Chapter Text
This is the story of two people who are both a little broken and both a little empty. And no matter what this story may say, or what it may lead you to believe, you must never forget that this is not a love story. And you must always remember that despite that, it is a story about love.
And it starts, like most good stories do, with dragons.
∞
Zelda was running down a mountain. Actually– running wouldn't be the right word. She was scrambling, falling over herself, and soon, tumbling.
Rocks and brambles clouded her path, creating long, deep gashes across her body. Her hands were filled with grime and yet she pushed herself up, her legs shaking.
Looming behind her, was an ominous dragon, engraved with a fluorescent marble color. She was fast, but the dragon was faster. And no matter how much she ignored the ache in her legs, the way her thighs were burning, nothing could change the fact that the open plain couldn't hide Zelda for much longer.
The dragon opened its mouth to swallow her whole and Zelda could do nothing but close her eyes and embrace for impact.
This was not the first time she'd had this dream. And yet, it never stopped scaring her any less.
However, unlike her other dreams, someone pushed her out of the way. She didn't notice it at first, until the soft footsteps she once confused with her own, grew closer and closer. And then, she felt a pressure to her side and her trajectory changed. The dragon reached out to grab her but caught her savior instead.
She turned around, her brain not quite processing the change, and screamed at the person. She didn't get a glimpse of them, but still, she yelled and reached out her hand. Her throat began to burn too and pure desperation clouded her thoughts.
But the dragon had already closed its jaw and was on its way, no longer caring about the trembling girl beside it. One of its giant eyes stared at her as it flew by. It was uncaring. Devoid of kindness and cruelty. And then it flew away, soaring toward a parting in the clouds, leaving her with nothing but a lock of gold hair, trailing down from the sky.
∞
When you're younger no one ever tells you dragons aren't real. They never tell you that one day you'll wake up and you'll realize dragons aren't real. And they certainly won't tell you the worst part of it all. That despite all your love for it, when you wake up, it won't break your heart. Dragons aren't real and your heart isn't broken.
Maybe you won't even realize it at first. You'll just wake up and it is. And the world around you is forever and irrevocably changed.
Zelda's known for the past ten years that dragons aren't real. And yet when she wakes up, panting and gasping for air, her fingers digging into her mattress. She couldn't help but feel like she was eight years old again: blissful and hopeful. Believing with all her heart that dragons were real.
Turning over in her bed, Zelda ran a hand through her hair. Her heart was still throbbing against her chest, beating against her ribcage. The excitement coursed throughout her entire body.
She just wanted to rest, to savor this moment of solace. But soon, the loud pounding of footsteps entered her ears. The door slammed open and nurse after nurse rushed in through the door, picking up different limbs and pulling her out of bed.
Lotion and makeup were feverishly applied to every inch of her skin they could access. Her clothes were stripped off her, and even more attendants rushed in with today's new clothing.
Zelda let herself doze off as everyone prepared her. This would be the closest she'd get the rest of the day to peace.
After they were done they sent her off. Princesses have duties after all.
But once her day was done and her door was locked behind her, all the ideas of writing her speech for the coronation vanished. She didn't touch the quill on her desk but instead grabbed her supper and slipped into her closet. She lit a small lamp and pulled out her biology and physics textbooks.
They weren't particularly interesting, but once she mastered the concepts, she was positive she could convince her father she was worthy of learning science and mathematics. Positive… Positive… Pos…
Her body melted into the cold wall behind her. Zelda decided to close her eyes, just for one quick second. A small rest couldn't hurt.
∞
Zelda awoke to the sharp ringing of an alarm clock. Startled, she pushed herself out of bed, ignoring her scratchy throat and bleary eyes. The nurses must have found a new way to wake her up. But, once her eyes focused, what awaited her was neither her room nor her closet, but instead something else entirely.
She had never seen a room like this inside the castle, its walls were painted with a baby blue and trophies filled the tops of shelves. There was a dresser and clothes strung over the floor, but overall it was mostly empty. It looked like a hollow, shabby interpretation of a high school boy's bedroom.
"Why would something like this be in the castle… Oh no." The short answer was: It wasn't. The long answer was: She had been kidnapped.
It was at this point that Zelda began to scream.
Er– At least– She tried to scream. Her throat seemed to catch on itself and only a low, hoarse shudder exited her body. That… That wasn't good.
As if trapped in a desperate panic, Zelda began gasping for air as she jumped off the bed– pausing as her balance shifted. Her body felt alien as if it wasn't her own. Had she been drugged? Oh my god. Was she drugged?! Did someone drug the princess of Hyrule?!
Zelda sprinted toward the door, allowing herself a small moment of comfort when she found it unlocked and tumbled through the house. She crashed into the first room she found, a bathroom.
She turned toward a mirror to inspect her eyes. She wasn't drugged, some delirious part of her attempted to reason, it must be one long misunderstanding!
Zelda turned toward the mirror, her face paling in terror. This was much worse than being drugged or kidnapped. She reached to touch her face as if to confirm it was her own.
As she stared into the mirror a boy with messy golden hair stared back at her. She made a gagging sound and wrapped her shaking arms around herself. " Oh no. Oh no. Oh no oh no oh no oh no," Her mind went into overdrive. Oh, Hylia. She was gonna puke. "Not him. Anyone but him."
∞
The first day of Link's life began when he was around ten years of age.
It was also the last.
No one ever tells you that one day you'll wake up and make a stupid mistake. And that stupid mistake will stab you in the back.
No one ever tells you that everyone has to grow up. No one ever tells you when that fateful day may be.
You convince yourself you will grow up when you turn eighteen. When you leave your parents. When you're ready. Once you've prepared.
But the world waits for no one. And despite how everyone seems to know that fact, you will never be told it. Except, of course, until it's too late.
Link's life ended when he was ten years old. When he strayed off the trail in a forest he used to play in. When he tripped on a rock and tumbled down a hill, landing face-first into a pond. Where he would lay eyes on a sword, stuck in between the crevices of stone, in the middle of a pond.
Most people said it was the day his life began. Scholars pointed it out on timelines. Articles were published theorizing about it. Books would be written in vain attempts to capture it.
But none of them will understand what sort of day it really was. He didn't even understand at the time. He didn't even feel the misery and agony that should have been flooding his heart. He just stared at the sword with big, wide eyes, and let a giddy grin overcome his features.
The sword was exactly like the ones in those stories his mother had always told him: Magnificent, radiating power. It felt like a dream come true. A fairytale brought to life.
Brimming with excitement and curiosity, he waded through the water and gripped the handle as hard as his tiny ten-year-old hands could. Then he began to pull.
He wasn't particularly strong at ten, he would be much stronger sooner, but he wasn't at ten. And yet, it must have been some twisted mix of adrenaline and hope that pushed him forward.
His knuckles turned white and his breathing became heavy, weighed down by all the pressure in him. Ashe continued for hours, the sword began to glow. His eyes pricked with tears. Nothing could compare to the moment when he finally pulled it from the stone, the force pushing him backward into the lake.
Water tickled the edges of his face as his chest heaved, his entire body craving air. And yet, he wore a wide grin etched upon his face. He reached over and gripped the sword, to prove it was real to him.
After he recovered, he scrambled out of the pond, dragging the tall sword behind him, and giddily ran over to his house.
Link will never forget the way his parents' faces looked when he pulled open the door, showing off his new sword. Their expressions will never stop haunting him in his nightmares. He remembers his father's first, the crinkle of his eye and the glint in his smile. For one of the few times in Link's life, his father looked proud. And then he remembers his mother's. The way her face paled. The way her hands shook. Link wouldn't place the emotions for years. He considered between fear and sorrow for some time, but it wasn't until he finally turned eighteen that he realized what it was. It was regret.
Link didn't know that though. And when his father came up and gripped his shoulder, he didn't flinch when he squeezed too hard. He learned a lot that day. About his future, his destiny. His duty .
And he would wake up the next day, eyes fresh with tears, and he would begin to mourn.
∞
Link woke up surrounded by silky covers in a gold plated bed. He bolted upward, preparing for the worst. But his body was nowhere near as fit as he remembered and as he scrambled off of bed, he began to recognize the room around him.
"The princesses bedroom..."
But why would he be in here?