Hiiiiiii ZA! April physically and mentally destroyed me :disappointed: but as always, it’s good to see y’all <3
Finally getting a haircut is what inspired this one so here we go :3
The days and the months after the Calamity ed by slowly, like time was moving through a jar of honey, sticking against everything that could get in its way.
It wasn’t a problem for Link, for the hero of legend, of course. After all, hadn’t he spent one hundred years drifting in the limbo of sleep? Hadn’t he spent one hundred years watching time through the eye of a needle? He was more than content to let time go by as slowly as possible, just so he could drink everything in, the rolling of the waves lapping at the beach, the way the walls of Castle Town slowly but surely eroded, crumbling remains of a life he didn’t have possession of anymore.
But for Princess Zelda?
Oh, she was restless.
But… hadn’t she always been that way? Hadn’t Zelda always been back and forth, jumping from one project to the next without ever finishing either? Hadn’t she always been one to travel, to get away from whatever was waiting for her back at the Castle?
Maybe so, but a long time had ed since then. A lot had happened since then. Link ed it all just barely. Just barely recalled her saying she had been trapped in an endless, tiresome battle with Calamity Ganon while she waited for his return. Maybe it was the feeling of being trapped, maybe it was the feeling of being stagnant, still water surrounded by wind rippling the leaves above.
Maybe that was why she was so restless. Link had watched her work herself to—and past—exhaustion on more than one occasion since he’d sealed away the Calamity. He’d watched her walk the lengths of Hyrule, back and forth, back and forth, and it almost felt like an animal prowling the lengths of its cage, of an enclosure. The paths of Central Hyrule grew used to her ceaseless, aimless wandering. The Gerudo highlands and the desert gave way to her sandals, the shifting sands buckled under her might, under her desire to roam. She crossed into Lanayru, into the sprawling plateaus of the Faron Woods, and even the thundering, rolling storms didn’t stop her, couldn’t stop her.
And through it all, Link followed her patiently, silently, as he’d always done. Because after all, wasn’t it the desire of the mind to return to things as they’d been before?
There was always things that needed to be done, that was normal, of course. People needing help from the furthest reaches of the Tabantha frontier to the sandy beaches and the craggy mountains of the East Necluda. But even still, she wasn’t satisfied, she wasn’t settled, maybe she wouldn’t settle, maybe she couldn’t. Link didn’t think he’d be able to settle either if he’d done nothing but stand still, holding together the ruins of a castle with his name on it by sheer will alone. He didn’t think he could.
He’d also learned over time how to school his features into that same still pond reflection that Zelda couldn’t bear. He wasn’t restless, how could he be? He wasn’t frustrated or afraid, he never had been.
But that was all Zelda seemed to be made of. Fear knit her bones together, melded the curve of her spine, frustration seemed to be prevalent on her cheekbones, in the curl of her fist and the expansion of her rib cage.
In the few times she allowed herself to rest, Link was grateful. Not because of how tiring her energy was, but for the chance to rest with her. For the chance to feel her chest rise and fall against his own, in a space they shared with no one else but the memories of their past lives. He was grateful for the opportunity to hold her close, as he’d never allowed himself to do before. As she’d never allowed him to do before.
Now? Now though, months and days and years after, after they’d both been alone? All Link had to do was offer, in that quiet sort of way he always had, even though the dip of his head meant something more affectionate than a simple gesture of acknowledgement.
It was in one of these rare periods of rest that Zelda asked for something. Her hair had grown longer since the before. It tangled easily, and more often than not, he found her wearing it tied back, clumsily mimicking the styles of the Sheikah in Kakariko, something the Lady Impa had always been fond of. But now, that irritation seemed to be too much, too great to ignore or push back another moment longer.
And he was happy to oblige, knowing that if he’d declined, Zelda would more than likely do it on her own.
Which was fine, of course. She’d always been firmly independent, firmly set in doing things her own way, and on her own time. But now, it seemed, like she’d come to appreciate his presence at her side as more than a reminder of her own shortcomings. She’d started coming to him as more than a knight, but perhaps as a friend. It was different, surely, from the cold wall she’d met him with nearly every day up to the Calamity, but it was welcome.
So when she’d asked him to get rid of everything, to cut off the memories tying her to a loss, to a battle neither one of them had expected to come back from, Link had nodded. Of course, of course, Princess. Of course he would.
It felt unorthodox to be holding her in such a way. To feel the warmth of her neck and shoulders against his fingertips as he slowly cut away the weight she’d been carrying for a century and some change. The memory of the day the kingdom of Hyrule fell was fresh in his mind as well, even though it had been lost to him for decades. He understood then, immediately, why Zelda wanted to get rid of it. Why she wanted to let go of that moment, of that heartache, of that despair.
She could, of course. But it was his to bear. It was his burden to carry, to , even if he’d been allowed a brief respite.
That was one of the many consequences of the burden of the Sword that Seals the Darkness. One of the many weights attached to the title of Hylia’s Chosen, was the inability to let go. Was the expectation of holding up against all of it, against the weight of everything Hyrule could throw at him. He was expected to bear it.
So he would, silently, as he always had.
And Zelda, she bounced with a certain sort of energy, a certain sort of light that he definitely hadn’t seen since before they’d started preparing to fight Ganon. She looked happier, and at the end of the day, that was all that mattered to him.
Was the respite she was allowed, were the emptions she felt. Nothing else came close to the smile she wore when the last cut was made, the last bit of weight taken away.
~ ~ ~
Comments (1)
This was beautiful! You always write the emotions of the characters so so well, and I love reading your work! Another amazing job, like always 🥹