Work Text:
It’s a mutually understood, though yet unspoken fact: they’ve both been putting off the castle.
They’ve established operations nearby — around the very dais he’d been knighted upon, actually. From there, the castle looms in monolithic glory. It’s still black from the rot of now-faded malice, the brick twice as weathered as one hundred years might’ve had it. But the putrid sense of evil had simmered out, and now the sun’s rays pour between the empty window frames. It does not reach the rusted Hyrulean crest inlaid above the gates.
Zelda crosses that threshold first. Link admires that about her; less recklessness than an unwillingness to be held by the past. Though, it’s not really their first time back since that day. No, Link had been through a few times, dredging out the last of the monsters. Then a few more alongside Zelda, reviewing the structural integrity, making sure it was not a risk to at least start building around the location.
But this is the first time they’ve entered with the intent to rebuild, to restore. To make something of this place.
It weighs heavy. Link’s not sure how aware Zelda was during those one hundred years — enough to count the tiles in the floor, or only enough to sense his own awakening? Either way, he’s sure she’s sick of this place in a way he cannot relate to. For him, it’s more in the lack of memory. He gets flashes, passing by certain doors or halls. This is a room where I enjoyed myself, or this is the room where I realized I wasn’t seen as a person, or this is the room where I understood that this will not end.
It’s frustrating, but seeing the queasy look on Zelda’s face, he wonders if he’s better off for it.