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“May I ask… do you really remember me?”
The answer had been yes, of course - and Hylia knows he had gone to enough effort to.
Despite Link’s efforts, though, there are some things that can’t be recovered by visiting a place in the woods - little, insignificant things to some, but things Zelda picked up on nonetheless.
It wasn’t that she blamed him or held any resentment towards him for it, but it still stung a little when he offered her food she hated or couldn’t fill in the blanks of one of his old stupid catchphrases. None of this made him mean any less to her, and she appreciated that he made the effort, but it still hurt.
A hurt she felt guilty for, true. He went to such great measures to try and get to know her again - asking her favourite flower if they passed a patch, pointing out the colours of the sunset and asking which was her favourite, coming back to his little house in Hateno with five different types of apple to see which one she liked best. It was sweet of him, and she was glad they were making new memories together, but it also felt… weird, knowing there were some things they had done together that he would probably never get back.
It’s not that she didn’t cherish the new memories. She did, really, and she was unbelievably grateful he had managed to recover what he had - it was surprisingly impressive, scientifically speaking. Nonetheless, she couldn’t help but feel a little sad when his response to her favourite colour being green was “I didn’t know that - like the grass? Or your eyes?” when, before, it had been “I should’ve guessed, Princess… you always do look at home in nature.”
So… while he did remember her, undoubtedly so, she found herself questioning just how much he really did a lot of the time. More specifically - could he remember what… they had been like? Amnesia wasn’t exactly her area of research before the calamity, and she hadn’t had time since to extensively look into how it worked - did emotions stay constant? Or did they fade with the loss of certain events? It was something she was desperate for the answer to, but the one thing she was unwilling to look into. Maybe because she’d be disappointed with the answer, she supposed… although that was no way to think in scientific endeavours.
Today, though, she tries to put that behind her - it’s silly to think on it so much, and it’s a rare day off for the two of them. They had travelled back from Kakariko and the neighbouring area (Zelda deciding to pay her respects to the graveyard there), and arrived back in Hateno the night before.
As usual, she wakes up before him - something that happens more often than not, although she isn’t one to complain - he most definitely deserves the rest. So it’s with the quietest movement possible she gently slips out of the bed they share (they had tried to have two separate beds at first, although quickly realised it was more… convenient if they just shared) and tiptoes downstairs - she doesn’t bother getting extensively dressed, but grabs a coat, boots and the flimsy bow and arrow kept by the door. Her nightdress isn’t exactly something she would wear into town, but it’s not yet 6am and she’s not going to bump into anybody in the small area of woodland by their house. She isn’t planning anything risky, anyway - the bow and arrow is just in case, but all she’s doing is collecting some wood and fruit, so she doesn’t exactly require armour.
The grass is still dewy as she pads out, and just this once, she decides to leave her boots behind - the world has never been this peaceful for all her years, and it seems a waste to not appreciate it all she can. Really, it’s a beautiful morning - the air is fresh, the sky is a watery shade of blue, and the first birds of the morning greet her from the trees. It’s moments like this she feels overwhelmingly grateful to be alive - life, as morbid as it sounds, is something she had come to treasure greatly… it is a fragile thing.
As beautiful as it is, there’s a hint of sadness to the morning as she pulls her hair back (really, it does get in the way… maybe she should cut it?) and picks a few apples - she has a lot of fond memories with Link in the early mornings. Days when time was far more urgent than it is now and there was no cozy house to stay in - there are memories filled with nothing but fear, but some days, they would just… sit. Together. Sometimes they would talk, sometimes they would sit in silence; but it was always comfortable, and times that made her feel greatly at ease.
...And then, of course, there was the trouble of that one pressing memory where she had perhaps shared too much. The goddesses themselves know it is one of the most precious memories she has - one that she would never forget, but one she feels sick at the thought of, now.
Would he still respond the same way? She had no idea.
So she tries to push it from her mind, the gauzy mint-coloured fabric of her dress catching on the thorn of a berry bush and tearing slightly. If there’s one colour she absolutely refuses to wear, it’s white - nothing but bad memories come from that. Luckily for her, the dye shop in town were extremely accommodating to her and often agreed to dye her clothes at their own expense (something no doubt stemming from the fact she is a Princess, but she allows herself the guilty privileges sometimes), so even if she had to use whatever materials they could find, the colour didn’t really matter that much.
It doesn’t take her long to collect the materials she had set out for, and though she could easily stay outside all morning, she doesn’t want him to wake up without her there.
The Princess makes her way back to the house soon enough, but too little too late it seems - he’s already outside, mixing berries for paint - from what she can tell.
It was a silly hobby to have, really, considering all that they had been through and all that needed to be done - but he had suggested it to her, having seen a villager of Kakariko painting and being inspired by it. It might be calming for her, he had suggested, and he wasn’t wrong - if she had a day to spare, she did find a lot of peace in painting. Perhaps she just liked keeping a record of what the land looked like.
He had seemed so happy that she enjoyed something he had suggested, besides, so even if she hated it she would have done it anyway. He goes to so much effort for her - spending hours looking for the ‘best’ shade of green for her to use (and looking so pleased when she thanked him she found it hard not to cry), so she isn’t surprised he’s spending his morning doing this - but he is up earlier than usual.
“Good morning, sleepyhead,” She greets him, putting her basket down by the door and sitting next to him, “you’re up early.”
He smiles lazily at her, his eyes obviously still tired from sleep, “you were up earlier, Princess.”
She has told him time and time again to call her Zelda, but ‘Princess’ doesn’t hold the same weight anymore… it almost seems like a nostalgic nickname, so she lets it slide, now.
“I was getting some food,” She replies, gesturing to the fruit by the house, “I hope you didn’t worry.”
“I panicked a little at first,” He shrugs, “but I saw you’d only taken the bow, so I knew you’d not gone far… I was going to come looking for you if you hadn’t come back when you did, though.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Why sorry?”
Why sorry indeed? She isn’t sure she has the answer for that - ‘sorry’ is just an automatic reaction for her, at this point… everything seemed, to her, to be her fault one way or the other. Ironically, she feels it probably annoys him when she says it - so she really can’t win.
She doesn’t have a response for him right now, though, because she’s too busy thinking about back then. True, they weren’t sitting in Hateno, but it had been similar to this - the watercolour sky, the birds in the trees, him sitting next to her… and then when she said-
“Zelda?”
How ironic it is, she thinks, that he spends all his time trying to remember while she remembers too much.
“I don’t know.” She replies, sounding shorter than she would like, “I’m sorry for making you worry.”
“You don’t have to apologise,” He says, “I know you’re okay now. Do you want to see the colour I managed to get out of these wildberries?”
He definitely talks more than he used to. She wonders if he doesn’t feel as burdened, now Ganon is gone.
Or maybe he does still feel the way he had? Maybe he does remember that day.
“I… yes, sorry.” Comes her delayed reply, “...and thank you for making the paint this early.”
“It’s worth it if it makes you happy,” he says off-handedly, passing the small pot of colour to her.
It’s a gorgeous colour, but she can’t really think about pink paint right now.
Should she just ask him if he remembers? Or maybe she should confess anew? But then… maybe he doesn’t hold those feelings anymore. And then what would she do? It would be far, far too embarrassing to stay travelling with him. Frankly, she would probably never be able to face him again.
She can see him looking at her out the corner of her eye, so she at least makes an effort to look interested in the dark-pink mix (which seems good enough for him, because he smiles and looks back out at the trees), but she’s beginning to think maybe she should just bring it up.
Not outright. Subtly? ...Although, that has never been her strong point.
So she attempts to think it through logically. She knows how to get results in any other field of work - idea, experiment, conclusion. Technically, this is the ‘idea’ stage. The experiment, however, is decidedly more difficult than seeing whether a machine glowed orange or blue. Usually, if an experiment wasn’t possible, she would look at data thus far and reach a conclusion based on that… so maybe that’s what she should do.
She sighs, looking over at him - he looks so at peace, something she especially cherishes. He has no wounds, no creased brow - his hair is down, the golden-brown locks framing his face. He looks happy, something that makes her heart beat at such a high rate she can feel it hammering away - she doesn’t care, though, because she would rather he be happy and she be a little flustered than he ever be hurt again. He has a slight smile on his lips, his eyelashes curling upwards, his eyes glinting in the sun…
She really is not doing a good job at looking for ‘data’.
What’s she even looking for? A list of reasons to suggest he may feel the same? That sounds logical.
Well then. There’s the fact he holds her hand when they walk through town together; the fact he cooks for her every day, including some kind of soup with a heart in she’s pretty sure you’re supposed to share with someone special ; the fact he brushes her hair every day; he links her arm when they walk, he hugs her when she’s cold, he holds her when she’s sad, she catches him smiling at her more often than not… he’s even kissed her forehead a few times. Plus, they share a bed. Although that all could be platonic.
Also, the fact that he would die for her. But maybe that was just a knight thing.
...She comes to the conclusion she’s bad at analysing this particular set of data.
Back to square one, then. Perhaps she should-
“What are you worrying about?”
Perhaps she should get better at hiding her damned emotions, she thinks.
“I’m not worried.”
“You’re frowning,” He says, turning to face her, “are you okay...?”
She sighs. “Just thinking.”
“Oh, my Zelda… please don’t overthink if you can help it.”
My Zelda. Should she add that to the list of things she uses to figure this out?
“I’m sorry.” She says again, her voice quieter now. She shouldn’t have been stupid enough to show that she was worrying - she doesn’t want him to think she’s thinking about any of the horrible things that happened, or that she’s about to cry.
...But, while those things haunt her, thinking about this makes her feel like she’s about to vomit. Which is another reason she feels stupid… they had both been to hell and back, and the thing that makes her overreact the most is wondering whether he would still respond the same way to her saying that.
She’s about to get up and try and brush this wave of nausea off when he slips an arm around her shoulder, pulling her closer to him. She knows he’s doing it to comfort her, but for some reason… Gods, she just can’t take this anymore.
“Do you remember last time we sat like this?”
It’s moments like this Zelda realises why human emotions aren’t studied in depth. Namely, they are stupid, useless, and unpredictable. How does one study something when it’s a force of its own?
“I think so,” comes his reply, “...from before.”
She freezes.
Why did she start this conversation, again? She has absolutely no idea what to do, now. Is he thinking of the same time? Any time could be the last time, in his mind. Or maybe he’s just saying it because he feels bad?
If there’s one thing Zelda cannot stand, it’s unanswered questions.
“...Then do you remember what we said?” She presses, her resolve returning to her slightly - she pushes herself up, taking his arm off from around her and sitting up to look at him properly. Her heart is beating so hard she can barely hear herself think and she feels so sick she doesn’t want to move - but she needs to know. Even if the answer isn’t the one she wants.
“Zelda, I don’t-” He starts, although evidently realises his horrible choice of wording very quickly, “I… I mean, I might be remembering wrong… I heard that can happen.”
It can happen, she knows that much. Memories can get merged together, or be completely fabricated.
She hopes to every God possible that isn’t the case.
“Please just tell me.” She whispers, not sure she can even muster her voice enough to be any louder.
He’s usually good at hiding his emotions for her sake - she’s always been the emotional one, storming off, shouting, crying when she feels like it. But he’s actually blushing slightly now, and even looks… scared. She doesn’t exactly like seeing him a stammering mess, but it helps her reach a hypothesis she isn’t upset at. (Namely - maybe the forehead kiss was not platonic. Although she won’t rule that out yet.)
“I’m not very good with emotions,” He chokes out, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, although his eyes can’t meet hers, “I- did I say that? Before?”
Yes.
She doesn’t even have it in her to reply to that beyond a nod, her breath quickening so much she’s sure it can’t be healthy, and all she can hear is her own heartbeat and the sound of the stupid birds and-
“I’m not very good with emotions,” He repeats, his hand framing her face, trailing down her arm, until he links their fingers together, and he finally manages to look her in the eye.
He doesn’t even need to say it for her to see he remembers.
“But, I… I am so in love with you, Princess... Still.”
The first thing she does is cry.
Not big, heavy sobs like usual - she’s not crying out of fear, or sadness, or guilt - just relief, relief and happiness and joy and that god-awful word love . She used to be so afraid of it.
He just holds her, rocking her back and forth gently like he always does when she cries, his arms wrapped so tightly around her she thinks he might never let go. She doesn’t want him to let go.
“Please don’t cry,” He whispers into her hair, “shhh… you’re okay, Zelda.”
“I love you.”
She’s only ever said it once before, back then, and it had taken her so many sleepless nights to muster up the courage - but now it seems like the only thing she can do. The only thing she knows how to say.
“I love you, so much,” She says again, her tears mostly dried now. “Link, I love you.”
“You cried last time, too,” He mumbles, and it takes all she is to not burst into tears again.
She has been delaying this for so long. Thinking about it day in, day out, not sleeping, not eating, gazing at him across tables and feeling like her heart is about to burst - but she had felt it wouldn’t be fair on him. If he had lost feelings for her, which she would understand, she didn’t want the burden of her emotions weighing down on him, as well as how bad she would feel. It just seemed like a recipe for disaster.
She takes a deep breath, loosening herself from his arms so that she can look at him again. He’s so beautiful, so genuinely beautiful, and she feels so unbelievably honoured to even be near him… let alone like this.
He reaches out again, brushing his thumb over her cheek, and she seriously thinks her heart might stop.
Zelda has absolutely no idea what to do now. Last time, they had stopped pretty much straight away after he said it back, having to leave quite imminently in order for her to offer up her final prayer. Despite their confessions, back then, it had all been laced with sadness… sadness and hopelessness. Like a ‘goodbye’, like they were saying it just in case something happened.
But there was no feeling of sadness, this time around - no stupid powers to pray for, no threat looming over them. They could, for the first time in a very long time, just simply be. Sitting in front of their house in a village, the sky painted with shades of blue that shone in their own right but looked pathetic compared to the azure of his eyes. It was more than she had ever hoped for; more than she had ever thought possible in her life.
She reaches up to take his hand in her own, and he smiles so genuinely at her she hopes she’ll never, never forget it.
“Come here,” He says softly, opening his arms out to her, and she practically throws herself into him - no crying, this time. “...Is it okay if we stay here, for a while?”
“I’d like to stay here forever,” She mumbles, a little embarrassed at her own choice of wording - but she’s never been the best at keeping her mouth shut.
He hums in response, brushing his lips against her forehead (...so maybe it wasn’t platonic before, she has reached the conclusion.)
She hasn’t been so genuinely happy and peaceful in so long - so, so long.
The breeze blows through the trees behind them, the basket of apples forgotten by the house - the sun is beginning to rise properly in the sky, now, and though the day is getting warmer, she wouldn’t move for the world.
“Link?”
“Yes, Princess?”
“I love you.”
Before the calamity, it had taken so much out of her to just say it once that it had been left at that. She was so scared of her own emotions, back then, and scared of looking weak in front of him. But… her life had changed so much, since then. And whilst she didn’t expect him to up and die on her any time soon, she figured it couldn’t hurt to let him know… to keep reminding him.
He sighs quietly - although it isn’t an exasperated sigh by any means - and looks down at her, his hands moving back up to her face, his fingers trailing over her cheeks, her nose, her lips.
“I just don’t want to forget,” He whispers, his face inching closer to hers, and she can feel her heart going again - but she ignores it, this time.
“Link...”
His hand cups her face, his lips so close to her skin she can feel his breath, “...Is it okay if I kiss you?”
She doesn’t know how to respond other than pressing her lips to his.
She’s never kissed anyone before, and she doesn’t know what she was expecting, but it just feels… right. His mouth is so soft against hers, his fingers running through her hair - he is so gentle with her, so careful not to hurt her - and she loops her arms around his neck, pulling him as close as she possibly can.
...He tastes like wildberries.
“Breathe, love,” He laughs softly against her after a while, pulling back ever so slightly, his eyes so full of adoring and warmth she feels her heart melt.
“Oh. Yes. I- Yes, I-”
He just kisses her again.
“My favourite colour is green, I think,” He says, later, “like your eyes.”
It used to be blue.
"But,” He continues, a slightly bashful smile coming to his face, “my favourite thing about you is your smile. I think it's the prettiest thing in the world.”
She doesn’t think she’s ever smiled so wide before in her life.