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She did not remember her beginning. Perhaps she had always existed, and she would always exist.
She drifted through the sky, clouds below her and sun and stars above her, day after day after day until time no longer had meaning. Sometimes she ventured below the clouds and saw the earth below. She saw mountains rise and fall, saw lakes dry out and deserts turn lush and green. She saw people build grand cities then tear them down. Some of these people looked up at her in surprise and wonder, but most paid her no mind, content with their small, insignificant lives.
There were others: the fierce one with his flames, the sage one with her ice, the brave one with his thunder, but she turned away whenever she crossed their paths. They were not like her.
It was not a conscious decision – she did not think. She drifted, and she watched, and for an eternity that was all.
***
Ganondorf could not have said what made him swallow the stone.
There had been a realization – he could not beat this hero – and then, with little further thought he had ripped the stone from his forehead and forced it down his throat.
Had it been arrogance? That he would be strong enough to keep his mind despite what all the legends claimed? Was it spite? He had outlived Rauru, and now he would outlive his champion, even at the cost of his self. Or perhaps it was egotism. If he could not have Hyrule, then he would destroy it all.
It was all of these, he thought. All of them and none of them.
When the stone settled in his belly, for a moment nothing happened – had that fool Mineru been incorrect about the stones? He barked out a laugh. Even in death the Zonai continued to wrong him.
He tightened his grip to his sword. If he was going to die today, then he was determined to take the hero with him. Link, who had watched him in disbelief as he had swallowed the stone, fell back into a fighting stance.
Then the pain began.
Excruciating pain, worse than when Rauru had sealed him, worse than when he had woken under that castle in a rotting, withered body. Every cell in his body screamed as his bones shifted. His spine cracked as it lengthened, and he could do nothing but roar as his jaw extended and teeth sharpened. His vision went black with agony as spines erupted out of his back and horns grew out of his face.
And then it stopped, and there was only blissful nothingness.
***
An eternity of nothing ended like this:
She drifted and she watched, and nothing was unusual.
She did see the floating castle, and the rocks falling from the sky, but it did not draw her attention. She noted the human who landed on her back, and crawled over her body to her face, but felt nothing but a vague sense of amusement as he pulled the sword free from her mane.
Silly human; did he think he could slay a dragon?
Then, some time later – she could not say when – there was a flash of dark light from the gaping hole below the floating castle and when she saw what emerged, it was the first thing to make her pause in as long as she had existed.
Because she remembered him.
She remembered him, trapped away with her for a smaller eternity, their bodies and souls so entwined she could not tell where she ended and he started. She remembered flinging herself back through time and space and finding him there, being certain that it was a sign, that she was always meant to meet him. She remembered loving him and hating him, and through it all, knowing that she would never know another soul the way she knew his.
She flew to him.
***
He did not know his name. Perhaps he did not have a name; dragons did not need names. All that he needed was his rage.
It burned in him as he ripped through the air, searching for the sky. He needed to get out of this darkness, needed to see the sun and the earth. So that he could destroy it all.
It pulsed through him like a mantra; the only thing that his mind could hold onto.
Destroy.
The castle above him, he would tear apart with his teeth until not a single brick remained. He would flatten the surrounding city so that there wouldn’t even be ruins left to discover. He would fly across the land, leaving flames and death in his wake.
Yes. That is what they deserve.
He burst through the hole in the ground, and roared as the harsh sunlight hit his face. He had not seen sunlight in…
Never, he thought. He had never seen the sun; all that he knew was darkness, and he would spread it now. That was his purpose.
He twisted his body, surveying the land below him. Destroy, destroy, destroy… He opened his jaw, ready to flood the earth with his malice.
He was stopped by a cry, coming from far behind him. He turned his head, and she was there.
Light incarnate – though unlike the light of the bright sun, her light soothed.
I know you.
The words were not said out loud, but he could hear them from her all the same.
Yes, he replied.
He knew her. He knew her better than he knew anyone, better than she knew herself. He had been trapped by and with her for eons; he had studied her so intently he could recreate her form from nothing; he had wanted to kill her and wanted to keep her.
Destroy her, his rage urged.
What are you doing? she asked.
I need to destroy.
She tilted her head. Why?
He paused. He…
He could not remember.
I don’t know, he admitted.
She let out a snort of a laugh.
Come, she said, then without waiting for a response turned away.
How arrogant, he thought, but she had always expected to be listened to. It was one of the things he admired most about her – she believed she could bring one like him to heel.
Destroy echoed within him. He could not go with her. He needed to fulfill his duty.
And yet… Why?
He did not know, and with that thought his rage began to dissipate. He fought to hold onto it. He needed it. Without it, he was nothing.
Ahead of him, she twisted, turning back to look at him.
Are you not coming?
She gazed at him so hopefully. It made him want to tear her to pieces; it made him want to never let her out of his sight.
His entire existence had been darkness, alone and locked away. Except when he was with her.
Destroy.
He held that thought in his mind. Then he let it go.
He followed her, and the sun shone over their scales.
***
Princess Zelda was dead, and the Kingdom of Hyrule with her.
Oh, this land would still be called Hyrule. Hyrule was eternal; it had always existed and it would always exist. But its residents had managed well enough without the Royal Family for a century, and without the princess who was their legend and their saviour, any interest in reinstating a ruler was minimal. Zelda was Hyrule, and she was gone, lost to time, never to return.
Only Link knew the truth.
At first he had railed against it. He and Impa had looked tirelessly for a way to reverse the draconification process. He had travelled to the far reaches of the world, tracking Zelda’s movements, meeting with the land’s best and brightest scholars, searching for anything, anything that might bring her back.
He had survived death and slain age-old monsters. He had saved her before; he would be able to do it again.
But the years dragged on and on, and a cure was no closer to being found. When Impa finally succumbed to her old age, Link made his decision. He had to move on.
And he did. He threw himself into Hyrule’s rebuilding, he continued to adventure and help Purah with her compendium, and when he was not out in the wilds he lived in Tarrey Town (he sold the home in Hateno; he could not bear to enter it anymore). He was happy.
Once a year, however, he made a journey to the tallest peak in Hyrule. He knew that she would appear – she tended to follow a similar path from year to year, he had learned while he had searched for a cure, and this was the only time she ever came this close to the ground.
He leapt into the air. The wind blew over his hair and into his face. Then he landed.
“Hi Zelda,” he said, curling his hands into her soft mane.
Her ears twitched; the only sign that she’d noticed her new passenger. Link swallowed.
“I hope you’re doing well,” he said. He laughed quietly. “A lot’s happened this year – I have so much to tell you…”
He paused, having noticed the large shadow that had come to loom over him. He looked up at the Demon Dragon, who was now gazing down at him. That was another thing Link had learned – wherever one of the dragons went, the other was never far behind. The dark dragon let out a rumbling growl.
“It’s alright, Ganondorf,” Link said. “You know I’ll never hurt her.”
The dragon huffed; a cloud of purple-tinted smoke emerged from his massive nostrils. He did not do anything more, however, so Link began to speak.
“I visited Zora’s Domain recently. Sidon and Yona’s second child was born – a little princess. Sidon said he wishes that you’d have been able to meet her...” He blinked, swallowing. “And the Dondon sanctuary is thriving. You know, they decided to name it after you? I can’t remember if I’ve told you that.”
And so on he continued, telling her about all their friends: Riju’s recently defeated the biggest Molduga I’ve ever seen, all on her own; Paya and Tauro are getting married; Tulin’s so tall now, I’m not sure you’d even recognize him; the school in Hateno has grown so much they’re going to construct another building.
“I’m still in Tarrey Town,” he said. “Though I’m not home too much these days. Purah’s working me to the bone… I think we might actually be able to finish the compendium soon. Wouldn’t that be something?” He let out a sigh. “You’d be better at this work than me; you were always so thorough with your research. I wish you were able to see it...”
He pressed himself closer into the softness of her mane, to which the Demon Dragon let out another warning growl. Link turned to look up at him.
“You know, Ganondorf…” He smiled crookedly. “I’m glad you’re here.”
There was no indication that the dragon could understand his words, but Link continued.
“She told me once that there was someone with her in the Calamity. A strange man… He comforted her, made her feel like she wasn’t alone.”
It had only been the one time that she had spoken of it, not long after he had defeated Calamity Ganon. Zelda had collapsed into tears in Link’s arms after waking from a nightmare. “I miss him, Link,” she’d sobbed. “I shouldn’t, but I do.”
She’d never mentioned the man again, but there had been a sadness that fell over her often in the years following the Calamity’s defeat. Grief over the loss of her father, of Urbosa and the other champions, of the life that she had lost; Link knew she still struggled with it all – and of course he had also been changed – and had all but forgotten about that night, about her grief at losing the Calamity itself. Now it all came back to him.
“That was you, wasn’t it?”
Ganondorf watched him suspiciously.
“I’m glad she had you then,” Link said quietly. “And I’m glad she has you now. I would hate for her to be all alone for the rest of time.”
It was this that finally made the tears fall. Link hardly ever cried – he prided himself on his ability to keep his emotions inside – but he had yet to get through one of these visits with dry eyes.
“Look after her, alright, Ganondorf?” His voice wavered as he said it. He turned his attention back to Zelda.
“I love you, dear friend,” he whispered. “See you next year.”
He took a final, shaky breath, then stood, preparing his glider.
“Goodbye, Zelda.”
As he slowly lowered to the ground, the dragons flew on ahead. He watched Ganondorf nudge his snout against Zelda’s, urging her forward, and then they took off, dancing through the air together.
Link smiled as he watched them disappear above the clouds.