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It's been a long time since Legend was home.
Swept away as he was by Hylia's whims once again, he barely knows what a moment of peace is like anymore. So when the Chain had finally landed into a neglected orchard he knew far too well and he'd gotten settled into his home, instead of curling up in bed with Ravio and a cup of warm pain-relieving tea like he'd really wanted to do, he'd excused himself to subtly lift the family scripture book, spent a quiet few moments by Alfon's graveside, and snuck away to take the two hour trek to the place that seemed fated to be the beginning of all of his quests within Hyrule itself.
The sanctuary is empty when Legend enters, alone and weary. Floorboards creak under his light footsteps, betraying the sanctity of silence on holy ground. He takes a step further in. Then two. Then three.
It should feel comforting, entering the halls he'd grown so familiar with in his youth, celebrating the goddess and Her gentle protection together with his uncle, reciting scriptures of old and singing hymns that echoed up into the rafters until the very air itself breathed with the vibrato of it all. This place had been where his love of music began. Where his love of Her began.
But instead, all he feels when he enters the space is a solemn stillness. There's a certain beauty here, but there isn't joy. There isn't life. Perhaps those things aren't something he deserves anymore- chosen as the Goddess' hallowed Hero, but painfully inadequate for the golden force whose power pulses through his left hand.
His feet reach plush fabric, wisps of dust visible in the air through the streaming beams of sunlight. Hylia smiles down at him from where She lovingly cradles the world and Her people in the colored glass, splashing shatters of colorful light across the worn red carpet. He kneels in the stains. Removes his hat and then places the book in his hands down before Her to lay bare his sins. The sword on his back is unspeakably heavy.
Legend is so, so tired. Nothing he does ever amounts to enough. Not defeating Ganon again and again, not saving multiple kingdoms and oracles one by one. Not fixing the timeline. Not continuously throwing his life, his all, at every problem that arises whether it be dream or reality. Uncle had always said he's the kind who works hard and loves harder, but Legend thinks that nothing he's done can ever compare to the faithfulness he receives from the Goddess before him. He's uprooted his whole life for Her. Has loved and lost for Her. Has given everything he is and has for Her. And yet he remains as unaccomplished as he had that night he'd first entered the sewers in a storm and taken up his uncle's blade.
Still, She chooses him.
Thanks to the traveler, he knows how the story ends, too. A world unsaved, ravaged in the fires of Ganon's unstoppable wrath. Poisoned waters, wilted grasses, and life barely clinging to small clusters of safety. Even with the Traveler's help, their land is still obviously recovering from what it had become from Legend's inadequacies. His brother, a young man not even native to his own country, is still left with a horrible curse because of his failure. Nothing he will do in his life will ever amount to enough. He is pathetically unworthy.
Still, She loves him.
Legend will never be able to hold his own up to that unwavering blessing. Had already broken it, even. After the island, after Marin, he had been so filled with loss- with so much grief and weariness and hate against destiny that the next time he'd seen the sanctuary he had marched in without hesitation and screamed, raged, swore, overthrew the podium and spat on the floor and cursed Hylia's holy, unendingly forgiving name. Violently rejected Her gift of the Triforce, the scars of which still lay witness on his hand for all to see. And then he'd run. Away from his responsibilities, away from the golden calling and the destiny that came with it. He'd been done. Ready to throw it all away. Utterly undeserving of Her forgiveness.
Still, She trusts him.
Hylia, under Her never-ending watchful eye, had granted him the gift of yet another quest even as he ran from the sorry ending of the one before. Had trusted him enough that even in the fresh wake of his vitriolic transgressions knew that he would take up the cross again and take the fall for another country's needs. And She was right. He had. One pitiful boy against the world, destined for failure but unable to stop racing straight down the path to his doom.
Still, She desires him.
It's unfathomable to him why, but the Goddess has made it very clear. She needs him, demands him, will never give up on him even despite the damning prophecy of his future existing in his house at this very moment. Knows his weeping, bleeding heart and broken body will continue to do anything She asks. Will keep asking him forth again and again until his knees are on the floor and he can no longer lift his weary body and he is left with nothing but Her, shining down upon him in golden fractures of light and blessings and everything he is expected to give and give and give away but never take for himself in selfless solidarity.
There is no escape from this destiny.
So he bows his head in thankful prayer, and sings praises to the Goddess that demands everything he is, everything he was, and everything he will ever be.