Archive of Our Own ^beta

I had a dream.

I was bathed in warm gold. The soft waves of the sun heated my back, while I swam through a chilly breeze. As I swam, I heard a familiar voice call out. Its tone was hoarse and brittle, making desperate attempts to scream.

The smell of iron and sweat that radiates from you is sickening. The wind is far too loud, your voice is futile. And yet, you’re still screaming.

My head is pounding. Dreaming is quite tiring.

A throb pierces my eyes. Quickly, I shoot up from a soft lush beneath me, grabbing at the silk of grass. Dark envelops me, spikes jutting in my sight. But I can feel the sun, and the wind is blowing—a calm, cool breeze, tickling my skin. Wildly, a gust of wind blows my hair to my face, but my arms are burning too much to fix it.

“Zelda?” A shadow, suddenly at my side, calls out thinly.

Startled, I flinch back in fear as the throbing in my eyes quickens. Sweat rolls down my back, and I vigilantly watch the shadow as it gradually closes the gap between us, a hand out as if to protect itself. Quietly crunching the grass beneath its feet, it stops and kneels down in front of me. The smell of iron and sweat returns, this time accompanied by the crisp aroma of earth. The hand, once used to guard itself, reaches out to connect. My fingers stop running through the grass, reluctantly beginning to recoil at the outstretched hand. Hesitantly I begin to back away, before stopping. The wind calms. My breathing slows. The throbbing in my head halts, replaced by a pounding in my chest. The shadow keeps still, and I look down towards my hand, beginning to feel the strength return.

I brush my fingertips against the shadow. The silhouette of its hand rests beneath mine. Chewed nails lay rough against the tips of my fingers, tickling my skin. Slowly, I run my hand across wrinkles and calluses, carved out into its hand. The shadow remains silent as I flip its arm around, running my hands around the outline of its fingers. Focusing on one spot, spikes within my eyes palliate and I can briefly make out a symbol.

Three triangles, all stacked on top of eachother. Slowly, I trace them as my sight soothes. The shadow, previously at ease, winces. My hands begin to shake, and I grab my head. The throb in my eyes returns, turning into an unbearably sharp ringing echoing through my head. I writhe to the ground, digging at the grass beneath me. Somebody wails, but I can’t tell if it’s the shadow or me.

“Zelda! Stop!” It desperately grabs my shoulders, trying to pull me up.

The shadow. You. This is your fault. If I hadn’t awaken, hadn’t reached out, hadn’t felt… You will not hurt me.

Painfully, I let go of the ground. Chills shoot up from my fingertips and circle through my head. You will not hurt me.

I look up towards the warm sun. The wind has stopped, and the spikes return. Pounding fills my head. You will not hurt me.

I tightly grip the shadow’s wrist. My chest labors. You will not hurt me.

Iron fills my mouth, and the shadow yelps, holding its arm.

You will not hurt me.

My head is still pounding as my mouth lays on the shadow’s wrist. But it doesn’t pull back. It doesn’t hurt me, but I can hear it’s hurt. The whine of pain. The taste of blood. I am all too familiar.

The shadow moves its other arm, reaching out, and I let go, scrambling backwards. My heart is beginning to throb. Chills shoot up my back. I have to run, but there’s only darkness and spikes. I can hear the shadow behind me, making empty attempts to yell in its brittle voice. My heart beats faster, and my lungs are filling with sand. I gasp for more air, but it’s not enough. The ground is falling beneath me.

It’s dark. Someone is humming a tune I’ve heard before. The wind has returned to the calm breeze. A white figure glows in the distance, and the warmth fills my skin. His golden hair flows behind him, and blue eyes catch my gaze. Despite his silence, I can understand what his hands say.

I’ve been looking everywhere.

“I’m sorry,” My voice barely reaches a whisper, and eyes are glassy. Trembling hands comb through my unkempt hair.

The glowing figure moves closer, embracing me in warmth. He pulls my hands from my hair, gently holding them to his face, engulfing them in warmth.

Why do you apologize?

“I’m sorry,” My voice tightens.

I found you.

“I’m… sorry,” A sob chokes out of mouth. A name forms on my tounge, but it rushes away as soon as it appeared.

The glowing figure lets go of my hands. He holds me in a tight, warm, embrace. His lips move to my ear, voice less than a whisper.

“Zelda. You, are love.”

Cold streaks run down my face.

The figure has disappeared. The void and spikes have returned. The warmth has left, replaced by a cool chill from the sound of the fan above me. Again, I’m on top of something soft, but, instead of grass, this time a mattress covered by a blanket. Pulling it off, I turn to my left. Crickets sing outside as I stand at a window. My headache is gone. And so is the shadow.

What a strange dream.