Chapter Text
He can’t do this alone...
There’s a castle in the sky and there’s gloom on the land. His arm is not his arm, his sword has been shattered and she’s nowhere in this world. He sits on his roof and stares at the distance. He doesn’t say a word. Why would he? There’s no princess in that castle.
Even his sword has deserted him.
Zelda! He screams her name until his voice is raw, runs harder than his legs should allow him, but she looks through him as if he isn’t there and flies away in a shower of golden light.
He keeps running. He runs and when he can’t anymore he rides, he climbs, he jumps, he drops, he builds, he flies. There’s islands that float and a world down below and caves and wells and shrines and light roots and Yiga and constructs and charges and he knows the drill and he doesn’t care as long as he’s moving. Because when he stops, he thinks. And there’s only one thought on his mind.
She fell.
She fell and he didn’t catch her.
Purah gives him direction and swift kick up his pants. He does need to focus and he won’t find her hiding in a well. The irony of that statement is not lost on him.
Was it like this? In those first days, after he fell in battle and she vanished into a Beast and the fields still burned? No. No, he tells himself. Upheaval, they’re calling it, not Calamity. There’s debris. There’s damage. There’s chaos. There’s sickness. But it’s not irretrievable. There’s hope. They can still fix it. He can still fix this. He’s got to.
In the sky, a blood moon rises once again.
The storm in Tabantha brought famine. The children have been left behind, in the relative safety of town, caring for what remains. Working. Because in times like these, everybody needs to pitch in. The adults scavenge for what little they can find. Brave the danger only to often return empty handed. Despite hardship, the Rito stick together. Not quite living, but still surviving.
He should pitch in, too.
He needs to find Zelda.
There’s barely enough food for a couple of days.
She could be trapped. Cold and thirsty and hungry.
There’s monsters and the Rito fight poorly on land.
She could be injured. Broken and bleeding and dying.
He can help.
He couldn’t help her...
...helostherhelostherhelostherhelosther…
He breathes.
Zelda would be here. She can’t hunt to save her life, but she would be cooking or gathering or managing to comfort them somehow. She would probably have already built seven different contraptions to ease their life. She’s strong. She’s resourceful. She has her light. She kept a Beast at bay for one hundred years.
...she doesn’t need him...
Maybe he can’t be exactly the man she would like him to. But he won’t become less than she deserves. Than he owes to himself to be. He’s lost her. He can’t lose himself to despair.
Link hunts. Clears out the area of what monsters he can, hoping he’s got enough time until the next blood moon. Drags moose carcasses into town. Empties out the bag he foraged. It’s not a lot, but it will keep everyone for a few days more.
The Ark is true, because of course the Ark is true. This is Hyrule, where a good prophecy never goes to waste. There’s a giant monster in it. Obviously.
He gets a glimpse of her. She doesn’t look at him. Then he sees her in a vision from a long gone past she doesn’t belong in. Something’s not right.
The Rito gather under a brilliant sun. Take to the air. He needs to go. Teba asks him to stay. There will be a feast. Meagre, there’s still much left to recover from. But there will be music and joy once more and it would mean a lot if he joined them. And then, there’s Tulin and Teba would appreciate it if Link could have a word.
He finds the young fledgling at the archery range. Practising, when he should have been with the others. He thought the kid learned his lesson. He tells him so.
“I know, Link. But that’s why I’m here. I need to be better, if we’re going to fight together.”
“You’re as good as your father.”
“I don’t wanna be my father,” Tulin grumbles. Understandable, at his age no kid does. “I wanna be Revali!”
“That’s dumb. Teba’s ten times the man he was.”
Damn it. He didn’t come here to crap all over the kid’s hero. It’s an instinctual reaction to a lifetime of silence when pushed by a guy that got under his skin a lot better than he’d like to admit.
“But you were Champions!”
“Yes.”
“You were friends.”
“Zelda was his friend.”
“You’re lying. He was the best!” Tulin shouts, before he flaps away. Destroys some targets in indignation.
Link watches, his keen eye too well trained not to. Tulin’s extraordinary. He’s a far way from the best. He comes off from his gust too strong. He telegraphs its beginning. He hits his targets but not all dead centre. He still needs to think about it before he looses.
Maybe he should just let him train. He quickly calculates Rito to Hylian years, arrives at a number somewhere between him becoming a soldier and drawing the sword. He scratches below his shoulder, where it...connects, he guesses. He hates it. Dragging a kid into his mess, but he’s all of options. It’s bigger than him and it’s bigger than Zelda. He can’t let Hyrule fall again. What he can do is drill some besthood into Tulin to make sure he becomes a proper…
...asset…
No. That’s her father talking. And not the jolly version that gave him apples. It’s the stuff he drummed into them, coming out to rattle from the depths of his mind. Whatever it takes, right? Even if it destroys her. Even if it erases him. To save Hyrule. No matter the cost.
When all that matters is skill, your skill is all you become.
They were both so arrogant. He was just better about it. Quieter about it. Strutting around, in a tunic and no chain mail. No shield. No bow. Dead weight he didn’t need. He held the sword. He sure wasn’t going to dignify his taunts with words.
He and Zelda had each other. Who did Revali have? She saw something in him. Something he never did. Something he never tried to.
There’s always a choice. Even when all your options are bad.
“My turn,” he tells Tulin, and dives.
He doesn’t use the gust. Still, every bullseye, dead centre. He doesn’t stop. He doesn’t hesitate. He doesn’t think about it. It’s second nature. Fluid and flawless. No one could have done it better. Well...maybe someone. Maybe.
Tulin watches and drinks it in, already adjusting his bow to mimic his movements.
“We were proud, we were stupid and we got on each other’s nerves,” he explains. “But I want you to try and tell me something about Revali. Anything, as long as it’s not about archery.”
Tulin looks on, expectant, “Well, aren’t you gonna tell me?”
“I dunno, I never asked him.”
“I want you to train hard, everyday. You’ll need to be ready for what’s coming. But you can’t stop doing everything else. There’s always gonna be someone better. Stronger. Faster. And if something happens to you -”
“Nothing’s gonna happen.”
“It might. It did. To us. If it does, I want you to go out feeling whole. And I want the world to remember how extraordinary you really were. Not just that you were good with a bow.”
“If it does,” Tulin asks, after a while, “my mum and dad...will you look out for them?”
“Promise.” If I make it.
“I won’t let you down, Link,” he says in a small voice. Behind him, a blue ribbon flutters.
“Only way you could is if you let yourself become that bow on your back.”
“And there’s no one stronger than you,” Tulin tries a small smile.
He can still feel the burning. On his arm. The one he doesn’t have anymore. Link flexes his new fingers.
“Yeah, there is.”
There’s a little house in Hateno.
He watches it as he glides over the tower. He can’t bring himself to return to it. To open the door and hear the silence.
Markings on the ground bring back her voice and those are the moments he breathes. He doesn’t understand how she was then and now she’s here, but all that matters is she’s out there. He’ll find her. He has to.
He’s still some way from Goron City when he finds a guy who’s a little...out of it. It’s funny, at first. He’s not gonna judge. He’s had a few days like that in his lifetime. Usually the result of one of Zelda’s experiments. Usually. He offers to take the guy home, because it’s dangerous out here. At least a stable. That’s when the guy turns suspicious. Defensive. Almost violent. Link leaves him alone to do his thing.
There’s a Monster wearing her face.
He knows this when Yunobo’s first punch hits. That’s on him. The goron’s fist is bigger than his head and there’s only so much you can reason with the possessed. He should have moved. What happens next is necessary, he tells himself. The mask has to come off and Yunobo isn’t holding back. Link does, as much as he possibly can. Still, when his friend comes to himself, all he sees are the cuts and the blood pooling on his face.
He gives chase all the way to Lost Gorondia in a rush of horror and anger and spleen. This thing that takes her shape to harm their friends. Her hands to strike at him. Who uses their care against them. He wants to kill it. Hurt it. Make it bleed. It glances at him with her eyes. In his mind, blood drips down her face. Nausea surges. He freezes. It’s toying with him.
He finds Yunobo at the springs when he goes to soothe the swelling on his cheek. The young goron is looking a lot more patched up, if miserable. Doubly so, when he sees him.
“I’m sorry, goro,” he says, head hanging low.
“Not your fault. I’m sorry too, about-” he gestures at his nose.
Yunobo waves the apology away.
“You had to. I didn’t really leave you a choice.”
“You didn’t get one either.”
“Yeah, but I still did it,” says the goron, looking at his hands. “I should have known that wasn’t Princess Zelda. I really went and made a mess out of it.”
“It fooled me too,” Link offers. How can he have looked at that and been deceived? The way she refused to meet his eyes. To stop when he called.
She’s punishing you. Because you failed her. Because you let her fall.
That’s not Zelda. That was never Zelda.
“They say they’re not mad. Bludo and Offrak and Slergo and the others. But I see how they look at me. Like any moment it can happen again and I’m gonna let them down. What do I do, Link?”
Daruk would know. He’d see a silver lining in this chaos. A way forward. Say something comforting about building yourself stronger from the rubble or whatever. And he would believe him because Daruk always meant it.
“I don’t know,” he admits. “You keep trying, I guess.”
He looks around and Goron City is a wreck. All new projects have stopped. Most have fallen into disarray. Abandoned and decaying. The once thriving city is aimless. Brought to standstill. So he tells Yunobo about his way too. When everything is just too big. When it all gets overwhelming. Small acts. Little gestures. A day at a time. Hoping it all tallies up to something better than your worse.
Link wants to go, but he stays for a while. Lays some tracks. Fixes carts. Breaks rocks, when he thinks of how hard they’ve all worked to rebuild and how easy it’s been for this thing to destroy it. He leaves, when he can look Yunobo in the eye and the goron’s smile doesn’t falter.
There was a sword in a forest
The day he walked out of those woods, carrying a sword and the weight of destiny on his back, he came out with something else. A partner. A golden ball of contradictions who’s run him through the gamut of every emotion he’s ever had and taught him a few more he hadn’t. He was only supposed to protect her. Instead, he decided to untangle her. It was inevitable that he fall.
They’ve spent their share of time on regrets. On what they could have done better. On what they could have done different. On every single what if that doesn’t lead to the fall of a kingdom and the death of their friends.
Would you have chosen a different path?
He lost himself to a sword and then he lost himself to a shrine. She brought him back to himself. He died. He’ll die a hundred times over, if she promises to still be there when he wakes. There’s no version of him that walks out of those woods empty handed, because binding himself to the sword is binding himself to her and she’s the choice he’ll always make. His anchor. His heart. His guiding light.
He doesn’t have a sword anymore either.
The old King of the Zora thankfully believes him about the imposter. No thanks to Muzu. One of these days, he’d really like to punch Muzu. Just the once. Wouldn’t even have to be hard. Just to get it out of his system. Yes, he should be better than this. Today is not a day when he’s better. But it’s also not the day he punches Muzu.
He gets it though. How it must feel, when he seems him. When he sees Zelda. The princess who survived, despite all odds. When he sees them together. At the end of the day, though, it’s not even about Zelda. He still remembers the last thing Mipha tried to tell her. How hard it must have been. Mipha was kindness. To hold a grudge on her behalf is an insult to her memory.
The Zora sure move fast. Once their heart is set, there is no stopping them, no matter how life altering the decision. Engagements, for instance. Yona is great. But the last Sidon spoke of her, he was maybe sort of willing to admit he might be feeling some sort of feelings. Now they’re getting married. He decides he’ll just be happy for his friend and not even ask. They’ll never see eye to eye on the topic.
Dorephan is just as quick. At arranging weddings and coronations.
He stands on a balcony, wearing armour he has no right to wear. Sidon beams. Inside him, something churns. How easily he wears it, that crown. How readily Yona eased his grief. He misses that. When he could see right through her and somehow stammer out just the right thing. He watches them both, a perfect picture of happiness. The Zora cheer, jubilant and confident in their new king and queen. He shrinks under his doubts.
After, the Zora come to him. Thank him for riding the domain of the sludge. Talk about old times. And could have beens. He reaches to touch a hilt that is not there. Looks at a statue. She’d tease him mercilessly about that. The crowd is dim without her laughter.
The newly crowned King of the Zora is having cold feet.
“You’ll be awesome. You’ve been getting ready for this your whole life.”
“Not quite all of it,” he says, pained, under his sister’s shadow. “But it will be my honour to devote myself to my people. And Yona will be by my side.”
Yeah. Royals. Very devoted, the lot of them. The newly married and the... not.
“You’ll do great,” he says, because he’s not gonna let himself be an asshole to his best friend.
“Had my sister lived, she would be the one standing here today.”
A pointed look at him this time. He doesn’t think he likes where this is going. “And in another life, you might have stood by her side.”
Right.
“And the Zora rejoice because they got you instead,” he deflects.
“Link…”
“Sidon… Look, that would have been...a very different life.”
“But with a similar outcome before you, none the less.”
He’ll say one thing for his friend. He’s no hypocrite. Sidon always puts his rupees where his mouth is. He just wishes his mouth would stop talking right about now.
“Although, perhaps, you would still not wish for a crown and would have shut her out. As when you got the sword.”
He bristles.
“No one’s shutting anybody out, okay? We’re – were – are – fine. It’s just not what we want right now.”
“Then you keep making very strange choices, my friend, for someone who so strongly does not wish to rule.”
He’s just wondering when Mipha’s brother turned into the champion of marry Zelda.
“Perhaps I do not know Princess Zelda as well as I know you. But I do know she would not have allowed herself to love you if she did not believe you could do it.”
“Just stop,” the asshole barks. Sidon looks a little hurt.
“Sorry. I’m sorry,” he says, and means it. “It really suits you, you know? The crown. The wife. The happily ever after. You more than deserve it. And Mipha would be so proud. She always was.”
“It’s just – I really miss her,” he lets himself admit.
“You’ll find her, Link. I believe in you!”
So did Mipha. And now all that’s left of her is a statue.
There’s a little house in Hateno.
He stands on its step with his heart in his hands. There were noises inside. The door creaks when he pushes it. It’s only latched – Zelda’s request. Inside, Clavia sweeps. His hopes turn to dust. They were stupid to begin with.
“What you doing here?” she asks
“I live here,” he drones through irritation.
It made sense, when she proposed it. He was trying to be more open. She didn’t want to be distant. So they agreed. He imagined it would be like his childhood. Neighbours would come, every other day. Stay for a little. Then leave. Instead, it was a trickle, then a habit, then a constant. He was surprised and then supportive and then tense. Some days, he was the one to leave. Moments alone became sparse. When it quieted she’d work on her projects. He’d try to blow off steam.
Clavia rolls her eyes. “They said you went to Lookout Landing, to search for her. So I’ve been keeping the Princess’ house tidy, for when you bring her back.”
He wants to tell her he’s grateful, but wishes she wouldn’t. That it’s his home and his routine. How much it hurt just to make himself open that door, but he wants to give them something to come back to.
“Thanks. I just-” he waves the fresh flowers in his hand.
“Oh, I already got her some.”
He lays them on the table anyway. It makes it feel like some sort of grave.
He’s always liked maps. He’s particularly fond of the high tech ones he uses these days, but even before, there was always a plain paper one in his back pocket. If all else fails, he knows he can climb the highest tree to survey the terrain or look at the sky. Because he can get lost in the wild for days. Chase the wind, run after rolling pebbles, follow the leaves. That map is the order in his chaos. His assurance, that no matter how lost he gets, he’ll always find the path.
He’s been a soldier. His days were mapped out to the smallest degree. When to wake up, when to eat, when to guard, when to practice, when to sleep. He’s been a knight. Solemn and dutiful and always on alert. He learned to find the little spaces between, that he could make his own. The needed chaos in his order.
He’s been a hero. A boy with a sword and man with a destiny, so much bigger than he ever was. Always there. Always looming. In a way or another, Link has always known where he’s heading. And he likes that just fine.
And she’s been his path. His compass. His north star. Winding and complicated and occasionally hazardous, but so, so very worth it. He woke up one day knowing nothing but her voice and all that mattered was she needed him. It should make no sense. It always felt just right.
She’s been busy planning roads. He’s just been aimless.
The proud Gerudo have been driven underground. Their city lies deserted, the vibrant market buried in sand. Half dead things haunt it. The storm isolates it. The Demon’s doing. It feels good to let his anger out on them when they attack the bazaar. Destroy every last one. He’s only sorry he has to share with Riju.
It sends it to lure them in to town. Riju wavers. She’s strong but young still, and more chief than warrior. She asks his help to plan the defence. Lucky for the Gerudo, he’s one very angry soldier. If the Demon expected them to be ambushed, it will have to live with disappointment. That too feels very right. Urbosa, he knows, would approve. She always hated how he took on the form of a Gerudo.
The sand abrades his skin, gets in his eyes. He keeps on. Wave after wave pours from the hives. He doesn’t slow. He shouts orders left and right, praying to be heard over the howling storm. With the Gerudo at his back and Riju at his side, the things are driven back. Slaughtered. The hives destroyed. And once their source is destroyed, the winds settle and the sun shines once more.
He strolls calmly into the town he doesn’t belong in. A controversial decision by an unconventional little Chief.
...Or perhaps, not so little anymore.
“I remember when you needed steps to sit on that throne,” he greets.
Riju smiles. “Yes, you looked so grand to me, when we first met.”
“Low blow.”
“Any higher and it would go over your head.”
“Can still kick your ass,” he grins.
“But you won’t.”
The playfulness fades and she sobers. “Lady Urbosa, Zelda, you. You were such legends to me. Today, I had a glimpse into what made you so. Your strategy in defending the town and in the Temple was invaluable. I thank you”
The problem with legends is that it all ends up looking a lot cooler than it really was.
“We didn’t really do stuff like that. Hyrule was at peace.”
“The Calamity-”
“There was no strategy, Riju. It all went out the window when it took over the Sheikah Tech. We were just running for our lives,” better just tell her. She’s old enough to know. “And we didn’t even get to run far.”
“You persisted.”
“Zelda’s plan. I’m just the sword.”
“We both know you’re a lot more than that.”
“Sure.”
“I like you better when you’re not so dour,” she all but stomps. “I know what I saw. Today and with Naboris. My opinion stands.”
She’s looking him head to toe, like she’s finally taking the measure of him. He finds himself hating the idea of coming up short.
...metaphorically speaking, of course.
“Being despondent will not help her. So tell me, Swordsman, what is our strategy?”
He looks at her, and it’s like seeing a ghost. She’s really grown into quite the warrior. And he’s too old to be acting like the sullen teenager who needed Urbosa to knock sense into his skull. He made her a promise back then. One he intends to keep until his last day.
“You protect your town. I got your vow and I got leads. I’ll keep searching. Send word when it’s time.”
“Link,” she calls, before he can leave. “I want to say, I’m...honoured, to know the voe behind the legend. To call you friend. I only hope to live up -”
“You don’t gotta live up to anyone’s expectations, Riju. Not mine, not anybody’s.”
“I know that!” she stomps again. “But I can choose to follow their example. Listen to their teachings, if I find them worthy.”
Zelda’s wisdom must have rubbed off, because she sure didn’t get smart by hanging around him.
… Screw it. He can deal with Buliara’s outrage later. He pulls her into a hug.
“I’m so damn proud of you.”
“Don’t go getting soft on me, Hero,” she warns, when she holds on to his shirt.
“Wouldn’t dare.”
It’s a little awkward. Neither he nor Riju are really huggers. It still feels just right.
His friends have rallied around him, to offer their powers and their strength. Follow his lead, in Zelda’s absence, as if he’s got a clue of what he’s doing. He can’t afford to turn them down but all he sees is the Champions all over again. He can’t let it come to that this time.
It’s a cunning plan, the Demon’s. It crushes much more than masonry. It strikes at her light. At the hope she’s become since her release. Cover Hyrule in despair, using their Princess’ form.
Not while he breathes.
Sometime in the past, she’s fighting for him. She believes in him still. It’s all over her face. In the voice he misses so dearly. She hasn’t given up. Not on Hyrule, and not on him.
He won’t let her down again.
There’s a Princess on this land.
And her presence is everywhere. He searches. For a way to bring her back. For a way to travel to her. For the chance she’s already here. And where he goes, he listens. They speak of her and her light is in their voices. He adds his to them as well. Shares his stories. Keeps her with them. Does what he must to dispel the darkness.
Popping out from the ground and scaring everyone will never get old. Link turns his hand one way and the other. He misses his proper arm but can’t deny he enjoys the perks of this one.
Maybe when he’s fully purified of gloom his sword will come back to him. Maybe the arm will feel complete then. More his.
What if Rauru takes it back when he’s done? And he’s armless forever? His sword arm too.
He’s chasing at shadows and phantoms that take her shape. Tricksters. She’s everywhere and it’s never her. Traps. Of course he knows it. He’s not stupid. He wants her back and they want him dead and so they’ll keep playing the game. Because if there’s even the barest chance, he’ll never stop.
In her name, they fight. Goddess, they’re a desperately untrained bunch. But they fight. With buckets when there’s no helmets and pitchforks where there’s no swords. The first time he sees them, he doesn’t know if he should laugh or cry, but he joins them anyway because he’s pretty sure they’ll all be dead otherwise.
And then they win. Against all odds, on sheer force of will, they win.
There’s a dragon in the sky
He needed a moment away, to consider his plans, to think. He climbs it because it’s there, it’s new and it’s a challenge. Stepping onto it is like stepping trough the threshold of the home he hasn’t visited in months. Back before it hurt too much to be there. Back when she filled it. For a moment, he feels again like that man who could take on anything. He allows the gentle floating to rock him to sleep for the first time in days.
That’s how he finds the sword.
It’s a waking nightmare. The barest brush of his fingers and he gasps in recognition. He closes his hand around it and all he feels is dread. He doesn’t have time to process before the dragon is bucking under him. He soothes it easily, of course. He learned how to soothe her a long time ago.
Petals of familiar gold peel away from it and his heart begins to fracture. So when he raises it up high, he’s not greeting an old friend. He’s breaking from her goodbye.
“You’re in there,” he screams at the dragon that cries. “You just felt me. You knew it was me, that’s why you let me take it!”
The dragon flies on, vacant and unrecognising.
The sword thrums in his hand, pulsing with the last remnants of her golden light.
He can’t breathe.
The last of the geoglyphs confirms it when the dragon knows to cry a last tear. Shows him the extent of her sacrifice. It should hurt. It does hurt, somewhere deep inside him. But he’s been numb for weeks and if he allows himself to feel he’ll shatter. Dozens of silent princesses sprout around him.
“She’s in there,” he tells himself.
...helostherhelostherhelostherhelosther…
There’s a Monster in the castle.
He’s never hated monsters. He takes no pleasure in killing them. They’re just barely intelligent creatures acting on their basic nature. Unfortunately, their basic nature is to kill. So he gets to them, before they get to him or others. It’s a matter of practicality. Survival. There’s no point in showing mercy because they can’t understand it. Two lifetimes of fighting have taught him that.
Sure, he hated the Calamity. The end of the world. But the Calamity was so many things more than itself. Looming destiny. Pressure and fear and expectations. Loss. Devastating loss that still leaves him hollow. And her. Always her.
The thing itself was abstract. Slate and ooze that had tried to be a man. A ghostly malice golem. He killed it. Of course he killed it. She sealed whatever was left.
And then there’s him. Ganondorf. The man who became the Calamity. He didn’t think he could hate anything that much. That it could burn that hot. He doesn’t know if the Demon King understands mercy. What he does know is that he has none to spare.
There’s a Hero in the sky.
He sits on a dragon that carries his heart, holding a sword that carries her light. A sword she sacrificed everything she is to heal, to ensure would get to him. So he could have a chance at beating the Demon King.
He’ll wield it, when the time comes. For the moment, it lays on is lap.
Save them all.
Her last wish. He’ll honour it, no matter what.
He’ll never understand the way she believes in him. Not when she knows his fears. Seen his weaknesses. Watched him fail. But she does. And when she sounds like that, he can take on the world.
He’s not sure what he owes Hyrule, exactly. It’s...complicated. But there’s no version of him that will simply let it fall either.
“I’ll find a way. I promise you,” he tells the dragon before he jumps off.
Captain Hoz is waiting for instructions. The Sages want his guidance. Purah will boss him around but then wait for him to make the final call. Everywhere he goes people want him to fix something. It’s been like that, since she disappeared. Everyone just expects him to lead.
So he does.
He’s just the idiot who thought he could love a princess and somehow avoid a crown.
It was supposed to be a joke!
Well, a bet, if he’s being fully honest. Inspired by his shenanigans when he first woke from the shrine. He didn’t know she had actually gone through with it. They were supposed to look at ruins or study plants or whatever it is a research team does. Not go hunting monsters alone!
So he kills the monsters. And then he tries to talk some sense into her team. He’s the princess’ swordsman. A hero of some sort. A...whatever. Respectable. He’s supposed to be respectable these days. And yet, the research team stands in awe of the princess’ wisdom. Which, as far as he’s concerned, was actually pretty good advice. And that leaves him with only one thing to do.
With a perfectly straight face, Zelda’s Swordsman drops his pants and goes running into the wild.
Behind him, a gaggle of researchers let out a war cry and follow.
There’s a blood moon in the sky.
The monster hunting crew is tired. They’ve won, as they have been winning, but it’s hollow. Their victories don’t last. Yes, they are more experienced. Yes, they are better trained. They’re also injured. They miss home. They’re still poorly equipped because the gloom will eat at steel. And they don’t know when this ends.
Link sits with them. Cooks for them. Tries to rally their spirits without making false promises because he doesn’t know either. Because he’s tired too and lost and doesn’t know where the demon hides or how to bring her back.
All he knows is he must. So he asks them to hold on. Stay strong. Just a little longer. For her.
There’s a teacher in town.
He could not stay away forever. He knew that. Sooner or later he would have to return. He did not expect his come back to involve teaching the kids about the Calamity. It’s a hard lesson. Symin does most the talking, except when his eyes get red, and Link fills in when he can’t, even if the words seem to burn his throat. Zelda’s right, though. The school matters. Knowing their history matters.
Little Aster finds him outside, after. She thinks he’s sad and she’s not wrong. She gifts him a frog to cheer him up. He’s not quite sure how to feel about that, but when he comes back the next day, he teaches them cooking. Because good food can warm a soul. He doesn’t tell them he learned about the monster extract from Zelda.
“Will it be like before?” Uma asks in a small voice.
“We won’t let it come to that. I promise.”
“But the Princess is still gone. I remember the stories. She’s the one to seal it, isn’t she?”
He could tell her. That her light now rests in his sword. That when he finds him, it will do a lot more than seal. But he doesn’t. Because her light was always so much more than her power. It’s hope. It’s her promise of a better future.
He’s been lying to a kingdom because he’s too afraid they’ll give up if they know. The Demon King might have taken her, but he won’t let him take hope away from Hyrule. So he holds her light, until he can hold her again.
“I’ll bring her back, Uma. You know I will.”
There’s a little house in Hateno.
He comes to it in the dead of night. It holds the shards of their life. The shards of their love. She’s all over the rooms and all he can feel is her absence. He climbs down to that muddy hole of a study. He doesn’t know what he wants from here. A reminder, maybe. That she was already drifting away. Outpacing him.
Instead, he find her diary and one of his hair bands in her treasure box.
He locks the door when he leaves.
He takes them with him wherever he goes. Sidon, Tulin, Riju and Yunobo. Not the vows they offered with a ring, but the friendship they’ve given him. Most days they’re what keeps him going. Make him get back up, when he’s knocked down. Over and over and over again. Because he can’t lose them too.
There are souls in the Depths.
It’s hardly his first ghost, but the first soul he encounters down there leaves him uneasy. It’s the silence he thinks, as the ghost stares into his eyes and stretches out the weapon in his arms. It clicks when he recognises a face. After, it gets easier to remember their names. Fallen comrades. Soldiers. Friends, some. Casualties of the Calamity, all. Still fighting, in their way. Willingly bound to their duty as much as he is to his. Refusing to give up.
He thanks them now, by name, as he nods and takes their offering. Their contribution, when they should have been at rest. Says a prayer to the Goddess for their peace.
And then he understands what makes them appear. And he knows he’s not just fighting for the living but in honour of their dead.
There’s a new house in Akkala.
It’s medium sized and he puts it together himself. Gives it a fancy kitchen because they like to cook. A larger table – still with flowers and two sets of dishes, like a table should have. A study that’s not a hole on the ground and a room with weapons on the other end. That way, she can have her quiet and he can have his antics and they’ll be just fine again. Start fresh. All she has to to do is come back.
Link lays on the bed – a bigger one, this time – and closes his eyes. He just wants to go home.
He doesn’t know where that is anymore.
The Sages find him when he goes running into the castle to swat at the thing that took her form and his arm and then nearly gets killed in the process.
It dares to use her voice to speak. Her eyes to look at him. To tell him of the memories they built in this place. Link sees red. The rest is a blur.
He thought they’d give him a pep talk. Instead they stage an intervention. Yes, it was stupid to run off like that, he admits. Yes, he should have called on them. Yes, he knows he promised. No, it wasn’t an attempt to protect them. No, he’s not “stupidly self-sacrificial”. He just wasn’t thinking straight, that’s all.
They look at him and there’s nothing but pity in their eyes. Purah outs with what none of them want to say.
“She’s gone, Linky!” she yells at him and hides the tears.
He’s never been one to shout and he’s too tired to argue and so he says nothing. Takes to the skies as soon as they’re done. There’s another sage to find and some tablets that might have the answers he needs.
He rides the dragon he calls home these days. Tells her he’s been trying. He doesn’t know if he’s doing it right. He’s sure she’d do it better. But Hyrule needs someone. To help them hold on to her. Hold on to hope. So he’s doing it the only way he knows how to. And they’re holding on. He was terrified it would take his voice again, but in a way, they have given him strength too.
He tells her it’s different this time because Hyrule’s fighting back. It isn’t grand. Everyone is afraid and confused and a little lost. But they’re not giving up.
He won’t give up on her either, but she needs to remember. They’ll need her, when all is said and done. He needs her. He’s just so tired.
She’s falling.
She reaches for him. His charred fingers brush hers but they’re numb and he can’t get a hold.
She falls.
He wasn’t fast enough. He wasn’t prepared. It was all too quick.
...helostherhelostherhelostherhelosther…
He’s sorry. He’s so, so, sorry.
...he doesn’t know how to fix this. He doesn’t know how to fix any of this.
“Zelda’s chosen protector,” Mineru calls him. She chose wrong. A hundred years with a Beast and millennia as a dragon. That’s what his protection got her.
He sits on a sky island and stares at his arm.
“Did the Zonai always get great manicures?”
“It was the custom, yes,” says the ghost of yet another dead king.
“You didn’t fight with weapons a lot, did you?”
“I admit not. You can always trim them, if you prefer. It’s your hand now,” Rauru concedes.
“Oh,” he says, before realising he should probably try to sound more appreciative of the shared limb. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s a great arm, I just…”
“Miss your own?”
“Yeah.”
“Understandable,” the source of the right arm nods wisely.
“How did you do it?” he says eventually, when he musters the courage to ask what he came to here to know. “Carry on, when she was gone?”
Rauru’s face tells him everything he needs.
“There was a war and I was fighting for my kingdom. Your kingdom. I didn’t have time to– I don’t know,” he admits. “I didn’t live much longer after her passing.”
All of his years stretch on before him. Empty and lonely and devoid of her light.
He lays on the white dragon’s mane, because he doesn’t care what they say. She’s still in there. And so he tells her about herself. About all that she is. To Hyrule. To him. Sometimes he stays up there for days, just so he can feel her. Tells her their story again and again. How they did this all before and it was hard, but they came through because they had each other.
Because she went and turned her love for him into the most powerful magic the world has ever seen. And he’ll never stop loving her. So, she sees, she’s got an endless supply. All she has to do is make her magic again. He’ll wait.
The dragon’s long stopped crying. He’s too afraid to start.
He rests at a stable, mixing an elixir with his tea so that it sucks less. It’s his tenth in a week and he probably shouldn’t be having so many, but he needs to keep on. He wonders if it’s the near permanent bruising he carries these days, or if he just happens to have one of those faces. Probably the later. But it’s still odd. To hear people tell him stories about him, without realising who he is.
And they have, lately. Well, they always did, but of late his name seems to get around faster than he does. It usually comes together with hers, which Link decides is something he likes his name to do. For every story about the princess, everyone seems to have one about her swordsman.
He also decides he’s a lot more impressive in other people’s stories.
But it’s the small ones that get to him. About little things they did together, before it all went to hell. Hearing it mattered. That it made a difference. Hearing it still does, what he’s been doing. That it brings its own sort of hope. It leaves him humbled, it leaves him thankful and he’ll have twenty elixirs more if only it means he gets to keep doing it.
“Swordsman,” a man scoffs.
“What? He did, mate. I was there,” says his companion.
“Yeah, I met them before the princess went missing. Just saying, the way she looks at him? That’s no swordsman. Or at least we won’t be calling him that for long.”
“You think?”
“You gotta be blind, deaf and dumb to miss it. She goes all gooey in the legs when she talks about him.”
“Well, good for them. We could do a lot worse than him, I guess.”
He doesn’t deserve her. He’s never deserved her. He doesn’t deserve the faith of these people either.
He goes to Impa because he doesn’t know where else to go. She’s the only one who believes him.
“I don’t know how to give up on her,” he tells her.
“You never did.”
“There’s nothing! Mineru says is impossible, the tablets say it can’t be done, I keep coming up empty.”
“So, what will you do now?” she asks.
“You’re supposed to be telling me!”
“Not anymore, Link.”
“Impa…” he starts, tired.
“You know what you’re becoming,” she tells him, in that all too knowing tone.
“Fine. You’re an advisor to the royal family, aren’t you? Advise me.”
“Very well. There might not be a process. But I think there’s a way. She still reacts to you, on some level. You are the key to bringing her back. You have to be.”
“What if I can’t? It’s been thousands of years for her,” he whispers, because the thought terrifies him. “What if it’s just...gone?”
“If you really think that, then you’ve already given up.”
There’s a Demon in the darkness.
He should have seen it sooner. That it was holed up in the Depths. Now he has, and so he’s already halfway through the first wave of monsters before his companions are able to reach him. He pauses when it escalates, because he’s not gonna let the Blights happen all over again, but they assure him they got this and he’s gotta trust that they do. So he doesn’t wait for them to finish before he takes off to find him.
Three times he’s fought this thing. Twice he lost. So there’s a good chance he doesn’t get to see tomorrow. He waits for the fear to arrive.
All he sees is her face.
Falling.
Hyrule’s kings don’t seem to live long anyway.
The chilling laughter still rings in his ears when the Demon King violently transforms and he’s caught in his maw. Crushed. A prison of fangs closes around him and there’s no escape. No room to breathe. He thinks of Hyrule under the demon’s rule and tries to call on the last of his strength.
It fails him.
And then she’s there.
He stands on the demon dragon’s muzzle, looking to find the man in its eyes. It’s then he realises he doesn’t care. Ganondorf. Demon King. Ganon. Calamity. Who or what he is doesn’t matter. It won’t change the outcome.
He doesn’t think of Hyrule. He’s no longer there to save the world. He only thinks of them. The ones he lost.
Mipha, Daruk, Urbosa and Revali.
He raises his sword in his borrowed hand and it thrums in anticipation. Shines with the gold that once filled his soul. His last piece of her. Her last gift to him. Her light. Her love.
...Her life.
Zelda.
The sword comes down.
He watches the death of the man who was the Calamity light up the sky with fire. Underneath, the white dragon stirs. Placid. Unknowing. He’s never felt more empty.
The world goes blank.
...he doesn’t understand.
It’s impossible and it’s happening and it doesn’t sink in until the two Zonai come to stand behind him. Link draws on their spirits as their power flows through him, without the faintest idea of what he’s doing and all the certainty that he must.
His heart beats wildly.
He lets it all pour out of him – life and love and grief and her and him and them. It cascades into blinding light.
Below him, she’s falling.
Not this time.
They’re found before he can find his shirt. He notes the purple bruises that are beginning to spread, sees the cuts, but either the numbness he’s felt for months has spread to his skin or he hasn’t come off the adrenaline.
Lookout Landing explodes into cheers at the sight of them. She smiles that dazzling smile only she can, and closes her hand around his. And then they’re surrounded. There’s questions and greetings and toasts and they’re made to retell their tale again and again. He doesn’t let go of her hand.
He’s exhausted.
“Zelda-” he starts
“You still haven’t explained how you were able to pair the Pad with Zonai technology,” Purah demands before he can finish.
“Right, well…” and she’s off on an explanation he’ll never begin to follow. Josha joins. Kosi waves at him, a drink in one hand and a spotless sword in another. He looks like he really wants to talk about it.
He slips his hand from hers and away from the feast.
It’s a celebration of him as much as it is of her. He knows this. It’s a celebration Hyrule needs, after everything they’ve been through. He knows this. Their friends are just happy to see them. And she’s there. She’s really there, she’s whole and it’s a miracle. He’s happy. He’s so happy. The happiest he’s been since the day before he lost her. He knows this. He just needs to feel it. Anytime now…
He lost her.
He was losing her before this all even started.
He can’t breathe.
Everything hurts and his insides are shards. He just wants their little house in Hateno and to lose himself in her arms.
She finds him as soon as she’s able to extricate herself from Purah. Searches his face. He tries to smile.
“Just catching some air. You should go back, let the people have their Princess.”
Instead, she brushes her lips to his. Goddess...it’s been so long…
“Let’s go home,” she says.
He has her against the door before it’s even closed. He’s all desperate mouth and clumsy hands but he needs her. Her taste, her skin, her hair, her smell…
The way she’s making him breathless.
He picks her up when he turns. The table is closest. They can get new dishes later.
“Link, slow down,” she laughs.
On the table, the flowers are dead. Everything’s covered in dust. The food in the pantry has likely spoiled. It’s okay. He can fix this. He’s good at that, right? Fixing things.
He can’t breathe.
“Link?”
He doesn’t remember how he ends up on the floor, spilling all the tattered pieces of his guts, but it all comes out in an incoherent, stilted stream about how he failed her and lost her and he understands, so he’s not gonna stand in her way when she leaves to rule the kingdom he couldn’t defend. That he has no right to rule. Won’t even know how to. She makes magic out of love and he loves her with everything he is, but his love can only ever be like him – small and simple and not enough.
She’s staring at him, looking as broken as he feels.
“How do you think I came back?” she asks.
Zonai magic?
“No. There’s only ever been one that could.”
She takes his hand and presses hers against him. Palm to palm. Fingers to fingers. Shines with a light that is so familiar and all of it is warmth and love and comfort. And although it’s their hands that glimmer, it’s his heart that feels it.
Life and love and grief and her and him and them.
“You said it yourself, love becomes magic. Yours gave me back to myself.”
It’s much later and she’s sitting quietly against a bookshelf, eyes red and swollen. He’s still lying on the floor, head on her lap. He doesn’t think his eyes are any better.
“I’m so used to you being so good at everything,” she sighs, “I couldn’t see you struggling.”
“I’m good at fighting.”
“And people. And horses. And saving princesses from themselves,” she gives him a pained smile. “We were never good at talking, were we?”
“We talk all the time,” he says, looking up.
“Not about us. We just kind of fell into a rhythm and never discussed where we were heading.”
She goes silent for a bit. And then he hears her take a breath.
“I suppose I’m still afraid you’ll wake up one day and realise how much easier your life would be without me.”
“That’s dumb,” he says immediately. “It sucked without you.”
“I’m dumb sometimes, Link.”
She is. He’s just so used to her being so smart most of the time that he forgets.
He takes his own breath.
“I still don’t get what you see in me. Other than the hero thing.”
“That’s dumb,” she tells him. “That was never what drew me to you.”
“I’m dumb all the time, Zelda.”
“You were gonna let me walk away, weren’t you?” he asks, after a while.
She hesitates.
“Yes, if you chose it.”
“No. But I guess I was...stuck in place. And you kept moving.”
“I’m here now,” she says.
He takes her hand. Weaves his fingers between hers and pulls it close to his heart.
“Don’t let go, okay?”
There’s a little house in Hateno.
They’re trying to put it back together. Sweep the floors and make the bed. Dust the shelves and throw out the bad stuff in the pantry. Tidy the clutter a little.
There’s fresh flowers on the table.
It’s taking them longer than usual. They pause a lot. But it helps to keep their hands busy while they talk. It’s the hardest conversation they’ve ever had, but it needs to happen. Because he stopped being the knight, but the knight was always him. Because she’ll always be a princess, regardless of a castle. Because expectations and duty and responsibility get to her too and those never went away. They just started pretending it wasn’t there.
She took hold of his hand, all those years ago, and she still hasn’t let go. But she never looked back, even when he needed her to. She just thought he would follow. And he stepped back, when he should have stepped up. Stood behind, instead of beside her. And now they need to figure out where they both stand.
It’s late into the night when they’re falling on the small bed, all tangled up and heated and still hurting from it all but so, so sure they’re worth fighting for.
In her arms, he finds himself.
The day is warm. They sit together on the roof and watch life in Hateno go by.
“And the rings were how you connected to their abilities?”
“Yep,” he wiggles his fingers. “Everybody went and put a ring on it. Except you.” There’s no accusation. He just likes to point that out.
Today, she bites. “I thought you didn’t want a ring.”
“Maybe it’s grown on me,” he shrugs.
Zelda takes a long time examining his hand. Understandable. It’s a really good hand. All his own, too. She flips it one way and the other. Smooths his fingers. Gives it a little kiss. Something slips into his palm as she lets go. Round. Metal. A bit warm.
He examines it quietly against the sun, holding it between his index finger and his thumb. They’ve been heading here a while. He’s been heading here a while. He’s not really sure when she got there. Probably that day on the stairs, when she looked at the little bed and realised what it would mean to let other people know. It was never her that stopped him. It was the everything else. She probably knew that too and wanted to leave them an out. Zelda’s clever like that.
Old fears lap at his mind anyway.
“Do you really want to do this, or do you just think this is what people want you to do?” he asks the girl who waited a hundred years for him to wake up.
“Because if we do it, there’s no turning back. You won’t get to change your mind. No more plausible deniability. You’re stuck with me. Forever.”
The woman who became the dragon that forgot herself, but never forgot how to love him is staring at him, like he’s Hyrule’s king of idiots.
“I hope so,” she says simply.
He slips it on. And then he kisses her, because he refuses to have another day in his life when he doesn’t.
“Sidon got down on one knee for me,” he tells her after. “Just saying.”
She nearly pushes him off the roof.
There’s a Castle on the ground.
It’s full of scaffolding. He’s gonna live there someday. Where the beds are too big and the tables too long and the halls always echo. They don’t have the best memories of the place. It’s alright. They’ll just have to make new ones. Fill the bed with love. The table with friends and, in time, with family. The halls with laughter. It’s not a brand new start. They’ll bring their scars with them. It’s just a step forward. Into who they’ll be.
There’s still a house in Hateno.
It’s not grand, but it’s theirs. They’re not saying goodbye. They’ll come back to it when it all gets too much. When they need to recentre or find their way back to each other. The bed and the desk. The little kitchen area and the table. The shelves and the froggy study. They’re still gonna be there. It was never the walls that made it home.
There’s a Princess in the castle.
There’s a Hero too, by her side. It’s a little daunting, but they do it together. Turn it into home.