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Something was wrong with Link. Zelda felt a little ashamed that she hadn’t noticed sooner, but in her defense, she hadn’t been all that stable herself in those first days after the Dark Mirror shattered and Ganon was sealed away.
A lifetime of being taught by tutors, priests, and historians about Demon Kings and Golden Powers had done little to actually prepare her to face down that towering, monstrous pig. When Ganon had finally been forced into the Four Sword, practically bringing the building down with it, and the remanence of the Dark magic around them had faded, the adrenaline in Zelda’s chest melted like sugar in hot water. The four Links had to help slide her to the stone floor where she’d sat, sooty skirts pooling around her, while she sobbed.
What a coward.
For days she was jumpy, scared of dark corners and long shadows like some kind of child. She couldn’t help it; lingering in darkness too long conjured up images of him, of his fanged teeth and dead, waxy skin, eyes black and empty, fitting perfectly in the Darkness around him. Zelda felt cruel for being relieved when Link told her the Shadow was dead. Link had been exhausted when he returned from the Sanctuary, the Four Sword still on his back.
“The pedestal rejected it.” He’d murmured when she questioned the sword. “But I don’t feel anything Dark sealed inside anymore. I think the pedestal caged Ganon and Vaati inside and left the sword behind for—insurance? I guess.” He sighed, burying his head in his hands. “I guess having a magic sword around could be useful.”
Zelda had sat beside him, pulling him close to her, and he had gone limp against her, asleep in moments.
The pain in her chest had eased some after. With Ganon and Vaati gone, the Shadow dead, and a magic sword just an arm's length away, they would be able to handle the next crisis, should, Gods help them, one arise.
It was then, once she was able to catch her breath and recenter herself, that she noticed just how badly Link seemed to be adjusting.
He cycled between moods of clinginess and refusing to leave her side, only to vanish into thin air for days, returning even more disjointed. He was quiet, even for him, struggling to talk to others, with the few conversations he did hold looping in circles as he struggled for words. Zelda was concerned he would go nonverbal again if talking continued to be so difficult.
The fidgets from his childhood had resurfaced, most frequently being chewing on the long strands of his hair. Zelda hadn’t seen him do that since they were ten. He seemed off-balance— Zelda hadn’t seen him hold a sword successfully since they returned to the castle. Was it battle fatigue? Had she traumatized her best friend by getting swept up like some damsel? Was this all because of her?
The final straw had been when Link fell down the stairs. He’d been moving slowly for days, noticeably so, and Zelda had watched with concealed concern as they walked to the third floor of the west wing to her bedroom suite. The staircase wasn’t steep or particularly long, but Link moved each foot with painfully slow purpose, looking as wobbly as a toddler. They’d been three steps from the top when he kicked his ankle, knocking his own foot from under him, and dropped like a stone, failing to catch himself. Zelda had him by the elbow in an instant, hauling him back up, then singled out the first door she saw. It took only two moments for her to drag him over to the broom closet, and a third to slam and lock the door behind them. For a moment it was pitch black, and then light flared to life as she let the smallest bit of magic warm in her hand. She shoved Link down onto a bucket.
“Something’s wrong.” She said plainly. There wasn’t really any point for any jump around it. Link blanched.
“What?”
“Something is wrong. I know you, Link, and the way you’ve been behaving—the regressed speech, the self-isolation, your apparent inability to walk straight—”
Link looked pointedly to the side of her, dirty blond hair stuck in his mouth.
“And that! Link, if you’re anxious enough to be eating your own damn hair again then something is wrong. I’m sorry that you had to come after me, that I wasn’t strong enough to handle it on my own. I’m sorry I made things so hard for you, but please—”
“It isn’t your fault,” Link said softly. “Zel, I promise this has nothing to do with you.”
“Then tell me so I can help you.”
Link bit down on the lock of hair, foot tapping. He was quiet for an agonizingly long amount of time, and it made Zelda simply want to hold him by the shoulders and shake.
“Okay.” He said finally. “Okay, we—we wanted to keep this between us but your right. We’re struggling and I can’t keep doing this by myself.” Link took a deep, deep breath. “It might get a little crowded.” He reached to his hip where the hilt of the Four Sword hung, pulled nervously on the sword and—
Zelda blinked, then blinked again. The world was hazy, like she had rubbed her eyes too hard, colors and lines dancing before her vision before solidifying again. Four teenagers were sprawled in front of her where there had just been only one.
Link still sat on the bucket, knee bouncing anxiously, sword hanging lazily in one hand. Squeezed into a corner next to him was a blond, short, scruffy-looking kid in blue, and he had Link’s face. So did the teen sprawled on the floor, and the one pressed up again the wall, almost touching her shoulder.
“Hi?” The red one on the floor said, raising a hand in an awkward greeting. Nayru’s breath, he even sounded like Link.
Zelda swallowed.
“Um. Okay so—” Link started and Zelda held up a gentle hand. Link’s mouth snapped shut. She took in a deep, deep breath and let it out slowly, then did so again. Link had split apart when he saved her. She knew this. She saw it happen, though they had little time to talk outside of the whole Vaati fighting and Ganon sealing. But then Link had become one person again. He put back the sword, he—well, technically he didn’t, did he? And if he never put it back completely, then it made sense that all the consequences of the first pull would follow him.
“So, I suppose this is what happens when we hold onto enchanted swords,” she said, trying to push humor into her voice. The red boy on the floor let out a sigh of relief.
“Yeah,” he said with an uneasy laugh, “basically.”
“So, Link—”
All four teens looked at her expectantly.
“It can get a little confusing,” Link said, gesturing to the multicolored kids around him. “So we figured out a nickname system. That’s Blue over there, then Red, and Vio, and I’m Green.”
Zelda nodded slowly. “But you’re still Link, right, uh—Green?”
“We’re all Link,” Link—Green?—said gently. “Just because I look like the old Link doesn’t mean I’m the ‘main’ Link or the rest of them aren’t ‘Link’.”
“I understand this may be confusing,” Vio said. “But there really isn’t a 'Link' between us. None of us are the full ‘Link’, even Green. And when we’re together we’re still not ‘Link’, not like we used to be. We’re something new.”
Zelda brought her fingers together and bit her lip. “So, Link, my Link, is gone? For good?”
Red made a soft, sad sound and moved to her, scooping her into a hug. It was warm, firm, and just like Link’s hugs. “He’s still here, Zel. He’s just a part of all of us now.”
Blue nodded. “And we still wanna be your friend, if you’ll let us?” He said.
Zelda squeezed Red back and opened her arms for a group hug; the four Links piled up around her and she wrapped them up as best as she could.
“I guess I have four new best friends, now, don’t it?”
The boys grinned at her as they pulled back, and Zelda smoothed her skirts. “So this is why you’ve been acting so strange?”
Vio nodded. “We’d been separated for weeks, and now converging is proving to be… difficult… to get used to—"
“You're having to force eight legs to move in the same direction and the same speed and the weight.” Red butted in.
“And talking! It takes forever to agree on what to say, and then your mouth has to make the shapes and sounds while four people are fighting in your head, thinking they know how to do it better—” Blue interrupted, and Green let out an exaggerated sigh.
“We haven’t been able to spar—if you can’t go up the stairs or hold a fork how can you safely swing a sword?!”
Zelda furrowed her brow. “What if you tried something like physical therapy? Since it’s designed to train muscles to work a certain way, it could help you work together.”
Vio glanced at Green with a raised eyebrow. Green nodded.
“It sounds like it could be useful, but, uh... I don’t know if we have the rupees for that…” He said sheepishly.
“I’ll pay for it,” Zelda said, waving a hand. “You all are important to me, and what helps you be happy makes me happy.”
“Are you sure?” Red said, eyes wide, and Zelda nodded.
“Anything for my new old best friends.”
The boys beamed at that. They weren't Link, never would be, but her Link was them, and she could live with that. As she took in their faces her heart settled. She could definitely live with that.