Chapter Text
With a loud, heavy, earth-quaking thud, Midna’s heavy, gilded, decidedly old-fashioned — and thus trend-setting — trunk hit the ground of the carport, a herald, if the car and private jet weren’t, that Zelda was, in fact, unequivocally committed to the week ahead, churning in her gut be damned.
“Good Goddess, Midna,” Zelda said with an exaggerated eye roll.
“Darling, if it were my bachelorette party, we’d be going to a tropical island and I’ve only a need for string bikinis and sheer coverups,” Midna said. “The packing of such bulky items can only be blamed on Paya.”
“Paya didn’t pack nine coats, 10 pairs of boots, 11 cowls and 15 hats,” Zelda replied.
“What’s the point of apres-ski if you can’t do it fashionably?” Midna said airily, dropping another bag. Her — Zelda’s eyes squinted as she silently counted — fifth.
“Nine coats for five days.” Paya approached them with her luggage, her own car slowly driving off; Zelda could make out Paya’s aunt, and the King’s chief of staff, Impa, in the backseat. (What Impa felt the need to survey in the five minutes to load the car for the 10-minute drive to the royal airstrip was beyond Zelda.)
Paya looked flushed in the winter chill, a fuzzy purple hat pulled taut over her silvery hair. “Zelda, I can deduce your excitement levels by the number of bags you have packed” — here Paya raised an eyebrow and bit back a chuckle — “All two of them. And you’re staying longer than the rest of us!”
“The lodge does have laundry, you know,” Zelda pointed out.
“Pointless when half your attire is dry-cleaning,” Midna said with a wave and a grin. She was teasing Zelda, who rolled her eyes again and hugged Paya.
“I’m thrilled to be celebrating you, you know that,” Zelda said. “And thrilled to remind you that any anxiety that seeps to the surface has nothing to do with you or this trip.”
Paya gave her a big smile that was flavored with terse understanding. “Just the usual?”
“What else?” Zelda murmured. You know. Father, Mother and the last Nayrumas, the tour of Lanayru, the tour of Lurelin, Paya’s wedding, all in a month…
“Darling, you thought this was your bachelorette?” Midna gave Paya an air kiss on each cheek in greeting. “This is operation get Zelda out of here before her head explodes.”
“That is not” — but Zelda’s huff was interrupted by the chauffeur clearing his throat.
“Ma’am, my apologies,” he said, hands behind his back. “But we must —”
“—We’re ready!” Midna interrupted, draping her long arms over her friends’ shoulders.
Ready as ever. Zelda slid into the backseat first, Midna and Paya close behind her, and slipped into her seatbelt. Midna didn’t bother, and turned to Paya, eyes bright.
“So, Paya, I’ve been reading about this fantastic black diamond on the other side of the mountain that’s quite hard to get to…”
“Good thing we’ll have a guide…”
On behalf of her royal status, Zelda knew. She wasn’t queen yet; she could still get away with a hidden bodyguard or two, but Impa had put her foot down at 60-degree slope drops on the hidden side of a Hebran peak. She wondered if her father had ever skied it. Zelda was a fine skier, though not like Paya, who glided down as if she had wings. But Father loved it, loved the snow, and so he and Mother would be joining after Paya’s bachelorette for, what Zelda knew, deep down, her stomach lurching, his last Nayrumas.
Would he be able to ski? Her stomach gurgled. He should, she decided — his strength wasn’t a fraction of what it used to be, but they could easily enjoy a few runs down some green and blues…even Mother, who had become gun shy after she broke her leg twenty years ago on a Lanayruan slope, would go out…
“Hebra Village is also so cute during Nayrumas — the markets are supposed to be divine, and did you see, there’s a holiday event almost every night we’re there—”
She forced herself back into her friends’ conversation. Zelda was excited. She adored Paya, her friend since just-out-of-diapers, and celebrating her upcoming marriage to Granté was in actuality the one thing she looked forward to.
And that was because Zelda spent an inordinate time thinking about the future this past year: Her father’s ailing health; her mother’s breaking heart; her increasingly demanding royal workload; the incessant criticism about the “Bachelorette Princess,” more than halfway into her 20th decade with no heirs (or partners to produce said heirs) in sight … no, Paya’s wedding was the one light in a dark, long winter.
“—Chateau Romani is truly luxurious,” Midna was saying. “Which means, of course, we’ll have to stomach the seen to be seen crowd” — Midna shuddered next to Zelda, an involuntary reaction, Zelda knew, to one of her biggest pet peeves (despite the five suitcases), snobbery — “But it’s set just beneath the most fantastic peak in Hebra, and you can even make out Tabantha National Park…”
“I’ve been wanting to go forever,” Paya added. “For years and years. It’s so extravagant, there was just no way to justify…” She cast a sideways look at Zelda. “And it helps having friends in high places.”
“I didn’t do anything!” Zelda said, re-entering reality.
“Your name got us into Nabooru’s,” Paya pointed out.
“If someone had just called the restaurant when reservations opened, I wouldn’t have had to,” Zelda grumbled, with a pointed look at Midna. “You know they go in an hour…”
“Truly, very unlike you,” Paya added.
Midna sighed. “I believe I’ve proven where my loyalties lie these many years, but even I succumb to the rigors of work—”
“—You were in Ordon having a sexy weekend with —”
“—We will never speak his name, you know the rules…”
Zelda did finally break into a genuine smile, and it kept as they pulled into the royal airstrip, where, after the driver handed over his credentials to security, pulled up close to one of the royal family’s private jets. There was Malon, standing alone with some castle security, hair like a strawberry in whipped cream. Malon was bundled in a long puffy coat that reached to her ankles.
“Right on time!” Malon said cheerily, giving each of them a hug.
“What, Groose didn’t want to see us off?” Midna asked, peering around for Malon’s partner.
“He’s still scarred from the last time,” Malon said, cocking an eyebrow.
“That brunch did get a bit graphic during story time,” Midna conceded. “But I’m sure he learned some pointers you’ve benefited from—”
“Come on,” Zelda interrupted hastily. She nodded to the driver, a smile on her face in thanks, and led her friends on board.
The flight was uneventful, the girls gabbing before slipping into respective states of quietude: a book, a pair of headphones, a stack of magazines. Zelda gazed out of the window; she loved to fly, looking at all of Hyrule from the clouds, away from whispers and giggles and eyes. Midna would tell her she was being ridiculous; Zelda, for being the only princess in Hyrule and the heir apparent, was so sinfully polished that she, in fact, was the reason she felt eyes all on her, all the time.
“Just find the line,” Midna had advised a few years ago. “You can’t be distasteful; they’ll have a party with it. But the more you hide away, the more they’ll dig to find something.”
Zelda, of course, had never been able to.
Paya and Granté, both Sheikah, had been together for a long time now; Midna, highborn daughter of the Duke and Duchess of Twili, a small but prosperous duchy on the literal Eastern edge of Hyrule, had become something of a fashion icon, though she’d turned her nose up in disgust at a career there (“What’s the point of using status if I can’t use it to graciously affect real people, not capricious teenage girls?”).
And Malon, with whom she’d become close through Paya, was a breath of fresh air; Zelda had more than once spirited herself off to Malon’s ranch, under the guise of government business but really to drink the ranch tavern’s famous milk punch and ride horses in the fields with the redhead.
They were flying over Korok Ranch, one of Hyrule’s biggest granaries, and soon the land would change to the Tabanthan plateaus and eventual Hebran Mountain Range. The jet signaled it; the cold mountain air rocked flight gently. She didn’t mind turbulence, though she noticed Malon’s hands clenching.
As they began their descent 90 minutes later, Zelda truly felt as if she were entering a winter wonderland. The entire earth was blanketed in white snow, broken by the deep emerald green of the evergreens, whose details became sharper as the runway came into clear view.
After the short drive north through Hebra Village — Paya was right, it was positively stuffed with Nayrumas decor, giant lights and garland and bows bright against the snow — and up a long, tree-lined row and through a large, iron-wrought security gate, they pulled up to Chateau Romani, a stunning wooden lodge draped in garland. Zelda could only imagine what the strings of lights looked like deep in the night.
One of the lodge’s workers opened the car door, a big grin on his face. “Welcome to Chateau Romani,” he said, extending his hand.
“I’ll hold off of my final beach-versus-mountain assessment, though I believe I’ll stand corrected,” Midna said. “This is even nicer than I thought.” She lowered her voice and said to Zelda, “And more exclusive. Lucky you.”
Zelda silently agreed, and after checking in, they were taken by a golf cart (Zelda noticed her detail several carts behind — her longtime personal guard, Ashei, and one of Ashei’s associates) to one of the properties biggest and most excluded cabins — high ceilings, giant wooden beams, a natural hot springs hidden amid the evergreens surrounding it, and, to Paya’s absolute delight, their own private ski lift. (It did not go unnoticed a small chalet twenty yards away, where Zelda saw Ashei and the other bodyguard moving their own luggage in.)
“Operational from seven a.m. until 3 p.m.,” said their bellhop, depositing the fourteen bags (Zelda was mortified) into the cabin living room, “and I would be remiss to explain that it does only run up to the back side of the bunny hills and Saria Slope, which is one of the easier greens.”
“You say it like a disappointment,” Paya said, bringing her hands together. “We can’t be more excited. Thank you!”
“We hope you enjoy your stay.” He then turned to Zelda and bowed. “Princess, please do not hesitate to let us know how we can make your stay exemplary.”
“Thank you,” Zelda said with a smile, slipping him a twenty-rupee note, “but she’s in charge.” She nodded at Paya.
The bellhop smiled again and bowed at Paya. “Use the lodge phone and dial 35. It will connect to a private line just for you. Thank you, ladies.” He left them, and when the door shut behind them, Paya let out a loud whoop and danced around the living room, collapsing on the soft, cozy sofa and kicking her legs.
“This is amazing!”
Midna had already found a bottle of wine and four wine glasses. “Plan of attack, our woman of the hour?” She popped off the cork and poured with a heavy hand, handing one to Paya. She poured another heavy one and handed it to Zelda.
Malon also emerged from the kitchen, juggling a partitioned platter fruit surrounded by what looked like chocolate dip. “The kitchen it totally stocked,” she said, handing a piece of paper to Paya. “With this note that just says, behave.”
“Impa,” Zelda said, chuckling. Behave for what? What did Impa expect, for them to run stark naked through the lodge with the temperature averaging six degrees?
It’s probably for me and for Mother and Father, after the girls leave…she took a sip, burying the thought and berating herself for letting her thoughts drift to that when she was here with her best friends, in this beautiful lodge.
Paya took a giant gulp. “Room service, wine, getting ready, then how about the Silent Light party in the north wing?”
“Silent Light?” Zelda repeated, bringing the wine to her lips.
“Darling, did you do any of the reading I sent you?” Midna said. “Chateau Romani hosts it once a week. Only those staying and working at the Chateau can go. Fancy cocktails, sparkly holiday outfits, and only candlelight and icicle string lights high in the rafters…”
“What better way to be murdered in front of a large group of people!” Zelda exclaimed, taking another sip and smiling.
“Zelda,” Malon said, pinching her side.
Zelda threw her arm around Malon and kicked back the rest of her wine in three big gulps, to which Paya and Midna cheered.
“I am ready to celebrate,” she said, drinking away the thought of the stocked kitchen, and holding her glass out to Midna, who poured another one, with flourish.
Zelda had to admit it was a beautiful set-up, even if the wine was addling her sense of wonderment. The lights were sexy, frankly, and the room was dark, very dark … she could make out her girls, but they were all moving as a unit, and if Midna strayed to find a poor soul even five feet away, her imposing outline was all she’d be able to see.
Tipsily she had managed to pull on a pair of white pants, a white sweater and a camel coat, with Midna more-than-usually tugging at her hair to wrap it up in a loose, messy braid and a gold hairpin in the shape of foliage. She gazed upward and around, the lights blurring slightly, and then out at the crowd. It wasn’t overly crowded, and there was a jazz band playing loudly Nayrumas carols that really set quite a vibe… she smiled and swayed.
“This is nice,” Zelda said. “Maybe Ashei will be able to do her favorite thing ever, and lurk in the darkness until someone makes a pass and she slices their gut.”
“Delightfully morbid,” Midna agreed, “and yet, not exactly what I’m interested in this specific evening, dear.”
Malon rolled her eyes. “Go on and take your lap, you fiend.”
With an impish grin Midna did just that, and Malon grabbed Paya and Zelda’s elbow to steer them to the bar, cast in low candlelight.
“So, tomorrow, Paya…” Zelda said, leaning into the dark wood.
“A quick skiing tune-up and then shoop, shoop, shoop til sunset,” Paya said, mimicking a downhill run with ski poles. “There’s so much snow, we can’t ask for better conditions.”
“And Midna has produced a list of every Nayrumas market, our three dinner reservations, five of Hebra Village’s finest cocktail bars, three hikes…” Malon ticked off the list on her fingers but stopped when the bartender finally came over, ordering three mistletoe margaritas. “And Zelda, what do you need this week?”
She shook her head. “Nothing. I need nothing!” She turned aggressively to Paya, feeling a bit of energy escalating in her chest. “This is wour yeek — um, your week — Paya, we’re celebrating you—you know?” Not me! Paya!
Paya’s own tipsiness had settled in like a cranberry flush on her cheeks, and she closed her eyes to the jazz, rocking on her toes. “It is. Isn’t it?”
Paya putting any attention on herself was a sure sign their night of celebrating has crossed into potential headaches tomorrow morning. Their drinks arrived, and Paya swirled hers before taking a sip. Her eyes wide, she was scanning the room curiously.
“What’s wrong?” Malon asked, a small hiccup escaping.
“What — who is Midna — ugh, let me go get her, I really don’t want to be banned the first night for her public displays of indecent affection mere hours after arriving…” Paya bounced off.
Zelda turned to Malon. “When are — are we celebrating your bachelor party? Uh… bachelorette…”
Malon grinned. “I don’t need one. You know that. Groose and I have been living together for four years, we’re running the ranch together — it’s all a formality at this point.”
“I so admire that,” Zelda sighed. “What if I just lived with a sexy … I don’t know. A sexy yeti? In the snowy peaks where no one could find me.”
Malon cocked an eyebrow. “I’d go with sexy park ranger or Chateau manager or lumberjack…”
“Just having wild sex in front of the fireplace…” Zelda giggled at the thought, her daydream man cycling between heavily bearded, extremely ripped in flannel, overdressed in the hotel lobby and in green ranger attire. Maybe with one of those floppy hats.
“I am not opposed to the suggestion that your getting laid might relieve some of your very real stress, Zel,” Malon said. “This week, too.” She flagged the bartender down and grabbed two waters, forcing the cup into Zelda’s hands.
“A princess cannot merely get laid,” Zelda said. She knocked back the water, if only to go back to her margarita. The lights twinkled so marvelously. She squinted around the room, though it of course did not help her make out details of the people in it, save Midna’s imposing height, and Paya’s bright white hair. They were both talking to a group of men — mostly men? A group? A trio? — and her eyes latched onto tallish outline in the delightful shape of an upside-down triangle, with a mess of blonde hair. She couldn’t make out his face, but the outline of his profile — look at that jawline…
“And why not?” Malon huffed. “You’re the only person imposing these sanctions on yourself, you know.”
“Maybe I should. The heir can be a bastard, and my Father’s council can all have a heart attack and die off, and I can put the three of you on it.”
“Noooooo, thank you…”
Two men approached them at the bar, but Malon shooed them away; another one came up to Zelda, clearly not recognizing her, and she turned away from him back to Malon; he did not linger. Zelda’s gaze fell on the man that Paya was talking to. She couldn’t look away, even if she could barely make out a single detail … not that she needed to. All she needed to know was that those shoulders were so, very broad…
She hiccuped and finished her margarita as Midna was walking back to the bar.
“There are some delightful gentlemen here,” Midna said, eyeing the empty margaritas and ordering another round. “Zelda, you really must go mingle…”
“We’re here for Paya, remember?” Zelda pointed to Paya, who had remained with the strangers, unsteadily.
“We are,” Malon giggled. “But, Midna, don’t you agree that Zelda should relax? And what better way…”
“Malon, join my bandwagon, I have been preaching this from the pulpit for a year, since she finally broke up with that idiot earl she didn’t even like…”
“Zelda!” Malon gasped. “It cannot have been that long since you’ve…”
“She stayed with him because she thought the Queen liked him, and the Queen cheered when she finally kicked him to the curb.” Midna rolled her eyes.
Zelda tuned them out, her new margarita in her hand, eyeing the figure Midna had left behind. She was magnetized to him for reasons she assumed were only alcoholic; it was the lighting, yes, the lighting…
“She won’t, you know…”
“No, she’s worried about propriety, the good future queen…”
The good future queen. They were teasing her, which she did not mind the slightest, but they were right, which she did. She was warm with alcohol, and simultaneously feeling cold. Paya was seven long strides in front of her; one of the candles had been blown out accidentally, but it looked like the group had been dispersed, and it was just Paya and that sexy, dark outline … they’re right, I am too uptight, but it’s not my fault. There are expectations…but who is watching? Well, Ashei is watching… she swayed.
She’d show them. And shut them up.
“Zelda?”
“Shut up and never doubt me again.” Zelda put her margarita on the bar and strode over to Paya and the figure. Fervor and alcohol blurred her vision which was all for the better; if she actually saw his face, the spell (of Nayrumas or alcohol, who knew) might be broken.
He was facing away from her, so she grabbed his sweater — oh, his muscles were very, very pronounced between the wool — drew him to her, closed her eyes and kissed him squarely on the lips.
They were warm and she could feel a reaction, or at least thought she could, but then she let go, refusing to look at him, grabbed Paya’s arm and dragged her back to her friends at the bar, where Midna and Malon, awestruck and grinning like idiots, stood rooted.
“Take me home, subjects,” Zelda said, hands on her hips, refusing to look back.
They managed to make it on time to the ski launch area the following morning, water, aspirin and bagels settled deep in their bellies, though they hadn’t stayed up even past midnight after Zelda’s mic drop to end their evening.
Zelda had felt worse after other nights out, and the frigid air was like a shot of medicine to the blood. On the walk over, Paya had tried to pull Zelda behind Malon and Midna and talk to her about last night, with some surprising urgency, but Zelda brushed her aside.
“I have proven myself devoted to the cause of relaxation and celebration,” Zelda said. “And now, the rest of this week is to dote on you, Paya, and I won’t hear anything of it.”
But Paya seemed overly charged and very desperate to talk, to which Zelda kept refusing, and they had arrived before Paya could try again.
“Well … let me go find our guide,” Paya said. She had a strange look on her face as she turned to her friends. “Wait here, okay? He told me to find him at the ski rentals … I’ll … ahhhhh, I’ll be right back…” She closed her eyes and bit back a grin before walking off.
“I am worried about my stomach going downhill,” Malon groaned, closing her eyes and leaning back skyward.
“Sometimes that’s the best medicine,” Midna pointed out, to which Malon agreed.
Zelda pushed down her own minor discomfort and glanced around. It was certainly more crowded than the jazz lounge last night, but true to its claim, Chateau Romani certainly was exclusive: in fact, Zelda had never seen so few people at a ski launch before. She relaxed a little.
But she fought her own curiosity and minor dread that she might somehow recognize the man she had impulsively kissed based solely on the low-lighted outline of his fantastic body. If he was there last night then he could be here, and would she recognize him? Would he recognize her? Was he able to make out her features? She had closed her eyes purposefully, the final bolstering of courage she could muster…. She saw many families, a few couples, and a group of female friends like her own, and found herself relaxing a bit more.
She spun back around to look at the back face of Chateau Romani, its thick logs and floor-to-ceiling windows when she spotted Paya at last, and subsequently felt the ground fall out beneath her.
Paya was walking brusquely to them with a man, her face contorted in what could only be described as sheer delight and, because it was Paya, slight anxiety.
And Zelda immediately knew why. She recognized the man instantly, even through his ski coat — the broad shoulders, tapered waist, confident stride. She had kissed him the night before, but she had also kissed him before.
A million memories cut through her mind’s eye in the span of a millisecond: snowball fights, hide-and-seek, food fights, hand-holding, red-light-green-light, a first kiss, a last kiss…
She knew that messy blonde hair, parted in the middle, falling casually into his eyes that didn’t tuck under his beanie. It was the way he wore it a decade ago.
And the eyes, the piercing blue, like the sky, like sapphires— eyes she recognized, but it had been years, ten years, since she had last seen him, and also had last kissed him, gazed up at his eyes in total embarrassment, and sprinted off. (Until last night, whatever divine prank Din was delighting in, a nearly identical scenario…)
The eyes she recognized on a face she knew instantly, even as it had matured, squared up — that jawline, that nose, and, what must have been acquired in their decade apart, a small scar on the outside of his eye that crossed toward his ear.
“Oh, fuck yes,” Midna delighted while even Malon let out what could only be described as a cackle.
“Link?” Zelda cried, torn between a desire to hug him with the strength of the Triforce and have the earth swallow her whole from the ground up.
He smiled, eyes crinkling, staring only at her.
“Zelda,” he said, her name lingering in the air, his voice deep and warm. “Been awhile, hasn’t it?”
Thanks so much for reading this first chapter from this first-timer. Stay warm and cozy.