from the oven.
He opens the door and the cold air rushes in. Zelda stands on his doorstep, wrapped in a puffy blue coat, her cheeks pink from the cold. She bounces slightly on her toes, and the pom-pom on her beanie bobs with her motion. She has what he knows is her weekend tote tucked under one arm and is holding a brown paper bag in another. Terrako sits calmly at her feet but gives a small bark at Link when he appears. Zelda’s green eyes brighten when they meet his. Link wants to bask in them forever.
She’s radiant, he thinks, a smile like the sun. He is such an idiot.
He just looks at her for a moment before she raises her brows expectantly.
“Oh, right. Yeah. Come in,” he says, stumbling over his words and his feet to let her in. The dog pushes past him and zooms off, presumably to lick every crumb off his kitchen floor.
He reaches out for the paper bag in her arms and she hands it over readily.
“Smells like you’ve been baking!” she says as she sets her tote down and shrugs off her jacket.
“Yeah, I had the urge this morning.” And an excess amount of energy. “I made a batch of cranberry scones and a batch of pear and asiago scones.”
“Oh, yum! The pear and asiago are my favourite.” He takes her jacket from her and she reaches down to take off her knee-high boots. “Can you box some up for me?”
“Duh, already done.”
He leads her into his small kitchen, where Terrako is already nosing around for extra snacks. Zelda perches herself on one of the bar stools at the counter. Her cream coloured sweater dress rides up a little, exposing more of her stockinged thigh. He forces himself to look away.
“So what’s in the bag?” he asks as he sets it down in front of her.
“Right.” She reaches in and pulls out a bottle of Sheikah red wine. “This is for my dad.”
Link raises a brow. “Really sucking up this year huh?”
“Well…” she pulls out a tin of holiday shortbread cookies, his favourite. “The wine is your gift to him and these cookies are my gift to you.”
“Huh?”
She slides the tin the short distance across the counter to him and fidgets with her fingers. It’s unlike her to be so cagey. Even less like her to keep secrets from him.
“What’s going on?”
She finally meets his eyes, her brows furrowed as she worries her bottom lip between her teeth. She looks away, takes a deep breath and blurts out, “Okay so I might have accidentally told my dad that we were dating but only because he was really getting on my case about social respectability and settling down and how I can’t keep bringing my friends to holiday events and he said something about how sooner or later you’d get tired of someone who only cares about their career.” She pauses to take a breath, but before he can say anything she continues.
“I was just so fed up with him and he just adores you because you went to law school and that is a respectable thing and never mind that I manage more than a third of all the projects at Ancient Tech Co. but my dad only thinks that there are five real careers and I don’t have one of them so when he made that comment about you getting tired of me, I just said that you were stuck with me and he took it like we were dating and he just started talking to me like it was the first thing I’d ever done right in my life and I was just so tired of him ragging on me that I just went with it.”
Her eyes flit back to his. “So that’s what’s going on. Will you be my fake boyfriend for Nayru’s Eve dinner with my dad? The box of cookies is a bribe.”
Link just stares at her. He can feel the pounding of his heart in his ears. This is so stupid and ridiculous and an absolute cliché that Zelda, who he has been crazy about for ages, is now asking him to pretend to be in love with her and to care for her as if he hasn’t already been doing that since they took that Bioethics seminar together back in school.
The silence seems to go on for a while.
She takes it as a rejection and stammers, “Right, right, I’m sorry, I know it’s a lot to ask and spring on you last minute. I’ll just call my dad and tell him the truth. It’s fine, I’m already grateful you’re coming with me and so—”
“Zelda,” he interrupts her, “it’s fine. I’ll do it.”
Her eyes are wide and her jaw drops a little. “Really?”
“Really,” he says to her. Stupid, stupid, stupid, he thinks to himself.
Her shoulders drop in relief, as if she was actually worried, as if he could ever deny her anything in the world. “You’re the best,” she tells him, her voice full of gratitude. “I promise it won’t be too bad. You’ll just have to hold my hand a bit, listen to my dad talk, and just be yourself.”
Be yourself. She must know. How can she not? But her expression holds no guile and seemingly no awareness of how he feels about her.
He lets out a breath. “So what’s the deal with the wine?”
“Well I thought that you could give it to him and he would be pleased by your thoughtfulness so we could talk about you the whole night and not about me taking over Hyrule Industries.”
“Alright.” He starts to put the scones away, just to have something to do with his hands. “So what’s our story?”
“Our story?”
“You know,” he gestures with a scone, “how we started dating. We’ve been friends for five years, why would we start dating now?”
She picks up the scone closest to her and nibbles on it as she thinks. “Okay, so you know how I went to your firm’s black tie fundraiser with you this year?”
He nods.
“We can tell my dad that you saw me in my formal dress and were so stunned that you realized that I was girlfriend material after all.” She laughs as if it’s the most ridiculous thought in the world. His heart clenches.
The black tie formal was the firm’s annual ‘outreach’ event. They collaborated with a local environmental charity to host an exorbitantly expensive and self-congratulatory dinner to raise money for provincial and national park conservation efforts. Link usually went alone to these events, content to sit with his co-workers and listen to Revali’s snarky commentary about the performer of the night. But this year, he’d finally worked up the guts to see if Zelda would be interested in attending.
She’d agreed with enthusiasm and Link could not help but feel like a teenager going to senior prom with his crush. It didn’t help that her royal blue gown was tight in all the right places and made him slightly weak in the knees.
She charmed all of his co-workers easily. Link was pretty sure he even saw the perpetually grumpy Bludo crack a smile at one of her comments. The two of them laughed and joked together all evening and it reminded him of the nights they would spend at the campus library, cramming for exams and keeping each other company. He was already crazy about her then and time and experience had only continued to cement his feelings.
“I think they like you better than they like me,” he murmured to her after they said goodbye to his work friends. “If I’m not careful, they’ll just outright replace me.”
She laughed, the sound amplified by the few glasses of bubbly they’d consumed. “Don’t be ridiculous. There isn’t a single person in the world that doesn’t love you.”
“That’s definitely not true.”
“It’s true,” she said. She captured his face between her hands and he froze. “It’s true.”
She looked directly into his eyes and he’d felt like she was peering into his very being. He panicked. He shook himself free from her grasp and took a few steps away from her. The tips of his ears warmed and his heart hammered in his chest. She knows. She knows. She knows. He couldn’t bring himself to look at her.
She’s a little drunk, she probably didn’t realize, he’d told himself. And we’re friends. Friends talk each other up all the time.
He’d mentally berated himself on the drive home and Zelda had to fill in the silence with banal chattering. Eventually, even she got tired of it and they pulled up to her house in silence. Their goodbye hug was stilted—Link was embarrassed for weeks. But when he’d called her after, she seemed as happy as ever to hear from him, without a hint of awkwardness in her tone, so he’d concluded that it was best to let sleeping dogs lie.
If they were meant to be, something would have happened that night, he supposes. The thought makes his chest ache.
“Okay,” he says, “so I asked you out that night and we’ve been testing it out since.”
“Yup,” she responds, wiping her mouth of crumbs. “When Farore’s Day comes in the spring, I’ll tell my dad that we have to spend it with your family. Then we’ll break up right before Din’s Day and dad will have to go easy on me.”
Link can’t help but feel a little hurt at how easily she’s planning their hypothetical future. “Maybe we can discuss that after,” he says.
“Oh Hylia, of course!” She looks embarrassed. “How inconsiderate of me. I can’t just assume you’ll go along with such a long term plan. You probably have plans for yourself that don’t include me.”
I would hope not, he thinks. Instead he says, “How about we see how dinner with your dad goes before we plan our fake break up, okay?”
“Okay,” she agrees readily.
She polishes off the rest of her scone and slips off the stool to hug him. She slips her arms around his waist and tucks herself underneath his chin.
“You’re the best friend I could ever ask for,” her words are muffled against his sweater.
“Yeah,” he says a little helplessly. Yeah.
They end up taking Zelda’s car to her dad’s place, since Link agrees to go hiking with her the next day. The drive is nearly two hours long, but it passes quickly in the car. Zelda has the latest pop holiday playlist blasting the entire time. She sings along to the songs, even when she only knows half of the lyrics. Link has to hold back a smile when she stumbles through the words and laughs at herself after.
Her dad’s house is massive. Link’s been here before—Zelda’s father had thrown her a graduation party upon completion of her MBA; but this is the first time he is here with her alone. The holiday lights adorning the house twinkle in the dark and the shrubs on the lawn are trimmed into festive shapes, similarly covered in lights. The entire house seems to be lit up from within. The power bill must be ridiculous.
He grabs both of their bags from the trunk and hoists his duffle over his shoulder so that he has a spare hand to hold onto the bottle of wine. Zelda smiles and smooths down the front of his hunter green jacket before threading her arm through his.
Together, they make their way to the front door, Terrako bounding around their feet. Zelda rings the doorbell. After a moment, there are footsteps on the other side of the door. The door swings open.
Rhoam Bosphoramus stands before them. His full beard and long hair are snow white. His expression is neutral, but the wrinkles lining his face suggest a man unused to smiling. To his credit, his face softens when he sees his daughter.
“Hello Daughter,” he says.
“Hello Dad,” she responds. The entire exchange is weirdly formal for kin. “You’ve met Link.”
Zelda nudges Link lightly with her elbow. Right. He steps forward and offers the wine bag to Zelda’s dad. “Hello Mr. Bosphoramus. It’s good to see you again.”
Her dad takes the wine from him. “No need to be so formal, Link. Sir is fine.”
“Right…sir. Thank you for inviting me to dinner.”
“Of course. I’m very excited to formally meet Zelda’s new boyfriend.” Mr. Bosphoramus studies the two of them. “It has been some time since Zelda has even dated.”
“Dad, come on,” Zelda interjects. “We don’t have to bring that up. Can we come in?”
“Yes, come in.” He steps away so that Zelda and Link can enter. Link carefully knocks the snow off his boots before stepping over the threshold. There is a moment of silence as Link and Zelda work on unlacing their boots. A housekeeper appears out of nowhere to take their outdoor clothes. Link can’t help but feel wildly out of place.
“I’m going to put this away,” Mr. Bosphoramus announces, holding up the bottle of wine. “Zelda, I trust that you know your way and can show your boyfriend to the guest suite?”
“Yes. Come on Link, it’s up this way.” She gestures up the spiral staircase.
Link nods, lifting the two bags. He locks eyes with Zelda’s dad; her father’s expression is critical and assessing. Boyfriend, he remembers suddenly. Despite knowing that it was a ploy, he can’t help the thrill that runs through him at the idea.
“Link?” Zelda is already halfway up the stairs and her dog fully on the landing of the second floor, waiting for him.
He turns and follows them up.
The guest suite is nearly as large as his apartment.
Zelda shows him to the room, points out the bathroom before gesturing down the hall, saying, “I’m just down this way. I’ll leave you to get settled,” and disappearing.
Link sets his duffle by the dresser before sitting down heavily on the bed. Absently, he loosens the top button of his collared shirt. He’d been in some stressful court rooms before, but he’d never felt as tense as he does now.
Boyfriend. He rolls the word around his head. He closes his eyes and allows himself to imagine for a moment that it is real. That he had come to have dinner with Zelda’s dad as her boyfriend. That he could show her father that he was worthy of her. That she felt about him even a fraction of the way he felt about her. The daydream is bittersweet, an exercise in masochism.
He had to get it together.
Link launches himself off the bed and makes his way into the bathroom. Obviously, it is ridiculously fancy, with both a standing shower and a clawfoot bathtub. The floor tiles are heated beneath his feet, and a set of clean, fluffy towels are set out for him.
He splashes his face with water before looking at his own reflection. He points an accusing finger at himself. Get it together. You’re here to be a good friend to her, not to take advantage of the situation.
Friend, he reminds himself, friend.
He glares at his reflection for a few more seconds before straightening up. He loosens his hair tie and runs his hand through his hair before securing it back into a small ponytail. He gives himself two light smacks on both cheeks. There. Ready.
He wanders back into the bedroom, taking his time to study his surroundings. The large windows overlook a sprawling backyard and what looks to be a few acres of property. In the approaching darkness, he can barely make out the tree line in the distance.
There is a knock at his door. “Link?” Zelda’s voice is muffled through the wood.
His heart jumps and he walks over to the door to answer it.
“Hi,” he says.
“Hey,” she glances around the room, “hope everything’s okay. Dinner is probably starting in a little bit, we should probably head down.”
“Okay. Does your dad need a hand setting up?”
Zelda gives him a funny look. “No, his team of caterers take care of it.”
“Right.” He forgets sometimes, because of how down to earth she is, that Zelda’s family is obscenely wealthy. He looks down at his sweater, pilling all over the place with repeated wear, and picks at some of the lint.
Zelda grabs his hand and threads her finger through his. “Stop. You look fine. Let’s just go downstairs. You can tell dad about the environmental protections case that you filed against Ganon Inc. this year. That’ll put him in a good mood.”
Dinner is going poorly. Or maybe it’s not. It’s pretty hard to tell.
Link and Zelda come downstairs right on time. Mr. Bosphoramus sits in the dining room, at the head of an ornately carved oak table. Placemats are set out for them and people are bringing food out from the kitchen. Zelda and Link sit opposite each other, on either side of her father. Zelda squeezes his fingers reassuringly when they part—they’d been holding hands upon entry to really sell the idea that they are together.
After the large display of food is set down, Mr. Bosphoramus requests (demands) that Zelda lead the prayer to give thanks on Nayru’s Eve. She gives only token resistance, rolling her eyes a little before leading the short prayer song. Her voice is lovely and clear. Despite having his head bowed in prayer, Link can’t help but peek at her as she sings.
At the end of the song, with the final few notes still hanging in the air, Mr. Bosphoramus breaks the silence.
“Lovely as always, Zelda. It’s funny, if I’d known back then that this was where you’d end up with your MBA, I’d have sent you to seminary school instead.”
There is a strained pause. The tips of Zelda’s ears redden and a furious look flits across her face. She takes a breath, her hands clenching into fists.
“Unfortunately, dad, I’ve always been more interested in science than in the Goddesses.”
“Unfortunate,” her father echoes.
There is another pause. Before either of them can open their mouths to speak again, Link grabs one of the bread rolls from the basket in front of him and tears it in half.
“This is great bread,” he says. “What type is it?”
Mr. Bosphoramus turns his attention to Link, looking at him curiously. “It is a dinner roll.”
“Ah, yes. A dinner roll. Very nice.” He racks his brain for more to say. In his daily life, despite his career, Link isn’t one prone to chit-chat and has never been good at small talk. “Uh…it’s just that it’s very fluffy. Where is it from?”
Mr. Bosphoramus seems confused by Link’s random fascination with dinner rolls. “I don’t know. The caterer’s either make it themselves or they buy it from a local bakery.”
“That’s great. I’ll uh…I’ll have to ask them about where they get the dinner rolls.” Enough about dinner rolls!
Link wants to drown himself in the soup in front of him as Zelda’s dad picks up a roll and cuts it open, giving Link a strange look as he does so. But across the table, Zelda is biting her lip to hold back her laughter. She mouths a ‘Thank you’ to him and somehow that makes looking like a fool in front of her father worthwhile.
They progress through the meal. Zelda is well practiced in setting her dad off on tangents that she tunes out. Her father asks Link about his work, comments on how nice it is that his daughter is dating someone of such respectable stock. They’re halfway through the main course and Mr. Bosphoramus is giving a lecture about the importance of good leadership and commitment to the Goddesses in governing.
Zelda is very clearly bored. She’s pushing the last bit of ham around her plate, her chin resting in her palm. For his part, Link is still sitting ramrod straight, nodding and commenting when appropriate to Mr. Bosphoramus’s monologues. Link doesn’t mind bearing the brunt of the attention, he’s used to the senior partners at the firm being the same way.
When Mr. Bosphoramus takes a pause to clear his plate and request dessert, Zelda catches his eye again. She gives him another grateful smile and mouths ‘I owe you.’ He only shakes his head. She must know by now that he would do anything for her.
When the sweet potato pie is sliced and served, Zelda’s father turns his attention back to his daughter. “Zelda, you know, I have been reading a lot lately about product management positions in these technology companies that you’ve been part of. And I’ve been thinking that you’re actually building quite a good foundation for future positions.”
Zelda pauses mid-bite. “Yes,” she says slowly, “I’m building more experience to manage bigger projects.”
“Well,” her father cuts up his slice of pie, oblivious to or ignoring her hesitance, “you shouldn’t just limit yourself like that. The technology boom won’t last forever. You’re actually getting good experience to take over Hyrule Industries. It was smart of you, actually, so that you have more qualifications when you eventually take over.”
“Dad.” She sounds exasperated, as if they’ve had this argument many times in the past. “You know that’s not why I’m doing this job.”
He waves a hand. “Yes. Yes. I’m just saying that you should consider the long term impacts and your long term goals. You know. You could consider going back to school. Link’s done very well for himself. You could consider law school. You know, lawyers—”
Zelda slams her fork down on the table. “Dad. I am not having this conversation right now. I know what I’m doing.”
“Zelda. No need to get so worked up, I’m just trying to make a suggestion.”
“I’m not—you just always—argh.” She exhales sharply. “Let’s not talk about it okay? Let’s pretend I’m an adult who is capable of making her own career decisions.”
“I’m just trying to help, Zelda.”
She rubs her temples tiredly. “I know.”
Link just watches the entire exchange, feeling exceedingly awkward and out of place. He wonders if Riju had to sit through all of these conversations during previous holiday meals. He can’t imagine the spirited Gerudo woman staying silent through all of it.
The three of them sit in tense silence until dessert is done.
At the conclusion of the meal, Mr. Bosphoramus directs them into the lounge, where a large Nayru’s Day display is set up. A fire crackles in the fireplace, warming the room and filling it with a flickering soft orange light. A large television is hung on the adjacent wall, the title screen of the winter classic ‘Hateno Home Alone’ flashing.
“We always watch this movie after dinner,” Zelda tells Link. “It was my favourite as a kid.”
Mr. Bosphoramus sits down in the recliner and Zelda pulls Link over to the sofa. They settle down on the couch, their arms pressed together. Zelda reaches over and, with a furtive glance at her father, throws his arm over the back of the couch, so that his fingers just skim the top of her shoulder. She smiles at him and settles in a little closer.
His foolish heart races. Friend. Pretend boyfriend, he reminds himself for the millionth time. Friend. Pretend boyfriend.
Zelda falls asleep before the end of the movie, her head resting heavily against his shoulder. By the time the credits roll, Link is lightly dozing himself. When the credits begin to scroll on the screen, he blinks awake groggily.
Mr. Bosphoramus seems to be the only one wide awake. He switches off the television and turns to assess Link. Her father looks at the way Zelda is curled into Link and his gaze lingers on her sleeping face.
“We watch this movie every year because Zelda and her mother both really loved it,” he finally says.
Not sure how to respond, Link just nods.
“You know that her mother passed away when she was quite young.”
“Yes sir.” In the early days of their friendship, they’d bonded over the struggles of growing up without a mother.
“We didn’t get to have too many holidays together as a family before the illness took her.” Mr. Bosphoramus’s eyes are distant, in another time and place all together. “But the year this movie came out, we rented it for Naryu’s Eve. And the two of them giggled through the entire film.”
The fireplace is dying down and the room is darkening. It’s getting harder to see Mr. Bosphoramus’s face, but his eyes are glassy with emotion.
“It was one of the most joyful holidays we’ve had in this house.”
Mr. Bosphoramus stands and makes his way to a liquor cabinet. He pours himself a finger of amber liquid and offers one to Link, who just shakes his head. He’s worried about moving and disrupting Zelda.
“I’ve always tried to recreate that for her, no matter how old she is,” Mr. Bosphoramus swirls the tumbler as he speaks. “But it was hard for us, after.”
Link sits in silence, grateful for the cover of semi-darkness. He can’t help but feel like he’s intruding on something. A moment that was meant for the person who is truly Zelda’s partner. Not the pretend boyfriend.
“She was the love of my life, Zelda’s mother,” Mr. Bosphoramus continues. “And when she was gone, the light went out of my world and I was alone.”
But you weren’t alone, Link wants to say, you had Zelda. He bites his tongue.
“I was alone to raise my daughter.” Mr. Bosphoramus comes back to the recliner. “Lovely, clever, headstrong Zelda.
“She is so smart. Smarter than me, truth be told. And she has all these ideas. I don’t know what to do with it. I just want what’s best for her. I don’t want her to have to suffer. That’s why I’m so concerned about her future. I don’t want her to be alone or without options.”
“She’s brilliant,” Link says quietly. “The smartest person I know.”
Mr. Bosphoramus nods in agreement. “She’s been like that since she was a child. Always had this fire—wanting to learn about everything. It would be easy for her to take over the company, live a comfortable life. But she doesn’t want it. She wants to change the world.
“We haven’t had the best relationship. She thinks I’m overbearing, insufferable. But I can’t help it. She’s all I have left.”
Mr. Bosphoramus leans forward a bit, the light from the fire catching the wrinkles on his face, throwing shadows into the crevices and making him look even older. “I’m an old fashioned man, Link. And my daughter has got such a drive of her own. I just want what’s best for her.”
The two men look at Zelda and the steady rise and fall of her breathing. The firelight makes her glow, ethereal in a way that reminds Link of fairy tales.
“So do I, sir,” Link says.
“That’s good to hear.”
There is companionship in their silence—a strange understanding between two people who want nothing less than the world for a woman who deserves it. The fire crackles away. Link is keenly aware of the warmth that radiates off Zelda where she leans against him. He wants to wrap his arms around her and keep them there forever.
“Now,” Mr. Bosphoramus’s voice breaks the silence, “do you love her?”
The question catches him off guard. His mouth dries up a bit under the intensity of her father’s scrutiny.
“I…” He thinks about her. The brilliance of her smile, her enthusiasm when she’s explaining a new discovery, her passion for technology, her willingness to give. He thinks about how having her hand in his is like filling a void, how simple touches from her set his heart racing, how she fits in the circle of his arms. “Yeah,” he breathes, the confession like a weight off his shoulders, “I love her more every day.”
Mr. Bosphoramus nods to himself a little. “Good. It’s what she deserves.”
They fall back into silence, watching the fading pulse of the fireplace.
When the last of the flames go out, leaving only glowing embers, Mr. Bosphoramus says, “You’d better head to bed. Zelda told me that she wants to take you on the trails tomorrow.”
“Yes sir.”
Mr. Bosphoramus polishes off his whiskey. He slaps his palms against his thighs, gives Link another look and makes his way out of the lounge.
Link looks down at Zelda. Her sleeping expression is peaceful. He tries not to disturb her as he scoops her up in his arms. Despite his best efforts, the jostling motion wakes her and she looks up at him.
“Link?”
“Movie’s over, it’s bedtime,” he says.
“Right.” She nestles closer to him. “Are you going to carry me to my room?”
“If you don’t want to walk, Princess,” he teases her.
“Mmkay.” She yawns, seemingly content to stay in his arms.
The entire way up the stairs, he tells himself not to overthink it. She let him carry her to bed because she’s tired and half asleep already. There was no hidden message. Nothing to decipher. No secret meaning.
He sets her down in front of her bedroom door and she gives him a sleepy smile.
“Goodnight Link,” she says.
“Goodnight Zel.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow for hiking. Dress warm.”
“See you tomorrow.”
Later, after he washed up, he lays awake in bed thinking about the conversation he had with Mr. Bosphoramus. He wonders why it is easier to be honest with her father than it is to be with her.
It’s almost a cliché, how good Link’s day is going.
He wakes to a bright room, the morning sun outside reflecting off the pristine field of snow. The sky is blue and cloudless, the perfect weather for a winter hike. He spends a little bit of time just admiring the view from his window. In the daylight, he can really appreciate the expansive backyard and the evergreen trees that line the horizon.
After he washes up, he makes his way downstairs to find Zelda already standing at the kitchen island, working the waffle iron. Mr. Bosphoramus is seated at the small dining table near the windows, sipping on coffee and reading the paper. Terrako is dozing by Mr. Bosphoramus’s feet.
The dog notices when Link walks in and gives a small bark.
Zelda spots him next. “Morning! Happy Nayru’s Day,” she says.
“Happy Nayru’s Day to you too, Zelda.” He nods at her father. “Sir.”
“Happy Nayru’s Day, Link,” Mr. Bosphoramus responds before turning back to his paper.
Link walks over to Zelda, who is piling toppings onto a fluffy waffle. She has a cute little frown on her face as she considers the toppings laid out before her: a variety of fruits and large selection of sweets. She swipes a wildberry from a bowl and munches on it as she pieces together the best flavor combination. In that moment, she is so ridiculously adorable that he gives in, just a little. He loops an arm around her waist and presses a kiss to the crown of her head. It’s just for show, he tells himself as he breathes in the warm safflina smell of her.
When she looks up at him in surprise, he just shrugs and casts a glance over to where her dad is sitting. Understanding dawns on her face, another expression flitting across her eyes that he’s too slow to chase.
“How’s waffle making?” he asks her.
“Good,” she tells him, turning to face the spread again. “The caterers prepped everything last night, so I’m really just doing the minimum.”
He’s trying really hard to pay attention, but Zelda hasn’t dislodged his arm from where it’s set on her hip and he can feel the warmth of her skin through her flannel pajamas. He has to force himself to release her and step away. Don’t be stupid.
“Can I help?” he asks.
“You can pick the toppings,” she declares. “You’re a lot better with flavor combinations anyway. I’ll make your waffle.”
Together, they put together two waffles piled high with fruit, syrup, and a light dusting of icing sugar. They offer to make one for Mr. Bosphoramus, who shakes his head and says, “Can’t eat like that anymore, not at my age.”
They take the waffles over to the dining set. As they eat, Zelda and her dad seem to be trying to keep the morning’s happy mood and they avoid touchy subjects purposely. He asks about the hike they’re doing and Zelda tells him that they’re going to take the scenic route to town. He asks if they’re going to be back for lunch and she tells him not to expect them. Link is mostly silent through breakfast, content to see Zelda and her dad interact peacefully. Whatever frustrations they might have with each other, it’s clear that they both care a lot for the other.
After breakfast, they disperse. Zelda and Link return to their rooms to put on warmer clothes for the hike and Mr. Bosphoramus returns to his study. Terrako follows Mr. Bosphoramus into the study (“He’s not a fan of the snow,” Zelda tells Link after).
Zelda meets Link by the back door. He holds her steady as she stubbornly ignores the shoe bench and tries to put on her boots standing up.
They march out into the cold. She has one mittened hand wrapped around one of his.
“Dad can see us from the window in his study,” she tells him.
Link flicks his eyes to the house and back. “Well we’d better show him then.” He adjusts the scarf around her neck and untucks her hair from the back. She watches him closely, her green eyes clear. He tells himself that their red cheeks are from the frosty air.
She leads the way along the path. It’s not a path that is well travelled in the winter, but enough traffic has come through so that the snow is slightly packed down. Zelda seems to know the path well.
Link can’t help but admire the way Zelda looks in the woods. She’s dressed in layers and has her outer coat unzipped to keep cool as they hike. The sun filters through the leafless trees and reflects off the snow. Ice coats some branches and sparkles in the light. She turns and smiles at him and it’s a scene out of a lovely winter dream. Her cheeks are flushed and the tip of her nose is pink from the cold, but her eyes are dancing with joy.
“This is one of my favourite places in the world,” she tells him.
“Yeah?”
“Mhm. Growing up, whenever I needed time away from my dad, I would come out here. I used to bring my books out here and read for hours. My dad would completely freak out, of course, so our compromise was that I would bring my sitter out here with me so that I wouldn’t be alone.
“One time, we stayed out here a little too late and the sun set before we could get back. Dad had the entire sheriff’s office out here looking for us within half an hour.” She laughs at the memory, the sound dancing through the forest air. “Do you have a place like this?” she asks him.
“Yeah.” He smiles. “By my grandmother’s cottage, there’s a small pond, Firly Pond—I’ll take you there when we visit for Farore’s Day.”
She gives him a funny look and he remembers that their Farore’s Day plans weren’t real. His stomach drops.
“I mean—I’ll take you there if you ever visit,” he corrects himself.
“Sure,” she says absently. “Sounds nice.”
Link swallows the awkwardness, unwilling to let anything ruin the beauty of the morning. “The pond was full of frogs,” he says. “I don’t know why—It’s a tiny little thing, but I grew up catching frogs there.”
Zelda looks amused at the visual, probably imagining tiny Link covered in mud, squatting in the reeds in anticipation, a frog clasped in his hands.
“You’d ever eat them?” she asks.
“The frogs?”
“Mhm, I heard they taste like cucco.”
“Eh,” he thinks about it for a moment, “I don’t really think so.”
Zelda turns to him, surprised. “Wait…did you really?”
He shrugs.
“Link!”
He just laughs at her expression.
“What did they taste like then?”
“I’ll catch you one and you can find out,” he teases.
Zelda scrunches her nose up. “You gross boy.”
“I’ll show you gross boy,” he says.
Link leans down to quickly grab a handful of snow. He turns to Zelda, a mischievous glint in his eye.
“You wouldn’t,” she says as she backs away.
He raises a brow. Then promptly launches a loosely packed snowball at her.
Zelda shrieks, even though he purposely threw the snowball wide. “Link!”
He laughs. “Just doing what gross boys do.”
“You know this calls for retaliation,” she says.
He turns to the nearest snowbank to gather ammunition. As he begins to shape his snowballs, she surprises him by launching herself at him, pushing him into the snowbank face first and tumbling in after him. He turns around, sputtering as she giggles at him.
The two of them are half kneeling, half sprawled into the snow. Zelda is still leaning into his chest, looking immensely pleased with herself. He freezes—it’s as if time has slowed. They’re close enough that he can almost count her individual eyelashes, map the constellation of her freckles. Their breath is visible in little puffs between them. He would only have to lean forward a little bit to capture her lips in his.
Before he can think better of it, Link reaches up and brushes a little bit of her hair out of her face. Her eyes follow the motion. His heart is in his throat and he has the overwhelming urge to tell her the truth. Because this moment feels real and he needs her to know.
“Zelda, I—”
Then, as if it was a message from the Goddesses themselves, a crack in the branches overhead causes a snowfall right on top of their heads.
There is a pause, both of them covered in snow, staring at each other in disbelief. Then Zelda bursts into laughter and the moment is over. Friend, he reminds himself, you’re her friend.
Link hoists himself out of the snowbank and offers his hands to help her up.
“Come on now,” he says, “we’re losing daylight.”
The trail ends in a set of stairs that are cleared, salted, and lead straight into town. Link and Zelda descend the stairs, both their jackets and pants a little damp from being in the snowbank.
The main street of town is small. It hosts a café, a salon, and a handful of restaurants and boutiques—a far cry from the city center that Link was used to.
“Come on,” Zelda tugs him along, “the café is this way. They always have the best peppermint hot chocolate.”
There’s something enchanting about walking down the street of a small town during the holiday season. He’s used to the lively bustle of the city and even enjoys the specific flavor of the Nayru’s Day celebrations in the city. But being here now, with her hand in his, feels like something out of a silly holiday movie. He can’t help but get swept up in the feeling of it.
Link tucks her hand into the crook of his elbow. “Okay, okay, I’ll buy you a hot chocolate. It’s boyfriend duties, after all.”
She laughs lightly, tugging her hand back. “You’re too good at this. But you don’t have to pretend right now, my dad isn’t here and nobody in town will report back to him.”
His heart cracks a little. The fantasy shatters. The quaint storefronts of main street look tacky, the empty sidewalk looks desolate, and the imaginary taste of hot chocolate on his tongue sours. They make their way towards the café in silence. He doesn’t know if she can feel the tension, or if it’s his own hurt that stretches out like miles between them. By the time they reach the café, he can’t handle it anymore.
When she reaches for the handle of the door, he intercepts her hand.
“Zelda, I…” he trails off, not exactly sure where he’s going with this.
She waits for him to continue, a question in her eyes. She is everything he’s ever wanted for years—lovely, brilliant, passionate, wrapped in a puffy blue coat. This one ridiculous weekend has given him a taste of what it could be like to be together and he doesn’t think he will ever recover. He huffs out a breath as he tries to gather his thoughts.
“I—I don’t want this to be pretend. Everything that I did this weekend, it was real, all of it. Or I wanted it to be.” He gulps. “I want to be your boyfriend. I’m crazy about you. Like totally stupid. And I know we’ve been friends for years and I don’t want to ruin what we have but—” He cuts himself off and runs an exasperated hand through his hair.
She’s staring at him, wide-eyed. He holds his hands out helplessly, not sure what more to say.
There is a beat. She still hasn’t said anything, he can almost hear the gears in her head turning rapidly.
“Are…are you going to say anything?” he asks.
“I’m just—I’m just processing.” A small dent forms between her brows as she bites her lip.
Link panics. “Okay, well, you can let me down easy and we can just pretend this didn’t happen. No big deal,” even if she’s just stomped all over the broken pieces of his heart, “we’re still friends and we’ll always be friends, it’s fine.”
“Wait. Wait! Can you just—argh.” Zelda grabs his flailing hands. “Can you hold on for a blessed minute? I’m just overwhelmed.”
“You’re overwhelmed?” He feels like he’s about to hyperventilate.
“Yes! I just…I haven’t really considered a scenario where you could possibly like me.”
“What? Could possibly like you? I’ve been in love with you for years!”
“You what?” She’s staring at him like he’s sprouted wings. He doesn’t blame her—he didn’t mean to just blurt it out like that.
He laughs at the ridiculousness of it all. At them whisper-shouting at each other about their feelings in front of a cheery café storefront. “I haven’t exactly been subtle.”
“I mean, you kind of have! We’ve been friends for so long and you never said anything. And you’ve always been so kind and good to everyone that I just assumed you weren’t interested.”
“You think I’m like this with everyone?”
“Yes? You’re always helping other people, so I just thought that it was wishful thinking.”
He shakes his head. He can’t believe this is happening.
“And then that night…” she continues, “at the fundraiser, I thought about telling you once and for all, but you shook me off so hard that I thought—I thought it was your way of letting me down.”
He gapes at her. “I thought you were letting me down.”
“What? I was literally telling you that everyone loves you.”
“I didn’t know that included you.”
“Well it does, okay?”
His entire world screeches to a halt. He can’t focus on anything other than Zelda: the way she’s bashfully avoiding his eyes, the blush creeping up her cheeks, the way the light crowns her golden hair. She loves me, he realizes, she loves me. She loves me. She loves me.
“Okay.” He can barely get his lips to form the word. It feels simultaneously like his entire world has been flipped upside down and like every single piece of his life is clicking into place.
They stare at each other for another moment, not sure how to continue.
“So…” She bites her lip and his eyes drop to trace the motion. “What do we do now?”
“Well, if you love me and I love you…” He trails off, the feeling of just saying it out loud is surreal.
“Right.”
“Right,” he echoes.
Her eyes dart away as words spill out of her. “But—well—I mean—It’s just that we’ve been friends for so long and I’m worried about ruining our friendship because you’re one of the most important people in my life. Maybe we—”
“Zelda,” he steps closer, tipping her chin up so that their eyes meet, “I’ve been dreaming about this for so long. Please don’t talk yourself out of it, okay?”
He lowers his face so that their noses bump gently against each other. He can still see the concern lining her expression. He traces her cheek with his thumb. “Whatever happens, we’ll make it work. Okay?”
She studies him. His heart pounds. He doesn’t know what she sees, but he feels like he’s laid himself open for her to peruse. He hopes she finds what she’s looking for.
Finally, thankfully, she comes to a conclusion.
She nods. “Okay.” The word is barely a breath out of her mouth, but the weight of it settles against his lips.
And then suddenly it’s like every nerve in his body is alight with joy. She loves him, they’ll make it work. He steps forward and scoops her up, pressing his lips to hers through the squeal of her laughter. It’s clumsy and he gets more of her teeth than her lips, but it doesn’t matter. He simply readjusts his embrace.
She wraps her arms around his neck and responds eagerly. Her lips are slightly cold from being outside, but it doesn’t bother him, not when he feels like he’s burning up from the inside. It starts out as a chaste press of lips on lips, but her tongue flicks out and he opens immediately. He sets her down and cups her face with his hands slanting his mouth so that he can explore more of her. She presses forward, her hands traveling across his body.
A door opens, a café bell jingles, and a voice calls out, “I see you’ve found the mistle-korok!”
They pull apart hastily, suddenly remembering that they’re in public. They look up to find that there is indeed a mistle-korok hung over their heads. They share an embarrassed look. An old Zora man stands in the doorway of the café and gestures to them. He looks vaguely familiar.
“Wait…” Link squints at him. “Aren’t you—”
“Happy Nayru’s Day, come in!” The old Zora is already making his way back inside.
Zelda laughs, and the world falls away. They look at each other: faces flushed, eyes dancing with happiness. Everything feels right. She pulls him into the café. Their hands clasped tightly together as they leave the frosty air behind.
She catches him looking at her and leans in to whisper, “Happy Nayru’s Day Link. But I have to warn you, if you kiss a girl like that, there’s no way we’re breaking up by Din’s Day.”
Link wraps his arms around her and smiles into her hair. Happy Nayru’s Day indeed.