Chapter Text
I need you…
Zelda stirs in her curled up position on the ground, squirming a little as the distant voice rouses her from her slumber—a slumber she wasn't aware she was in. Soft noises escape between her lips as she curls deeper into herself, wanting to go back into the soft fluffy darkness that just felt so safe and comfortable. She hasn't felt this in almost a century—this warmth and coziness.
Relaxing, without having to worry about malice creeping up behind her back.
Breathing, without it feeling like needles pricking her lungs.
A soft sigh escapes her. It tickles her wrists, which were still bound by golden armlets. At this point, she wouldn't be surprised if they were rusted shut around her forever.
Please, wake up.
No. No no no no no. Zelda chants the word in her head, willing for that tiny voice to just snuff itself out. She needs this well-deserved rest, because… yes, that's right. They’ve defeated Calamity Ganon earlier today. Zelda furrows her eyebrows, her lips pursing together in annoyance.
Just thinking about that gigantic glowy blob made her want to start the day over just so she could kick its ass again. Since fate has been so eager to put her through the grinder, the least it could do is let her evaporate it again with the flick of her hand.
Although a small part of her did feel a bit sad for it too.
Calamity Ganon. Scourge of Hyrule Castle.
Wake up…
Fine.
With an angry exhale through her nose, Zelda opens her eyes.
. . .
Darkness greets her, but it is unlike the darkness from before. As her eyes adjust to it, she can make out the delicate patterns of the wooden ceiling facing parallel to her. Soft moonlight filters in from an ajar window to her left. On a desk not too far from her is a candle, its flame flickering with the dance of the wind.
Zelda relaxes her stiff body as she blinks, reverting her attention back to the wooden ceiling.
Sounds of restless crickets chirping slowly climb their way to her ears. She can hear the soft laps of water just outside the window as well, accompanied by the occasional frogs croaking.
She liked frogs. Scratch that—she still likes them, although she can't quite remember what they look like exactly. She knows they're small. Green. Had funny little eyes and made that funny little sound like the one outside of the window right now.
Zelda rises on her elbows—but it takes much more effort than she anticipates. Her joints feel as stiff as a board and her body aches as if she had just scaled a mountain with her bare hands. She somehow manages to get herself to sit up, but each movement causes pain to shoot through her body, like…
Like her body is a wooden doll of some sort.
This is my body, Zelda tells herself. Her voice sounds awfully unsure in her head though. My body. She stares down at her fingers, bending them one at a time. Her blonde hair cascades past her shoulder, blocking out the moonlight from hitting her face. Slices of light dance across her hand as her hair falls into place.
Zelda continues these small movements for quite some time—moving her smaller joints before moving onto the larger ones. They pop and crack in the process, disturbing the peaceful atmosphere that typically occurs during the dead of night.
After a while, it doesn't hurt to move as much, although she's still quite sore. Zelda shifts to take the covers off, her eyes trailing her hand's movements, and watches them lightly touch something warm.
Skin not her own.
Her eyes dart over someone familiar. His head rests in his arms against the side of the bed, near the pillow she was sleeping on. She leans into him, her eyes softening at the familiar shade of blonde hair and the sight of his scarred skin.
He looks peaceful, although not as peaceful as one would think of those who were sleeping. The moonlight that partially hits him highlights a portion of dark skin under his eyes, as well as a trail of drying tears that have slid down his cheek.
Link, Hero of Hyrule.
Her memories inside of the Calamity have grown muddy ever since she crawled out of it, but the one thing that remains clear in her memory is the fact that she had visited the Shrine of Resurrection every day.
Not physically, of course. But rather… ever since she unlocked the Goddess's power, she could view Hyrule as if she were embedded into its roots, its skies… it’s somewhat uncomfortable and awful but wonderful and exhilarating all at the same time.
Zelda cracks a smile—even moving her face muscles hurt—but it isn't out of happiness. She feels a pang of guilt, remorse, even fear, just by simply looking at him.
And so she looks away from him before shame could completely drag her down.
. . .
The endless song of nighttime wonders emanating from outside of the window tempts her far too much for her not to go investigate. Quietly as to not wake up Link, Zelda peels herself from the cozy bed. She stumbles down the stairs, almost tripping over a step due to her stiff movements, and surprisingly makes it to the front door with only a small scratch on her ankle.
The door whines quietly as Zelda slips past it, her eyes as wide as a newborn fawn, as they soak in the environment they're seeing—a long bridge in front of her, one of those worn yet sturdy looking ones.
Zelda takes a step forward as she wraps her arm around herself.
A large tree to her right—a cookpot settled close to it. She takes a step to her left instead though to peer at the grass situated close to the house. A lush green, with midnight teardrops dotting the blades.
She hovers her foot over the patch of grass, gulping, before gently pressing down into it.
A shiver runs through her entire body when her feet touch the damp grass. A prickly cold one that bites through her skin, but it's different from the pain from earlier. It contrasts her warm body, and if she really is a doll with achy joints, then she wouldn't have been able to feel this.
The cold, the warmth, the taste of the night air against her parched tongue.
Zelda brings her index and thumb fingers together to form a rectangle. She angles it to the sky above her as she closes one eye shut. Her eyes focus on the swirl of stars above her as she adjusts her hands, to make it seem as if she's taking a photo of the starry galaxy aimed directly above her.
"Click," she whispers, her voice terribly hoarse and scratchy.