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The earliest flurries of winter snow had begun to fall, dusting his hat and the cement sidewalk below him in powdery goodness that made nearby children squeal. There was a festive air all across the little town as folks bustled about, all in preparation for the upcoming winter solstice. It was a little over a month away, but some holiday cheer simply couldn’t be contained. It was one of the few things that brought people together these days. That’s what it was all about, wasn’t it? Family, friends, unbridled joy and love–things that should be celebrated every day, in his opinion. It must’ve been something about the colder weather, the aesthetic of winter, that just made people festive. He couldn’t complain, though; he’d loved the holiday season since he was a little boy. His family always drove out to Castle Town for the festival, bringing him and his sister to see all of the lights and cheer, and now that he lived there, it was his job to prepare his home for their visit. There was still time for that, though. What he needed to worry about first was his classroom.
With a wave to the cashier, Link pushed the door open and stepped out into the chilly air of mid-November. The breeze nipped at his nose and he could see his breath in front of him, but he was far more concerned with the little bottles of paint in the paper bag. He needed these for Monday, when he would have his students begin their work on their props and set for the Winter Solstice. Of course, because they were kindergarteners, they weren’t in charge of the official decorations. They were going to be panting little more than poster boards that he could use as advertising, or suncatchers shaped like various midwinter symbols. It was just something fun to do outside of their usual school work, though he tried to make that as fun as possible, too.
Link adjusted his hold on the bag and turned a corner. Had it not been for incredible reflexes that he gained working with children daily (and children seem to have a knack for getting themselves in sticky situations), the box in his hands would’ve ended up on the ground. Goddess only knows what was in it, but by the way the person who dropped it gasped, he was going to guess it was important. When he was steady and the box was secured in his hands, he looked up.
“I’m so sorry,” the woman said, and he had just enough of his wits about him to shake his head and smile, a quiet and breathless laugh leaving his lips in a puff of white.
“I’m glad I was able to catch it,” he replied with a shrug. “Right place at the right time.”
She must’ve been new. He didn’t remember seeing her around before. Curls of strawberry blonde framed her face, and the cold made the skin under her soft spatter of freckles pink. She was a very pretty thing, he had to admit. Maybe Hylia was testing him.
“Thank you so much,” she told him with a light smile of her own that reminded him of summer sunlight. An odd contrast to the winter air around them. “Gods, if that had hit the ground– I think I would’ve screamed.”
“Where are you taking these boxes?” he asked curiously, dropping his eyes to the two still in her arms.
“Oh, um, just right here,” she answered with a nod towards the door beside her. A key was sticking out from the lock. She must’ve been trying to open it with full hands. He recognized this place now that he could take a proper look. The swinging sign above their heads was long since faded, and the paint on the door was chipping, but there was no mistaking that this was the little bakery his family used to come to on their holiday visits. It closed down years ago when the owner retired, but it looked like it had a new owner now–unless he was mistaken.
“Moving in?” he joked, reaching out to finish unlocking the door.
“Yes, actually,” the woman said and pushed the door open with her foot. “Curious neighbor?”
Link let out another awkward laugh and shrugged halfheartedly. She was already calling him out.
“It gets lonely on this side of the block.”
“Then I suppose it’s a good thing I’m moving in,” she replied as she walked past him and into the little building. She nodded her head for him to follow, so he did. Everything looked almost the same, just…desolate. Dusty.
Link set the box on the counter and turned to face the woman.
“This might be a dumb question,” he began, bringing a hand up to rub the back of his head. “But are you living, like, right here or…”
The woman tilted her head at him as she set her boxes down and brushed her hands off on her pants. He didn’t know how else to word his question, but luckily, it seemed to click.
“ Oh , no, I’m going to be in the little apartment above this, but I needed a property with a bakery somewhere close by and this…just so happened to work out surprisingly perfectly.”
“Are you a baker?”
“Yes. Well, I’ve only just started, but I want to be.”
He couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips. She would have a lot of work to do here if she wanted to reopen this place, but it was nice to see the little bakery getting the love and affection it deserved again. But was she alone out here?
“That’s exciting,” he told her, “but sounds like it’ll be a lot of work. Are you from around here?”
“No, I’m from more of central Hyrule–not far, but far enough for it to be a hassle.”
“Yeah, when I moved from Kokiri Forest, it was a nightmare trying to get all of my things together.”
“You could’ve fooled me into thinking you’ve lived here your whole life.” Her little smile made him shake his head.
“No, we just visited a lot. But if you need a tour or anything, I’d be happy to help.”
“I might have to take you up on that. Maybe when you’re no longer a stranger.”
Stranger? Link raised his brows and it hit him quite like a truck that he didn’t know her name yet, and she didn’t know his. They were standing around, chatting idly as nothing more than friendly strangers. He let out an awkward laugh and shook his head. Caught up by a pretty girl and he forgot any and all social conventions—go figure.
“Sorry,” he offered. “I’m Link.”
Another smile broke over her face and she held a hand out towards him, which he took easily.
“Zelda,” she said.
“Like the princess? Should I bow or-?”
Zelda laughed and dropped her hand with a shake of her head.
“No royalty here.”
Could’ve fooled me , but just the thought alone made him feel a little flustered, so saying it aloud certainly wasn’t an option. Instead, Link settled on a small laugh of his own.
“So, have any plans for this little bakery yet?” he asked curiously. “I mean, with the…decor? Furnishings? Stuff?”
Smooth.
Though Zelda seemed quite content with the question, if not excited . She tapped her fingers against the counter and hummed, and when she tilted her head, he tried to count the freckles on her cheeks.
“Well,” she said at last, “I really like the wallpaper, but there’s so many spots where it’s torn or has a stain that I feel like paint would be better. I’m thinking maybe framing some parts of the old wallpaper and putting them on the walls.”
“Or putting them in one big frame and making a sort of collage with it.”
Zelda looked at him with raised brows and a smile.
“Interior designer?” she teased and he shook his head.
“No, but my sister-in-law is. She’d be happy to help out, too. So would I, if you’d be comfortable with that.”
That was how he’d ended up with the new baker’s number in less than an hour of knowing her. It was fairly ideal, too. He needed someone to make cupcakes for his classroom winter festival because when he tried it himself last year, it was…for lack of a better word, a disaster. But he wouldn’t bring that up just yet, because before she could bake anything, they had to get the bakery up and running.
-------
Link was not ashamed to admit that he’d been texting Zelda. A lot. He didn’t feel too bad about it though. Not when her name popped up on his phone screen with a new message.
[Zelda: Are you still coming to help us paint tomorrow?]
She’d had quite the week stripping wallpaper and patching holes and priming them for paint; he couldn’t say his week had been any easier, though. Parent phone calls, faculty meetings, and assisting students took away much of his planning time, and kindergarten was no easy group to handle. His only moment of peace came to him because the group of rowdy children had settled down for nap time. They were far quieter when they were asleep.
[Link: yeah, of course :) ]
[Zelda: Okay! And how are the kiddos treating you today?]
Okay. Maybe he liked talking to her for reasons other than the need for cupcakes.
[Link: oh they’re wonderful when they’re napping]
[Zelda: That bad today?]
[Link: Scout had a meltdown over her spilled drink at lunch. she was so worried she’d get in trouble.]
[Zelda: Poor thing. I suppose it’s a good thing she has such a sweet teacher then]
[Link: says the actual baker of sweets]
[Zelda: Can’t bake anything yet :( ]
[Link: we’ll fix you up, don’t worry. you’ll be baking in no time :) ]
Alright, well, maybe he liked her a little more than he should be liking a stranger.
He couldn’t sleep that night. Which was fine. If coffee got him through a usual work day which involved waking at a bright and early seven in the morning, then it could get him through a day with Zelda. He didn’t think he’d need it, not really, but it was helpful nonetheless. Plus, it was getting chillier by the day and nothing was a better comfort than a warm drink.
“Good morning,” Zelda greeted over her own cup when he opened the bakery doors. Her pink sweater looked very comfortable. More comfortable than his own green one, at least.
“Is it safe to assume your favorite color is pink?” he asked with a small smile, leaning against the barren counter.
“Why?” Zelda questioned, tilting her head with a mischievous grin. “Looking for a midwinter gift for me already?”
“I got you workers to help you with the bakery!” he argued with a laugh. “Isn’t that gift enough?”
“That’s just housewarming,” she said. Link lifted his mug back to his mouth to hide his snicker.
“So, what do you want for midwinter, then?” he asked.
“I wasn’t being serious –do not buy me anything, Link.”
“A little too late for that.”
He was joking, but the look of astonishment on her face was more than worth it. He snorted into his cup, and she rolled her eyes at him.
“You’re as mischievous as your students,” she told him, reaching out to shove him.
“They’re rubbing off on me,” he agreed, nodding his head. “We have plans to take over the entirety of Hyrule. My kindergarteners and I will rule the world.”
“Am I a part of this grand plan?”
“Depends how good your cookies are.”
“I pride myself on my cookies, I’ll have you know. And when my bakery is up and running, I’ll have you eating your words.”
“I look forward to it.”
Zelda was in his face now, looking up at him with narrowed eyes. Link had a hard time believing anything would happen or really come from this, but they would never get to know because that was when his sister and her wife came strolling in, and then he was desperate to get to work before their endless teasing began.
“Look at little Linkoln, throwing sugar at the baker,” Aryll whispered a little too loudly at him. He elbowed her.
“Your bakery puns are disgusting,” he said, shaking his head.
“Not as disgusting as the sweetie-pie eyes you’re giving her.”
“Please, for the love of Hylia, stop.”
“Oh, come on. She seems like a smart cookie–”
“I hate everything you stand for.”
“--and Goddess knows you could use a little bit of brains in your life.”
“I hope the ground swallows you whole.”
“Oh, shoot !”
Well, that voice didn’t belong to either of them. Link turned just in time to see Zelda rubbing the bridge of her nose. If she was more like him, maybe she’d have dropped the drawer she was holding with a sigh, but she set it down gently and shook her head.
“I meant to pick up some knobs for the drawers and never did. Is it alright if I run and grab some?” she asked, looking up at them.
“Link can go with you,” Aryll volunteered, and he didn’t know if he wanted to strangle her or thank her.
“Would you?” Zelda asked, turning those hopeful blue eyes on him, and he couldn’t say no. So he nodded, and her smile lit up the entire room.
“It’s not far,” he assured her once they’d stepped outside. “We can walk, or we can take my car.”
“We can walk,” she said with a smile. “It’s a pretty day.”
“We’ll be back soon,” he called to his sister.
“Sure you will!”
And that was his cue to usher Zelda out as quickly as he could without seeming suspicious.
“Your sister is lovely,” she told him, tilting her head with a gentle smile as their walk began.
“She’s alright,” he said with a shrug. “You said you don’t have any siblings?”
“Nope, it’s just me and my parents. Well, I guess now it’s just me since the move.”
“Hey, I’m here,” Link joked, nudging her with his elbow. Zelda laughed, shaking her head.
“Yeah, but you’re not family.”
“Guess not. It would be weird if I were.”
“Why’s that?”
Well, he was not about to admit anything, so he just shrugged and said, “We would have to be long lost siblings or something, then.”
“It’s possible,” she said with a shrug. “You never know. Hyrule is a small place.”
“Not that small!”
Zelda looks at him, her smile bright and wide, and he no longer wants to kick his sister for sending him out to the hardware store with the baker he was, without a doubt, crushing on.
-------------
Somehow, a mere week or so later, they were here. She’d asked for help with his cupcakes and, well…
“Hi,” Zelda greeted with a grin as she pulled the bakery doors open. “Thanks for coming.”
Anything for you , but that might’ve been creepy, so he didn’t say that outloud. Link just smiled and shrugged.
“Happy to help.”
“I’ll owe you big time.”
“Well, you’re already making my cupcakes,” he teased, following her into the building. The bell on the door jingled behind him when it closed. “Besides, I like to help.”
“Yes, I’ve gathered that much myself. Come, all I’ve got left to do is the icing, but I’m having trouble deciding the colors.”
Link followed her to the island where a collection of twenty cupcakes were gathered on the cooling rack. Besides them was a bowl of icing and, surrounding that, a set of even smaller ones. A few little bottles of food coloring sat off to the side.
“Usually I would go with the colors of the Goddesses,” Zelda explained, sliding into a seat, “but I’ve heard something about red dye affecting children—making them wild or something.”
Link couldn’t help himself from reaching across the island and setting a hand on her arm.
“Zel, my students certainly don’t need red food dye to make them wild. They do just as well on their own.”
Zelda’s eyes were on his hand. His throat went dry and he forced himself to swallow. Has his hand been there for too long? Should he move it? Just when he contemplated doing so, when he started to rethink his entire life, Zelda put her hand on his and offered a smile that made the tension leave his shoulders embarrassingly quickly.
“Then don’t complain to me when your students are bouncing off the walls,” she said and patted his hand.
“They’re already bouncing off the walls!” Link argued with a laugh, pulling his hand back to save face, otherwise he would embarrass himself.
“You’re tempting me to add extra sugar,” she said, sliding the food coloring closer to them.
“ Do you want me to suffer?”
“Yes.”
Link shook his head and watched as she scooped some of the icing into the smaller bowls, then slid two in his direction.
“Put two drops of green in that one and two drops of yellow in that one, please,” she requested, handing him a spoon. Link was far slower than she was, but he was trying to be precise. One, two , and then he stirred, watching the green streaks smooth out into an even, pretty shade. The green was far prettier than the yellow, but that was just a personal preference.
“I wouldn’t trust myself icing anything,” he said, watching her gather some piping bags and tips.
“It’s not hard!” Zelda assured him, grabbing a cupcake and setting it in front of him. “I’ll show you, watch.”
She scooped the green icing into the bag and slipped on a silver tip. She twisted the open end closed, then pressed the tube into his hands with a gentle smile.
“The trick is to just be careful. Don’t squeeze too hard, but you want to apply enough pressure that the icing comes out.”
Like something out of a movie, or maybe out of his daydreams, Zelda stood behind him and set her hands over his. They were soft and gentle, and like hell was he going to say anything or pull away. No, he let her lead his hands over the barren cupcake instead, and he was too busy looking at their hands and thinking about how they felt to register that she’d guided him through a perfect swirl of icing.
“See?” she said. “It’s not hard.”
“I think you need to do that again,” he managed, looking back at her. Was he as red as he felt? He hoped not. “I wasn’t paying attention.”
Zelda laughed, her hands breaking away from his so she could put the finished cupcake into the box.
“I think you just want me to hold you,” she teased. Gods, yeah, he was blushing.
“And that’s a bad thing because…?”
“Because we’ll never finish the cupcakes! Come on, help me put them in the box and then I can give you another lesson.”
By the end of it, they still had quite a bit of icing left over. Link was content to stick his finger in the bowl and lick it off, but Zelda had other ideas. She gasped, grabbing his arm to stop his grand feast of icing.
“We could make a gingerbread house!” she declared.
“The stores are full of them right now,” he reasoned, tilting his head. “I’m sure we could find one.”
Zelda scoffed. He’d never heard her sound so offended before.
“I know you did not just suggest a store bought gingerbread house in my bakery,” she said, glaring at him. “I can make one for us! One we’ll actually want to eat.”
And, well, he couldn’t argue with that. It didn’t take long to make at all, probably because he resisted the urge to throw some flour in her hair. They would have enough of a mess to clean with all these dishes.
“Is that supposed to be me?” Zelda asked, peaking over his shoulder at the little gingerbread man he was in the process of spreading yellow icing on the head of.
“Well, yeah, it’s– not all of us are professional cookie decorators, Zel!”
“She looks so…”
“Don’t finish that sentence.”
“I was going to say cute!”
“You were not!”
Zelda snorted, hiding her face in his shoulder, and he tried his best to keep his pout steady.
“You’re being mean,” Link said, switching to the small scoop of black icing so he could make some eyes.
“Aw, I’m sorry I laughed at your gingerbread girl,” she replied and hugged him, and he thought he was going to float away.
“I can’t get her dress to fill in,” he complained, leaning his head on the table.
“Use a butter knife.” She let go of him, unfortunately, but when she returned and raised her eyes to him, he leaned back in his chair.
“I don’t like how you look at me while holding that knife,” he joked, and the malicious grin she gave did not help the situation at all.
“What, you think I’ll stab you? Amateur, this isn’t even my stabbing knife,” Zelda replied and Link shook his head.
“I agree to help her with her cupcakes and I make her a gingerbread man and she thanks me by threatening to kill me.”
“I did no such thing,” she replied, handing him the knife. It was much easier to spread the pink icing now.
After the gingerbread men (her recreation of him looked far better than his of her), they tried to put the house together, but the walls and roof kept sliding off. Out of frustration, Zelda bit into the iced chimney. A smear of icing was left behind on the corner of her lips. Unthinking, Link reached out to wipe it off. She froze, her face going pink, and he tried to hold it together by giving her a smile.
“You’re a messy eater,” he teased.
“It’s not my fault my cookies are good,” she told him with a huff.
“Can I taste?”
He didn’t know what he expected. Maybe for her to say yes, or shove a cookie into his mouth. Instead, maybe the clock reading past midnight gave her some sort of… he didn’t know, but she leaned forwards and pressed her lips to his, and if he had the capacity to scream, he might’ve. Sure enough, she tasted like icing and gingerbread men, and he lifted a hand to cup her cheek, coaxing her closer.
“How’s it taste?” she asked when they’d parted, but only barely. He could still feel her breath on his lips.
“Very sweet,” he replied, prying his eyes open to look at her.
“My mother always said the quickest way to a man’s heart was through his stomach.”
“So do I have a date to the Winter Fest this year, or..?”
Zelda laughed, letting her forehead fall against his, and Link grinned, his cheeks as pink as the icing on the cookies. She caught his lips again, and he knew with certainty he wouldn’t be leaving any time soon. Thank the Goddess it was a Saturday.