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Link couldn’t tell you himself why he thought hoped that Zelda would be in Hateno Village. He wasn’t even sure himself. All he knew was that he had to find her. Not only because she asked for it, but because he couldn’t stand being apart from her. Not because it was his job, his duty , but because he didn’t want her to be in danger again. He couldn’t lose her again. It didn’t matter that he had absolutely no leads, or any idea where she was.
So why did he think she would be in a place where it would be easy to find her?
Maybe he wished it was that easy. Realistically, Link knew it wouldn’t be. Even if she was here, it would be the first spot anyone would look. Zelda lived here. For years, she has spent her daily life in the humble farming village. She even became an active part of the community by teaching the kids. If the adults all unanimously agreed to protect her, there’s no telling if the kids would let word slip out. Zelda taking refuge here would be too risky. Not to mention, Link wouldn’t need to “find her.”
Yet, it didn’t make him hope she was there any less.
There wasn’t much Link was able to remember prior to the moment his eyes opened in the chamber of awakening. Finding the memories of his past helped paint a picture, but it didn’t give much more information. He couldn’t remember his parents, his childhood, when he started training before becoming employed at Hyrule Castle, his friends… all of it was so foggy that he couldn’t make out anything in his memory. His entire upbringing, his entire life sans a few months was completely wiped. Despite that, one thing was very clear in his head; it was that he loved Zelda, and he would do anything to keep her safe. Staying by her side wasn’t his duty. It was his own want. Back in the era of the old Hyrule, the Hyrule only him, Zelda, and Impa remember, it still wasn’t entirely his duty. He wanted to stay by her side and try what he could to make her feel happy. If not happy, then do his best to cheer her up with all she had on her shoulders at the time. Back then, at first they weren’t on the best terms, but he never took it personally. It then became his personal mission to not only protect her physical form, but to protect her spirit as well. That was why after Calamity Ganon was defeated, and Zelda could finally step free from the Castle, Link took her to his newly purchased home. As relieved as she was to see him again (and him with her), it was plain as day how exhausted she was. That castle could no longer be her home. Everyone there that knew her was long gone, it was in pieces, and after being stuck in there for a century all alone? There was no way he could make her go back there. Even if she initially insisted, Link wouldn’t let her. He knew the princess well enough to know the pain she was hiding behind her smile. “But, I must restore Hyrule somehow,” she said.
It took a bit of persuasion, but eventually Zelda was able to accept Link’s insistence of living with him in Hateno. At first, it was a bit awkward. He only had one bed, since it was a house for a single person. The walls were lined with weapons he put on display from his travels, not a single picture or other type of souvenir laid out anywhere. His cutlery was sparse, as if he never expected to have any guests over. Maybe he didn’t. He didn’t spend much time here himself. But, he did whatever he could to make sure she was comfortable. Link often would sleep on the floor or at the table in the middle of his ground floor so Zelda could have peaceful sleep after a hundred years of using her maximum strength. He wouldn’t let her cook or do any chores inside or around the village for a solid two months. “You used all of your energy for a hundred years straight. You deserve a break, Princess.” Eventually, Zelda’s exhaustion got the better of her and she would often sleep for over 24 hours straight. Link was never bothered by it. More than anything, he wanted her to be comfortable. Hopefully, she finally could be.
And she was comfortable.
Link didn’t mean to make a habit of still treating her like royalty, but Zelda knew it was out of worry for her well-being and nothing to do with her nobility status. She never wasted a moment to express her gratitude. And Link never wasted a moment to take her the bask of her warmth, as if the sun itself was showing through her smile, with the beams raining down from her own flowing golden locks. She was as if the sun was making an impression of her, and it couldn’t ever come close. Zelda was the metaphorical and literal light of Link’s life. He owed so much to her. Before her, he was so lost. But, once they settled down a bit after the battle and she rested enough to start being antsy to move in the grass again, Zelda began a personal mission. She would start telling Link older memories. Of course, she couldn’t tell him everything—they only met after she was already fifteen—but she had heard stories from her father, the other knights, and even Link himself every once in a while. The two of them shared other memories before the Calamity as well; such as the time she had to take Link’s measurements before sewing his Champion’s Garb, an experience she did not enjoy at the time due to her then frustrations. As the days went on, and the two had become even more comfortable with each other, eventually it became a nightly ritual before bed. Zelda would cozy up in bed and think of a random memory to tell Link. Sometimes they would jog his memory, other times he would be surprised something even happened. Seeing his reactions always made her chuckle, and Link loved hearing her laughter.
The transition in their relationship was strange and unconventional. During this time, Link and Zelda slowly just started to do even more things together. One night, while she was recalling a particularly lengthy memory about how she got into a fight with her father, and how Link followed her no matter where she went that day when all she wanted was privacy, Link slowly made his way to sitting on the edge of the bed next to her. Perhaps he was doing it subconsciously, perhaps he was fully aware of what he was doing. Just like back then, in the present day he wanted to stay by her side. Whether she was recovering, out in the town, or her nose stuck in her notes. Link never wanted to leave her. He wanted to create new memories with her every day. This was truly the moment the gears fully turned. To never leave her side, they needed to create a life together. But the weird thing was that they already had. He just wanted it to be permanent. And he was on the fence if Zelda felt the same way. The moment Zelda finished retelling the memory, she awkwardly said goodnight and turned to start going under the covers, noticing Link’s proximity to her. Link couldn’t control his body at that moment. With her back turned to face him, it already felt like she was too far gone. His arms swiftly wrapped themselves around her middle, his face hiding in her shoulder and hair.
“Can I sleep here with you, Zelda?” he asked, voice muffled by her hair against his lips.
Caught off guard, Zelda took a moment to just look down at his hands resting on her body. While she never fully expressed her feelings to Link, she was under the impression that they were unrequited. He must have been so close to her all this time due to habit, she always told herself. Letting out a quiet “yes,” the two shifted to lay on their sides in the same position. And they stayed that way the entire night.
That was the beginning of their relationship. No confession, no asking of an official label, no dynamic changes. From that night, they started to share the bed. But nothing felt different. They just spent even more time together than they already did. Link was practically glued to her hip. He was so in love with Zelda, that any moment not spent with her was just him counting down the hours, minutes, seconds until he could be with her again.
Which is why Link was so, so devastated when he opened the door to his home, their home, and she wasn’t there.
The house looked empty. Almost as if no one lived there at all. If he didn’t know any better, it could have been a poster or newspaper ad for Hudson Construction. Everything was perfectly aligned with no sense of body warmth wafting through the space. No haphazardly placed utensils or papers, or not a single stray shoe in the groove of taking them off near the door once crossing the threshold after a long day. Not even dried candle wax in the center of the dinner table, and the half used candle was replaced with a new one. There was a photo of Zelda’s horse on the wall, but it seemed to lack any hint that she was the one who took it. Link spent so many years here with Zelda. Why did it seem so foreign to him?
Not being able to stand the feeling in the air, Link quickly made his way upstairs. Surely the bed—their bed—had something, anything, to show she was here, even if long ago. But Link still felt crushed when he saw their sleeping area. Zelda’s diary was closed, but it was perfectly centered on the desk, and not the crooked way she always shoved it to the corner after she finished writing in it for the day. Any stray papers were neatly piled, maybe not even in the order Zelda and Link kept them in for their own organization. The books were lined up in a way Zelda would never order them herself. Even if Link didn’t fully understand her process, he noticed immediately it wasn’t her way.
“Link?”
Hearing a voice, Link’s eyes shot up and his body tensed. He peered down from the desk a story above, seeing a village woman in the doorway, a broom and bucket in her arms.
“Oh, I didn’t mean to startle you,” she said. “It’s just that you and Zelda went missing. No one had seen you two in months. I’ve been cleaning your home while you two were gone. Didn’t want you to come home to a dusty and messy home. Don’t mind me.”
Oh, so that’s why. Their home was slowly becoming something that wasn’t theirs. Even if it was just housekeeping, and not to mention a very kind gesture, it was ripping Zelda away from Link even further.
Turning to the bed, Link’s heart was becoming more and more overwhelmed. The bed was perfectly made. Not a single crease in the sheets or the covers, and the pillow wasn’t flattened or lopsided in any way. It looked like it was never even slept in. There wasn’t even a single stray hair of Zelda’s, long or short, before she asked Link to cut it for her over two years ago now.
He couldn’t take it anymore.
All of his memories, all he can remember, were following wherever Zelda was going. There was no way to count down the seconds, the half seconds, the quarter seconds until he could see her again. He had no idea where she was. The last time he thought he saw her, she disappeared into thin air. Was she in the skies? Or below in the depths? Was she even on the surface? Where was she? Where was Zelda? Why did she go somewhere he couldn’t follow? Why couldn’t she have given a hint? Why didn’t they go to the same place? Why?
Why?
Why?
Why?
Why?
WHY?
His heart was breaking to the ninth degree as each second passed. Each second was another without her, with no certainty on her whereabouts or wellbeing. Desperately, Link grabbed onto their bed sheets, hoping even a fraction of her warmth was lingering. That maybe somehow despite the bed being made after it was used months ago, the shape of her figure was imprinted on the mattress, even if only a centimeter. Even if her scent lingered—a mixture of the Hateno air and grass along with Silent Princess petals, and just a hint of the tea she loved drinking—along the pillow, the bed frame, the sheets, just … anywhere. But she wasn’t there. It didn’t matter how hard he gripped the sheets, how many times his hand ran over her side of the bed, or how far he shoved his face into the spot where he slept to feel her in any capacity. She was gone. Zelda was gone, and there was nothing Link could do about it besides accepting it and not resting until he could hold her in his arms again.
Feeling defeated, tears started to pile behind Link’s eyes. His head hurt, he was dizzy, he was beyond exhausted from searching for her for weeks already, with no way to track her down. Her voice is only in his head. There’s no way for him to follow. Like a Korok, he just had to search under every rock, in every tree, at the top of every mountain and at the bottom of every valley until he got the slightest clue on where she could be. And he wouldn’t stop. No way he could stop. Never in a thousand years would he ever stop waiting for her. She already waited for him for over a hundred years, this was the least he could do. Zelda already endured so much, that what Link was experiencing was nowhere near her pain. But it still hurts so, so much.
He couldn’t take this feeling. The way all his emotions smacked him in the face and pushed him to the ground, he couldn’t move. Link knew Zelda would scold him for being in this state; for not taking care of himself and working way too hard. Maybe if he did what she would force him to do in an act of caring for him, he could feel her presence here, even the tiniest bit. Link let go of the sheets, his hands moving to the vacant spot on the bed, as if he was holding a ghost, or keeping the spot warm for Zelda, like she would walk in any moment and crawl in to sleep next to him like she always did. Yet, as he drifted to sleep from his fatigue catching up to him, he still couldn’t feel a single trace.
Please, Zelda. Please stop going to places I can’t reach you.