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The way they ended things—in truth, he hesitates to say it ever really ended.
In Link’s mind, they would be together forever, no matter how much space came between them.
But in reality, from sun to sun, in the light of day, they broke apart like deadwood. He once watched a bolt of lightning strike a decaying tree, and his eyes watered as the bark held. Strong, he thought, strong even while it’s dying. When he rounded it, he saw another picture entirely, a large crack that let him peer deep inside the rings. While the bark was holding itself together, everything else, the rot and the black and the weak heart, smoldered endlessly. Scarlet tongues, cruel, endlessly lashing.
He thinks of the deadwood tree with the heart of fire that day when he gets the letter.
He doesn’t entirely know why.
* * *
“Are you sure you want to go?”
Link looks up from his sword. Well-used metal demands to be honed, and he is always practicing.
Of course, he signs. It would be improper to let you go on your own.
Zelda’s frown moves across her beautiful face. She does that more frequently now, he’s noticed. He looks back at his sword and the stone.
“I could find another knight,” she reminds him as she’s done countless times since the twin letters came. “There are dozens, as you know.”
“I’ll go,” he says, a tone of finality in his voice, one which she knows better to question.
They have spent enough time together now that Zelda knows him better than he knows himself, he would wager. Still, she cannot help herself. It’s in her nature to push just a little too far. It’s what makes her a mirror for him, two halves of the same whole. They both push just a little too far without even realizing they’re doing it.
“We could stay,” she tells him. “I could make up an excuse.”
He sets the whetstone down to the floor, and it echoes against the stones. He looks up at her, and she is looking back down at him.
We’re going, Link signs to her. Whyever would we need to avoid it? He wipes the edge of his sword with a cloth and then sheathes it in the scabbard. It is a royal wedding. He looks back up into her eyes with a tenuous smile. “A happy occasion.”
“Link,” she whispers softly.
He barely has time to open his arms before she is crashing her body against him, embracing him tightly, a grounding force. He closes his eyes, and he puts his nose by her neck as she hugs him. She smells of flowers.
“I had no idea it would come to this.”
“It has been years,” Link reminds her. “It is expected of him to marry.”
“Of course,” she says. “I only thought it—”
She stops herself. Link knows that she knows better than to finish her thought. His own mind, however, gives him no such courtesy. I only thought it would be you. He tightens his jaw, teeth grinding together. Pain courses through him, a rootless sensation. It floats through him aimlessly. He is on fire. He is putrescence. He is endless suffering. Hands fasten around him, pulling.
He drags himself back from her, a hand gentle against her face.
“It’s all right.”
“How could it ever be all right?” she asks.
“I don’t know,” he says. “I only know that it must be.”
Her frown deepens. He’s done this to her.
“Are you sure we have to go?” Zelda asks.
“You are the queen.”
“You only ever say that when you’re telling me I have to do something I don’t want to,” she says, the frown slowly melting into a smile. “I’ll be there. I will never leave your side.”
It’s meant to be the other way around, he signs.
She laughs and for a moment, it feels okay.
Moments are short.
* * *
Zora weddings are a strange affair, and he does not understand much of it. Ancient rituals are performed: songs, water pouring, sand mixing, the lighting of a ceremonial candle. Words are spoken, and Link tries not to look away. It feels like pressing into a fresh bruise, watching as Sidon stands there, tall, strong, beautiful, lovely, his—
And Sidon becomes someone new there in the sept as he embraces the girl, the one called Yona. And he kisses her long and joyous with the halls rattling with noise and cheer. And Link’s body aches like he’s been struck. And his heart tears, all the fascia ripping apart as torn cloth might. And Link’s eyes water as he stands and applauds so that he fits in with everyone else.
—no, Goddess, no, he no longer belongs to Link.
* * *
When he walks into the grand hall, he cannot help but feel as though the entire world’s eyes are fixed upon him.
Perhaps it is just that Sidon once felt like his entire world.
His eyes are piercing gold, and they bore into Link’s core. Warmth thrills through him, and he forces himself to break the contact before something terrible happens. Something familiar. Something long past. He looks left towards Zelda where he walks beside her, and they descend the pale blue staircase together, her hand resting on his forearm as he guides her down.
The hall is decorated handsomely, the luminous tables covered in pale yellow cloth and dancing with tall flower arrangements spilling with greenery and crisp white petals. Banners bearing the Zora crest hang from the high ceilings, decked in silver and gold. Candelabras float above them, dripping their wavering, billowing light, and the wedding guests are all dressed in the finery of their race.
He feels foolish, dressed in the royal guard’s attire.
As if hearing his thoughts, Zelda looks at him as he leads her to their table.
“You’re the one who insisted,” Zelda says primly.
“What else was I meant to wear?”
“Your Champion’s tunic is quite lovely.”
“It’s too bright,” Link says, “I didn’t want to—”
“Stand out?”
He does not answer her, and in that way, she gets her answer. The truth is always hardest to admit.
The food is bountiful, spread across banquet tables. Wooden casks marked with the Goron seal spill spice wine into waiting glasses. Whole fish stuffed with garlic and dill and lemon are served from banana leaves, grill marks crossing across the succulent flesh. Fried potatoes and fluffy Hylian rice are smothered with butter and salt and sugar and dried waterweed, and there are cold soups, tomato and cucumber, ginger and carrot, even a sweet strawberry soup.
He does not have much of an appetite, and despite his better judgment, he fills his cup with crystal icewine. Resist such a temptation? It’s not like him.
How many nights were bolstered by the icewine’s courage? How many nights did he confess his secrets under its fateful hands? How many nights, he wonders, did he spend in Sidon’s bed, stomach full, heart tethered?
And then he is being shaken, Zelda’s hand on his shoulder. He jolts, looking up to find that the bride is standing there next to Zelda, staring at him. She is beautiful, wearing jewels and metalwork befitting a future queen. His teeth clack as he stands to bow to her.
Have you fucked him, Link wonders. When was the first time? How soon after he last had me did he take you?
She reaches out to embrace him sweetly, and it hurts even worse this way.
Be cruel, he thinks. Give me something to hate.
“It is good to finally meet you,” Yona smiles, withdrawing from the hug to hold him by the shoulder. “I have heard so much about you, dear hero.”
“Ah,” he smiles back. “And I you.”
No, he thinks spitefully to himself, actually, I have heard little of you. I have heard so little that I thought perhaps this might all be a nasty nightmare. That you might not even be real.
“I am so very glad that you both could make it,” she says, voice lilting, dazzling like a sundelion as she looks between them. “It has been my greatest desire to meet you.” She clasps her hands around Link’s. “You are the dearest friends his majesty possesses, you must know that.”
Take solace in it, he tells himself. If you cannot be everything, then at least let yourself be something.
He opens his mouth to speak, but the words do not come out. He makes a strained noise as he tries again to speak, but there is nothing in his mouth.
Frantically, he begins to sign.
We count him as our closest friends as well, he signs. He is a fine king.
“Yes,” Zelda says quickly, “a fine king. We are so very proud of him.”
“Indeed,” she smiles. “So too are we all.” A small group of Zora approaches, one of them touching Yona’s hand gently. Yona nods at the girl before looking back at Zelda and Link. “My apologies, friends, I must go to greet the rest of the guests, but… but thank you again for coming! Please enjoy the food and drink!”
She is whisked away in a flurry of Zora attendants, hurrying her over to another table.
Link cannot help himself.
He looks at Sidon, drinking from a water goblet as he listens to a story from a group of partygoers. Sidon sets the goblet down to laugh, deep, jubilant.
Link drinks his wine.
“You should eat something,” Zelda whispers, quiet enough so that no one else can hear.
She knows best, but he’s never been very good at following instruction.
* * *
The night grows heavy and full, and they dance beneath the candlelight. Revelry spreads like wildfire, laughter and merriment chasing after smiling faces like coat tails and dress trains.
Face hot, he takes himself to the balcony, sitting with his feet dangling over the edge as he looks out over the Domain. Zelda herself was making the rounds, regal and proud as she dealt with so-and-sos and whoevers. He looks back at her through the window, and she is smiling. Good, he thinks, at least I haven’t completely ruined this day.
He moves his feet through the open air. The water would catch him if he leapt.
“I thought I might find you here,” and Link looks back to see Sidon standing there in the doorway, smiling like they are old friends, “away from everything.”
Link does not know what to say because what could you possibly say to the love of your life when they have just joined their soul to someone else? What elegant words could ever be enough to explain, hide, justify—
“You know me well,” he answers, looking back out over the night sky. “Whatever are you doing here, your majesty?”
“Talking to you, of course.”
With that, he walks over to Link, sitting beside him. Not close enough to touch, a hand resting next to Link’s. Once upon a time, they would have been pressed together. Hands, thighs. Nothing would have been enough to rip them apart.
“I should think there are others who would demand your presence.”
“No,” Sidon informs him. “None except you.”
A quiet settles over him like raw wool, itching his skin. He fidgets as he tries to hold it back, the question, the devilish question, but in the end, he cannot stop it.
“Why am I here?” Link asks. “Why did you invite me?”
“You are the hero of Hyrule, you are beloved across the land, and you are serving as the commander of the Queen’s Guard,” Sidon says. “It would have been highly improper not to invite you.”
“And we must always do what’s proper.”
Sidon sighs, and his hand slips an inch away from Link’s.
“Would you have preferred if I did not invite you?” he asks.
It holds the irrationality of his emotions to the light, and he chooses not to respond. Sidon already knows, of course. Link would have hated it either way.
A thousand things and more run across his fields.
Why didn’t you ever chase after me? Why didn’t you write when you said you would? When did it end for you? Was it when we fought that last time? Was it because I couldn’t cry? Why is this happening to us now? Don’t you care for me? I still care for you, I never stopped caring for you, and it feels a great betrayal to turn around and see you with her now.
He says none of it.
He says instead, “I should go.”
He goes to move, and Sidon covers Link’s hand with his, and shock waves move through them. Fire floods. Everything shakes.
“What are you doing?” he asks.
“Asking you to stay,” Sidon says.
And at the beginning and end of all things, Link is powerless to love.
He settles back down next to Sidon, mourning the loss of his touch once it’s slipped back to a respectable distance. He looks back out over the sky, and he breathes out weakly.
“You shouldn’t do things like that,” he warns.
“Link.”
“What?”
A pause, one that draws Link’s eye.
“I… it must be so clear that I never stopped loving you,” Sidon admits softly. “And I love you even still. To this day, my hero.” He looks down at their hands, so far. So close. “Even now, it is hard to impede instinct.”
Instinct, he thinks to himself, such a brutal word. Rough around the edges and perfect for the pair of us. Was it just instinct? Bodies hot in the water? Ululating from an open throat? Was it meant to be this way? Were we always meant to be bound?
Link swallows roughly. “You mustn’t say such things.”
“It is not in my nature to lie.”
“Then maybe it is time to change your nature.” He looks behind him, through the window. Zelda talks quietly to Yona, small gestures. “She is a fair woman. A kind woman.” He looks back at Sidon. “You have never been cruel. You have never—It was never like you to deceive.”
“Indeed, she is fair and kind, and you know that I would never deceive anyone, let alone someone who I would take to wife,” Sidon smiles, and it turns sad. “She is well aware of… well, everything that transpired between us.”
“Everything?”
A beat, and a brush of their fingers. “Everything.”
Link draws away, speaks with his hands.
You never wrote, he accuses.
“Would it be exceedingly childish of me to point out that you didn’t either?” Sidon asks, and when Link glances at him, he is smiling.
How does he manage that, Link wonders? Is he happy? Truly?
I suppose not, he responds.
Sidon looks up to the swirling sky, gold and blue and green, the dancing lights of happy gods. They must be pleased with the marriage. Acid climbs the easy ladder of Link’s throat. He swallows. Stars push their bright eyes through the darkness, and Link gazes upon the soft angles between them. If only he was a star. If only he was skystreams and wind and light. If only it didn’t hurt so very much to be a person.
“I waited, you know,” Sidon says suddenly. “I waited.”
Link glances at him, and it burns to look at him. It is looking at the midday sun. Dangerous. Vicious.
“Waited for what?”
Sidon does not answer, and Link does not know that he could bear the weight of it anyway. He stares at the open arms of the water beneath them, faraway but—
“I love you,” Sidon tells him quietly, “and it is true that I will always love you, but there are some things now that cannot be.”
Yes, he signs. I understand.
“Don’t hide from me.”
He looks over, thinking, There is only hiding between us now.
“What do you want from me?”
It would hurt less if he asked for everything. If he asked to have him even within the confines of this constriction. Link would contract himself to fit within the walls if he must. Anything to stay. Anything for one last chance.
“My only wish is that we can remain friends,” Sidon answers. “You must know that—”
“I am your dearest friend,” Link whispers. “Yes, I know.”
“I hope that one day, you and I might… might care for each other in a way that does not hurt anyone ever again,” Sidon says simply.
If only it was simple.
How many times did I cut you, my love? How many times did our words maim? Do you still wear the scars that I etched into you? I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I wish I could go back. I am so very sorry.
“I hope so too,” Link answers.
* * *
At the end of the night, the royal caravan takes the short journey back to the castle. He keeps his eyes forward, but when he closes them, he sees their embrace. It sickens him. He wants to be kind. He wants to be like them, but he is too full of the things he’s defeated along the way.
“It will be alright now,” Zelda promises him. “We will be home soon.”
“Home,” he says softly, wondering, what home?
My home has left me a wanderer.
My home has left me without walls.
My home has killed me.
My love has always been dust.
* * *