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Sweat drips down Link’s brow. He feels vaguely sick—maybe it’s better to fight on a full stomach, but sometimes he would burn through the energy too quickly for it to be of any use. He rips the cork off an elixir with his teeth and downs it in a single gulp. Hopefully, the green mix will provide enough of a boost. Link spares a sideways glance to watch the princess from his peripheral, she’s still mid-ritual. The red-headed man (is he still a man? Is there any hint of the old Gerudo man left in him? Or has his mind been entirely destroyed by the darkness infecting him?) laughs. His laughter reverberates through the room, making Link’s teeth clack against each other. He lunges, Link parries, but the dance is getting old. Unbidden thoughts of home flit through Link’s mind with each clash of our swords—his quiet home in Hateno, the people of Tarrey Town, the people at Lookout Point, the descendents of his old friends, his old friends. Zelda, before all of this. Before she was handed her weighty destiny. When she was a girl who liked to study frogs and flowers, who believed she could improve as long as she just kept trying. When she’d pout at Link for following her, when she’d slip her knight her newest concoctions as a test subject, when she’d laugh as the pair raced their horses across the flowing plains of Hyrule. Just… Zelda. Not the savior of Hyrule, some all powerful descendent, not someone Link served because they were entwined by fate.
The monster lunges again, but this time he aims for her. Link barely manages to jump in front and block the blow with his shield. It sends a painful wave through his body, but it is worth it as long as she survives this. Link grits his teeth and charges again, but he is growing tired. Link glances at Zelda again—she’s nearly finished. Ganondorf roars in rage, and charges back at Link and Zelda again. Link defends—as he always will. Just a bit longer… there. Link looks at her the moment she finishes, the most beautiful, relieved smile breaking across her features. Zelda looks back up at Link and nods, her expression turning to the same fierce determination Link knows her for. He nods back. For that moment, although they’re separated on the battlefield, they feel as though they are right next to each other. She notches an arrow, and prepares to fire. She’ll wait until the signal. Link lunges for the beast—now that the end is in sight, it’s a bit easier to summon his last reserves of strength. Ganondorf parries the attack, but in doing so he leaves himself wide open for Zelda’s attack. The arrow flies straight for him, not faltering even a bit, and pierces his flesh. He roars again, rage and pain and something else all wrapped up in the brutal sound.
That’s when the worst happens. Ganondorf snaps the arrow lodged in him in half, the shaft splintered but no less lethal if the right place was struck.
It’s like time slows. Link can taste the moment Ganondorf realizes what he can do, to bring her down with him.
Ganondorf may fall, but he would inevitably return as his monsters thrived, while Zelda and her light would perish. A smirk curls his lips. He brings his arm back to throw it at her, and that’s when she realizes what’s going to happen. Zelda’s face morphs from horror to grim acceptance of her fate, and Link’s heart aches. She closes her eyes.
Link screams. Maybe. Is it him? He doesn’t know. All Link can think at this moment is please not her, it can’t be her. Not her. Hyrule still needs her.
And maybe Link still needs her too.
Link runs forward as fast as he can. His legs throb, his lungs burn, and he can’t (won’t?) care about any of it because she is going to die. Link’s feet falter, as though he’s stumbling forward in his desperation. He pushes himself as far as he can. As far as his body will allow and then some. Finally, finally, Link stands in front of her. Strong. Protective. Wounded. Just as he did 100 years before. As he always would. Zelda reopens her eyes and her face changes back to one of fear.
Link smiles helplessly at her.
The shaft pierces his body painfully. He can feel blood already beginning to well up in the back of his throat. Ganondorf laughs behind Link, but he knows a new hero will rise. Maybe even one better than him. Stronger, faster, clever enough to keep up with her. Someone she could be proud to have by her side. Someone who can help her rebuild Hyrule. Doesn’t she see? Link could only ever be good for fighting. Link was never built to heal.
Gravity pulls his weary body to the ground, but he doesn’t land there. Zelda catches Link, still just like that horrid battle of 100 years ago. Her hands awkwardly press against the wound in Link’s back, both trying to soothe, check how bad it is, and staunch the bleeding. Link gasps and sputters on the blood spilling past his lips. The pain is only getting worse as he fights to breathe.
“Just hold on Link, the sheikah are coming. They’ll heal you, I-Impa will heal you.”
Zelda sounds like she’s crying, but Link can’t be certain of why. Is she hurt? What… why is she hurt? She shouldn’t be hurting. Link let’s out a groan.
“Shhh, shhh. It’s going to be alright Link, please, it’ll be alright.”
Link knows. He saved her. He saved her. Link briefly wonders if he did well. If Zelda knew, that all those times he refused to leave her alone, he was only trying to keep her safe. He wonders if she learnt anything during her time in the past. Link wonders if Zelda knows that he’s so proud to be her knight.
Link can’t ask her any of it, stuck shaking and choking on his own blood. Zelda’s fingers carefully comb through the man’s sweaty hair.
“I… I-I’m here, Link.” She whispers. Link tries to look at her, but he can’t see her clearly. He smiles instead, and he hears the sound of her quietly sobbing.
“I’m right here, Link. Just hold on for a bit longer. It’s going to be alright.”
How lucky. Link must have done an alright job, to be granted such a pleasant death. How lucky that she’s here.
She’s here.
Link tries to speak, but his lips are numb.
Everything is numb.
If he could speak, he’d tell her that it’ll be alright. It doesn’t hurt anymore. It’s alright. If Link could speak, he would weave reassurances of how she would rebuild Hyrule, into a country beyond it’s former glory.
Zelda sobs again. She cradles Link close, her fingers resting atop his head in his hair. Link lets his eyes fall closed. He is so tired. Link hopes he did well. He silently begs to rest now. Since it’s over, right?
Link wanted to ask Zelda to go looking for Silent Princesses together again. He could already imagine the way she’d look surrounded by the wildflowers, telling him about her adventures in the past. He could already feel the warm sunshine in his hair, taste the sweet sticky wildberry juice on his lips.
Maybe this time he would be brave enough to take her hand. In retrospect, it seemed so foolish to worry about maintaining distance. But he didn’t want to ruin her by associating with him.
After all, what if he failed, and brought her shame?
Maybe this time would be different.