Work Text:
Home
Paper scattered across the ground, a pencil between her teeth, and muscles sore from one hundred years of hibernation, Princess Zelda’s mind was all over the place as she sketched and scribbled over and over again.
The future of Hyrule rested in front of her, after all.
One hundred years before, Princess Zelda had watched the world burn around her; villages destroyed, lives lost, the Calamity won – and, now, she owned the kingdom she had once failed its former glory.
So, there she was, furrowed brows and hair falling on her face. Paya had so generously offered her her room, but, after spending a century trapped within the walls of the castle, trapped within gloom and evil and malice, the private quarters made her claustrophobic. Besides, she had missed the sun, and the sun was warm on her skin as she sat in the open in Kakariko Village, wearing clothes that didn’t belong to her in a body that didn’t feel like her own anymore.
Sweatdrops piled up above her eyebrows, the sun was hot on her skin. Villagers came and went as the day passed, stealing glances at her like she was a creature from a myth, but only the children were brave enough to come near her. Sometimes, they kept her company as she leaned over her papers, drops of sweat falling and smudging the ink. Sometimes, they hummed, and it reminded her that, against all odds, she existed.
Torches lit as the sun set on the horizon; the fire was welcoming against the chill of the evening. The Great Plateau lay in isolation to the rest of the kingdom and an entrance needed to be dug; the bridge to Necluda needed to be fixed to assure safety passage between lands; commerce routes needed to be reestablished so that the kingdom may prosper again; the leaders of each race needed to be visited in official capacity so diplomatic relations were formed all across the land; Hyrule Castle – Hyrule Castle should be torn down for all she cared.
So much needed to be done, she had one hundred years of negligence on her behalf to make up for; if she didn’t give the best of her, if she didn’t give all of her, she would be worthless to her kingdom, and they would send her back. The thought made her heart run, and the tip of her pencil broke off as she was doodling some schematics, a quiet oh escaping her.
Commotion behind her; Link, for sure, who had been guarding her ever since he came for her in Hyrule Castle. Link, the knight who had sworn his life to protect her, and he did, despite not remembering her. He didn’t remember her; she knew as much, because, if he did, he wouldn’t have asked –
“Is this normal for her?”
“Princess Zelda is a hard worker,” Lady Impa spoke next to him, her voice low, like they were both trying to keep her from listening in. Unlike Link, Lady Impa remembered everything. “But – I don’t think I have ever seen her work this hard.”
Tightened grip around the pencil, she demanded it still worked with what was left of the lead. Forcing words into the paper against its will – Lady Impa was wrong. Nothing she did now could ever atone for her sins of a lifetime past, and she would give the rest of her life to make up for the failures that had doomed the land. This was nothing in comparison to the grief she had brought down upon the kingdom. She needed to work harder, and harder, and harder, if the land were ever to forgive her.
Words on paper unintelligible, she threw the pencil far from her and shredded the paper into pieces. Overcome by her guilt and her grief, it needed to be perfect.
A hand on her shoulder startled her, and she jumped, terrified, turning around abruptly to meet kind eyes. Her heart thundering inside her chest, Link looked apologetic, and he left his hand there, extended to her, calling out to her.
She looked at him, and then at his hand, and then at his eyes again; unaware of what she was supposed to do, of what exactly he was offering her.
Link was insistent.
“Princess,” he said, reminding her of her title and rank and of everything she had failed to do despite her crown. “Come. Super is ready.”
His hand still there; she vigorously shook her head, turning back to her papers and looking desperately for the pencil she had discarded and forgotten she did.
“I’m not hungry,” she stated, matter-of-factly, finding the pencil and forcing whatever was left of the lean into messy lines on paper. His presence there was overbearing; he was only a reminder of the past. He was a walking reminder that, that day, one hundred years before, she had killed him, too. “I must work.”
If she didn’t work, he would deem her useless, and he would throw her back to the dungeon where he had rescued her from; her hand became frantic on the paper, proving herself harder in front of him.
He sighed.
“Work will still be here tomorrow,” he told her. “You haven’t eaten or drunk anything all day. You can’t– you need to take care of yourself, Princess.”
“My well-being is of little consequence when the entire world is crumbling,” she mumbled, an eraser to repair all of the faulty lines she had scribbled, not expecting him to hear her self-penitude. His hand on her shoulder again; it burned, but, this time, she didn’t yank herself away.
“Princess, if you haven’t noticed,” he whispered, tightening his grip on her shoulder, “the world is still standing. Has always been, thanks… thanks to you. To your sacrifice.”
The pencil fell from her hand; a misty cloud blurred her vision. He had forgotten; he had forgotten that she had killed him, and, when he remembered, he would look back on his words. He would be demandful that she never stop atoning for her sins. He would–
“Come,” he insisted yet again, the sound of his voice preventing her from spiralling, “you can’t take care of the entire world without taking care of yourself first.”
At that, she relented, and Link’s hand magically materialized in front of her. It felt wrong to take the hand of the person she had killed, yet she accepted his kindness. And, it was a good thing that she did, for, the moment she stood up, her legs faltered beneath her, and her head was heavy. Fingers grasped his tunic tunnel vision in front of her, the world was heavy on her.
“I’ve got you. Hey,” he assured her, one arm around her waist and the other on her wrist; he held her like she was porcelain. Not fragile, but the most precious thing in his world.
She was neither.
“I’m–” she started, and fine was so readily on the tip of her tongue that it never came out at all. He tugged her a little closer, and she let herself breathe.
“You’ve been sitting under the sun all day. You didn’t drink, you didn’t eat anything,” he listed, yet his words came with concern. “You are human again, Princess. Your body becomes weak if you don’t tend to it.”
“Oh,” she uttered weakly, defeated; the realization shouldn’t have surprised her, but it did, and she was out of words to defend herself. Then again, there was nothing to defend; she was stupid and useless about everything, just like one hundred years ago.
“Can you walk?” he asked, and she nodded discreetly, still hanging onto his shirt. Her legs moved all right as they walked towards Impa’s house, her papers abandoned and forgotten behind her, yet he held all of her weight onto him. He was kind, just kind, even when she didn’t deserve it.
A cushion and a cup in her hands, Princess Zelda breathed in the smell of tea; it reminded her she was alive. Empty stomach; eating made her nauseated, not eating made her nauseated, too; she had forgotten how difficult it was to be alive. Her eyes blinked heavily.
“She can’t go on like this,” she heard Link whisper; he wasn’t as far or as quiet as he believed. “She’s a zombie, a– a shell of a person.”
“Princess Zelda needs time. She is grieving, she’s struggling. You did once too, Hero, and not so long ago,” Lady Impa said, but it sounded wrong, it sounded – old. Lady Impa was supposed to be her age!
“This place isn’t doing her any good,” Link debunked. “She won’t heal here.”
“Link?” another voice; it sounded familiar, it sounded like – Impa, from her past life. “Where do you suggest you take her?”
“Home.”
Nails dug into her skin; home. Hyrule Castle, the walls that had entrapped her body and soul both in life and in death. Home; yet another painful reminder that her Link had died one hundred years ago, because her Link – her Link would never trap her there again.
A terrible feeling down to the pit of her stomach, she stopped listening to them.
Head leaned against the transparent glass, when she fell asleep in the window seat in the Sheikah house’s main room, Link brought her a blanket.
The commotion awakened her, yet her eyes remained closed. Link hovered, his presence heavy and imposing over her, and she stopped breathing altogether.
“I’m going to take you home, Princess,” he whispered, unaware that she was listening to him, “and… you’re going to be okay.”
She shut her more tightly than possible, forcing herself to go back to sleep, to shut off the world around her. Link left her there, and, amidst her hazy mind, she didn’t know whether the water drops on the window were her tears or the gentle fall of the rain outside. Sleep evaded her until the morning sun rose on the skies again.
She was inept; yet, life persevered.
Sun hidden behind clouds, there was only one horse, and it made the trek much, much worse.
It was different from the day they rode, on that same horse, to Kakariko; that day, he was taking her away. Far, far away from the Castle that trapped her for a hundred years; to ride with him had been freedom, had been – peace. Muscles now stiff and tense, she was rigid against him, hands fidgeting with the reins so her mind would forget – forget that he was taking her back to her prison, to her torture chamber. Impa had retrieved the blue, royal clothes she had once worn, and they sealed her fate in the cruel, empty walls of the castle.
She thought she would make it; she thought that, despite her crippling anxiety, she had accepted her punishment, and she would accept, gracefully, the prison of the castle until her days were over. Then, as they left the mountain pass just outside Kakariko Village and the Dueling Peaks came into view, her breath got stuck in her throat. Geolocation had never been her forte, but she knew – she knew that the moment they crossed the pathway between the Dueling Peaks, her forever home would come into view.
Her prison.
Vision blurry and heart thundering, she tried to sustain her composure. Kakariko bridge past, her ears ringing on her head, and she couldn’t – she couldn’t breathe, and Link was none the wiser when she threw herself off their horse.
“Princess–!”
Had he been galloping any faster, her fall would have been a nastier one. Link pulled Epona’s reins too abruptly, and she reared up with a loud neigh, and Zelda, struggling to get back up on her feet, choked out sobs as she distanced herself from him.
Link jumped out of the horse after her, his obliviousness making him further worried. Arms wrapped around herself, Zelda was on her knees on a patch of grass off the road, trembling and hyperventilating.
“Princess…?”
Behind her, Link came no closer. Whatever had set her off, he dreaded to make it worse for her, so – he stayed there, breathing, his presence loud and mighty hovering over her.
“I can’t–”
She couldn’t breathe; she couldn’t put her thoughts into words; she couldn’t – she couldn’t go back to the castle. Frowned forehead and eyes closed, her tears flew freely down her cheeks and watered the land beneath her.
“It’s okay,” he soothed her. “I couldn’t either.”
Her neck snaps in his direction; standing against the sun, he almost, almost looked like the Link she had known. His eyes were different, though. They were full of hope. Her Link had never let anything show past his stoicism.
She shook her head.
“I can’t–” she tried again, weak and pathetic; her eyes were pleading. “I can’t go home! Please don’t make me–”
A sob on her throat, her hands full of dirt as she buried her face in them.
“But–”
“Please don’t make me go back!”
Dirt on her eyes, it stung – or, maybe, it was her salty tears.
“I relieve you from your oath!” she shouted, still crying, still hurting. “You don’t–you’re free to live your life as you please, Link! You don’t have to follow me everywhere to protect me, I’ll be fine! Just please–please don’t make me go back! I would rather die than go back there. Please don’t imprison me there, please, Link, please, please, please–”
He bent the knee, again, like he had one hundred years ago, in front of her. His eyes, amidst the hope, were full of sorrow, full of – compassion. Drowning herself in them, her sobbing quietened.
“I don’t remember an oath,” he said, sincerely, “and you’re not fine.”
Her fist closed in front of her heart, her lips quivered.
“You can’t take me there,” she whispered, frenzied and panicked and small. “It’s so– it’s cold, and it’s lonely, and it’s haunted! It will– it will violate me again, and I’ve– I’ve no light left! And it takes, and it takes, and it takes, and it never kills me because it feeds on my agony, on my pain! And it hurts–I can’t–Link, I can’t–you can’t make me go back, please don’t take me there!”
His hand hovering on her face; it was uncertain, to both of them, whether he had touched her or if she had laid her cheek on him of her own will.
“Princess, you have my word – I will pull brick after brick from the castle until there is nothing left,” he swore, a sad expression on his face when realization became him, and his hyperbole was so ridiculous, and she believed him. She believed the stranger who didn’t remember her; the stranger who bore the face of her fallen knight and friend. “Is that–is that where you thought we were going?”
“You said! You said you were taking me home!” she stuttered, and shivered again. Home had a sour taste on her mouth, always had had.
“I am,” he confirmed, a weak smile on his face, and he didn’t make sense, and his words were paradoxical to his promises. Her Link had never made much sense to her either. “Your new home.”
Dumbfounded, she stared at him. His hand finally left her face, and her skin burned.
“I have a house in Hateno,” he explains, “small, simple. No castle, but–”
“I don’t ever want to step in the castle again, Link–”
“You won’t,” he promised her before her mind went there again. Then, he chuckled, “you’re going to love it, then.”
A strong nod, he offered her his hand. Not an oath, but a request – a request that she stay, a request that she trusted him, a request that she came home with him, far away from the castle. She took his hand.
He stood up first before helping her up – and, when he did, he pulled her into a hug, and Zelda was so surprised her arms were rigid, one to her side and the other trapped against his chest. So different – her Link had stood stiff when she broke down in his arms in their past life; this Link put aside all the ranks between them to make her feel better, and – all right, maybe his change hadn't been for the worst. Maybe, people changed for the best.
“You will be okay,” he promised, “but, until then – you’ll have a home to take care of you.”
A sniff, Zelda hugged him back. As she stood there, in the loving embrace of a stranger who wasn’t so strange after all, she realized that home might not have been a place, but a kindred soul.