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“Your hair’s getting long.”
Link’s eyes flutter open, drawn by the words from the soft lull of his meditation. It was something that Zelda had recommended he try after the Calamity, when he couldn’t sleep through the night and was restless all day. It helps. Clears his mind, helps him focus. He thinks about Zelda, or the comfort of the Gerudo sun, or nothing at all. It’s nice.
Do you like it? Link signs. He tips his head back, smiling as the princess comes into view upside-down. She matches his expression, impossibly elegant.
“I do.”
There’s no school today– the children are allowed the weekend to play and so Zelda is too, the duties of teaching briefly forgotten. She sits down behind Link and curls the ends of his hair around soft fingers.
“I do believe it’s longer than mine.” She laughs, bright and easy. Her hair is cut short now. She had cut it after moving to Hateno, eager to rid herself of the symbol of royalty and opt for something more practical. Link had helped her. This new style falls in a gentle frame around her face, barely brushing the line of Zelda’s jaw. She tucks it behind her ears or braids it into a band around her head when she wants it out of the way– Link likes it best loose. When she’s just woken up in the morning and it falls over her face, glowing with sunlight. Sometimes she’s so beautiful he can’t even bear to look at her.
“It’s lovely.” Again, her words draw him from thought– she’s awfully good at that.
Link feels his cheeks flush, warm and sunny, lips quirking up into a smile as he casts his gaze down to a small patch of wildflowers in front of him.
“Thank you, Princess.”
Absently, as if she doesn’t quite notice what she’s doing, Zelda begins to gather honey blonde strands of Link’s hair and weave them together into intricate little braids that cascade down to the tops of his shoulders. She doesn’t fasten any of them, letting the plaits trail off loosely at the ends.
Link doesn’t even notice that his eyes have fallen closed. Zelda’s hands are deft and sure, trained in the art of beauty. She touches him like he’s a delicate thing. Her hands card through soft hair and her fingertips brush ever so lightly against his scalp, like some sort of worship. It makes Link want to cry. She has shown him impossible kindness, has never once wavered in her reverence. Perhaps the only one close to him, now, for whom that is true.
“Why don’t you wear your hair up more often?” Zelda asks gently, working sections into a braid that follows the curve of Link’s hairline above his ear. “It looks so beautiful.”
Link feels his cheeks begin to flush, the heat of the sun nothing compared to the warmth of her compliments. Not used to it, he signs, almost embarrassed, don’t know how to make it look nice.
Zelda’s careful, practiced movements never falter. She begins to join two braids at the back of his head, a perfect golden circlet. “Your mother never showed you?”
Link thinks better than to shake his head, humming a small dissent.
“Well, it’s not too late,” Zelda announces. She picks a small flower from the ground next to them, a little blue blossom that mimics the color of Link’s eyes, weaving its stem through the braid. “I can teach you.” Another flower is plucked from the grass to adorn Link’s hair. “I know my hair’s quite short now, but it should still be long enough to learn.”
Link’s eyes widen. The two of them had slept in the same bed every night since the Calamity. They share every meal, travel the world together, tend to each others’ wounds– yet still, the simple idea of braiding her hair makes the breath leave his lungs. He has to take a deep breath before even thinking of responding.
“Yes, please.” Link swallows, his heart suddenly pounding, the flush on his cheeks only growing darker as Zelda laughs.
“I’m sure you’ll be very good.” Zelda reaches around to press a soft hand to Link’s cheek and encourage him to turn towards her. He follows the gentle direction obediently, eyes wide and face warm. The corners of Zelda’s eyes crease with smile lines. Link can’t wait to watch them grow constant with age.
She beams at him, thumb tracing a soft arc over her knight’s cheekbone.
“I think it suits you.” Zelda leaves no room for argument.
Link can’t even summon his voice to say thank you. He signs it instead, hands more sure than his voice could possibly be.
Zelda lets her hand drift away from his face after a few moments. She lets out a sigh and falls back into the grass next to Link, smile quirking into mischief as she tugs on the back of his tunic to persuade him to join her.
It works, of course.
Link lays back alongside her and lets his eyes drift shut once more. The pleasant buzz of Zelda’s touch still plays on his skin, and he feels his heart skip a few beats when she reaches over to lace her hand in his. Not quite an embrace— just a few fingers tangled together, childish and sweet. He could stay like this forever, he figures, sun-warm and happy with her.
At least a few years should suffice.