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Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he knew he needed to stop and take mental inventory of his body. He was bleeding, that was almost a given, a muscle was likely torn, something probably dislocated, hopefully nothing broken, but he couldn’t tell what was happening where. He’d never felt so inside his body and out of it all at once. The blood and dirt on his boots let him know that he was alive, while the stinging cuts on his face from the shrapnel of the Imprisoned’s scales kept him cognizant of the time and place. And though the place was familiar, the time most certainly was not.
Link had scoured a land completely unfamiliar to him twice betting desperately on the possibility of this very moment. He’d met new creatures and seen new places, made new friends and enemies, trekked through dense greenery and scaled mountains of fire, traveled back in time and discovered a civilization so advanced and ancient he could never hope to understand. He’d wept and laughed and hungered and feasted and bled and screamed and pushed his body to extremes he hadn’t known it was capable of just for this. The blisters on his feet and calluses on his fingers were no consequence, for he had made it here. He had done what was asked of him; he had followed when he was guided, he had listened when he was told of her destiny and of his, and he had walked through hell to forge a sword with a power so great he could feel it hum, steadfast and alive, when he held it in his hands. He’d tumbled through an ancient gate to a time thousands of years ago without a second thought. He’d needed no deliberation, no time to consider any possibilities or concerns– for she was supposedly on the other side, and the gods knew he’d follow her anywhere. He’d come this far. The lengths to which he would go even further knew no boundary.
Impa stopped him, though, as soon as he stepped out on the other side of a millennium. She told him of what he had done, and that all he had hoped was true. She pointed him to massive stone doors at the back of the temple, familiar to him from another age. They were bathed in a golden glow from the single beam of light that breached the temple’s interior, like the gods themselves had laid them there. He stared up at them, just the matter of a few steps away from him, shielding something so precious he could hardly breathe for the knowledge of it. “It is there that the person you’ve risked life and blood to defend waits for you,” Impa told him, but she hadn't needed to; he felt it. He felt it in his bones, in his blood, in the very cells and atoms that made up the tissues that wove together to make him whole.
Her lips tilted up, and he was gone before her smile was fully formed. He pushed his tired body a little further, up the stairs, and he gathered every last ounce of strength in his body to pull open the doors that separated this part of his life from the next. He pushed in and he was struck by a light so blinding it made him stagger, but the very instant his eyes adjusted he felt every modicum of stress and pain he’d been carrying over the past few weeks melt away in one dizzying wave. He swore he’d never felt so light, a warmth grew from his chest, spreading through his veins until it reached the tips of his fingers. He felt as if his very bones were humming, and as she turned, he was caught in the motion of her hair as it swept behind her. All he heard was the gentle plucking of harp strings, playing a soft melody that made him feel the breeze that had surrounded them in the sky, on a statue, in what seemed like another lifetime.
Zelda smiled and she said something to him, but what it was, for the life of him, he could not say. He was entranced by the blue of her eyes and the gold of her hair, the fullness of color in her cheeks and the strength he saw in the set of her shoulders. She was here, he had caught up to her, finally, finally, and she was okay. She was surrounded by golden light that may have been real or imagined; the gods themselves could have been highlighting her importance, could have been bathing her in a glow that reflected how special and extraordinary she had proven herself to be, or Link could simply have been imagining her as she was meant to be.
They were closer to each other than they had been in weeks, maybe longer, but the distance between him and her, just a handful of yards and a few steps away, was great enough that he felt it may crush him. He felt heavy, his feet rooted to the floor, and he could only stare up at her in awe as she spoke. The ache within him was massive, a bigger sensation than anything he’d felt before. He didn’t know how he’d missed it before– it was all-consuming, dragging him down from the very top of his head to the bottom of his feet, entreating him to sink into the floor and rest. He watched her speak, listening somewhere in the back of his mind, but he was attuned to battle that waged inside himself; he wanted desperately to collapse to the stones beneath him, while his pull towards her was strong enough to keep him on his feet. It seemed impossible that he could have felt this way all this time and have done what he had, but standing in front of her, listening to her speak with a grace and poise he had never seen but was not remotely surprised she possessed, he was at peace. He was with her, within reaching distance, and he didn’t need to rely on adrenaline to keep him standing, anymore. There was something warm nestled deep within him that curled up behind his ribcage, safe and alive, and it pulled him towards her and kept him upright.
She turned away from him and while he mourned the joy of gazing upon her face again, he was still grateful to be in her presence. She spoke of monsters and evil and goddesses and hope, and he felt the truth of her words sing inside of him. As she turned back towards him and stepped forward, he was unable to contain the gasp that escaped his lips. She gave a small smile and continued, descending the steps and advancing until she was mere feet away from him. Images of her in a pink dress, playing a sacred song for him on top of the Goddess Statue in Skyloft flashed through his mind. She was farther from him now than she had been then, but he couldn’t stop his mind from drawing parallels. This occasion was far more serious. She was speaking of ancient evils, of the work of true goddesses and destinies greater than Link thought himself capable of, but he could only remember how nice she had looked that day, how right she had been in the role of the goddess. How he had thought for one, silly, fleeting second that she might have kissed him before she pushed him from the statue. How they had gone flying together for one last breath of peace before their worlds turned upside down.
It should’ve sounded ridiculous, it should’ve sounded impossible, but Zelda announcing herself as the goddess Hylia reborn settled deep in his heart as an unimpeachable fact, as an undeniable surety. He knew this to be true more than he knew the color of the sky, but even more so, he knew that he was the chosen hero. He paid no mind to implications of heroism and the duty of saving the mortal world– no, he did not doubt that he was the chosen hero because it tied him to her, and that he would do whatever it took to keep her safe he knew more than anything. He would follow her to the ends of the earth, to the furthest stretches of the sky without a word or complaint. He needed her to be safe more than he needed air in his lungs. She stepped closer to him again, and she stole the air from him anyway.
Then Zelda spoke of maintaining the seal that kept Demise at bay, of staying in this time, in this place, years and years ago, and the thrumming sensation in his veins that had kept him alive until then slowly hummed back to life. He blinked, hardly understanding, but he still knew her well enough that her refusal to meet his eyes had the pit of his stomach plummeting through his body, through the soles of his boots to the ground below. He saw her resolve strengthen, and though she looked at him once more, each new word from her lips made ice spread through him, freezing the beating of his heart and building frost in his fingers. She spoke of what he had done and what he must do. It was a monumental task, standing up to an evil that threatened to consume a whole world, but that information was being filed away somewhere in his subconscious for him to delve into later. Her I intend to remain here was echoing in his ears, preventing him from really hearing anything else she said.
She held her hand out to him, and he took it.
He lowered himself to one knee and crossed his arm over his chest in a silent oath as she gave him her blessing. He felt the sword on his back hum from within its sheath, and his hand tingled when the Triforce mark glowed there. He stood and drew his sword as directed, and he could sense its power without even looking at it. It reflected light without a source, gleaming bright on its own, lit up by a divine strength he felt lucky to be chosen to wield.
Zelda turned away from him again, and offered an apology that made the warm glow in his chest constrict. She walked away and he took a half-step with her, but her regretful words gave him pause. She refused to look at him as she apologized for everything he’d done, for what the goddess– for what she had put him through. “I used you,” she whispered, the words nearly lost within the empty space between them. Link hardly cared– she was right, after all. If she was in danger, there was nothing that could stand in his way. Talk of goddesses and demons, of heroes and destiny, meant nothing to him, really.
They’d known each other since they were small. They’d watched the knights on their loftwings when they were too young to have their own, dreaming of the companions they would have someday, wondering what great maneuvers they could manage to impress the other children. He’d carved her trinkets and she’d bandaged his fingers before he was skilled enough to avoid letting the knife slip. They’d studied together at the academy, trading study tips for extra snacks from the kitchens late at night. She woke him up in time for class and he helped her sneak out late at night so she could watch the stars. Maybe she was the goddess Hylia reincarnate and he was the hero chosen to help her. Fine. But she was also Zelda, and Zelda was his friend. It was as simple as that, really.
She stepped forward onto the raised platform, into the light that had surrounded her when he’d walked in. He knew that it was not something that his mind had conjured, but was a true beam of light shining down upon her, otherworldly and divine. He was prepared to brush aside her apology, to assure her that none of that mattered to him as long as she was safe, but when she turned, the energy that had been growing within him reached its peak. His body lurched forward without him even thinking, but he managed to keep his feet rooted to the floor. “I was happy just spending my days hanging around with you in Skyloft. I wanted that feeling to last forever,” she said with a strained smile. He saw the truth of it in her eyes, but the sense of danger he had become so attuned to had grown large enough that he could not ignore it.
He was bolting up the stairs before he even processed that the brightness of her eyes was because they were shining with tears.
Link had been in hundreds of life-threatening situations since that fateful day in the clouds, but he doubted he had ever run that fast. He moved more quickly than he even thought possible, but it hadn't mattered. He beat his fists against the shell as it encased her, his eyes wide though the light was blinding, as if he looked away from her, she would vanish once again. He yelled with the force of it as he tried to break through the crystal keeping her away from him. He knew he probably was a sight to behold– bruised, beaten, bloody, and trying to force his way into a seal created by the goddess herself with his bare hands, but he couldn’t stop himself from trying. He scratched at its smooth surface with his fingernails, uncaring that it was fruitless, that they tore and bled without progress. He felt tears well up and streak down his face, hot and wet as they dripped down to his collar, soaking the shirt that covered his heaving chest. He hiccuped, desperate, staring into her eyes as she drew away from him. He heard her voice, soft and distant, whispering, “I’m still your Zelda.”
He knew. He knew, and he wanted to tell her, he wanted to promise her that he knew and he wanted her to hear him, but it was too late. She was gone. She was right under his fingertips, and she seemed even farther away from him than she had been when she had plummeted from the sky. He wanted to shout his frustrations to the sky, to the gods, but he couldn’t look away from her. She still had more to say, and each further word tore his heart to smaller and smaller pieces.
She teased him gently like she always did, but suddenly sleepyhead sounded a lot like something else– and maybe it always had, and he had just been too dense to notice. She smiled, but the tear stains on her face mirrored his. “–this time, when all of this is over, will you come to wake me up?” Zelda asked. She said it like she would see him tomorrow. For her, maybe it would be tomorrow, but the world around him spun, like someone had tilted the earth off its axis.
The breath rattled in his chest as he filled his lungs, and he forced a smile in return, for her. He would come for her when it was time, of course, of course he would be there when she woke. He’d made countless promises to her in the past, out loud, to himself, to others on her behalf, but this is the first one he found himself wanting to break. He didn’t want to wait. He didn’t want to wait for all of this to be over to see her again, to hear her voice and see her cheeks flush with life and joy. He wanted to wake her now, before she even slept, to keep her at his side where he knew she would be. But that was selfish, and he had sworn long ago to do as she asked, and so he would. “I promise,” Link said, and he hoped she knew the weight behind it.
Her smile pulled wide as a tearful laugh escaped her, then the light truly grew blinding enough that he had to look away. When it subsided enough that he could return his eyes to her face, the crystal was no longer glowing, and she was still. The warmth inside him grew, heating him like a raging fire, but the ice in his stomach warred for control over his body. He had come so far and Zelda had finally been within his grasp, and really, she still was– she was just a few feet away, but fate solidified that miniscule distance between them with divine resolution. He ducked his head, unable to look at her resting face, and he wept.
When he felt that he could breathe again, he stepped a few paces back, looking up at her sleeping form with a reverence the goddess and the girl within her both deserved. He nodded once, to himself and to her, promising once again that he would return just as she had asked. He wiped his eyes, and he walked away, back to Impa, back to the gate, back to his own time. Impa said nothing, and he said nothing in return. He set his jaw, and the doors shut behind him.