Chapter Text
This whole hero of time thing was growing pretty old.
She did not speak, for the fact her voice came out deep upset her more than the state of the land, or any losses she had known. Even her grunts of exertion, where she pushed, pulled, wielded and moved were tinged with the strange after effect of pushing her voice upwards, so that it came from the throat and not the chest. Not an easy task when she rolled and cut around, but a welcomed one. It lead to less thinking, and less pain her chest.
Link sighed, as, once more, her weapon broke. Parts of her mind yelled at her that perhaps she had used too much strength, that she had been too brutish. She didn’t think herself to be that well defined - more than thinking that, she hoped she didn’t - and yet the weapon had broken once more, which made a pretty good analogy to how broken she felt. Guilt consuming her as much as testosterone ran through her veins.
It was best to keep busy, after all. She had pushed who knew how many weapons into her sack, the old and weathered item doing a poor job at holding them. Some protruded out, as part of her protruded out, and she couldn’t help herself, she took a look back and she frowned. It was harsh, and stormy, out there, and she barely hung there. But then the same had been true of most her life, so far.
When she had awoken - like a fish out of water, gasping, she had felt her mind free of such worries, however momentarily. For those brief moments she hadn’t worried about the fact her chest was bare, or that her nails were cut - as was fit of a man. She hadn’t even worried about the fact she was in place unknown and that time had taken its tool on everything but her.
That had quickly changed however, as voices spoke out to her, and her mission became clear. As clear as the name the one she called her princess used to refer to her.
Link
. What was in a name? She couldn’t help but feel a sense of revolt at the fact that single word, so easily replicated by scribbles on the dirt, or burned into metal, carved into stone, could so aptly describe her.
Not that she was of whole. Not that she felt apt. There was so much about her that she could not yell, that she could not describe, weighting her as if she were to herd sheep, as if she were to carry stone and water up a creek.
She couldn’t help the feeling of scorn she felt as she pressed on, onto the unknown. That things had changed became evidently clear as she moved to a much different Hyrule than the one she had left - who knew how long ago. That expectations on her had increased - well, that was a no brainer, given what her princess said. But that with which she was referred to also hadn’t - that was not as welcome a surprise.
She shouldn’t have been surprised, as she had never really vocalised such desires out loud. Joining the battle, hoping for a better future, she had expected to defend the land, she hadn’t expected her wildest, and most hidden desire to be known and accepted. That magic was common amongst Zelda’s court, and that she had seen it filled her imagination with possibilities, but she had always been far too quiet, and far too quickly shamed, to mention it.
Instead she had grown used to the sword, to the shield, and to the armor. She had grown used to taking orders, and she had done her best, much as she desired otherwise, to become the man Hyrule expected -and needed her to be.
Was it selfish that she was relieved? That the fact hundreds of years had passed meant that she had no longer no one alive to call her a he? Link felt a tad guilty about it, for she knew it to be an uncommon perspective. To have lost everything she had called familiar and everything she had known and to call it a good thing? It made her seem a tad -
Link didn’t have the word for it, not one she could come up, but her mind provided her with generous options, dozens of negative ones. Destroying the evil forces that plagued her homeland had become routine, and let her with many a thought to have. Sometimes she wondered if she was not the real monster in the situation?
It was not, she thought, as if it were common for men to feel in such ways. If there ever had been some to feel, they had kept it to themselves. It was not proper, nor was it something she did feel like she could share.
Much less in the vast land where none dare live anymore, overtaken by creatures and foes alike.
Truthfully, she didn’t feel like any light that would shine upon the kingdom. How could she when she lacked clarity in her whole life, and her own existence was that of a - and again her mind provided her with plenty of options. - She felt that it was not up to her to shed light onto any place nor person.
Much less in such a spot or place where she was to be remembered.
A hero
, that was what she had been called. Was that to be her fate? Remembered to all of history as a man, a male? Somehow the thought didn’t much appeal to her. It didn’t appeal to her any more than any option she had.
She had hoped, more than anything else, than when she woke, her form would be the one she had desired. That her chest - bare, yes - would reveal more than the flatness she associated with the fields. She had had no reason to hope that, but it was a common occurrence. As if the magic that filled the land could take shape and form on her. Her own princess - She had often been hailed as a healer, a gentle, kind soul that could only be described as perceptive.
But what of her wound? What of her thoughts, uncommon in the common day to day? He had seen Zelda take to remove spear and arrow’s tips, but the one thought that pierced far deeper than that wasn’t so easily removed, so easily fixed. She didn’t even know if she wanted it fix.
It was as she took rest on a tree stump - her fingernails dirty, her hair long, her lips cracked, that she could better reflect on that. However much she walked, however much she ran and climbed, she had never been able to escape it. If there was a fix it wasn’t present in the stones that she collected.
She considered herself lucky, though her trials were many, and expectations were high, she had been been a witness to much that amazed her. The earth had changed, and so had the rivers and while it hadn’t been necessarily for the better, every time she ran across a changed valley, a stumped forest, she couldn’t help but take in the change with amazement.
And yet, though much had changed, even more remained the same. That, she could safely say, by the way her princess had referred to her, that was something she didn’t doubt. It was obvious.
Sometimes she wondered if she was at fault for not mentioning it, sometimes she wondered if the fact she was so important - not by her own estimate but by what some had told her, expectations placed upon her shoulders, a burden to bear - could lead to a better placement or position. If she had never mentioned it, how could one deduct it?
She was aware that, in the past, talks that brought her name up, even being called, ended with her wincing. With her retracting onto herself. She didn’t speak anymore, she hadn’t in quite some time, but still, her position was that of a servant.
For she had walked who knew how many leagues and miles, for she had crossed the entire region and she hadn’t met anyone she could safely call a friend, or a confidant. She had met creatures with human like intelligence, maybe even far more, she had met with plenty - but none she thought she could speak with.
Sometimes she wondered if there were tales about her, a silent terror, wielder of several magical items, shaggy and unkempt. That she had walked through tundra and desert and that she sometimes stopped to pick flowers.
She would hope that was the case. She was multifaceted, and her prowess in combat was undeniable, but how could the rogue forces of darkness, the ones who answered to the dark wizard himself get her any more wrong than her own princess had? Sometimes Link pushed her shoulders and swallowed, pretended she didn’t much care.
She didn’t know if she was happy that none had commented on her habit of flower picking, or if she was disappointed about the fact. She hadn’t thought it a clue to her true identity, no more than bashing enemies with the hilt of a sword made her into a bloodthirsty warrior, she just enjoyed it. And though it was probably a worthless occupation, something more to take her time, while she gathered resources and the strength to confront Ganon, she didn’t curse herself for it.
Losing her memory had been interesting...it hadn’t lasted long, but there were things she could not miss. The fact that she was female, a she, was one of them. That her princess seeked to remind her of who she was - no, no who she was, but who she should be - that felt terrible. Like a betrayal, a sudden hit to the stomach. As likely to get her down as any serious wound.
She had found fairies in their fountains, and she had long since learned that they did not heal her rampant thoughts, or her desire. That her tiredness was removed, her wounds scrapped off, and the dirt pushed by the water, she could see. That which she considered herself - on a good day - or dreaded admitting on a bad day - that didn’t change.
It was hard. In that she shut it all inside of her. Not talking as much as a way to keep her voice - which had changed to the worse in her opinion - as well as to not yell out her wishes. A protection. And sometimes anger came easy to her, and sometimes she smacked things harder than she should. She had the weapon shards to prove it. She could blame it on the poor craftsmanship of the weapons all she wanted.
And yet, she didn’t give up. She didn’t stop She kept moving forward. Away from her worries, away from her fears. That they would catch up eventually was not a surprise, hurtful as it might have been. That she knew the ways of the sword, as well as how much she wished to be called a she, wasn’t either
The girl lifted herself up. Though her sleep was unruly and her thoughts were messy she couldn’t yet stop. The area was cleared, but that did not mean much, in the long run, for when she had hang glided there, she had seen many an area in need of restoration.
Through flying she had thought she could forget her worries. How many a time had she craved just being able to take hold and fly, leave her worries behind? To soar in the air had been a dream come true.
But now she knew better. She had thought that perhaps with all the time that had bassed she could form a new identity, be herself. And while that pressed heavily on her mind, she hadn’t yet had the courage.
Ahead, some sort of construction arose. Wood formed habitations. She did not know what she was going to find there. Nor if she was going to talk, or introduce herself. She did not know how she could or would, even if she were to introduce herself. As Link, name she hated, as Linkle, name she had been playing with?
But she could hope. And while she had hope she had everything.
She pressed forward, on the way to what she, in her mind, called a village.