Hello everyone!

Yes, I disappeared, no, I'm not quite okay, it's 3:28am and I don't know what I'm doing wooo so I'm keeping this short. Just know that I had this idea and I really wanted to write it today, or yesterday when I got home. I'm quite pleased.

And yes, I will of course update Antumbra! I need to line and color something before the next chapter can be published, so hang on to your seats. Meanwhile, enjoy this, I'm trying something new

Have fun! xx

Cold As Ice

i: Cerulean

Winter was coming, though they had yet a few weeks to go until it officially started. Most trees were bare to the bark, save for Ordona Province with its lush evergreen trees, and the dead, dry leaves were swept away by the cold wind that came down from the snowy mountains up north, leaving nothing but a faded out grass to give a touch of color to the mostly brown landscape. The harvest that year, thank the Goddesses, had been good and they were blessed with plentiful pumpkins, grains and other stackable vegetables that could last them the duration of the harsh winter and maybe a month more.

The homeless people that were wandering the streets were taken to inside newly built hostels, where they would have warm meals, a bed, clean clothes and a place to shower. The place was still experimental and was scheduled to run for half a year to see if the plan would be fruitful; while some of them appreciated having another roof to sleep under after having lost their own for one reason or another, some were reluctant and would not go – to say they had to use force to take some of them out of the soon-to-be-covered-in-snow streets did not actually mean she was exaggerating, but she would rather have to do that than have to deal with people dying from hypothermia.

Queen Zelda glanced at her nightgown hanging behind the door, fingers instinctively gripping the towel around her shoulders tighter. Getting changed these days was always so much harder and somewhat a challenge for someone like her, especially when she had to stay put for long minutes in the cold morning air while her maidens tightened her corset and ruffled her endless layers of skirts. That was why she liked to get changed by herself immediately after shower – the warm steam of the water made it easier to leave the bathtub, quickly dry herself and slip into her cold, thin satin nightdress that made her feel like she was nude when the winds were howling outside.

She let her brown her down, loose in waves, hoping it would warm her neck and make the chill go away, and with her palms, she pressed her boobs back into her chest, a vain attempt to bring heat into her body. The latter never worked, that she knew, but time and time again she tried, because it never hurt too much to try.

A deep breath and the door swung open, cold air invading her precious bathroom, and Zelda, with arms crossed over her chest, quickly padded towards the big fluffy carpet set before the fireplace, that did not seem like it was lit at all. "I love the cold," she said through clenched teeth, and she really did, but she enjoyed sleeping in the cold weather under heaps and heaps of thick comforters – not all the rest that came with winter. "I love the cold."

Her bare toes curled around the soft material underneath them, and her fingers curled around themselves into loose fists. Her bedroom slippers disappeared well over a month ago and no one had seen them since, and Zelda did not bother having another one be made for one, it was still warm, and two, why kill a sheep just so they could make her a pair of flimsy shoes? Now she regretted it, but she still did not want a sheep to be killed. What a mystery it was, her slippers disappeared without a trace. They might as well have crossed a portal and landed in another dimension. Maybe, maybe Midna was wearing them now.

The thought almost made her lips curl in the corners.

Zelda only bolted for her bed, escaping from the cold and the penetrating thoughts. Sometimes it was best to run than to face what she could not deal with. She could handle Ganondorf, but the mystery that was Link, Midna and what they went through was too much for her. Even now, nearly two years later, nothing was revealed, not to her, not to anyone. She had to come up with a plausible excuse that he agreed to, one that he could bend his truths in favor of her lies, and she told it to her people, let them believe it and let them seek him after half-truths, silly adventure tales and any anecdotes his creative mind could conjure.

She delved under the comforters, buried her face into her pillow and counted her breaths, slow and controlled. Everything she touched was still cool to the touch and it would take a few minutes until they warmed up, but until then, the cold was welcomed, what a surprise. The cold – cold water, cold air, cold touch – always cleared her head.

She would not fall asleep until her feet were warm enough to her likings, anyways.

There were too many intruding thoughts, and she would rather get rid of them before falling asleep; the last thing she wanted was to face these same problems, or people, in her dreams – or nightmares. She resorted to thinking of anything that came to mind: fresh bouquets of flowers on her vanity, something that she would not be seeing in quite a while; Lake Hylia at sunrise, something her blue grey eyes had not seen ever since she was in her late years of childhood; puppies nibbling and pulling at her skirts, when was the last time she played with any animal?

That got her thinking, and not for the first time, how her life would be had she been born a commoner, in a cozy little home by the riverside, running barefooted on the earth and chasing butterflies on the nearby flower patch. What could she have seen when her soul was within Midna's body? If only she could see through her eyes, not only feel faint emotions and hear distorted sounds. Zelda only craved to see all of Hyrule, all of it, not only the most important cities in each province and its neighboring villages, or important farms. She knew neighboring kingdoms better than she knew her own.

A sharp knock on her door rose her from her reverie. The Queen blinked quickly and wiped her fingertips on the underside of her eyes, even if there were no tears to be dried, it was more out of habit, and sat up with a mild displeased look on her face. Still feeling lost after the sudden call late at night, and while she daydreamed about a kingdom that was hers but she never got to see, Zelda pulled away the thick blankets and gingerly placed her bare feet on the freezing stone floor, flinching when a shudder ran up her spine. She stood and slipped a robe over her nightgown, made of a thicker, fluffier material that reminded her of bath towels and the bed she had just left, and then she moved for the door and opened it without further ado.

"Queen Zelda." The poor light provided by the rusty lantern could have made it impossible for anyone to see, but she recognized the person. She would recognize that voice anywhere and his features as well, even if she were blindfolded and had to use her hands to read his face. "I apologize for coming to you so late into the night."

Zelda knew for a fact that she was more in control of her face than she was of her heartrate, which quickened in the blink of an eye. It was a rare occurrence to talk to him – to have a reason to talk to him – and it was even rarer when he, the Hero Chosen by the Gods, willingly came looking for her. Whatever it was that drove him towards her at that moment had nothing to do with his quest, of that much she was sure of. "It is nothing that cannot be forgiven." She felt like shrinking behind the door, or hiding under her bed. She could not control it, she could not control him.

He nodded curtly and lowered the lantern. Zelda was aware that he had already glimpsed inside her bedroom and taken in all that he could in these few seconds that passed since his arrival. "I really hope I am not disturbing you."

She gave him a wry smile; it took great effort, but maybe it was not noticeable after all, she barely felt her lips moving. "Playing nice? That is so unlike you." Link swallowed, and she thought of her toenails going purple thanks to the cold floor. Was she accusing him of something? Not even she could tell, but have him come knock at her door at this godly hour and pretend like all was well really was making her tick.

"I need your help." For a split second, the queen considered being sarcastic. She was cold and sleepy, and this man that treated her like she was not involved in the Twilight Invasion at all was keeping her from satisfying her needs. Maybe all she needed was to punch his face and go to bed, but Zelda only nodded once to show that she was listening. "I would rather have you... See the problem."

She raised an eyebrow, she could not help it. His actions during the invasion earned him access to most rooms of the castle and even his own little house in Castle Town, but sometimes his current attitude made her want to revoke the free pass he had. Still, being the way he was, distant and quiet and unreadable, Link could probably lead her into a dark alley, shove a knife into her stomach and leave her to bleed to death. Zelda did not think he would do it, of course, but he did not talk to her, about anything ever! How would she ever know if he blamed her for anything that happened? For Midna leaving, maybe? For not trying to stop her? There was no telling.

But killing her would not bring the Twilight Princess back.

"Your Majesty?"

Breathe.

"Let me just," she spoke up quickly, just as he made to move in her direction. "Find my shoes."

No glints of a blade were seen under the flames.

Zelda moved away from the door, going for the windows next. After ten seconds of letting her palms resting over the glass, they were cool enough to ease her worries, so she pressed them all over her face as she made way for her closet under the piercing stare of the hero. She put on whatever pair of boots she could find, perhaps they were mismatching, and grabbed the thickest winter coat in sight, then headed out to meet the blond hero. She closed the door of her bedroom and motioned with a hand for him to lead the way when he did not move, and it took a while more for him to even blink.

Link bent his knees so he could place the lantern on the ground and swiftly threw a robe over her form, pulling a hood over her head. Zelda felt like clawing at her own neck and screaming for help. Never had she imagined she would have to conceal herself again, have to hide in the shadows, watch in the sidelines as her people suffered in the hands of a maniac usurper that liked to call himself a king, with a god that was no better than Zelda herself. They were all tainted and impure, but she liked to believe that, thanks to her Wisdom piece, she was clean.

The hero went on ahead, either unaware of her stillness, or he simply did not care.

And she stumbled to follow behind him, the weight of the robe, the guilt, and the memories crashing down and resting on her frail shoulders. Zelda felt so much stronger when she was wearing her golden pauldrons, so much more... Untouchable and... Unbreakable. The stairs of her castle were never a problem, but now they were almost endless, stretching on and on in the darkness, more appearing after every turn. By the time they reached the second floor, she had no idea of where they were and was turning to him blindly, hating that she had to depend on him once again to lead the way.

It was in times like this when she noticed just how bad her guard was, even two years later after the attack. Most were not on post, and those who were, were either snoozing or chatting, save for a few who were really trying to be better and were putting effort into what they were doing. Her courtyards, for most part, were nearly empty. It was more than easy to sneak out through the main gates and go into town.

His house was... Somewhere. Zelda did not actually know where. She knew once, when she cared, when she thought that maybe he would need a hand or someone to talk to. She did not know how it looked like on the outside, much less on the inside, just like all that Link knew and thought of was a secret that he kept from her, as if she would use it against him. So he led her through the streets, streets that she never got the chance to walk through after the reconstruction, not all of them at least, and when a group of drunk people exited a bar and approached them, he slowed down and walked by closer. And when they were far enough to his standards he would go ahead again, like a guiding dog.

Perhaps that was all he was – a dog, still. In his heart, that was all he knew.

Just when she thought she could not take the bite of the cold air no longer, they stopped before a one story house, not that far from the castle, with a perfect view from her bedroom window. How many times did he see her there, she wondered, if he ever cared to look up? By now, she was convinced it was such an inconvenience to him.

He motioned her in with a sweep of his hand, and inside she went, immediately discarding the robe and hanging it on the first hanger she could find. Zelda was tired of wringing her hands, yet she could not stop it; she had to do something or else she might run outside screaming at the top of her lungs to relieve some of her anxiety. Link loosened the dark scarf around his neck and hung the lantern by the door, and walked away, probably to get some candles or something. Zelda was just glad that he did not indeed try to kill her – what a surprise it would have been if he did – and was left to look around in the dark until he lightened the first candle.

The first thing she saw were three cats sitting in line, one tabby, one grey, and one black, staring straight at her.

"Do you collect cats or something?"

"I take them out of the streets," he replied as if he did not really want to give her an answer, but if the Hero Chosen by the Gods climbed down of his almighty throne to seek her help, then he would have to play by her rules.

"How nice of you," Zelda meant it nicely, but perhaps it sounded more deadpanned or emotionless than intended. Still better than sarcastic.

More three candles were lit and he went around placing them on random pieces of furniture to lighten up the place. The second thing she noticed, after that his house was not in a disarray state as she had believed, as if a hurricane had come through the front door and left through the back, was the object half concealed by a couch. "Is that my slipper?"

Link cringed. No one would ever guess that their queen could hit such high notes when caught by surprise; not even when – well. Her layers of clothes shuffled loudly as she went to retrieve her missing slipper, only the left foot, which was bitten all over and was gross with cat saliva. "This is yours?"

"Yes!" She answered, almost aggravatedly, looking at him from over her shoulder with barely pinched eyebrows. That was the closest to anger that he had ever seen her wearing. "Yes, it is, it has been missing for weeks now." Zelda fully turned to face him, anger and confusion dancing within her, but the anger spoke louder, and she did not know why she was angry to begin with. She just was. "Had I known that you were housing a couple of little bandits I would have– what?" Her words were cut short when more two cats popped out of nowhere, both as white as snow, and joined the other three. The queen sputtered for a moment, trying to find the right words as the hero showed for the first time what seemed to be something other than a better-than-you complex and scratched the back of his head sheepishly, and she simply repeated, "Do you collect cats or something?"

"Can we focus for a moment?" Zelda would have taken him seriously had another cat just jumped from somewhere and landed on his unruly blond hair. They were six now! Link was careful as he picked the orange stripped feline from his head and placed it on the floor by its equals, murmuring under his breath, "Not now, Sera, papa's doing important things." Now that was amusing, and she really wanted to grin, or at least let her lips twitch a little, but as much as that was funny, she could not give herself that luxury.

So Zelda laced her fingers before her navel and squared her shoulders, and let him recompose himself before speaking. "And what is this problem you were talking about?"

The problem responded by itself. On cue, a shrill cry echoed from the back of the house, a desperate wail, loud enough to make the cats scatter and hide behind the furniture. Link disappeared into the hallway and inside a room, shushing noises coming from where he had gone, and Zelda backed away until her hips touched the couch and a hand rested on top of her wildly beating heart. There was too much to think about, too little time to process. The cry was not ceasing and her breathing was only getting quicker. Known and nameless faces appeared in her mind, a list of possible people, reasons, explanations, excuses, truths, lies.

He sought her help. Would he tell her the truth or would he keep things from her just as he always did? Could she trust him in this? There were far too many doubts that should not be there, but Link was Link and he did not seem to like to make things easy for her. But if he sought her... Then he trusted her.

Finally silence, and Link emerged from the way he came from, a noticeable bundle cradled in his arms. Zelda had her back turned to him so she did not actually see it, but she could picture it, and the look on his face, that apprehensive look that would seem so odd on someone so hardened like him now. She could ask so many things, so many easier, simpler questions that he could give easy, simple answers to, but instead all she managed to whisper was:

"Whose child is this?"

Post Chapter Notes

- I'll admit that I thought a lot about Game of Thrones talking about so much about winter (and a bit of north). Just help me, my feet are freezing it's cold!

- Link, the cat hoarder. I wanted to do that for a while now

- the original name of the story was Ice Cold, but then I remembered that song and I didn't want it to become a meme lmao