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When the memory is done, Link gathers up all the silent princesses. He might as well. They work well in dishes.
High above his head, the light dragon roars. He looks up at it. He's going to have to go up there and get his sword. After all that she'd gone through, he owed that to her.
Link closes his eyes against the sudden onslaught of emotion. The thing about being the goddess’ chosen hero, as the one who wields the sword that seals the darkness, as someone who had decided ten thousand lifetimes ago to give his life for the princess of Hyrule over and over and over again—the thing about that is that you become excellent at compartmentalizing. So okay, he just found out that the single most important person in the world to him turned herself into a huge immortal dragon so she could imbue his sword with sacred power over thousands of years. Sure, fine. Add it to the list.
He closes his eyes and sways on his feet. There's a lizalfos in the water that's been watching him the whole time, and he feels one of Tulin's arrows zip past his head, hears the grunt as it connects with the lizalfos’ horn.
He opens his eyes, grabs the horn and the tail and the bow for good measure. Then he makes note of where in the sky the light dragon is (he can't refer to it as Zelda or he's likely to have a breakdown) and then he figures out where the closest tower to it is.
And then he keeps going. Most of the time that's the only thing he knows how to do. People always call him a hero, use words like brave and fearless , but the truth is Link doesn't think he's much of a hero. He's just perseverant.
He teleports to a tower. He wonders if there are any long term complications from travelling via strange Sheikah, Zonai magic. He wonders if he'll live long enough to find out.
At the base of the tower he makes note once again of where in the sky the dragon is before launching himself upwards. He wonders if he'll ever get used to the feeling of his heart in his throat. He wonders if he'll ever stop feeling the urge to plummet towards the earth without pulling out his paraglider.
He flies up high, high, high, twists himself around until he can see the long serpentine body of the dragon below him. He dives towards it, the cold air harsh on his face. At least he can blame his tears on that.
He lands about halfway down her back, and he grabs whatever shards are littered around her spikes as he makes his way towards her head. She doesn't seem bothered by him walking around on top of her. None of the other dragons had, either. He wonders if they even notice.
Embedded in her... hair? fur? Is his sword. He looks at it and kind of feels like throwing up. Vomiting thousands of feet in the air seems like it would be unpleasant.
Was it worth it? He wants to shout, but he's not sure if she can understand him. What was it that other Zonai had said? Mineru? That becoming an immortal dragon meant losing yourself. Could she remember anything at all? Does she know who he is? Or is she gone forever?
And for what—for this sword. Link looks at it and feels nothing but hatred. For the sword and the goddess who gave it to him. For the dragon beneath him who cared about everything except herself. For all the people ten thousand years ago who hadn't been able to put an end to it then. For himself, for never being able to do his job properly. For not being able to protect her.
"Protector," he mutters scathingly. People call him that all the time too. As if it had been him who had held back Calamity for a century, as if he had been the one who sacrificed himself to wander the skies of Hyrule for thousands of years. What has he done, compared to that? Swung his sword around. Bought too many outfits. While he's been screwing around, playing journalist and racing Gorons, she's been up here.
Did it hurt? Does it hurt?
He doesn't take the sword. He crawls up to sit on her head, winding an arm around one of her giant horns to keep himself steady. There's a steady glow about her; he reaches out and plucks loose one of her scales.
"Sorry," he says, as the glow fades. "The fairies need these.”
Predictably she says nothing, although she lets out a deep rumbling sound that he hopes means she doesn't mind. He looks out towards Death Mountain and thinks about how much more simple life had been when all he'd had to do was fight some Divine Beasts.
"I am… really mad at you," he says into the open air. He tears off his gloves and presses the heels of his palms into his eyes. And then, thousands of feet in the air where no one can see him, on top of a dragon who is also a princess, the hero of Hyrule fucking breaks.
The dragon keens in sympathy as it carries him through the sky, as Link grips the soft fur of her mane and cries. He cries, and he cries, and then he pulls out the Purah Pad to take stock of things and sees what Purah had pinned to the top— Find Princess Zelda. And then he laughs , he laughs and laughs even though nothing about this is funny. He wonders where Impa is right now. He wonders if he should tell someone that the princess of Hyrule is a goddess-damned dragon.
“Found you,” he says hoarsely. He doesn’t think this is what Purah had in mind.
It had been so much easier before. He almost wishes he’d lost his memories again. When the mysterious princess whose voice he heard in his dreams was nothing more than a stranger he was destined to save. When he had to face the ghosts of dead friends he could no longer remember. When he couldn’t perfectly picture the green of her eyes or the slow stretch of her smile or the way she said his name. When he didn’t have memories of her blooming like flowers in his chest.
He wipes his eyes as the tears start to subside. He’s not sure how long he’s been up here, but she’s glowing again. He sniffs and takes another one of her scales.
“Sorry,” he apologizes again. He takes a shaky breath and closes his eyes. If only he had been able to reach her when they’d fallen underneath the castle, none of this would have happened. If he’d only done what he was supposed to do.
Resolve floods through him, burning through his frozen veins. He doesn’t have time for this pity party anymore.
He stands up and heads towards his sword. It’s calling to him, he can hear it; he can always hear it. He’d been ignoring it before, too angry and sad and mournful. But he hears it now, and he calls back to it. I’m sorry, he thinks. I’m here now. Thank you for waiting for me. Not that it had much of a choice, really, he thinks as he reaches out.
His fault for expecting this to be easy—nothing else has been. He grabs his sword and the dragon thrashes, lets out a cry and flies through the sky at a speed that has Link nearly blown off her back. He grips the sword hilt with one hand and holds on for dear life as the dragon struggles. Does it hurt, what he’s doing? Does the dragon not know what’s going on? Does she not know who he is, and thinks someone else is trying to steal the sword she’d been protecting for so long?
It’s okay, he thinks, as he reaches out with his other hand. It’s okay, it’s me. Thank you for keeping it safe for me.
The dragon roars as it continues to climb in the sky, higher and higher until they’re surrounded by clouds. The sword pulls free, the fur of the dragon falling away from it as he takes the hilt in hand and pulls. It comes easily to him this time, easier than it had before when he didn’t remember. They know each other now, his sword and him.
I’m sorry I was angry at you, he thinks, feeling guilty over his outbursts. He smooths his face back into its featureless mask as he sheaths his sword.
The dragon makes another noise. He wishes he knew what they meant. He used to be able to read Zelda by just a look, could have conversations in their glances. She’s unknowable, now. Unreachable.
She flies him to an island in the sky. The master sword pulses on his back. He grabs another scale for good measure before he stands, ready to jump off, already thinking five steps ahead, figuring out what he needs to do to fix this. To get her back.
“I’m going to save you,” he says, and he says it like it’s fact because it is. “I’m going to defeat him and save Hyrule and save you.” Because there is no Hyrule without you, he thinks but does not say. There’s no me without you.
What use is a hero with no one to save?
“Just a little bit longer,” he says. What’s a few months compared to millennia? “I’ll bring you back. I promise.”
As he jumps off her back, the dragon lets out a mournful sound, and he hopes that she believes him. He watches her fly off until she turns into a small speck, until he can’t see her anymore even when he uses his Purah Pad. Then he takes a deep breath and pulls out his sword.
“Time to keep going,” he mutters to it. The only thing he knows how to do.
Link puts one foot in front of the other.