Chapter Text
What-
What in Hylia’s name did she just watch?
During her captivity, Zelda imagined several different scenarios for Link’s clash with Ganon. It gave her hope to think about standing before him as he smiled at her once again. Maybe, if she was lucky, he would take her into his arms, reunited at last before riding away to rebuild Hyrule. But never, in her wildest dreams, did she think of this situation.
There was the Hero of Hyrule, walking toward her in all his barely dressed glory, giving her the most roguish smile she’d ever seen on his face. A horse walked up to him, unsaddled and almost identical to Epona, his steed from a century ago. The mare nuzzled his shoulder, and he grimaced, looking down at the side of his ribs where one of the Blights must have nicked him. He moved to cover the gash with his own hand but she smacked it away.
“Now you stop that!” she scolded. His hands were covered in all manner of grease and dust and no doubt several other kinds of dirt you kept away from open wounds at all costs. She turned him around and batted his arm away so she could take a closer look at the cut, her hand coming to rest on his stomach as she did so, an inch above the waistband of his shorts. She felt more than heard him suck in a breath.
“What’s wrong?” she asked. Did he have internal damage? His face was flushed and he shook his head. Did he have a fever? That’s a bad sign. She turned her attention back to his bleeding side to look for signs of infection. It didn’t look too bad, actually. Still, without Mipha’s Grace, may her soul rest, Zelda wasn’t comfortable leaving it alone. She grabbed his arm, which was noticeably thinner than it was 100 years ago, and dragged him towards the Sacred Ground Ruins, where the water thankfully still ran clear. It was a short trip, but she was still shaking with exertion but the time they reached what was left of the stone platform. The Epona horse followed without instruction, which implied some measure of domestication, but without any tack to speak of she couldn’t be sure.
She sat him down and began tearing at some of the cleaner sections of her dress. Link scratched the back of his neck.
“You don’t need to-”
“If I never wear this dress again it will be too soon,” she huffed, sitting on the lip of the fountain. She dipped the cloth into the water and wrung it out. She turned back to him and patted her lap, “Come here.”
“Are you sure?” he asked. She wasn’t amused by his hesitation, especially when the growing flush on his cheeks could be indicative of a fever.
“I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t sure. Now lay down so we can see to that cut.”
He waited a beat longer, as if waiting for her to withdraw her offer. Then he settled in her lap, letting out a soft sigh as he relaxed. He wasn’t shivering, so perhaps it wasn’t as severe as she feared. She pressed her hand onto his cheek, which was warm, but not alarmingly so. Perhaps it was a reaction to the warm summer’s day rather than illness. She hoped so. In a perfect world she would have a Hyrule herb poultice to spread around the cut, but for now they’d have to settle with a simple bandage.
“Tell me,” she prompted as she began rubbing the blood away, hoping to distract him from the pain a little, “What happened after you woke up?”
“Not much,” he admitted, “I woke up, followed the old man’s instructions, and then he gave me a paraglider, and then I flew to the castle. I made my way to the top, and then I was here.”
She paused, “That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
She needed a moment to process the implications. “Exactly how much time has passed since you woke up?” Her perception of time was a bit skewed when she was imprisoned. For all she knew, he’d been running around Hyrule for months, but that didn’t explain his conspicuous lack of pants. He considered a moment before answering.
“A day. I think?” he looked sheepish when he clarified, “I may have spent more time necessary exploring the plateau.”
Zelda wasn’t about to complain about his response time when he single handedly beat down the apocalypse mere hours after his return to the living, so she focused on their next steps. She had him sit up while she tore off more of her dress to wrap around his torso.
Her first thought was that he needed to get dressed, but he made it this far without clothes, so he’d probably survive a bit longer. Infection or no, she wanted to get the cut taken care of as soon as possible, and without any degree of medical equipment, their best option was a hot spring. There was one inside the castle, but with monsters still lurking with the walls it was hardly an ideal, despite its proximity.
Zelda looked to the sky, it was still late morning, so there was enough time to ride to lakes at the foot of Death Mountain and have an hour or two to soak before the sun went down.
“Alright,” she said, standing to stretch. He followed her to where the Epona horse stood. “A hot spring would do us both a world of good, and the closest one is to the northeast. Is that agreeable to you?”
He shrugged, content to follow Zelda’s plan. He helped her mount before settling behind her, and though she couldn’t be certain, she would have sworn she could see a solitary spirit wave them goodbye as they passed. It looked like her father.
The guardians were still walking about, lit up a bright orange. Even if her mind knew they posed no threat now that they were freed from Ganon’s control, she couldn’t help how her heart sped at the sight of them. Link must have noticed, because he insisted they urge the Epona horse into a canter, despite Zelda’s reservations. It seemed that his skills as a rider weren’t lost to time, which was a relief. The roads were empty, even when they left Hyrule field, but Zelda was too exhausted mentally to ponder it for too long. They passed Foothill Stable as the sun began to set.
As they came up on the turquoise water, she swung a leg over the Epona horse’s neck, a move made possible by her freshly shortened dress, and slid down. Zelda untied the bandage around his waist and dipped her feet in the water. She put her hair in a ponytail while he sank into the spring with a moan. Link had offered his hair tie, but Zelda wasn’t going to take an accessory from a man wearing only his undershorts, so she declined, opting instead to tie it with a spare scrap of dress. She absentmindedly brushed his hair back before taking stock of the meager inventory.
It wasn’t as sparse as she’d assumed. There were a few odds and ends, bundles of wood and various herbs and mushrooms. She also came across a few gems and a handful of rupees, which she set aside. She tried to make the best camp she could, listening to Link paddle around idly. She built a fire and arranged the mushrooms and found a stick to skewer them with. Once she returned she found Link by the fire, slicing a trout into chunks to cook. If he’s quick enough to catch a fish with his bare hands, then his skill hadn’t depleted, only his strength.
Yet still strong enough to best Calamity.
They ate in relative silence, until Zelda finally scrapped up enough courage to ask the devastating question she already knew the answer to.
“What do you remember?” she asked. He shifted next to her, his shoulder brushing against hers.
“Nothing.”
She nodded, taking a bite before speaking again. She didn’t have the strength to face reality as a whole. Not yet, so instead she addressed the small pieces she could handle.
“Can I have these?” she asked, pointing to the gems. He nodded, tossing his empty skewer into the fire before going to sit in the water again. Zelda took the gems and walked back to the stable.
She made it as far as the sign marking Death Mountain's ascent before she had to stop and rest, huffing as she sat down on the warm rock. She tried to adjust her sandals, only to have them come apart in her hands, so she just tossed them aside. If Link could fight six different abominations in quick succession barefoot, surely she could walk to a stable.
But as she stood up on shaking legs she felt a gentle bump against her back. The Epona horse had come for her, and Zelda was not proud enough to refuse her assistance, using the rock as an impromptu mounting block.
“You’re a brave one, girlie,” Ozunda said, walking up to the counter, “walking about after the day went red like that. Everyone’s been buckled down since.”
“The disturbance has since passed,” she replied. She didn’t tell them the Calamity was no more because she didn’t think she could handle a celebration surrounded by her kingdom’s ruin. Instead she walked to the merchant sitting on the floor, placing the gems on his makeshift table.
“How much can you give me for these?”
He ended up giving her 210 rupees for the stones, which she in turn used to purchase a set of Hylian trousers and a sturdy tunic. He even threw in a hair comb he had in stock, though she suspected he pitied Zelda for her tragically bare feet and disheveled hair.
Zelda walked out of the tent to where the Epona horse waited patiently. She looked around for a rock to help mount, but a stable hand came to help her up. Zelda focused on thanking the young woman instead of how frail she must look to warrant unrequested assistance.
“You want to register that horse, miss?” Ozunda called as she turned to go, “It gets you a stable issue saddle and bridle, just twenty rupees.”
“It’s not my horse,” Zelda answered, “We’ll come by later.”
She returned to their campsite with the bundle of clothes to find Link already stretched out, fast asleep. She tucked the clothes under his head and set the boots to the side and placed her fingertips across his chest lightly, only removing them when he felt him take a breath. She ran the comb carefully through her hair. Letting it down from it’s braid for the first time in one hundred years. Then she ducked behind the rocks to give her some measure of privacy while she stripped off the dress. After several careful tears Zelda was able to separate that dreadful outer layer from the rest of the gown. She set them aside while she finally stepped into the water, letting it melt away some of the physical strains weighing on her.
And then Zelda was alone with her thoughts, without an activity to occupy her thoughts. Zelda was left to grieve.
She hated herself for it, but she felt a flood of relief overpower that grief. Granted, she’d had a century to come to terms with devastation of Calamity, but it felt wrong to rest when the Champions, her dearest friends, were tethered to this world, not allowed to pass on. They would have to visit each Divine Beasts and release them of their duty.
And then what?
Things didn’t go at all as she’d expected them to. She wasn’t so foolish as to believe everything would go according to plan, but she never would have thought Link would charge the castle before he had a chance to remember himself. A trip to Kakariko was in order. Impa would be able to tell them where to go from there. Perhaps Purah lived still, and she could share some of her findings with Zelda.
For the time being, she had to help Link get back to what he was. She knew it wasn’t fair to put her beloved Champion through all this to begin with, much less without so much as a memory to guide him. He might not want to travel with Zelda, perhaps only freeing her out of a lingering sense of duty before exploring the wilds at his leisure. She owed that to him, if that was his desire. She could make her own way once they reached Kakariko. At the very least, she was obligated to point him in the right direction.
Before all else, though, she must rest. Her eyes were closing of her own accord, and her mind grew hazy.
She pulled herself out of the water, using the torn cloth to wipe herself down before slipping back into the revised dress, now coming to a stop right above her knees. Zelda sat down beside the long dead fire. She leaned against the warm red stone, Link’s sleeping figure the last thing she saw before falling asleep.