Work Text:
He should have kissed her one last time.
He shouldn’t have accepted her kiss and let it be. He should have scooped her off her feet, kissed her like he never would again, kissed her like she’d forget him otherwise, kissed her like the world depended on it. Now it’s too late. Now he’ll never kiss her again.
Malon will be at home with the girls, maybe their eldest will be visiting, maybe she’ll be off with her husband instead. They’ll be waiting for him, excited for him to come back again, bearing treasures for his best girls as he does every time Queen Zelda calls for his help. He had them too, had picked out a hairpin for Navi, a new knife for Sari, and the rattle he’d found to give his eldest and her husband. He knows full well that they didn’t want to tell him yet, were waiting until his final mission was over before sharing the happy news. Malon knows, his girls know, but they’d wanted to give him a happy surprise when he came back.
Now, there will never come a time where he will meet Melony’s little one. Would that child be one of his pup’s parents one day? A grandparent? Would it be another of his girls that would bring about the sharp young warriors he’d grown so fond of in his last adventure? Link isn’t sure. He’ll never know now though.
No, standing over his own lifeless body, he’s struck with the truth that he will never hold his grandchild in his arms or watch his pup come into this life. What if the child who’s still growing within his eldest will in fact be the boy he’d seen as a son? His pup just waiting to come into this world? He’ll not know the mentor he’ll come to see as a father until he’s nearly in his twenties, and then he’ll only get to know a version of him that is from long before himself.
It had hurt, having to say goodbye, but never getting to say ‘hello’ somehow hurts just as bad, if not more.
He’s run a hundred missions. He's helped fend off monsters and threats so many times. He’s fought the Gerudo and uprisings of other races. He’s aided her highness wherever he was asked, whenever he was asked. Like Legend had once said: once a hero, they're always heroes. There’s no turning down adventure, no matter how long or short it is they’ve had to rest. It’s in their nature to chase the stars, to let wild souls run free, chasing the thrill of the battle, the challenge of a good puzzle, the safety of their people. He’d accepted this mission like each one before, the same warning to the queen on his lips. “This is the last time, Zelda, never again.” And she’d just nodded and smiled in a knowing way.
He’d really meant it this time though. Becoming a father was one thing, but now with his daughters grown, the presence of a new little life drives even further home the truth of his age, of the years, of the fact that he’s no longer a young man, and one day he’s not going to be fast enough. He’d decided it was time to retire, to turn in his armor when he got home and hang up his sword over the mantle as nothing more than a last resort in times of a trouble and a trophy of thousands of stories to share with the new little life about to come into the world.
He was planning to go home. Planning to retire at long last.
Now he never will.
He'd seen the blow coming. Been injured enough to know he couldn’t stop it. Still, like Warriors used to say, he’s never known when to quit. The ocarina had been on his lips, a familiar and well played tune already taking effect even as he’d felt the plunge of the blade.
He doesn’t know if he’d broken it, if the sword fell at the wrong time or if the magic had just twisted up with it all, but he’s watched himself die three times now.
Three times, he’s caught the ocarina when he’d thought there was no chance, and yet every time, just as the final note plays, an enemy blow finds him, lies him low, steals his final breath as it wheezes that last note to send him back again. Again into battle, again into war, again into the sands of the desert with a desperate hope in his heart that he could make it back this time.
Melony has a child he needs to welcome into the world. Navi and her beau have been courting for months and he’s only just waiting for the lad to come and ask to speak with him now. He’d promised Sari that he’d teach her the ways of the sword when he returned, help her fulfill her dream of becoming a knight. He needs to go home to them. He needs to hold his grandson. He needs to walk his youngest down the aisle. He needs to see his fiercest daughter receive the honor she’s been chasing since childhood.
Yet, each time he thinks he’s going to have the time, each time he’s sent back, back to when his lungs still heave with breath and his heart still pounds in his chest, the blade finds him before his tune is finished.
He still tries.
He tries playing it the moment he’s back, but an arrow ends it.
He tries lifting his shield before him, crouching low behind the pile of fallen soldiers, but an enemy always creeps upon him, or a monster appears out of the sands.
He’s a hero and a fighter not able to go down like a coward, so of course he tries to fight instead, to not even touch the ocarina, to ward off blows and keep his whole focus on the field, on the enemy, on the blows headed for him, but that simply lands him here again, standing over his own corpse and overcome again with the weight of his failure.
He needs to go home.
He promised Malon.
He told her he’d come back within a fortnight. He promised her it was the last time. He should have kissed her, told her he loved her enough times to make up for all the years he’s now going to miss. He should have visited Melony and her husband. He should have told her he knew, hugged her, told her child at least once, even if they couldn’t hear, how much he already loved them.
Now he never can.
He’s a hero, he’s like Wild; he won’t lay down and die. He picks up the ocarina again and plays, plays until he’s breathing again and on the field.
He only falls again.
He’s never going home.
He fights on anyway; he can’t give up. It's all he’s got now. Surely, eventually, he can win. Surely, he can change it. In his heart, he knows it’s no good, but he can’t accept defeat, can’t accept death.
He has to try again, one more time.