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"Like this, Mama?"
Hilza held up the cord, a blue bead already threaded on. Her fingers were small and clumsy, the thread she was trying to tie them to, already fraying.
"Almost." Midna leaned over and adjusted the bead's position. "Looser. It needs to slide."
"Why?"
"So it fits over your hand."
Hilza nodded solemnly and went back to work. The bed was covered in beads—blue and gold and orange, scattered across the blankets like fallen stars. Link sat against the headboard, a length of twine in his hands, watching them.
"You're not doing anything," Midna said without looking up.
"Am too." He snorts back. He was in a silk palace undershirt, and dark green pajama bottoms that Midna had him made personally. His socks slid over the fine material of the bedsheets that he and Midna had shared last night.
"You're being useless."
"I'm very focused." He defended, a small length of twine in his hands. It was old. From Ordon.
Hilza giggled. She’d struggled to get anymore beads on so Midna had to help her. Most were now Midna’s work, but Hilza was now holding the cord up to the light, examining it with a steely gaze. "This one's for me," she announced.
"It’s great, little princess." Link reached over and ruffled her hair. "What's the occasion?"
Midna's hands stilled on Hilza’s wrist, adjusting the bracelet. "Does there need to be an occasion?"
"No." He watched her fingers resume their work, quick and precise. "Just wondering."
Link grew quiet, braiding lengths of his twine together absentmindedly. Like he did with Epona’s mane. Like with Colin’s hair. His own orange cord. When he finished, he slipped it onto Hilza’s wrist. It fit perfectly.
Hilza beamed held up her own project—a piece of string she’d stolen from the pile and simply tied together at the end. "Look, Papa! I made another one by myself!"
"That's beautiful, sweetheart."
"It's for me too."
"You already have one."
"This one's different." She insisted.
Link looked to Midna. "What about you? Making one for yourself?"
"I have enough." She held up her wrist, already crowded with jewelry. "Besides, I'm the queen. I don't need more."
"Everyone needs more bracelets," Hilza said seriously.
Midna snorted. "Is that so?"
"That's so."
"Then I suppose I'll have to make one after all."
She picked up another cord and Hilza scrambled off Link's lap to watch, small hands reaching for the beads. Link leaned back against the headboard.
"It's very good, Mama," Hilza said, watching her fingers work through a clever array of beads.
"Thank you, baby." Midna didn't look up, but her mouth curved. "Though I think farm boy over there should be making one for me."
"Oh really?"
"Really."
Link smiled, lazy and warm. "I think you'll need to wait until next time for that, Queenie."
Midna slid the finished bracelet onto her wrist—already crowded, always room for one more—and turned to look at Hilza, who was examining her own arms with a critical eye. Then she shifted, pressing herself up into Link's side, and kissed his chin.
"I'm looking forward to it," she murmured.
Link rested his cheek against her hair, bright and soft and smelling of something sweet. Hilza had abandoned the beads entirely now, too busy counting the bracelets on her wrists. Three, so far. She'd have more, eventually. A whole lifetime of them.
"That one," Hilza said, pointing at the simple twine on her wrist, "is my favorite."
"Why's that?" Link asked.
She looked at him like the answer was obvious. "Because I made it."
Midna laughed, and Link felt the sound of it settle somewhere deep in his chest. He closed his eyes, the Twilight around them.