Work Text:
Zelda,
Perhaps it will never be easier. Not for us, anyway.
I see the effects of the calamity on you vividly, when you’re walking right beside me, before you sleep at night; in the middle of it. You don’t like wearing your heart out on your sleeve, princess, but you’ve been trying too hard lately that you’ve forgotten how to conceal it. But I believe, fervently, that you shouldn't have to conceal it.
When you walk: there is a nervous skip to your step, even in lands filled with grass and green. I was the same when I came out of the Shrine of Resurrection, but mine was because I felt like I was in unchartered territory, which rang true for the most part. I can tell that we’re not the same in that regard. My caution stems from my initial knowledge about the world around me, or the lack thereof. Yours stems from your incapacity to look at things without getting reminded of the red, the screams from one hundred years ago. I’ve long forgotten about the past. You’re the only one tying me to it—though that’s not how it goes on your end.
Your exhaustion is apparent everyday. I understand why. It’s hardly been a year. I doubt that six moons’ worth of sleep is going to replenish your energy all at once. You always tell me to rest as though you weren’t as tired as me—as though you weren’t twice as restless. You were awake for a century, your consciousness barely felt, barely existing. Even now that you’re with me, you’re barely there. You’re always drifting somewhere else entirely, a place I don’t know how to get to just yet.
I’m a light sleeper next to you. I have to wake up lest trouble stirs up on the horizon. I wake up at dusk, sometimes, when I feel you clutching the sheets tighter until your knuckles turn pale. I’d give you one look the next morning and you’d smile, almost as if you knew just by sight alone that I was worried. You’d always say that you were fine, just unused to sleeping with someone next to you. That’s a lie. If it were true, why is it that you only fall back to peaceful sleep when I hold you in my arms?
Princess, it’s only going to get more difficult from now on.
I cannot promise you healing, nor can I promise you fulfilling redemption. I cannot promise you that the moon will stop revolving around us in order to give you more time; in the first place, time was what we didn’t have, what we don’t have, and quite possibly what we can’t ever be in total possession of.
I cannot promise you anything of substantial value, princess, I don’t think the Goddess granted me that power. I can promise you lasting efforts. I can promise you that I’ll try. Over and over again. I can promise you my world, everything I have left to give, but I’m certain that still wouldn’t be enough.
But I would give you everything if I could. Even if I cannot, that doesn’t mean I won’t try.
I would go through the ends of the earth for you again if that is what you would wish of me. I would do anything.
I would. For you.
Perhaps you should let me start again.
Zelda,
My Zelda. Perhaps it will never be easier. I’m sorry it can’t be. But you have my word; and by word alone, I swear to walk at a pace that allows you to breathe. Should you choose to stay still, I’ll stand beside you until you’re ready to move forward. Really, I wouldn’t mind.
We have all the time in the world.
Link.