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It doesn’t take much to break her will, she thinks. Standing in that vast expanse.
She gnaws at her lip and hopes that, if she gnaws hard enough that it starts to bleed, she’ll find a remnant of that overly concerned boy from a century ago. The crease between his eyebrows was just noticeable enough for her to stop and smooth them over with a simple graze. But that was asking for too much given everything that she had already forced onto him. So she relents from asking him to be that same boy. If only she had more courage to face it. Them. This. Maybe then.
Then again, Link was the Triforce of Courage—not her.
Though she wasn’t feeling very wise now, either… so guess that left her with nothing.
That’s why she’s back here. At Dueling Peaks Stable. Not at Hateno Village. A thousand paces away from her assigned knight. A million breaths away from him. Refusing to back down.
No. Not that.
Moping.
The buzz of the two travelers, who she recognized were there taking shelter at the stable—she had been there for five days or so now—didn’t fall on deaf ears. For how far along they were from her, she was surprised she could understand them with such clarity.
But it was a quieter day than most. The hum of Sheikah Technology had fully lost their sound. The celebratory attitude most passersbys were sporting from the defeat of Calamity had also finally droned out. It had been five months since that fateful day. One hundred fifty two days, three hours, and seven minutes since. She kept count.
It was hard not to remember. Given everything that came after.
Though she thinks she can get used to this. The promise of fresh air. A long glimpse of green, green fields. Her moving freely with the liberty of just another traveler. It was nice to hear gossip from the people around her that hadn’t anything to do with her.
She laughed freely then. When one of the many clientele of the stables had called her over and asked out of curiosity: “D’you think he’s got a stick up his ass?” Pointing towards another drunken customer, steaming with fury over his advances being turned down by the innocent lady cleaning the room.
“Surely.” Zelda responds in kind, brought to laughter by the woman’s crude language.
She was leaving that same night, apparently. Something about getting to finally visit her other family in Lurelin. Had been stuck up north in Akkala for a long while, given the roaming guardians and multiplying monsters and all. Didn’t really think she’d ever get the chance to travel much farther again without worrying about being ambushed from behind.
“I’m truly grateful to Her Highness and Link, in that regard.” Jana, as she had introduced herself, smiles gingerly. There’s warmth in her tone as though these legends truly were worth celebrating.
“You know Link?” Zelda inquires, surprised at the familiarity upon which she mentioned his name.
“Why? You know him?” Jana shoots back, crossing her legs and moving to lean her elbow on the table. She gives Zelda a suggestive look, raising one brow up in mirth. Zelda goes flush red and kicks Jana gently in retaliation, causing Jana to snicker childishly.
“Made his acquaintance before—not much else to say, unfortunately.” Even the lie is harrowing on her tongue, but she toughs it out and swallows the bile forcing its way out.
Jana nods, suspicious, but decides not to pry.
“I ran into him once or twice. A great help, really. Managed to make my little sister happy for me.” She grins, pointing to a bed by the corner where a little girl is sprawled out on the mattress, snoring blissfully. It’s adorable. “Bit too heroic and impish for me, but the kids back at Tarrey Town love him.”
But that’s a name she doesn’t recognize.
“Tarrey Town?” Zelda echoes quizzically.
Jana blinks, looking at her, “haven’t been?”
To which Zelda frowns. More out of confusion than anything.
“New settlement up by Akkala,” she supplies, “Link helped with construction, I heard. Again. Good kid. Always seemed a bit lost though—never understood why.”
Zelda’s left surprised at this. She had visions. Sometimes. Of what Link was up to. None that she could remember vividly, but she thought she had a clear enough idea of his adventure… But building a town?
“And Her Highness?” Zelda attempts in order to resume the conversation.
“Heard she was a bit stuck up.”
“Yeah?” Zelda surprises herself by giggling at the comment. “Link said that?”
“Link?” Jana snorts in good humor, “Hylia, no. As if that boy could ever say a negative word about her. I was this close to tearing my ear off with how much that guy rattled on and on about her. Just some old rumor of time. The elderly love talking about menial gossip from history.”
Zelda allows her thoughts to dwell for a while. Unsure.
“Not that their old-fashioned chides matters though. That brave princess saved all our damn lives.”
She desperately wants to believe her.
And that's when that recollection of yesterday evening stops as another chitter from behind replaces her trance. She’s reminded she’s still standing there. In that ancient reminder of old.
‘Is she okay?’ Zelda hears when she wakes up from her idleness, followed by a cautious, ‘should we call out to her?’
Zelda can’t help but think it's sweet how worried they were on her behalf. They shouldn’t be though. Maybe if she jumps them, they’ll turn right back around. Head their merry way back to the stables. Though that wouldn’t be very dignified of her to do.
It would be one hell of a laugh though.
‘She’s been standing there for how many hours now—and look at how dim the sky is turning! It’s surely going to rain soon…’
It was turning rather cloudy, Zelda hummed in agreement. She hadn’t thought about where to go next though. So she keeps herself rooted in that spot. Maybe if she prayed hard enough another miracle would occur here. But that was asking for too much.
She wants to force the irritation welling in her throat down on something. Anything. Zelda can’t ascertain whether or not the guardian lying motionless in front of her is the same one that took everything from her so she broods. Clenches her hands tightly around a small pebble by her feet and aims directly at its core.
Clink!
The pebble just drops.
Well, that was a pretty pathetic display.
‘I’ll go and check on her.’
Right. They were still talking about her. For pretty good reason, she admits, feeling a drop of rain hitting her cheek. Yes. Time to retreat. Hide back at the stables for another day. Brace for the cold weather she hadn’t fully prepared for.
Drat.
She had forgotten to buy a coat. Something warm. Anything to shelter her for what was about to be another storm.
“Let’s go back in.” A gentle hand on her shoulder urges her to turn around and face the voice. It was a girl. Young. Sweet. Probably around her age a century ago. She had the most concerned look on her face and the manner in which her eyebrows scrunch together remind her of another blond boy.
Her heart just about breaks in two.
How could she worry a stranger so much for them to come fetch her from her stupor.
“Oh—It’s okay. Let’s… Let’s go back.”
— ✧ —
Four or so months back in the lands of Hyrule, Zelda spent most of her time withering away in Kakariko Village. It was an art. Refraining from slinking away to less boring stuff than waiting and recovering. And what she wanted to do right now was anything but rest.
Hylia, she slept for twenty-one days after coming back from fighting Calamity Ganon.
She scared Impa half to death when she didn’t even so much as open her eyes once in those days. How she managed to survive without so much as eating or drinking, she had no clue. What a picky Goddess.
The past months had been her being attended to by her companions like a fragile doll. She wasn’t allowed to stand. No contest. If she so much as tried to, Link was back to her side chaperoning her back to the bed.
Therefore, as you can imagine, the last thing on her mind right now was going back to rest.
Decidedly, she rose from the very uncomfortable position she had on the bed and made her way down. Paya, the sweet kid, was kind enough to offer up her bed for the duration of her stay. Of course, Zelda vehemently denied the bed but Paya was just so nice and it was impossible to refuse her doe eyes and Goddesses help her if she was too tired to have a fighting chance.
So the morning of, when she finally feels as though her body won’t fold on herself at the slightest bit of disturbance, she makes her way down. Hungry, maybe. Looking for company, more probably.
One hell of a task it was, making her way down the stairs without making a sound.
She recognizes the voice of Link and Impa discussing matters downstairs. It sounded important, if their rushed and heightened tone were anything to go by. Zelda was walking into a battlefield, and the last thing she was expecting to get on her way down was a full on epiphany.
They were talking about her.
“Look. I don’t recognize her, Impa.” He palms his hair back in frustration, there’s irritation in his voice and Zelda’s body enters fight-or-flight at the hostility she didn’t know she couldn’t take from him. Her feet stood frozen on that flight of stairs, horrified one of them would notice her from their peripheral.
“Look at her,” he pleads, desperation in his voice.
“Goddesses, she doesn’t even know who I am.” He’s grasping for straws, hands clenched and itching to reach for the sword at his side like a lifeline. “It’s maddening,” he sobs.
And it’s horrible to see. She had spent the past four months thinking they were doing good—great even! Wishing—hoping—they could at least be friends. One step back. Zelda was sick. Another retreating step further up. She was going to gag. She beelines up that flight of stairs.
She thought they could still go back to what was.
“Link.” Impa’s tone is harsh, imposing.
Clearly, she wasn’t getting that now. Go figure. Now that she’s standing there, haunted, she hasn’t a clue what to do next.
Zelda burns with shame. Each word feels like an arrow to her chest and she just stands there taking it in. Doesn’t know if she wants to sink further down into bed or make a break outside while they are none the wiser.
He sighs in defeat, aggravated because he knows there’s no arguing Impa over this matter. No matter what he does.
“I’ll take her to Hateno.”
And it hurts because she’s back to kneeling on those damned cobblestone floors feeling like a damn liability.
Her vision is hazy and blurry and so painful and she feels like the world closes in on her as pulls herself up together because the last thing she wants is them realizing she’d been listening in on their conversation like a fool. The last thing she wants to do now after a century of being apart from those who remain is explode. She’s tired of fighting. Tired of a lot of things.
Today, she shuts her mouth, heads back up in relative quiet, and rests.
They leave for Hateno the next day.
— ✧ —
“Will you be heading out then?” Aryll’s bright, beady eyes bring much needed joy to Zelda’s morning. Packing has always been rather tedious, hence Aryll’s company being plenty welcome. Especially when there was no one else to talk to. What that sentiment means for her whole solo endeavor around Hyrule is something she folds neatly and places in the back of her mind.
“I have imposed here for a while now,” Zelda affirms, “The rain’s already let up, and I can’t tell if Tasseren’s eyeing me because he thinks I have been scaring off his customers or if he thinks I have overstayed my welcome.” It could honestly be a bit of both at this point. Rumor is there’s a pale ghost haunting the fields ever since the fall of Calamity.
Now the gossip was back to the topic of her, but it wasn’t about her. So that has to amount to something.
“Can’t have him thinking too negatively of me now, can I?”
“You’re a paying customer, aren’t you?” She huffs.
“I’ve been an awful one, at that.”
Aryll frowns but that doesn’t deter Zelda from shoving her clothes in her bag. Well. What little of it there is. She counts the remaining outerwear she has and immediately regrets running off without having bought more. But she hadn’t had the means to afford it. So, her need to leave preceded her good judgment and she will just have to accept the consequences of that life.
“Is this all you have?” Aryll buffaws, taking a dress from her bag and displaying it in the air for all of everyone to see. She inspects it, not even meticulously might Zelda add, before throwing it off somewhere to the side in careless disregard. “Hey!” Zelda stumbles, tripping over herself to catch the thrown apparel. Aryll deadpans.
“What?” Zelda can’t help but turn defensive. No matter how underprepared (an understatement) she was for the weather, Aryll can’t just throw away her dress! Much less while they’re in the stable with people watching. Most of them look on in amusement and Zelda brings a hand to shield her face in embarrassment.
“You are going to freeze out there, Tetra!”
Zelda goes by Tetra now too, apparently. Because too many people would care if she had been Zelda, but no one would bat an eye if she were anyone else. It’s also a pretty good way to shake the Yiga off your tail. Not that they would even recognize her if they tried.
She’s worse off. She doesn’t command the room she walks into anymore. She’s smaller, battered. Her eyes are too sunken to be that of a Goddess. She cut her hair now too. It was devastating, really. It was her only remaining connection with her mother too; nights where she’d be too afraid of her destiny that her mother would spend the night in her room, combing and braiding her hair until she fell asleep.
Now, she thinks it’s better for her too. A fresh start. Not until Impa and the rest find her, and definitely not until she’s needed back in the courts. Until then, she can play pretend.
“You don’t know that!” She feigns hurt and Aryll just gives her a pointed look.
Zelda does, in fact, know that Aryll’s right. And it was pretty senseless of her to even try and convince them both otherwise.
“Okay, fine.” She relents, brows furrowed in flush embarrassment. Her hands are raised up in the air like it's some major crime not to sport warmer apparel. “But it’s not like I have anything else to wear. There isn’t a clothing shop until the next town, Aryll.”
Mind you, it took Zelda a whole 13 days from Hateno Village to Dueling Peaks Stable without a horse. And that was a tiring trek. She couldn’t take another trip without getting a horse… Not that she was in any financial capacity to get one, she would just find it rather helpful.
“It’s like you don’t remember how freezing it usually is this time of the year.” Aryll murmurs, going through more of Zelda’s stuff. She doesn’t know how to explain that—yes, she doesn’t—so she just mumbles some incoherent nonsense about coats and the exorbitant price inflation in Hyrule.
A scam is what it is.
Aryll finds nothing worth of note in Zelda’s bag and scurries off to rummage hers instead. Her steps are loud and striking and Zelda wishes she could command a bit of that confidence into her life. She starts regretting her thoughts however when Aryll’s clothes start flying in all directions.
“Aryll!” Zelda scolds, “you’re making a mess.”
“Oh, live a little!” she chastises from inside her bag, head plunged in a multitude of fabric and thread. She comes out from the bag grinning devilishly, and Zelda feels a chill rush down her spine.
“These,” Aryll plucks the remaining of Zelda’s clothing and hurls them to the bin, “disposal.” Zelda wails, attempting a sorry excuse at catching her clothes. Those were Paya’s! Oh Farore. She’s going to faint at the hands of this girl. Aryll rolls her eyes at Zelda’s annoyed pout.
“Have these instead,” she extends over ten dresses and five coats in her direction and Zelda ends up catching them in shock as Aryll drops them haphazardly. Aryll looks over her shell-shocked face and lets out a deep breath.
“Look, I don’t want you freezing out there, Tetra.” And Zelda’s shoulder slump, because she can’t even contest this kindness being offered to her from someone who just met her the day before. She lowers down to Zelda’s level, taking one of the coats from the tall pile and wrapping it around Zelda’s shoulders.
“You know, my dream was always to become a seamstress.” She laments, carefully tying the ribbon around my neck.
It’s warm.
“Well, aren’t you pretty?”
“…I’m grateful, Aryll. Truly” Zelda’s never been more honest in her life. There’s a small knot in her chest because the gears are turning in her head but she can’t fully comprehend why she feels so much for this gentle soul.
“I just don’t understand why you would do this for me.”
“I don’t know,” Aryll utters, a bit conflicted. Zelda understands. Instead, she envelopes Arryl’s hand in hers and offers some comfort.
“You just really reminded me of someone.”
— ✧ —
He owns a house.
Oh.
She’s surprised when the fact sinks in. Again, another vision she hadn’t properly made out when she was… there. The house isn’t grandiose or anything, not that he was the type to enjoy extravagance. There was a small loft where his bed lay and everything else downstairs. A kitchen with too many utensils and apparatus than she knows to use.
That she recognizes, from what remained since then: his passion for cooking.
It warms her heart and crushes it at the same time.
“It’s nice… Homey.” Zelda muses.
Then her eyes drift off to the side and she finds it. On display. The Champion’s weapons. It's all sitting there on display. Untouched. Unused. And the bile makes its way back to her throat. Bubbling. Burning. She’s confused. What are those doing there? She wants to ask. Are you toying with me? Is this a joke? What horrible mockery is this?
Link seems to realize the lack of Zelda’s voice filling the room, so he follows her gaze as his sight lands on the weapon display.
“Oh,” he breathes, reaching for her wrist and bringing her closer. She wants to resist him, really—truly. But he was so kind and so warm and she was just about to crumble into dust if nobody kept her together right now so she swallows an escaping sob and trembles like a child in his arms.
“I thought you would want to keep their legacy alive,” he whispers softly under his breath. They lock eyes and Zelda is more confused than ever. She doesn’t know what to make of him. Doesn’t know how to differentiate this caring Link from the exasperated one she saw at Kakariko Village. What to make of this boy she used to know from head to toe and now can’t even decipher.
Zelda doesn’t know what he wants from her and it's tearing her apart more and more everyday, and she doesn’t know how to convey that without asking him to bore a hole in her own heart.
Times like this, Zelda can’t help but resent Hylia for making her life a living hell. Had she just answered her prayer months earlier there needn’t be a Calamity to quell. There wouldn’t have been thousands of people dead and six feet under. Her friends wouldn’t have sacrificed themselves just for her to be the only remaining champion of that century.
Link wouldn’t have died saving her, just for her stupid powers to activate then, and leave him a ghost—a person so divorced from his history.
And she wouldn’t have to be the bad guy that wants so dearly for him to be that person from before…
She was dying inside. Slowly. Surely. Because how could she ever ask Link to be anything else than who he is now? Happy, loud, childish, mischievous and so devoid of the same malice that corrupts her.
So she steels her resolve.
If not for him, then because she loves him too much to be a thorn at his side.
— ✧ —
To be quite frank, Zelda had little clue as to where she was planning to go. Getting to Dueling Peaks Stable was one thing, knowing where to go next was another. Her game plan was pretty simple: Head over to a stable. Get a horse. Explore Hyrule.
Zelda frowns.
Easier said than done, is what it is.
Okay, maybe she hadn’t fully thought this through.
Which was shocking, because Zelda had always been a planner. Had an itinerary for every day of the week, every week of the month, every month of the year and so on. She was supposed to be a goal-oriented person.
She hadn’t the funds to afford a horse, so she’s back to moving on foot and she'd be lying if she said that her legs weren’t on fire from the constant hike. Every step felt like walking on a bed of nails—lava—an aggregate of everything unholy. She had been comatosed for four months prior for Hylia’s sake. She isn’t in proper condition to travel on foot for how many more miles.
Of course, Zelda was in much better clothes to be moving on the road thanks to Aryll’s generosity but she fears that being warm isn’t enough to keep her sane. Still, she keeps moving forward out of sheer pride.
She’s halfway through her journey to Riverside Stable and she sure as hell wasn’t giving up now. It’s the next nearest stable and she isn’t that fond of setting up camp and sleeping outside given she was alone. There’s still a few monsters littering around Hyrule, though not as merciless in number as before.
Ever since they defeated Calamity, the Blood Moons stopped occurring so there weren't many monsters left to roam the area. The only remaining job is to handle the rest of them. Hence, her confidence to walk around unguarded.
Impa would collapse on her poor brittle knees at the thought.
On the other hand, Purah would have a field day.
Of course she was still pretty cautious, though she must have been doing something right because so far she was still intact.
She digs from her bag what little food she managed to scavenge from out and about. Five apples and six berries.
Eh. Good enough.
Then something dreadful happens:
Her leg full on cramps.
“Bloody fucking Hylia.”
She’s choking on her spit when she winces from the pain and crumples in on her leg. The sharp pain is so agonizing she’s hissing like a madman. It takes what feels like over ten hours for the pain to subside and even then her calf is still so damn sore that she looks like a bokoblin hobbling over to a tree for support.
“Farore, save me from my incompetence.”
“Need help?”
And just like that day, Zelda’s back to fight-or-flight.
— ✧ —
She finds that resolve a day later.
It was a pleasant morning. She had slept relatively fine, (not a blink of sleep) so her frayed nerves weren’t thumping relentlessly against her skull. A calming chirp is sung by the windowsill, giving the house some much needed white noise. The sun was still scorching, but it wasn’t unbearable then.
Zelda blows on her spoon. Once. Twice. Until she regards the soup as warm enough to not burn her tongue. Sip. Swallow. Repeat.
“I’m dismissing you from your post.“
His duty. His being. His whole point of existence. Though that wasn’t a very fair statement coming from her. She never should’ve been his sole reason for anything. But, then again, Hylia wasn’t a very fair Goddess was she?
But that’s an unfair solace to give to him now, because what can she do? He’s spent his whole life serving her. Serving her until he died. Then lived. Brought back to life to serve her once more. Spent a whole century in a comatose she was never sure he would wake from. Just to be sent back to the forefront of battle.
“I’m sorry?” He balks.
She looks down at her plate. It feels wrong of her to do this at breakfast. His favorite time of the day. He was practically beaming waiting for her to wake up from bed (which he had lent her) just to have breakfast. The table was practically overflowing with how much food he had prepared. It pained her to admit that most of these dishes were her favorite. Of course it would be.
But if her resolve falters now, then this conversation would never come later.
Zelda offers a glimpse his way to find him frozen, stuck to his chair, forehead knitted too harshly.
Her eyes shoot straight back down to her food.
It was easier to pretend to focus on eating.
Make the blow easier.
For him.
For her.
“I’m dismissing you.”
And if her pitch is slightly off—or if her enunciation is weird then he doesn’t register it because he’s staring off to somewhere she doesn’t recognize.
One beat.
Two beats.
Three—
The bite of fruitcake refuses to go down her constricting throat.
She drinks from her glass and raises her head.
Accidentally makes eye contact.
He’s staring right through her.
“Okay.”
His stark reply.
And instantly, her demeanor turns hostile.
But it’s unfair that she’s the one who’s frustrated, because she knows he’s bothered. She was there to hear it for Goddesses’ sake.
She wants to rip the hair out of her head because it's so painfully obvious that his mind is racing. His forehead is scrunched. His heart is racing against his chest. His face is flushed red in rage. His jaw is clenched and he won’t lift a single finger! And the fact he won’t admit it irritates her because she wants him to be angry! Her mind is screaming: Lash out! Be mad! Curse me out! Get even!
He looks at her like he wants her to say it was just a silly joke.
It was funny then. Lots funnier now.
“Okay.” she repeats, more to herself than him.
It feels like a punch to the gut. Knocking the air out of her. Knocking her entire existence over. She’s crumbling and he doesn’t even know he’s done this to her. She feels her legs trembling, on the verge of giving in. It’s as though all her senses are failing her.
He’s lived a very selfless life and she’s done nothing but take and take and take from him. And it annoys her—incredibly so. Does he not have it in himself to be angry? At her? At Hylia? At everything he had to endure just because he was born with a name and a legacy he didn’t ask for?
And she can’t believe she has the decency to be mad, especially after starting this whole encounter thinking she had the high road. Why was she mad? Why does him not caring to be just as angry at his circumstances make her mad? If he could be the bigger person, what does that leave her out to be? The asshole?
Zelda feels her breath hitch. It’s uncomfortable. Everything’s uncomfortable. Her body is slick with sweat, sticking to every part of her skin. Her clothes are rubber, grasping her tightly and closing in on her. She feels more sensitive to the blazing heat radiating off the sun. It’s bright and overstimulating and she feels every bead of sweat as a sensory overload rolling off her skin.
It’s uncomfortable.
She’s uncomfortable. The sweltering heat. The clothes. She wants to take it off.
Off. Off. Off. Off.
Her hair sticks to her nape.
Off. Off. Off. Off.
It’s hard to breathe.
Off.
Her skin is itchy.
Everything—Off—Take it off.
So she does that thing she’s always been good at.
Run away.
— ✧ —
Three months.
That’s how long Zelda thought time would pass before either Impa or the Yiga got to her.
It takes four weeks.
And it wasn’t even Impa or those little Banana-obsessed cronies that found her.
Well, that’s humiliating.
“Need help?” Is his arrogant offer, and she feels the blood rush up her ears. He’s watching her over from the side of the road, scanning her from head to toe. Link looks as lively as ever, she supposes. His eyes are still strikingly blue and decisively entertained by her predicament.
Asshole. How long had he been watching?
Her back straightens in impulse as though he wasn’t there to watch the whole thing play out. She bites her lower lip, wondering how she could outmaneuver him in this case. (She can’t.) It was worth a try. (It really wasn’t.)
Ever the dreamer, Zelda makes an effort to move from her leaning position and immediately regrets it as her whole leg convulses and she ends up crumpling like a piece of paper on the tree. Now she was making an even bigger fool of herself, she guarantees.
“The offer still stands,” Link hovers over Zelda this time, that same piercing stare from before. The scowl on her face deepens, because she can’t read him at all this time. And it suddenly feels like a century ago where she would’ve done anything to get him out of her vicinity.
“I’m gracious for the offer.” Zelda calms her nerves, feeling her trampled pride drown out the soreness of her leg. “But I can handle myself.” She regains her composure, dusting off the dirt and leaves on her dress as she finally manages to stand up properly.
Though she still winces when she accidentally places all her weight on one leg.
At this, Link’s guard lowers.
“Zelda,” his voice rings so clearly in her head, which just about stabs her in the chest. Because this is the first time since forever that he’s called her just that. Zelda.
Her stomach churns and she fights the urge to let out a visceral scream. Her mouth clamps shut. She’s back to being rooted at her feet.
“I don’t—I don’t understand? Did I do something wrong?” He actually sounds so pained that her resolve falters just a tad bit. She turns to give him the attention he so desperately calls for and she’s going to vomit. “Zelda, what is going on?”
“Consider it self-exploration,” she replies noncommittally. Even though every inch of her body just wanted to give in. “Now, would you mind leaving me alone?”
“Why should I have to do what you say?” He fusses over Zelda, furrowing a brow. It frustrates her because she knows he’s being irritating on purpose. (No he wasn’t.) Riling her up. (He had always been too kind for that.) “You’re no longer my charge.”
“Like that stopped you previously?” She glowers, and she jumps at the bitterness of her voice, surprised by her own animosity.
“…Should it have?” He’s confused. Hurt. He doesn’t even have those memories to begin with, yet here Zelda was, using it against him like a bargaining chip. Her arms go limp and remorse envelops her. Guilt for everything she’s ever done up until this point. What contrition could she even offer for her wrongs.
“I…” she suddenly whispers, “I don’t know.”
She turns her back—moves to continue on her trail.
“Does Impa know?”
“...”
“Does Impa know?”
“You aren’t above that, Link.”
And that seems to shut him up.
“I have a horse.”
Or not.
“Link—”
“Please.”
Zelda exhales indignantly because she has to at least give him one thing to be left alone with her devices for a while. And even that was temporary.
“Okay.”
She thinks that has to be the remainder of what he has to say. And for the next two hours, it is.
The sun is slowly setting, and she hates to admit it but she’s grateful to finally have a ride because her feet were killing her. She reckons they were chafed red from her long trip. They pass the Forest of Time without as much as a hitch, until hunger washes over her and her stomach rumbles (loud) much to her chagrin.
How humiliating.
Link looks off to his side and rummages for the Sheikah Slate, pulls out a rice ball and hands it over to Zelda. She doesn’t even bother with her pride, buzzing a simple thank you, as she just graciously accepts a real meal for once. Something she hasn’t had in four weeks.
Unfortunately, it's Link she has to thank for that.
She was just about ready to let silence wash over their journey again, when he speaks up.
“You cut your hair.” He brings up.
“Yes, I did,” Zelda avers, taking a bite of her food. It was delicious.
“Why?”
“The heat.”
As if that were a good enough explanation.
“Oh,” he frowns.
Really, what is he trying at? It’s hard to tell because his back is turned to her.
“It’s nice.” Like it's a consolation.
Now that just sets her off.
“Link, why are you here?” She’s back to that girl one hundred years ago—easily irritable and constantly vexed. She just doesn’t get it. He was so desperate to get rid of her at Kakariko’s and now he’s sulking in front of her as though they both don’t realize the bigger issue plaguing their relationship.
“You forgot your coat,” was his sheepish excuse. “It’s getting cold.”
“Well, I’m doing quite fine on that front,” she gestures to her outfit, “as you can see.”
“I see that.” His eyes dart down to her new apparel, and he goes soft. “Oh.”
They stand their ground for four long beats. Unrelenting and unwilling to back down. She watches minutely as the real question dances wildly in his thoughts, forming on his tongue. Wishing he would just blurt it out already so that they could get on with it.
“I just don’t understand, Zelda.” His voice is pitch quiet, mind racing with a billion thoughts, “why are you doing this—to me?”
That should be Zelda’s line, she laughs bitterly. Because she thinks she’s finally done what he wanted to be done and now he’s showing up and making an even bigger mess of her head because she’s so confused by this current progression. What was the point of letting him go if he was just going to come back into her life and throw her off from her sense of stability?
Here she was. With the knight she just dismissed—with the love of her life. On his horse. Being brought to Wetland Stables.
And if it stings because he doesn’t want her, never mind that.
And if it's taking all of her strength and composure to not break down right here and right now, then sure, she can handle that.
And if you call her out for being a big, callous liar for it, she doesn’t really care.
But she’s tired of being angry.
She’s just so, so, exhausted.
“...Is it because I’m not him?”
That stirs her awake.
“What—pardon?” she stutters. Nonplussed. Petrified.
“Is it because I’m not him?” He repeats, as though the reason for Zelda’s confusion was having misheard him. It wasn’t, obviously. Exasperation flares from within.
“Drop me off.”
“What?”
“I’m moving independently from this point forward,” she insists. “Drop me off.”
The horse abruptly stops.
“What?” He flinches, turning his upper body to face her as much as he can. His eyes glaze over her, stone cold and furious. “Absolutely not. I refuse.”
“Link, stop being difficult. You can’t confine me like this,” Zelda says, unslinging her bag from the saddle. “You aren’t meant to be here. Go home. Go back to Hateno.” Get away from me, is what she thinks. She’s already halfway down Link’s horse. ”This is where we part ways.”
He grips her forearm tightly, tethering her.
“No. It’s not. We aren’t doing this, Zelda,” he hisses, voice more accusatory than he had intended. He feels it swell in him—pent up confusion and resentment over her stubborness—overflowing and bursting at the seams—and he breaks.
“I’m not going to continue and pretend like there’s nothing wrong with us anymore. At least give me a reason to let you go. Do you loath my presence that badly? Does my face haunt you? Does it—does it paralyze you? How I’m parading around with the visor of your Link from a century ago?”
He doesn’t get it. Why she’s torturing him like this? Is it because he’s a sorry excuse of a memory? A copy she can’t recognize? It’s horrible. It makes his vision swim—makes his stomach lurch. It pisses him off. How easily she’s just standing there like his company wasn’t worth anything to her.
How long is he supposed to toe along the line of being some other person and his own?
Living in constant dread that one wrong move—one wrong recollection of his and she’ll end up leaving him on his own. He can’t—doesn’t know how to handle that. Doesn’t know how to compose himself around her; knowing one misremembered grin of his is enough to paint her face with horror.
What was he supposed to do?
Let her keep driving this wedge between them?
“Goddesses, Zelda. Just tell me.” He pleads, helpless.
He feels her wilt and knows he’s done it. Broken what's left of her pride. But she was cutting him down piece by piece. His vision swims with rage. He’s angry at himself—at her—at everything. His high vanishes into thin air and the only emotion left to settle in the heavy atmosphere is disappointment.
What was he doing…
Zelda drops her bag on the ground and Link notices—senses her trembling; she’s afraid. Link knows that if he kept prodding hard enough for her to relent then he would have her.
He would have her.
Her mouth is dry, parched. The conversation was going to happen inevitably, she knew that. She bites her lip, unable to swallow down her words. The wind was colder than ever and she was one breeze away from tumbling down and down and down this rabbit hole.
He had her.
And he feels like such a bastard for doing this to her.
His hands itch and he doesn’t know what to do with them. He has to grasp something. Needs something concrete to hold onto. He’s aggravated to do something with himself and he doesn’t know how to rectify that bugging feeling. The master sword is buzzing—calling to him—and he’s so close to reaching out for it out of sheer desperation.
“I heard you, back then,” is her quiet admission.
“I’m sorry?”
“Back at Kakariko,” it takes every fiber of her being to open her heart.
“What are you talking about?”
Zelda laughs mournfully, not knowing whether him forgetting that day was more painful or not. A knife twists her insides.
“The day before leaving for Hateno,” she persists, “What you and Impa were saying. I heard all of it.” She remembers his frustration with her then. The words he had tucked away in the corner of his heart. The deeply embedded self-conflict he couldn’t bring to admit to Zelda. His furrowed brow. His hand on his sword. His desperate plea.
She can’t endure this any longer.
But her feet linger.
Stuck.
Rooted.
The only other thing she’s good for.
She needs to find her determination. Fast. Quickly. Before that heavy tear wells from her eyes, threatening to fall. Before this hopelessness settles in. Before the overwhelming flurry of emotions building up in her throat gives out and she forgets to breathe.
“So, I hope,” she snaps, feeling the biting cold translate to her words in poor taste, before deflating, “that if you feel even the least bit of compassion for me—that if you have any semblance of respect for what little there is left of my dignity.” She’s such a disgrace, she realizes. Standing there. Whimpering like a child. Letting that crawling guilt stew and manifest into an ugly, malicious outrage. “You would be so kind as to understand my temper and move along.”
Her throat bleeds.
His words evade him.
Zelda’s pitiful laugh escapes from her chest in a blubber. She’s broken. She’s a hazard. She’s a walking calamity and it has to be virulent because the man standing in front of her shrinks and shrinks and shrinks until he mirrors her miserable frame.
“That—that wasn’t—you didn’t get the full picture, Zelda.” Link stammers, stumbling over his words and looks more like that boy more than ever.
“Then go on, explain it to me,” she suppresses a sob, “How else was I supposed to comprehend that? Not when your resentment was so horribly obvious? Not when you were practically one foot out the door?”
“Link, to be quite frank, I’m becoming rather cross with you—” Every syllable felt like a deadweight being placed on her shoulders. It felt like her throat was constricting at every word she tried so hard to articulate. She wanted to scream. Lash out. Go mad. “—tell me, then. What was that if not hatred? Admit it. Admit you’re pissed and infuriated and—”
“—of course I am!” He was ballistic now. Good. He’s heaving between his words. Tired. Just as tired as her. And she feels the tiniest bit of guilt come back to her when she notices his sunken eyes. “I resented you, Zelda. God. I resented you every waking moment I lived.”
“Well, there you go.” Zelda feigns a smile. She’s a fraud. “There. It’s finally resolved. We finally managed to get the words out in the open. This has been a very fruitful conversation, indeed.”
As though her legs weren’t on the verge of losing function. As though the pain of being hit with the harsh, honest truth was nonexistent. As though her entire world hadn’t come crashing down at his words. As though this was just the nature of their relationship—as though her already fractured heart hadn’t just been ripped to shreds.
“Wait—”
“Now, if you would kindly, Sir Link,” as though his name wasn’t something she even had the liberty to say freely, “leave me alone.” She attempts to tug her wrist from his unyielding grasp, but his eyes are droning into hers and she can’t do anything but make a feeble try at jerking away.
“Zelda.” He growls.
His voice pierces through her like a dagger—throbbing in her head like a migraine.
She stops struggling, feeling any other complaint die on her tongue.
“Goddesses, would it kill for you to hear me out?”
Yes. Yes, it would.
It's tearing her sanity apart to a frustrating degree. And you think she’d be privy to her own emotions, but everything feels so numb and everything is just so disheveled and she can’t think straight because her shame is eating her from the inside out.
“Aren’t you tired of this?” Link grieves.
She keeps shut.
“I resented you, yes. But I don’t—” A sharp inhale. “—I can’t hate you.”
“Zelda, you have to understand. You were such an enigma to me. I couldn’t—I still can't comprehend you. You confuse me. Greatly so.” His head wobbles, unsure where to look. His shaking hands? Her glassy eyes? The dimming forest?
“Do you know what it’s like? Waking up to a world I’m supposed to have lived a century ago and having nothing to go by? No singular clue of who I was? No memory to guide me? Having the fate of Hyrule, and its survival, placed upon my shoulder almost immediately?”
Her head spins.
“I hated that life, Zelda. I blamed you for it.”
She doesn’t fight it—she deserves the blame.
Figures that it's her karma.
“But I persisted, did everything I had to. I sought out every single memory you left me in desperate hope that…”
His eyes avert off to the side. Pained. Hollow.
And Zelda doesn’t think she has the right to offer him any comfort.
“That if I found everything there was left of my memories, I could build a picture of my life before the war. Do you know what questions plagued my mind every grueling night? Did I have a family? Did I have any other hobbies other than hacking a sword? Did I have many friends? Did I want this destiny—did I even like you?”
“But nothing. I understood nothing. I was left with more questions than before—” She counts his breath. One. Two. “—I felt helpless, Zelda. Incredibly helpless.”
“So forgive me, if I felt anything else less than hatred for you.”
It was unfair.
He exhales slowly. Shakily.
She was there. Keeping Hyrule from facing Calamity’s wrath for a century. And the only emotion he could offer her was hatred. Zelda didn’t deserve it. He knew she couldn’t have done anything else. But he didn’t know any better. And she was the only person from that period that he could point a finger to.
He wanted—needed so desperately to have some other person to blame.
“Then Calamity Ganon’s finally defeated and you were just standing there. Standing in that field. Smiling. Goddesses, you were smiling. And the sun was out; and the field was green; and the birds were chirping; and malice wasn’t looming over heads anymore; and you were smiling, Zelda. Smiling at me.”
“Suddenly I didn’t know how to feel. Didn’t know what to make of you”
He laughs defeatedly. Burying his face in his hands. Sobbing.
“You asked me if I remembered you.”
She did.
“I said no.”
He did.
“And despite that, you were still smiling. You were smiling, but I could see it in your eyes. Disappointment. Sorrow. Hurt. Understanding. And I didn’t know what to make of that. I hated seeing you look like that. You acted like it didn’t matter if I lost my memories. You pretended like it was all going to be okay.”
She forgets to breathe.
Who forgets to breathe?
“Your disappointment killed me. I was dying on that field, Zelda.”
She fights the cry from prying her lips.
“I wanted to believe it was going to be okay—just like you said—it wouldn’t matter at all. But—then every day. When we’re off doing Hylia knows what. Having fun. Laughing like maniacs. You remember something about us from that ancient period. Some memory between us that, once, I was privy to. Not now. Never now.”
Wants to stop the tears escaping her eyes.
“And you looked at me like I was a ghost.”
“That’s not true.” Is her meek reply.
“But it is.” His brow furrows, smiling in agony.
She wants to reach out—to smooth it. Considers it against her better judgment to do so.
“Then when I brought you to Hateno. When I thought there could still be a chance of normality between us. You suddenly dismissed me. I was aghast. I didn’t—didn’t know what that meant. It felt like I was being splashed with cold water. I presumed that was you being forthcoming; finally building up the courage to tell me you didn’t want me by your side. That you hated me and everything I represented.”
“I—I didn’t—that wasn’t my intention.” She whispers, horrified.
“I know.” He frowns, “I know that now.”
“I’m sorry,” she sobs, the dam bursting open, “I’m so—I’m so, so sorry. Really. Truly. I don’t—I can’t—I—”
She mutters words a hundred miles a minute and she doesn’t know how to stop herself before she can say anything else because all she knows is that she has to repent. Repent. Apologize. Atone. For this mess she caused. For everything. For him.
He squeezes her shoulders.
“When you left, I died a third time,” he mutters.
Her head hangs in shame.
“I really thought that, after all that time we spent together, you would grow to be fond of me... Wondered if one day you’ll be able to look at me without being haunted by your history. Wondered if you wouldn’t have to keep on tip-toeing around me like a skittish child. Like I would break if you made the wrong joke. Wondered if you could learn to love me like you loved that Link from long ago.”
Suddenly her mind is reeling. Because that couldn’t be right. Because she had to be hearing things. Because everything was so jumbled up in her head and this was just another cruel prank Hylia had to be pulling.
She urges the will to look at him.
“I’m not a fool, Zelda.”
He’s looking right back at her.
“He loved you too. Then. And I don’t know how I’m supposed to compete with the person that I once was. ‘Cause how does one do that? Compete with a much better version of themselves? When I wasn’t that same person that spent those days traveling the bounds of Hyrule of you? When I wasn’t that same person that licked a frog for you? When I wasn’t that same person that comforted you every single time you cried? When I wasn’t that same person that shielded you from rain and death?”
He looks so hurt and damaged and she wishes she knew how to relieve him of that pain.
“When I’m just not the man you fell in love with a century ago.”
Oh.
“I love you, Zelda—far too much than I can handle.”
Oh.
“So, tell me, Zelda. How else am I supposed to feel?”
The boy finally breaks.
Because of her.
She does the only thing she can think of. Reaches for his head, bringing him closer and closer to her. She kisses his forehead. Kisses the tears forming on his closed eyes. It’s flowing and unstoppable and she tries so desperately to stop his crying. Kisses the bridge of his nose—kisses him gently on the lips.
Zelda feels his breath hitch, before stirring to bring her closer and closer to him. Until she’s straddling him. Until he’s back to kissing her as though she were his only remaining lifeline—his source of salvation—and she responds with more vigor.
She dreamt this day would happen.
Didn’t think it would ever come.
And he was despairingly sweeter than she would have ever expected. He was softt—kind. Incredibly careful with his movements as he traced her side. He was just as tender as she would have imagined him to be and she’s inconsolable. Her hands cradle him by his face and he adjusts to deepen his hold on her.
He separates to catch his breath—one beat, two—before he goes back to capturing her lips in his, and she sobs uncontrollably.
Something that snaps him from his unconscious.
And he pushes Zelda away by her shoulders. He looks frightened. Afraid. Creates a distance between them.
She’s devastated.
“You don’t have to do this, you know,” he whispers, masking his melancholy with a lopsided smile, “force yourself.”
Zelda frowns.
But she wasn’t forcing herself?
He moves to turn around. Back to the horse. Back to the trip.
“I loved you a century ago, yes.” she says, honest.
His eyes return to hers. Bracing for the worse.
“But I also love you, Link.”
He stills.
“I love you,” she echoes, “this version of you who can laugh freely; who can make friends on the fly; who’s unafraid of being loud and unruly; who had the courage to save Hyrule; who’s so genuine in every action and so full of love.”
And she’s back to crying. Because it's okay. They’re going to be okay. Everything is finally going to be okay. And she’s never been so grateful. Because that weight she hadn’t realized followed her every step of the way since the Calamity was gone. The phantom that followed her shadow, imposing and unrelenting, was put to rest. That suffocating secret she locked in the deepest depths of her heart is finally out in the open.
“I’m sorry. For running away—for everything. How could you even believe for a second that I couldn’t love you?”
She cradles his hand in hers.
“I love you, Link. I love you far too much to be a burden to you. That’s why I ran. I couldn’t stand being the reason why you harboured so much grief every passing day. How could I do that to you? Be the reason for your pain?”
He shakes his head in disagreement. Never. He wants to say.
“I love you,” she recites, as long as it takes until he finally gets the message, “I love you, Link—I love you so, so much.”
“Okay,” he breathes shakily. “Okay,” he repeats in disbelief.
She sobs harder.
“Okay—it’s okay,” he suddenly freaks, wiping the overflowing tears in Zelda’s eyes with his thumb. He’s beside himself in anguish because he has no idea how to comfort the weeping girl in his arms.
“Wait, don’t cry. I’m—I’m sorry?” he blurts out stupidly—not knowing what else to say other than an apology.
“I’ll do anything, so can you—can you please stop crying?” He tries as consolation. Like it's a simple request. He’s so dumb in that regard that laughter bubbles out her throat to the point and suddenly she doesn’t know whether or not the noise coming out of her mouth was hysteria or grief.
He clearly doesn’t find the humor in their situation though.
“Zelda??”
This only serves to accentuate her half-sobbing-half-giggling fit.
When she finally regains her composure. After five arduous minutes for Link. She regards him fully. He’s sitting there, frozen. Unsure what to do and if there’s anything to be said.
She melts.
“I love you, Link.”
That dumb grin he started sporting ever since the end of calamity resurfaces on his face.
“Yeah?”
She kisses him one more time.
“I do. I really do.”
Her world starts spinning again.