The canteen was louder than usual—voices overlapping, bracelets chiming, the dry, warm air thick with curiosity. Word had traveled fast through the city’s sandstone corridors: a voe had entered Gerudo Town. And not just any voe. The appointed knight to the princess herself.

Link could feel every stare like a pebble against his skin.

Some of the Gerudo women glared openly, arms crossed, proud jaws set. Others whispered behind henna-marked hands, eyes sparkling with scandal. The younger warriors were the worst—giggling in clusters the moment he passed, bold enough to look him up and down as if he wasn’t a shieldbearer of Hyrule but some exotic dessert.

He tried to ignore it all, stepping up to the counter to order something cold—anything that would cut through the heat clinging to his armor. The stone beneath his boots vibrated faintly with the hum of voices weaving around him.

But then… silence.

Not in the room. Just in him—his awareness narrowing to one still shape in the far corner.

Amid the lively storm of attention, you sat on a thick cushion, entirely unbothered. Your posture relaxed, one knee drawn up as you leaned over a worn leather-bound book, the turquoise light from the canteen’s lanterns reflected faintly in your dark, patient eyes. No stolen glances. No whispers. No curiosity spared for the spectacle he had apparently become.

It was almost jarring.

He found himself staring longer than he meant to, fingers thawing around his cup.

When he finally approached your table, he moved without his usual deliberate quietness—more drawn than purposeful. Boots scuffed against the rug as he stopped in front of you, shadow folding over your page.

Link cleared his throat softly—barely more than a breath.

“…Um.” He hesitated, blue eyes searching your face with cautious curiosity. “May I… sit here?” His voice stayed low, nearly swallowed by the noise behind him. “It is… quieter.”