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Chapter Text

Hyrule was a Kingdom of community. It had always been that way. The people lived their lives out together. But when the place was just getting started, the houses were sporadic and disconnected.  

One home was built by the beach. Some say a sailor in green settled there when he finally finished his mission. He settled to raise his sister, according to legend.  

The house was simple, and sat on the edge of a ravine, halfway down a hill. A Goddess’s temple was found in the mountains nearby, and thus began the flocking of the people.  

Slowly, a village was built on the opposite side of the small ravine, and a bridge was built to connect the town to the house, but none ever crossed. The house remained on the house’s side, and the village stayed on the village’s. The town was called Hateno, and it was prosperous from its fertile ground and bountiful crops. Many came and went in its lifetime. It was a resilient little place.  

The house across the bridge went through many different owners, too, and the house itself was the most resilient thing there ever was. There were periods where nobody wanted to live there, but just when they were about to tear it down someone new with a whole new story would come along and inhabit the space.  

One of these stories was that of a young knight.  

The village was debating on what to do with the house and the bridge and the ravine for the hundredth time when a knight, fresh out of his military training and with a pretty girl on his arm asked to buy it for a ridiculous price, much more than what the house was worth. Even still, they agreed.  

The house, when they bought it for that outrageous price, was moldy and dusty and inhabited only by creeping crawling creatures. But the moment the young couple saw it, they saw the life they had dreamed of.  

Soon, the place was full of light only young people could bring to such a place. They made it their own, with a garden out front and a stable in the back, and an apple tree that was healthier than most in any orchard. The knight and his girl got married in that house, and the whole village celebrated with them.  

They loved that house well. The walls were always decorated with paintings the woman did, and the shelves were littered with books and treasures when they could afford them. The banister was always decorated with dried flowers, the candles and oil lamps always lit. It was always full of people, always coming and going for the couple’s company.  

The knight was in and out of the village often, usually going to Zora’s Domain for his deployments for the King. When he was gone, his wife kept the house and found company with the village. For the first time, the house was part of the village, instead of outside of it.  

The woman found her joy in the little things, and was ever talented with a needle and thread. When they first moved, she sought employment with the local seamstress, yet almost never showed up for work. More often than not, the business moved to her living room, just because the house was so loved. She spent her days in a rocking chair by the window and fireplace, sewing and embroidering, talking to the people that came to her for help. She always had a good conversation and a cup of tea ready.  

Some years later, the couple had their first child, and the whole village celebrated with them, as they often did. It was a son, and they called him Link.  

Link, naturally, was a very spoiled and happy baby. The village loved him, his parents loved him more. He got everything he needed and then some. The couple both took several months off to care for him.  

When the knight did have to return to work, he started to take the boy and his wife with him. Their connection to the Zora only grew when the Kingdom’s little Princess took her first look at the Hylian baby.  

Once Link could walk, there was a sword in his hand.  

They didn’t mean to. It wasn’t their doing, either. He just picked up a stick one day, and the father commented on his already good form with it. Once Link could understand, his father began to teach him how to fight.  

You will be the man of this house one day. You will need to protect those you love.  

Link didn’t understand the gravity of it. He was only two.  

He did understand, however, a great many other things. His mother taught him how to hold a needle while his father taught him how to wield a shield. He learned to cook and garden, to tie his shoes and how to read. He learned instruments, the piano and how to read the music. Any and everything they could think of Link learned and took in stride. They thought he was the smartest boy in the world.  

They might have been right.  

You will do great things one day, Link, they would tell him as they tucked him into bed. You will be brave, and strong, and kind through it all.  

They told him stories, too. They told him legends that their Kingdom was based on. Stories of Heroes and Princesses that kept the darkness away, that fought monsters and demons and evil Kings. They told him their Princess was one of a long line of others, all named Zelda, that would keep the Evil away. Link loved the stories, so he told them to his friends. Because of his parent’s faithfulness to the tales, when Link went to school he was far ahead of the other kids in the schoolhouse.  

Link loved those stories. He listened intently to them all, soaking in the knowledge like his life depended on it.  

One night, after she had told him about one of the Heroes, a particularly sad tale she’d spun just a little, she found Link crying in his bed.  

What’s the matter, dear heart?  

The Hero was just a boy, Mama. He didn’t deserve it, Link wailed. He looked for the life of him like he’d known the Hero himself.  

Ma tried to console him as best she could, but she couldn’t for the life of her figure out why he was so upset by the story. He didn’t know the Hero. She just assumed he was empathetic, another Goddess given strength of their beautiful boy.  

When Link was almost three, they had another child. A girl, and they named her Aryll.  

Link took to Aryll right away, taking care of her when his parents allowed. He fed her, played with her, and told her all the stories his parents had first told him. They thanked the Goddess every day for their family.  

Link, however, was the first to discover something was wrong.  

She can’t hear me, Ma. Aryll can’t hear.  

He said it so often they tested it. Turned out, their girl couldn’t hear.  

It ran in the family, Ma said. Grandma was deaf – that's what it was called, when someone couldn’t hear.  

Link had cried that first night they told him. How can she not hear? What about music? Ma’s old piano? 

Oh, don’t cry, my dear. Don’t cry, Ma soothed, ever amazed by how deeply her little boy felt for others.  

So, new lessons were added to everyone's list.  

Link and Pa learned to speak using their hands, and every time they spoke to Aryll they would use their hands. Soon, Link was telling her stories that way. He was pleased when he thought she could finally understand them.  

So Link and his sister grew, both in wits and in skill, and they grew happy and healthy. Soon, the house was full of laughter and joy. Link went to school and learned to love history and folklore. Aryll learned to read and sign, and despite hardly ever using their voices to communicate the house was always full of laughter.  

By the age of four, Link could best children and adults far older than he in fights and spars. Pa took him to Zora’s Domain, and he fought with their army men, and bested several. He became friends with the Domain’s Princess, and visited as often as he could. He learned to wield a spear there, until he could beat many of the Zora at their own specialty.  

Many called the boy blessed by the Goddess herself. His talent and skill would serve him well, they all said. He would go far.  

How far, they would have no idea.  

Chapter Text

Their luck changed when the beloved Queen Zelda fell dreadfully ill. It was the talk of the Kingdom, in every letter and prayer to the Goddess until she died. She left a broken husband on the throne, common by blood, and a fragile daughter behind, no older than Link. Their son was twelve, Aryll nine.  

The little Hateno family couldn’t imagine the heartache.  

Is the Princess lonely? Link asked one night.  

I’m sure she is, dear heart, they would reply.  

I want to be her friend. Then she can be a part of our family, their boy said, and his parents wished it could be that simple.  

The death of the Queen kickstarted a series of strange events across the Kingdom. Pa was sent out more and more often to fight monsters that appeared. Knights were being brought to the castle for some mission. Whispers in the streets said that the search for the Sword that seals the Darkness was brought knights out of retirement, searching for a way to help or some sick form of glory.  

It seemed so far from the walls of that Hateno house. While Castle Town frantically prepared for something they couldn’t control, the family inside prayed to the Goddess for guidance and protection. They feared for their children’s future in the uncertainty, as most parents did, but it never grew further than that.  

The family didn’t let their spirit's dim. Link was still telling them of the mythical dragons he saw in the sky, and how beautiful they were, and how he played with the forest spirits, while most other children had grown out of those childish fantasies. His parents wanted to preserve that innocence as long as they could, despite thinking themselves his stories were made up. It got their wild boy outside playing with Aryll.  

However, the strange happenings across the Kingdom came knocking on the family’s front door when Link and Pa returned from a trip to Akkala for one of Pa’s trips.  

Ma opened the door in the pouring rain, not expecting them back for another few days, to see her boy, shaking and pale with a thousand-yard stare she’d only seen on battle-weary soldiers, holding the legendary Sword that sealed the Darkness. Pa stood behind him, hand on the boy’s shoulder, a terrified gleam in his eye.  

In an instant, the prophecy the people whispered about was their haunting reality. Their worst fears came true.  

Ma hurried them inside, taking Link to his room, where he didn’t even acknowledge Aryll when she jumped up to greet him.  

He feels sick, Ma signed to her. Aryll backed away, obviously concerned for him.  

Ma helped him dress into his night clothes, but he refused to let go of the Sword. He cried when she tried to take it from him and didn’t listen to her reason. He didn’t look at her, and when he did it was like he looked right through her. He didn’t breathe a word.  

Finally, Ma put the two to bed. Link held the Sword to his chest under the covers. He laid on his back, but his eyes remained wide open.  

He ran off and came back with it. He looks a thousand years old. He hasn’t spoken since he returned. He hasn’t eaten, either. He barely drank. Pa sounded bewildered as he explained what he knew.  

Our boy is different, dear heart. Our boy will truly save the world.  

It was much scarier when the notion became a reality.  

They talked through the night, quiet as they could, but Link still heard them. He still didn’t move, but he listened. Tears he couldn’t control rolled down his face, but he didn’t move to wipe them.  

He looks like he’s lived a thousand years, Pa said late that night.  

Ma paused for a moment before she answered. He has.  

They couldn’t keep the Sword hidden, not when the whole Kingdom was searching for it by the King’s command. So, mere days later, Ma got Pa and Link ready to journey to Castle Town for Goddess knew how long. Link wore the Sword on his back like a soldier, but it was far too large for him. In fleeting moments, he no longer looked like their son.  

After that, their perfect lives changed.  

Link was only home for holidays and short vacations after being taken to a school for nobles in Castle Town. They were showered in riches from the royal family for their son’s good works. Pa was given more time in Hateno, where their misery was hidden for Aryll’s sake.  

When Link did return, he was silent. He barely spoke in sign, and he didn’t talk about Castle Town, or the royal family, or anything of the sort, so they stopped asking. He looked like a grown man trapped in a child’s body. He didn’t grow into the Sword until he was a teenager.  

At home, his parents to Aryll stories of her older brother, of the things he was learning and the people he met, and the amazing line of Heros he was a part of. She thought he hung the moon. In a way, he had.  

The house carried on. It hid anxieties and misery, but it hid them well. It was one thing to tell children stories of folklore to calm them or educate them to get them to bed on time. It was entirely another to live through them. What was one to do when the very stories that had been a light to life became the very things that weighed their hearts down?  

The Kingdom seemed to turn on its axis, all because of their little boy. The monster camps grew in size and frequency. The nights started to grow darker. Something was shifting in the air, and the Princess had yet to unlock her power to help them all.  

But Link, when he did mention the Princess once, said he had faith in her.  

She is lonely, he said one night. His parents believed him. I want to be her friend.  

The Kingdom feared for their safety, their home and everyone in it. They feared the children that had the world on their shoulders didn’t have what it takes to save it.  

Link’s parents worry for a different reason, because their son is not the boy he once was. In a day, he changed completely. Suddenly, he was stoic and reserved and never breathed a word. He carried the Sword with him always. He learned but had no passion for it as he once did.  

They had every faith he could complete his mission, that he would save the world, because that was simply the kind of boy Link was.  

Instead, they feared for the man that would come out on the other side. What would become of him? Would they be there to help him?  

Chapter Text

When Link was a few weeks shy of nineteen, he returned home with no warning, the Sword still on his back.  

His Ma answered the door. She hadn’t seen her son in months. She looked like she’d aged decades, herself.  

But when she opened the door, she saw her son smiling. She let him inside instantly after a hug at the door, sitting him down with a cup of tea. Aryll, at fifteen, jumped into his lap, despite them being almost the same size. Link hugged her. He spoke to her in sign, and she responded. It was a miracle. Ma watched for a long time, silent, until her husband returned home from his time in the square.  

The family watched for a while, how their son acted, and wondered what had changed. It was uncanny. It was nothing short of the Goddess’s divine grace. It had been months since they saw him last, and then he had been the same as all those years before. What had changed?  

Ma fed them all, and Link ate a full plate. They began to think the Calamity was vanquished and their son was free by the way he was acting, though the state of the Kingdom and the use of the Divine Beasts and Guardians argued otherwise.  

Once they were fed, Link offered to put Aryll to bed, like they used to. In their room they had once shared, his side untouched, he told her.  

I have so much to tell you, but I have to tell Ma and Pa first. Can you wait? He asked her in sign. 

Aryll grinned wildly, nodding. She stayed up when he left.  

He ushered his parents to the garden, where the sun was beginning to set. The garden was in full bloom, and the deadly nightshades in the beds set a soft glow around their feet, attracting the fireflies. Only then, his expression slipped a little. He looked exhausted, they realized. More battle-worn than any soldiers his father trained. He was so, so tired.  

They noticed, for the first time, the Master Sword fit properly across his back. It fir him; it looked regal. He wore a bright blue tunic, beautifully embroidered with the sword across the neckline, and the symbols of the Divine Beasts along the hem. The other Champions got something similar, they knew. He was one with the highest ranks. His minimal leather armor, however, was old. The same ones his father gave him for his sixteenth birthday.  

When they were outside, he did something extraordinary.  

He spoke to them.  

“I have good news and bad news,” he said flatly.  

His parents would have started crying then and there, but they so desperately wanted to keep his disposition, so they didn’t.  

“What’s the good news?” his mother said at the same time his father said, “What’s the bad news?”  

Link grinned. It was the best thing they’d ever seen. He was more man than boy now.  

“I’m in love with Princess Zelda,” he said suddenly, and for a moment they couldn’t tell which news that was supposed to be.  

Then his mother laughed, a sudden, relieved sound. Link was surprised.  

“That’s amazing, Link! Well, what happened?” she asked. Pa was still in shock.  

“Oh, she’s amazing, Ma. She’s so kind and smart; she’s a genius! You know she was actually the one to get the Guardians to work? And she worked on the Divine Beasts, too. I went with her. She’s beautiful, and funny, and we only really started talking a few months ago. Before that, I thought she hated me, but it turns out that was never true at all. She was so lonely, Ma, but she refused to let anyone in. But she let me in, so that has to count for something, right?”  

Ma wasn’t sure if he as truly asking. “Well, I suppose it might.”  

“I haven’t told her that I love her, but I plan to after we fight Calamity Ganon. She’s going to the Spring in two days – that's why I’m here at all; she let me split away from camp to see you. I have faith that this is the last Spring she needs to visit to awaken her power. She’s so amazing, I have no doubt she can do this, too.”  

Ma smiled softly at her son’s speech. It sounded so similar to when she’d first met Pa. He was truly in love, she thought.  

The news was so exciting, they nearly forgot about the bad news until Link’s face falls with dread and uncertainty. Their stomachs fall collectively.  

“About the Calamity,” he starts, then swallows. Suddenly, he raises his hands to continue, and his parent’s silently mourn the sound of his voice.  

“The Calamity is coming. We’ve both been having dreams about it, or visions, or something. It’s on its way. So I brought you supplies from the castle to help you survive it. I don’t know what it’ll entail. We don’t know what’s going to happen.”  

His parent’s dread grows with every fluid motion. Link shows them to the stable where he’d unloaded several crates of rations and weapons for them to hand out to anyone that could carry one. He explained that a few Guardians were stationed outside of town to protect them, but not to get too close. Monsters will begin appearing, and they’re getting braver. Other than that, he would be on the front lines with the Champions and the Princess. He would eventually have to face Evil Incarnate alone.  

His parents were terrified, but a strange sense of pride grew, too. Their son was incredible, after all. A Goddess blessed boy, a quick learner, headstrong and kind. He could do anything. Saving the world was just par for the course, maybe.  

When the stable was unloaded with all the things Link brought them, they sent him to bed like they used to. Link obliged, walking in to find Aryll still awake.  

The good thing about having a deaf sister was that they could stay awake as long as they wanted talking and never get caught.  

That’s what they did. They talked long into the night. Aryll asked Link about the Princess, what she looked like (she was beautiful, prettier than any stories), if Link loved her (So, so much, the way Pa loves Ma), if he wanted to marry her (one day, hopefully when the Evil is gone). It was good, Link thought, to speak to her like they used to, because he had a sickening feeling that after the fight nothing would be the same.  

But for just a while, he could forget about what he had to do. He could just be Aryll’s big brother, a title that still filled him with so much pride.  

When dawn breaks, however, the walls mourn the loss of the boy. Link is gone, the only trace of him being the supplies he left behind for them. It felt like a dream, seeing their son turned into a young man, lovestruck with the Princess, and speaking.  

The weight of his warning weighed heavy for the day. They were nearly frozen, hardly able to process what had happened.  

And they didn’t get the time to. That evening, the sky turned red and the earth shook with such violence the chandelier in the kitchen rattled.  

It had begun.  

Pa had been trained for this. He went to the stable and gathered as many weapons as he could carry and ran through town, arming every man he could. Aryll handed out food. Ma told everyone she could there was more where it came from. They opened their home to anyone that needed space.  

It quickly turned into a hospital. People they had never seen began flooding within hours, most with terrible burns. They spoke in shock of mighty mechanical beasts. Others that came to shelter unharmed said the Guardians were attacking alongside the monsters.  

The sky cries for them, storms obscuring everyone's vision. It’s red and angry and violent. People flood in with the water, refugees looking for some kind person to help them. Their home has always been that open place, but it feels tainted by death and grief long before anyone takes their final breath within the walls.  

It waited in anticipation for the moment, though. It was preemptive, because it was inevitable.  

Hours pass, and nothing stops. Time lost all meaning. If the sun rose, nobody noticed because of the rain. People come through, telling horror stories of the Guardians that turned against them. One group came through, telling a tale of a horde of monsters outside the village gates. In frustration, Pa takes up his sword and runs out. In a panic, Ma follows, yelling at Aryll to remain put with the people in her home, while she talked Pa back to his senses.  

They were brought into the home by some family friends an hour later, but they were battered and beaten within an inch of their lives. Ma held a sword of her own. Both weapons were covered in purple monster dust. They had killed all the beasts at the village gates, but suddenly the state of the outside world didn’t matter.  

Aryll dropped next to her parents, but it was clear nothing could be done for them. The people in the house stood by while the girl silently wept. Some tried to ask he what happened, but she couldn’t hear, so she didn’t respond. She only cried.  

She wished for her big brother. He always knew what to do.  

Ma and Pa’s hearts slowed to something less than calm. Aryll’s sobs turned to sniffles. The world was falling apart around her.  

Then, her big brother helped.  

A light, brighter than anything she’d ever seen swept through the house. It warmed the space, quieted everything. It was peaceful. It was beautiful.  

And before they could decide what it was, it was gone.  

Ma and Pa, with their last bit of strength, knew Princess Zelda had unlocked her power. The chaos outside seemed to stop all at once. Their boy and his Princess had done something amazing.  

They were so, so proud.  

If only they could tell him one last time.  

Their last words, however, were not about Link. They were to Aryll. She read their lips as best she could. Her tears returned anew.  

They died that day, not knowing what became of their Goddess blessed son. They didn’t see their daughter grow old. They never saw weddings, grandchildren, their family grow within their house the way they dreamed. But they died knowing their children were extraordinary.  

Aryll lived the rest of her life in that house. It survived the aftershocks of the Calamity, blessed be the Goddess. Monsters, blood moons, guardians that remained active, that sturdy little house saw them through it all. Hateno became a haven for refugees from Castle Town and other parts of the Kingdom that were hit harder than others.  

She grew with the help of the village and turned her home into a hospital for good. She slept in the loft and kept supplies there. She put everything she couldn’t bear to look at in the back room she once shared with Link and shut it tight. Her whole early life stood still there, collecting dust.  

Aryll was sixteen when the Calamity struck. She had her whole life to watch her Kingdom, her home, recover as best it could.  

Her village adapted wonderfully. People accepted the refugees that came from other parts of the Kingdom for aid, inviting them into their homes and offering them jobs. Aryll herself offered housing to many that came through her door.  

She would walk through the streets of the town, watching the people there. Sometimes she would look in windows and watch the families there, their children around the table, and remember her brother. How Ma would tell him stories, and he would sign them for her. She couldn’t hear their laughter, but she saw it on their faces.  

Link would be glad they were still laughing, so she tried to be, too.  

The Calamity was still active, that much was clear. Castle Town and the palace itself was apparently still shrouded in thick darkness and was inhabited only by monsters.  

Nobody knew what became of the Hero and Princess. That was the worst part.  

They were never found, dead or alive by anyone. The last place they had both been seen was a short ride away, but the field was deserted, covered in Guardians and reduced to ash and dirt. Her brother had disappeared without a trace. Search parties were sent, but hardly any ever returned. Aryll never liked the fact they were sent out to begin with. Link could handle himself, she knew. And he was okay, and he would come back for her.  

That’s what she told herself for her entire life.  

He would come back for her.  

But he never did.  

Another entire life was lived inside of that house.  

Soon, the Kingdom adjusted to the new normal. Life returned to the mundane. Ghosts haunted every corner of every village. None were worse than the ghosts that haunted that Hateno house, but Aryll grew used to them. She made peace with what happened because she had to.  

A holiday became a tradition the day the Calamity struck, to honor the lives lost. People started to light candles to commemorate those lives, and there were always five blue candles and one white one. Four for the Champions that gave their lives (Link’s friends, Aryll knew), one for the Princess that saved them but was never seen again, and one for the Hero.  

Aryll never set out a candle for her brother. She wouldn’t perform a death ritual for someone that wasn’t dead.  

Aryll grew into a beautiful woman, just like her mother, and fell in love with a man that ran from his destroyed home and settled in Hateno. She married him, and often wondered what Link would think if he returned to find his home overtaken by her little family and business.  

She never had any children, but she never wanted any to begin with. Link, she thought, was the one to have a family. She dreamed of being an aunt to Link and the Princess’s children, and how happy they would be.  

The people all had to believe Link would return, even if they didn’t know who he was. They had to believe.  

The house believed he would come back. Right up until Aryll’s dying day the house believed he would return, and even when a for sale sign was pitched in the front yard after her and her husband’s passing. Even when nobody came to buy it.  

The house across the bridge in Hateno waited, just like the rest of the Kingdom, for the Hero to return to finish his story.  

Chapter Text

Saving the Kingdom takes a long, long time. But with every quest Link completed, he returned to the house to sleep. When he was able, he put a travel medallion in the yard by the stable where he kept his horse, Epona.  

And with every quest Link completed, he came back with a new friend (or several).  

First, it was Sidon. Prince Sidon, of the Zora.  

Link had just left his house to explore. He returned with a new best friend and a Divine Beast conquered, and the spear of someone he once knew.  

Mipha was her name. Link remembered Mipha, but little else. He remembered she was important to him. He remembered playing with her in the waterfalls of the Domain when he was small. He remembered when Sidon was a baby, and the rest of his friends there. The Big Bad Bazz Brigade, they called themselves.  

And what was better, was that they all remembered him. He got to ask them questions about his life, about being a kid, about having friends.  

Then it was Teba and his son, Tulin. They were Rito.  

There, he gained memories of an old friend. His name was Revali. Revali, he learned, didn’t like him much, but Link never minded the animosity. It was a strange rivalry they had.  

Then was Yunobo of the Gorons.  

He was a descendant of the Champion Daruk, who Link knew a century before. They were all connected, Link was shocked to find out. And all his friends seemed to know something about him that he didn’t. Yunobo knew how Link got a chip in his tooth he’d hardly noticed before.  

Before Link went to Goron City’s Divine Beast he received his memories of Daruk and learned Yunobo’s story was right. Link chipped a molar trying to eat a rock that Daruk had served him before the Princess could stop him.  

Finally there was Riju of the Gerudo. She was the grandchild of Chieftainess Urbosa.  

Urbosa was close to the Princess and her mother. She knew Link before, too. They were a team. Once Link reclaimed the final Divine Beast and gained memories of Urbosa, he was embarrassed to realize both Urbosa and Riju had seen him in the female Gerudo garb. The Voe armor Riju gifted him was much more his style, and with his pardon he couldn’t wait to wear it without getting kicked out of the town.  

When he vanquished each of their Beasts and rescued the ghosts of his late friends, he invited the living to his home. He was excited to have someone else on this side of the viel occupying the space. Once he had finish that part of the quest, they all came to Hateno to celebrate. Link cooked for them, which he discovered he loved to do. They looked at his paintings, which he was slowly getting better at. They talked and laughed in his home.  

Link was slowly getting better at being normal. He loved his house, and he loved the people in it even more.  

He found the house, across a bridge on the edge of the most diverse town he'd seen yet, with a sale sign in the front yard and people gathered outside, holding hammers over a fireplace outside. There were strong trees around it, away from people but close to the things he needed, and looked sturdy enough. All it was lacking was a fresh coat of paint. 

The men outside were told to tear it down, but offered him a price. Link agreed, and after chopping down half a forest to pay back the money they would have lost tearing it down, it was his. 

Inside smelled musty and gross, covered in dust, but everything was left the way the last owner had it. It looked more like a hospital than what Link thought a house would look like, but he wasn't going to complain or take advantage of the Goddess's provision. He took the making it his right away, cleaning and dusting and sorting through what he could still use. 

The place began to look less like a hospital and more like the houses he saw other people have. He hung his weaponry from his friends and his paintings on the wall. He set the table with wildflowers he found and that were left in rubble around the Kingdom. He displayed his findings anywhere he could.  

His friends said it was inviting. They all got along, talked, laughed, and Link taught them all Hylian Sign, something he became more fluent in without hardly trying. He assumed he’d known it before, but why that would've been the case he didn’t know.  

He was getting stronger, too. He didn’t feel as weak and could wield a sword properly again. He was almost as skilled as he vaguely remembered being. It was good. He was almost happy.  

But there was more. So much more.  

Link wasn’t very good at talking about his feelings. The walls of the house knew because they saw him when he was alone. He used his voice then, sometimes.  

He was stressed. He stayed awake at night, thinking about the dangers he faced. He thought about the people he’d lost, the ones he slowly began remembering. He felt that loss so deeply in his bones sometimes the only thing he could do was weep. The walls knew the quiet sound of his sobs all too well.  

He missed his people greatly, even if he only remembered pieces.  

The most important person, but the one he knew the least about, it seemed, was the Princess.  

Princess Zelda.  

He wondered about her all the time. Every time a blood moon rose, he heard her voice, and something in the back of his mind felt something he didn’t recognize, just under the concern he felt for her. He needed to find her, but he couldn’t explain the urgency. He needed to get her, and he could have sworn it went deeper than just saving the Kingdom.  

He needed her.  

But he couldn’t remember her. She wasn’t in the house like others were. Sidon came to the house often to try and tell Link everything he remembered, but it wasn’t much. He was still a child when she last visited the Domain. Riju had second-hand stories from Urbosa, but that didn’t satisfy Link’s rabid curiosity, either.  

Despite the fear and strange emptiness Link felt when he was alone in the house, the times people filled the space made up for it.  

Link had learned a word when he first got to the house from the village people; family. He wondered if what he created in the house was a family. It certainly felt like one, though he wasn’t sure how he knew what it felt like.  

“Sidon, are we a family?” Link signed his best friend one evening over a fire in the back yard. Everyone else was laughing at something else.  

Sidon smiled, but there was something behind it. A different life that could have been. “I think so,” he said. “It certainly feels like it.”  

Link smiled. “Thank you for being my family,” he signed.  

He learned later through Mipha’s old diary that he and Sidon were almost a family. She wanted to marry him, and while Link didn’t remember feeling that way to her he could imagine he would have been happy with her for the rest of his life. The connection he had to her still lingered, so he was glad Sidon was still there to help him.  

Later still, Sidon explained that usually a family were people related to one another. Mothers and fathers and brothers and sisters, but that didn’t make them any less of a family. Link liked that answer, but he still wondered.  

What was his family like before? Who were they, his parents? Did he have a brother or sister?  

He didn’t know. But he didn’t let his friends see how badly it plagued him, the not knowing.  

Chapter Text

“I don’t remember anything,” Link lamented to Sidon one day at his dining table, his expression contorting to convey the emotion he felt that he couldn’t communicate through his hands.  

The Zora pondered it for a moment. They both knew it was an exaggeration, but the point still stood. Link remembered only snippets of his life before the Calamity, and it clearly plagued him (to Sidon, at least, it was clear). He needed as many memories as he could get, especially if he were to fully understand what he was facing on his various quests to save the Kingdom. Waking up in the body of a twenty-year-old and not knowing how you got there had to be jarring.  

But he’d remembered Sidon’s sister, Revali, Urbosa, and Daruk when he’d gone to see their Divine Beasts. He remembered any moment with them in it, despite the order still being fuzzy. He remembered as if he were in that  

But he remembered very little of the Princess, and that’s who he was trying to save, after all.  

“Maybe it has something to do with your environment,” Sidon pondered aloud. Link looked at him quizzically. “You remembered the Champions when you saw something that reminded you of them, right? Maybe your memories of the Princess are the same way.”  

Link thought about it for a long moment. “I can’t go to the castle yet. Isn’t that where she lived?”  

Sidon thought for another moment. “You traveled with her often, didn’t you? Perhaps not all of your memories would be in the castle.”  

They wondered back and forth for some time, until Sidon was struck suddenly with an idea. He jumped up from his place at the table, causing his chair to swing backward and Link to startle. “Wasn’t that slate hers before you got it?” he asked.  

Link nodded, unsure of how it was related. He pulled the slate from his hip anyway, placing it on the table.  

Sidon picked it up, and began to fiddle with the buttons. He’d become quite adept at using it, he was with Link enough to pick up on the basics of it.  

Link liked taking pictures. When he was learning to paint again, he took pictures of things to replicate as best he could. Most of his pictures, too, were to fill the compendium to learn more about the creatures and plants.  

Sidon flipped through the pictures, ignoring them all (except for a particularly concerning photo of Link posing with a lynel. That required some questioning) until he reached the end of the gallery.  

There was a very distinct shift in the last several photos. They were taken in a Hyrule yet to be ravaged by Evil. A place Sidon and Link hardly remembered, but maybe they could.  

“Princess Zelda took these,” Sidon said softly. He turned the slate around for Link to see.  

Link’s body had a reaction to the images, a pang of severe sorrow flooded his head. A term Riju had once called nostalgia. He discovered he felt it often. She’d explained that it meant he’d done something before. His body was missing it, even if he wasn’t sure exactly what it was.  

Link flipped through the pictures, taking in the scenery that had buildings and structures that had yet to turn to rubble. He was in the background of a few, and the more they flipped, he became the foreground. Then the two of them were pictured together.  

They looked so happy, yet so haunted. It was his face, his smile, but he hardly recognized himself. But that’s not who he wanted to look at. She looked so beautiful. Her hair was golden, and her eyes shone like precious stones. He missed her terribly, even if he wasn’t sure exactly what he missed.  

Tears brimmed in his eyes, ones he couldn’t explain or control. He blinked to drive them away.  

“Anything?” Sidon asked, hope lining his tone.  

Despite the strange feeling that proved he was there when the pictures were taken, he had no memories to back it up. Not stories to explain why he and Zelda are grinning in a picture, each of them holding frogs with flowers in their hair.  

Link shook his head, defeated.  

“Maybe it would take more than that. Maybe it would help to go to these places.”  

They had traveled a lot. Link knew because he felt the pull of vague memories nearly every place he adventured to. That, and all of his friends told him that they heard stories of the Princess and Hero traveling the regions. Princess Zelda had met with each of the leaders respectively, and as her knight Link had been with her.  

“It would be difficult finding where everything is, but I’m sure we could figure it out with a bit of searching,” Sidon said, reading Link’s thoughts.  

Link jumped up from the table without warning, and ran about the house for a moment, gathering things in his arms. Sidon watched, perplexed, but waited until Link dumped the armload of stuff onto the table and sat back down.  

He organized the stuff until Sidon could put together the point of it all. Books of geography and the Hyrule before, and a giant map he’d found while traveling. He unrolled it and placed the slate with the first photo open on top.  

“We can find it,” he said, determination shining on his face, a look Sidon often noticed he wore during combat.  

They spent hours that day pouring over the map and photos and books that were written at that time. Books now were a rare find and were often passed down between families from the Calamity. But Link seemed to have collected a surplus of them, somehow. Zelda would’ve been proud of that.  

They poured over those maps into the night, until they were working by a low burning candle. By the time they both started nodding off, they had found the possible locations of four photos, and the others were getting closer. Link fell asleep at the table, and Sidon took his bed in the meantime that night.  

When Link woke up (earlier than Sidon), he left, taking the slate with the locations pinned on the map there, and traveled to the first one. When he returned to the house, Sidon had left, but that was okay with him.  

He remembered Zelda.  

It wasn’t a lot. He vividly remembered two times they’d visited the Kolomo Garrison. But more than that, he remembered more what she looked like, how she walked, what her voice sounded like. He knew they were going to look at the Divine Beasts, but where that fell on the fizzy timeline of the first nineteen years of his life he had no idea. She was beautiful, that was for sure. He couldn’t get her out if his head, despite only having a few memories with her in them. The other memories he had also began to fill in a little. While the Princess was once a blurry face in the background, she was filled in with how she truly looked in those memories. It was odd, how it filled in that way.  

As Link wandered, he collected more shrines, more treasure, and more memories that not only gave him clarity on the world around him, but what happened in the past.  

The house watched him when he returned to it, each a little wiser and wearier than the last. It watched him attempt to sort and place each new memory he found, trying to sort them into some order that made sense. It watched him pour over books and journals he kept under the stairs in any attempt to fill in the gaps. The more he collected, the more it filled in the true story of the Calamity, aside from what Lady Impa had told him and the books he read.  

The fogginess in his head got clearer, but so did something else. Something that was buried and tried to be forgotten long before the Calamity struck.  

Link knew about romance from books. He knew Mipha had wanted to marry him, and that she loved him, but he wasn’t sure he loved her. He didn’t know what it felt like.  

Until he began to remember Princess Zelda.  

It was a memory that he’d found in the middle of Gerudo desert that made him realize, when he was so worried he was too late, that he hadn’t saved her, that she was dead before he could tell her how he felt. And what did that mean? What did he feel?  

Link had, naturally, asked Sidon about it. The Zora, after some prodding that got nowhere, told him one of the symptoms of falling in love was staying awake at night thinking about them.  

Link didn’t sleep for days after a certain number of memories were found.  

And the more he checked off his list, the more flustered he became. It was suffocating.  

Somewhere along the trials of his life, however, he got rather good and burring things he didn’t want to be talked about. So that's what he did with his confusing feelings for the Princess. It was distracting him from his mission, which became more and more heavy the further along his path to Ganon he became. Even as he braved the castle, not to fight him, but to prepare, and find a memory on the way. The house reveled in the decorations and books he was able to save from the library.  

The house watched the house turn to a mix of old and new, a parallel to Link’s mind, stuck between the past and the present, far too distracted to think about the future. He was in and out, used the house for the rare times he was able to sleep in a bed. He was there less and less in preparation for the fight he knew was on the horizon.  

Chapter Text

It was a strange feeling, knowing the whole story he’d forgotten. Knew he played a hand in the end of the world. Remembering how it felt to die. That’s what had happened a century ago. He had died, and come back to life, and now he had to finish what they started, what the failed to do the first time.  

The house was there for him in those days after he found the whole story (or the most important parts, anyway). He knew enough to make him sick for several days when he thought about how that huge scar on his stomach got there, why it sometimes throbbed when he moved too much.  

He was undead, he was a zombie, a ghost that should not have a body, but he was given a second chance.  

Why was it him? Why didn’t his friends he freed get another chance to live? Why does he get to continue and not them? And what about the Princess and her second chance? Will she get one, when the Evil is gone?  

When the sickness of the final battle wore away, Link was able to come to terms with the realization he still didn’t remember everything, but it was enough. His sickness was replaced with a rage that he couldn’t quell or breathe away.  

He was stronger, fit to fight, and healthy.  

Link didn’t tell anyone when he planned to fight the Calamity again. He didn’t want to bother his friends with his mess. He had to handle it, for the Kingdom’s sake.  

He spent the night before the fight in his house. Rain poured outside, but he chose not to take it as an omen. He spent the night cooking. If he lived, he doubted he would have the energy to eat, and if he didn’t someone would break into his house and find a good meal for a while. Most of the village knew him now, because of the Master Sword he’d found along the way, and knew he came and went.  

There was no plan. He would live or he wouldn’t, that part mattered little. The only thing that matter was that he beat the Calamity and left the Kingdom in peace.  

He was rummaging through his things under the stairs when he found something he hadn’t seen before. The wall that was covered in faded wall paper was tearing away, leaving what looked like a door. In the dim light of the rainy afternoon, he ripped the rest of it down.  

The door was locked, but he didn’t let that stop him. He tried to pick it, but when that proved unsuccessful he broke it down easily.  

Dust flew everything. Around the room, into the hallway, up Link’s nose. It was dreadful and so thick he could hardly see inside. All he could see was that it was some kind of storage space.  

When the dust settled, he saw boxes and furniture stuffed inside. There had to have been an entire house’s worth of stuff packed inside. Curiosity overtook his melancholy, and he began to take out the first few boxes he could grab.  

He was distracted for the rest of the night. First the boxes were things he could use. Pots and pans, old cleaning supplies, plates and cups and even cloth napkins embroidered with pretty flowers and designs.  

Then the items got more personal. Clothes that belonged to a man bigger than he, woman’s dresses, and children’s clothes both for a boy and a girl. Children’s toys, personal nick-knacks, all things that once belonged to a happy family that lived there. Paintings that were framed and had been packed away, all faded from once hanging on the wall, all signed with the signature Atal.  

Everything was familiar, as it often was, but the things he pulled out were so much so it put a weight on his chest. He couldn’t explain it, but he’d seen it all before.  

Finally, late into the night, he pulled out a painting that froze him. It was a painting of the back of a little boy in a Temple of the Goddess, the Master Sword slung across his back.  

It was him, he realized.  

Every painting after that seemed to have something to do with him. Until he realized why everything was so familiar.  

It was his house. It had always been his house.  

The family he’d wondered about lived there, raised him there. He had a mother and father, and a little sister. A sister. The thought made him ill all over again. What had happened to them? Where had they gone? Had they lived here after he left? Did they believe he would return one day?  

He had returned. The house knew he would.  

When he cleared out the whole room of boxes and extra furniture, a children’s room was left behind. Beds with sheets still in a mess from sleeping in them, clothes and toys strewn about, wax drawings still hung on the wall. His room, the one he shared with a nameless sister. Maybe if he searched the items he was now surrounded with more thoroughly, he’d find her name, and the name of his mother and father, but he couldn’t bear to touch anything else.  

He was getting distracted. He had to stay focused. He could sort all of it out when (if) he returned. He had to save everyone, first.  

The ghosts of the house watched him grab his sword and shield and leave before dawn, when the rain finally began to let up. They waited, watching, for their revenge. They knew their boy could do it, had always believed he could.  

That’s why he fought, wasn’t it? Not only for the people that survived, for his friends that relied on him, but for the people that died for his cause. To avenge them. To make sure nobody had to ever fight to survive again.  

When Link left hat house, he never expected to return. It had always been that way, ever since he pulled the Sword. Every time he returned was a blessing. On his way to the Castle, his departure was no different.  

But the house and the ghosts that dwelled there knew better. The believed in him more than he ever believed in himself.  

Chapter Text

When Link returned, it was only two days since he’d been gone. But the ghosts remained and welcomed not only their boy, but the Princess of the Kingdom as well.  

Link and Princess Zelda wandered inside. Boxes and dust still filled the place, but neither of them really noticed. Zelda couldn’t eat and could only stay awake for a few minutes at a time. Link was only concenred with getting her to lay down somewhere safe and comfortable.  

She took his bed upstairs. It was unmade and a complete disaster, but it didn’t matter. They were home. They were both alive, and the Kingdom was safe.  

They didn’t talk much. The awkward tension was worse than the ghosts. They didn’t know what to say. Not that either of them could stay awake long enough to hold a proper conversation.  

Link’s waking moments were used tending the wounds he’d gotten in the fight that lasted a whole day and finding whatever he could to keep from starving (the meal he’d made before he left didn’t last long). Zelda’s waking moments were filled with attempting to eat, then throwing it back up minutes later.  

It took nearly a whole week for her to be able to eat something without it coming back up. When she finally did it, Link breathed the heaviest sign of relief. It was a sign.  

Link slept on the floor. A part of that was familiar, except instead of outside of Zelda’s bedroom door, it was right next to her bed. Not that there wasn’t enough space for the two of them to sleep in the bed, but that was a line he did not want to cross, especially in the first week.  

Zelda had her own set of wounds. He didn’t know where she got them, but he supposed they might’ve been from the Calamity. Nobody understood what happened to her, where her body went, but it looked the exact same as it had when he died.  

Link helped her wounds heal, too. When she was asleep, he would dress and redress them, keeping a century’s old infection away. She never questioned it when she was awake, but she noticed. She noticed everything, Link realized early on, even in her fragile state.  

Slowly but surely, they heal their bodies. Link’s wounds close and scab, slowly blending in with the scars of before. Zelda is able to sit up, and soon enough stand and walk with help. Soon they were sitting at the kitchen table, surrounded by boxes of Link’s family’s belongings, eating bland meals and trying not to let the awkward small talk get to them.  

Link didn’t speak to her. He wanted to, but the signs he used were short and to the point. Every time he did, Zelda seemed to deflate.  

“Did you know this was your family’s house when you bought it?” Zelda asked softly one evening. She looked around at the mess that surrounded them.  

Link glanced around, too, then shook his head. He looked at her, portraying his confusion as he signed, “How did you know it was mine?”  

“You told me about it before. I recognized it immediately from what you told me then. I’m surprised it’s still standing.”  

“They were going to tear it down when I got here. I bought it right in time.”  

Zelda smiled at that. “It was fate, then,” she said.  

Link didn’t look up to hide his smile, though he wasn’t sure why he felt the need to. “I suppose it was.” A few moments pass in silence. Zelda almost looks away, defeated at another dead ended conversation attempt, before Link continues, “How do you know sign?”  

Zelda brightened up a little. “You taught me when you first arrived at the castle. At first, father made me, but I enjoyed it once we got older.”  

Another moment. “How do I know it?”  

What a strange question. A million more piled within Zelda’s mind, but she couldn’t ask them and risk him shutting down. They were both so fragile. “Your sister was deaf; she couldn’t hear. So you and your family learned when you were very young. It helped when you went silent.”  

His hand still posed as if he wanted to ask more, but he froze. It took Zelda a moment to see tears in his eyes. She wasn’t sure what did it, what part of that tragic tale. Did ne not remember his sister? He spoke so fondly of her in the past, his dear sister Aryll. He loved his family.  

It was easier to focus on his grief rather than her own. How was one supposed to mourn people that were a hundred years dead?  

They would have to figure it out, eventually.  

But for that night, it was enough.  

It went on like that, with little questions that bordered on too personal or devastating. Zelda would hear Link crying at the foot of her bed after he thought she’d fallen asleep. She would shed her own tears when she thought he wasn’t paying attention (though he always was).  

The first person to find them is Sidon. Zelda is in tears. Sidon is confused and elated. Suddenly, a new family begins. One Link chose for himself, he realized. One he’s perfectly comfortable with (until he remembers how madly in love with Zelda he is was, and how does he feel now? Should he love her? Does he? How does she feel? What about-).  

The three of them try to help Link put away everything his family left behind. They went box by box, putting things away, hanging pictures and donating clothes, until the house looked normal again. Until it was livable, and not filled with dust that made them sneeze and aggravated their wounds.  

Link didn’t leave Zelda’s side. Every time she tried to give him his bed back, or offer an alternative, he refused. He signed to her, and asked her questions, but she felt as if it was more out of necessity than wanting to talk to her. He was more knight than he was in the weeks before the Calamity, returning to the boy he was when he first received his position.  

It pained her to see. He’d become so lively before the Calamity. He spoke to her freely, and she was so in love with him.  

Not to say she wasn’t. She was, and it hurt to see how he’d regressed. She couldn’t fathom all he’d gone through. She couldn’t remember her time holding back Ganon, until she felt him wake up. She remembered the moments she could see him, and how hopeful she was.  

But he was so different, yet completely unchanged. And their friends were dead, and their families were dead, and they had nothing to their names except his house and the things he found, and how could they grieve what they didn’t understand?  

They were utterly broken. It would take forever to sort out their emotions, Link’s lack of memories and the ones he does have, the mourning of their friends, the end of the Evil that plagued them their entire lives, the guilt of being too late-  

But they were together. They had that, and it didn’t seem like Link was going anywhere. That had to count for something.  

Chapter Text

It took a long time for people to realize what happened, and it took just about as long for Zelda to feel well enough to leave the house. Before she even thought of it, Link braved the village to get some clothes for her (the seamstress in town was more than happy to help him, and that started the rumors long before Zelda ever left the house).  

When she was ready to leave, it was only for short excursions. Zelda leaned between a cane Link got for her and the crook of his arm. People talked, but not to them. It was clear they needed space by the looks on their faces. Pained and tired and awkward, never speaking to each other, either.  

But inside the house, things got easier. Soon, Zelda could get down the stairs without Link fearing she would fall, and she could walk around without her cane, leaning on the furniture instead. She could eat regular meals, and all of the wounds between them healed.  

The physical ones, anyway. The mental ones were slow going.  

But they talked inside the house. The ghosts bore witness to their quiet conversations about the past over dinner and candlelight. They listened and watched them talk about the Kingdom, the village, and everything Link saw in his months without her.  

They learned about each other again. Zelda learned of this new version of Link, this man that had to build his life from scratch around the mission of saving the world. He learned about her, things he should have known, but didn’t remember. He learned about her likes and dislikes. He learned she didn’t like the dark, and never had.  

He left soon after that conversation. He returned with Bubbul gems and fallen star fragments that cast dim light across the house. He hung them from the banister and the hanging lanterns. Zelda smiled when she saw them. Link said nothing about it.  

They talked often about their dead friends. Every time something reminded them of those they lost, it was pointed out. Link appreciated it, learning about them further than his patchy memory allowed.  

Though he still struggled, he could remember a little more when she spoke about their past. It was so gradual at first that he didn’t notice it until moments she brought up several times became clearer. And when he did notice it, he feared to tell her about it.  

It makes him feel better, remembering things she told him. He didn’t get the chance to tell her himself. She noticed it once and pulled the answer out of him. The smile she gave him made his stomach flutter in a strange way he vaguely remembered happening in the past.  

Soon enough, they were as normal as they had ever been. Link would venture to the market for their meals while Zelda began to rebuild his mother’s garden in the front and tend to the apple tree by the pond in the back. He would paint in the evenings while she read the books he saved for her. They would walk the town when she felt like it. Zelda spoke softly and watched his responses, growing longer the longer they stayed together.  

A few months after her rescue, Zelda was able to convince Link to sleep under the stairs if he refused to take his bed back. He had a hammock strung up there, and he reluctantly agreed.  

Link searched for gifts for her, subtle things in their home she would like. When she complained or mentioned needing something in passing, it would appear on the table the next day. She never questioned it, but appreciated it by using it all the time. A small shovel for the garden, a new pot for the kitchen, some seeds she’d read about.  

She wondered if she mentioned a wedding ring, how he would react. If that would appear on the kitchen table next, with a question she’d seen burning in his eyes a century before.  

But what were they then? She certainly loved him, and she was fairly sure he loved her in return, though they never said it. She wasted her first kiss on a dying man, the love of her life she wasn’t sure she’d ever see again.  

He didn’t seem to remember that, so she decided not to mention it. She hardly mentioned anything about her feelings toward him. Not until she was sure of them herself. She was still getting to know the him of now, not just the knight from a century ago. It was a strange line to walk, but one she did carefully.  

When their home grew a little too full of their things, Link took to building. A spare storage room by the stable, and a well in the back by the pond. It was strange, Zelda thought, until Link indulged her in his thinking.  

“It’s dry under the house, and warm. It’d make a good study, and there are frogs.”  

She did love frogs. She loved more that he remembered that fact.  

It didn’t take long for him to finish. When he first helped her down the steep stairs, she was in awe of the work he’d done. He covered half of the walls in wood, built her a desk and shelves with books he’d collected just for her. She wasn’t well or strong enough to be on her own for long, but it was the thought that when she was well enough to move on her own, she would still be living in his home. He expected her to stay long enough for her to want her own space.  

Thus, it was no longer Link’s house. It became their house, not just to the two that lived there, but the people around them, too. Their friends called it as such. The villagers referred to it with both of their names.  

When Zelda began to get better, their house became more open. Link had made friends, Zelda realized when people began to come over often. Villagers came to talk to him about something he had helped with, or something they wanted him to do. He was a jack of all trades, and the people knew it. They asked for his help not only because he was talented and a good worker, but because he was good company, even though he never spoke.  

Creatures also came to their home. Frogs returned to the pond, and Link caught fish to fill it, too. Birds returned to the trees. Dear and bear came back to the forests. They hadn’t realized how frightened the wildlife was for a century until the Calamity was vanquished and they returned to their homes.  

Blupees also made themselves known. The first time they were seen near the village, they were in Zelda’s growing garden, hardly seen behind the deathly nightshade she was growing. Zelda noticed it, but when she went to tell Link he was already watching it, a soft smile on his face. He still saw them. When he noticed her looking at him, he put a finger to his lips. Zelda nodded, and the continued on their way silently, until they made their way inside.  

Little moments made the hard moments worth it, though some days the hard moments seemed to outweigh the good ones. Healing wasn’t easy. It took time they shouldn’t have. More often than not Link jumped at the slightest disturbance, going for the Sword that remained on his back. Zelda would be found crying, and most times a reason isn’t pinpointed. But they never judged. Their burdens had always been similar, so similar Zelda’s attempts to hate her knight were always futile.  

Their house was a safe place to mourn for the lives they lost, both their friends and their own. Rarely did Link cry, but when he did Zelda was there to help him.  

Thats how it was. How it always had been, they supposed. They were there for each other. It was easier to heal when someone else was by ones side.  

Chapter Text

Link didn’t like to own things for himself. He hated asking for things. When he helped his people, he did so not expecting anything in return. Most of the time, it was a fight to get him to accept payment (unless it was the form of a meal). Anything he bought or collected was for her, because she’d mentioned it, or it reminded him of her in some way. His little gifts were wonderful, but he never got anything for himself.

So when Zelda noticed his Champion’s tunic was falling apart, she took it upon herself to repair it. She took it one day and kept it in her study where Link had set up a comfortable chair by a hanging lantern when she mentioned once she wanted to learn how to sew again.

That was why she wanted to learn. To repay him for his kindness, even if just a little.

She knew she could never repay him for giving up his home for her, for letting her live with him. Sure, he was her knight, but the royal guard of Hyrule had long dissipated, and with no monarch to uphold the vows the men took they all became void.

That included Link’s. The vows he took to her when he was appointed no longer meant anything, despite her return. She wondered often if he knew that. Sometimes she thought she should tell him but then worried he would turn her out of his house and live his own life.

The thought of never seeing him again scared her more than being kicked out.

Nevertheless, she worked on his tunic. With the new stitching, washing, and fresh dye, it was practically a new shirt. When she had a spare moment, she sent the leather smith in town a letter, requesting a new set of simple armor for him, since she was sure the ones he wore were the same ones that were left in the Shrine of Resurrection for him.

Finally, when it was all ready, she took an old box and some paper to wrap it, made it look nice, and set it on the dining table with his name on a note. She knew he would be more receptive to her writing (or, at least, he had been in the past when he didn’t speak), so she wrote her thanks to him there.

And, at the last moment before he returned, he told her about his vows.

She wasn’t in the house when he returned. She had gone to the back to work on their garden, but Link saw the gift.

He opened it before he read the note. The thoughtfulness of the gift struck him nearly to tears. He held the new bright fabric and polished leather, imprinted with the Hyrulian crest on the shoulder guard. The shining buckles, the clean fabric, the leather that still smelled fresh, it was overwhelming. It was easily one of the best gifts he remembered getting since waking up.

When he thought he couldn’t get any more emotional or in love with her, he turned to the note he set aside. He opened it carefully, and smiled at Zelda’s familiar cursive scrawl.

Link,

I wanted to do something in return for all of the kindness you’ve shown me, so you know it doesn’t go unseen and unappreciated. It would take me this whole page to name every gift you’ve given me since returning, so I’ll spare you the details and tell you I’ve used and loved every single one.

Thank you, too, for your home. It’s beautiful, and a joy and gift in itself to dwell here with you.

Thank you, lastly, for being my knight, even still. But with that, I wanted to tell you that your vows you took to me a century and then some ago are void today. The knights of Hyrule – your people, sadly – have dispersed and dissolved. They no longer exist. And with no monarch to oversee the vows, they were undone.

That includes yours.

Being said, if you chose at any time to part ways with your duties of the past, you have every right to do so, and nobody will hold it against you. If anything, I would understand completely. Its your choice now, Link. I know we never got many of those. So it is another gift of mine to give you one now.

Princess,

Your friend,
Zelda

Link read it once. Twice. But he couldn’t understand it.

Never once had he ever imagined kicking Zelda out, or leaving her. He never wanted to. He was happiest when he was with her, he was able to heal with her. His house felt complete with her in it. If anything, he was wondering if he could live with her forever, not part ways.

He had always been her knight. But in all his time with her, he’d only ever imagined being more to her, never less.

Before he could think through it, he sprinted from the house to the back garden. Zelda was there, kneeling in her flowers, covered in dirt, hair tied in a bandanna. She wanted to try and untangle the century of knots. Despite it, she looked beautiful to him.

She heard his rapid approach, and stood with some effort and turned to see him watching her, letter in hand.

Her heart sunk. He was leaving her. She was sure of it.

It was her worst nightmare come true, the fear of him leaving her forever.

Neither said anything. Zelda was unable with the lump in her throat. Link took careful, slow steps forward.

He was an arms reach away from her when he stopped. Tears welled in Zelda’s eyes against her will. She refused to guilt him into the outcome she wanted. He deserved the world, but he at least needed the choice.

Zelda took a shaking breath to speak, but before she could, Link took the Sword from his back and knelt before her, a posture of devotion she recalled well.

She’d hated the first time he knelt before her. Now, she quietly sighed with relief.

He couldn’t vow again, however. She wouldn’t let him.

So, placing a hand on his shoulder for support, she knelt before him, too. She took the sword from his hand where it rested on the ground and tossed it to the side. Link looked up at her, confused.

Zelda guided his gaze to hers with a gentle hand on his cheek. He looked so much older, yet still like a child all the same.

“Equals,” she said, signing the word at the same time. “That’s what we are now. Equals.”

Links eyes flashed with relief before he smiled, ever so slightly.

“Equals.”

Zelda nodded, smiling. She surged forward into his arms, throwing her arms around his neck and pushing him backwards into the dirt.

And he laughed. By the goddess, he laughed then, and it was loud and whole and beautiful. Zelda was so elated she almost kissed him then.

He felt like he hadn’t laughed for a thousand years.

Link wore the tunic all the time. He wore the leather over everything. Zelda smiled every time she saw it, how nice it made him look. She thanked the goddess silently every day for letting her stay right where she was. Link couldn’t imagine his house without her in it.

Chapter Text

Link didn’t sleep well when he moved under the stairs. He’d used the hammock before Zelda was there, but knowing she was upstairs without him left him restless.  

He knew she was alright. There was no more danger, no more Evil. Nothing would happen. But knowing that didn’t help. He still barely slept. But Zelda didn’t say anything to him about it after she told him to move, so he must’ve hid it well enough.  

So, when she began having dreams, he knew about it. When they turned into nightmares, he knew about that, too. He had them himself, ever since he woke up from the Shrine, maybe even before. They turned from mixing voices and strange and burning lights to scenes he remembered, twisted into the worst version of itself.  

He didn’t tell Zelda about those, either. He learned quickly that sleeping was a liability in itself in the wild, let alone waking up screaming. He already slept lightly, so he trained himself to wake up without screaming, to ground himself quickly.  

Zelda, it seemed, didn’t have that skillset. She woke up from her terrors quickly, panicked, often jumping out of bed. She spoke in her sleep, too. Often, she was saying his name, screaming and crying as if she’d never see him again. Maybe that's what she had thought.  

Link tried his best to ignore it. He didn’t know what else to do. It was strange, he thought, to go up there and help her. He desperately wanted to, but the faint line they’d tried to walk was blurring more and more by the day. In some ways, Link wanted it to blur, but then again he didn’t want to scare her, or something. He wanted her to be comfortable more than anything else.  

One night, however, Link was able to fall asleep, if only lightly. He was woken up, however, to Zelda screaming above him.  

In a panic, he jumped from the hammock and ran up the stairs, Sword in hand. In the dark, he saw no danger, but Zelda was still in bed, speaking in soft tones only broken up by her screaming one word.  

His name.  

Over and over, between gasping breaths and mumbling, she thrashed so aggressively the blankets were thrown aside.  

He stood there, defenseless for several moments before slowly stepping forward. He knelt by her head, placing a hand there.  

“I’m here,” he whispered, close as he could get. She thrashed still, hitting him several times in the head, but he didn’t move. With every shout, he returned it with another soft whisper, another assurance that whatever she remembered was no longer their reality.  

It took a long time, but without her waking up she calmed down. When she stopped moving Link got cool rags from the kitchen and placed them on her forehead.  

Dawn was breaking when he finally was assured she was asleep. He had meant to return to his hammock, but before he could sleep claimed him at the edge of her bed, sitting cross-legged on the floor, his head next to Zelda’s pillow.  

Zelda was notorious for waking up late. But when she did, she noticed first the blankets that she hadn’t thrown off, the rags on her head, and an unfamiliar weight next to her.  

Link’s mop of hair covered his face. In her half-lucid state, she brushed it away.  

His hair was a mess. It was tangled, and dry, and could use a wash, but it was familiar and had always reminded her of gold, though he used to stay it was only straw. She had only meant to get it out of his eyes to see if he was truly sleeping, but got distracted, thinking. She didn’t stop until he stired, waking slowly and sitting up.  

When he realized where he was, he shot up with a start, looking at the bed like he’d committed a crime.  

“It’s okay, Link,” Zelda said softly.  

He looked at her blankly for a moment, as if trying to remember who she was, before shaking his head and raising his hands.  

“Are you alright?” he signed.  

“It was just a nightmare. I’m okay, I know that,” she said, though she didn’t finish that she was better when he was near.  

Link hesitated in answering again. He still looked shaken.  

“Do you have dreams, too?” she asked.  

Another hesitation, but he nodded after a moment, slightly. He didn’t react the way she did, but he had died. Of course it haunted his sleep.  

“Do you ever sleep through the night?” she asked, softer still.  

He shook his head slowly, as if ashamed to admit it. “Not since I woke up,” he signed.  

Zelda paused. Did he even remember what it was like to sleep through the night?  

“They were better when I slept up here. When I knew you were safe.”  

Zelda nodded and threw off the blankets she belated realized he probably put back on the bed the night before. She looked around the room.  

Link tapped her shoulder, and he looked shocked. “What are you doing?”  

“Do you still refuse your bed?” she asked.  

Link nodded surely.  

“Then we’ll move the hammock up here. How about between the railing and the bedpost? I’m sure we could move it when need be.”  

Link stared at her, bewildered. Zelda didn’t wait for her answer before going down the stairs. Link helped her untie the rope that held it in place, still awestruck.  

A few minutes later, the hammock was strung up between the railing and the bedpost. It was lower than he was used to, but he had also loved hanging it in the tops of trees, so he couldn’t complain. He still hung off the ground.  

“Lets see if that helps,” Zelda said with finality.  

And it did. Being able to see her breathing helped him sleep.  

Unless she dreamt. She screamed and thrashed and kept him awake. Not that he was angry at her for it, she couldn’t help it. He was glad to get up and help her through the terrors as best he could.  

Some days they were both so exhausted, it showed. They could hardly sit up to eat, let alone do anything.  

So, on those days, they remained in the loft. Link sat on the floor. Zelda sat in the bed. And they talked.  

They talked about their nightmares, about the life before that filled them, the horrors they endured. To combat it, every time they discussed their dreams, they would talk about a memory they enjoyed. To balance it out Zelda said once.  

Some days it felt impossible to live normally again; impossible to wade through the pain in their pasts that seemed to overshadow every part of them now. Other days it seemed the hope of the future truly was stronger than the darkness of their past.  

Chapter Text

The more Link and Zelda talked, the easier being “normal” became for them. They ever so slowly began to laugh more than they cried. The good days began to outnumber the bad ones. They were able to live.  

Zelda cut her hair. Link began to take her places, and they traveled.  

They met their people. The people they were sure they had failed a century ago. Yet those people survived, and kept fighting. They made a place for themselves despite the Evil there. They would not bow to it.  

Every time they returned to the house, they talked about what was outside. How desperately they wanted to make it better, since they had the ability.  

Link was so relieved when Zelda said she wanted to talk up her title again, however slowly that would happen. She wanted to help her people just as badly as he did.  

So they set to work.  

It started in Hateno, with little buildings and plans. A school for the children, since the system dissipated with the Calamity. When Zelda spoke to Purah about it, Symin nearly jumped through the ceiling with excitement.  

Then it was research. It had always been Zelda’s strong suit. She needed to make a curriculum, one that focused on folklore and science, on learning things for themselves. She poured her heart into it, and when the school was built, she began teaching there.  

She taught everything, with the help of Symin and Purah, when she had the chance. It was a reason to wake and dress in the morning, something to get her out of their four walls. Link visited her often, bringing her what he cooked when he remained home. Sometimes he taught the kids sign, or how to hold a sword. They asked him questions about the Calamity as Zelda taught it.  

It started there. Hateno became the new center, in a way, where the monarchy without a title lived and ruled from.  

Another order of business was a newspaper. It was another system that was lost to time and limited resources, but Zelda believed it would be helpful for the people. She was able to speak to Teba about it on one of their visits that were happening more and more frequently. He was able to get a team to help him.  

Every system she wanted, she knew, would take years, if not lifetimes to rebuild, but she was willing to wait. Willing to do it, if it meant her people could live better since her return.  

Link was happy for her, as the Queen he began to remember imagining returned to her home.  

He used to dream about the day she took her throne, and what it would be like to be by her side then. He could marry her once she was Queen, he knew.  

He could marry her now, he realized one night.  

The next thought was not of fear or shame. He’d better start searching for a jeweler.  

Chapter Text

The village saw the effects of the Hero’s and Princess’s efforts right away. The house felt it the most.

It changed from a quiet place to a loud one quickly. Children from the school followed Link and Zelda home, talking to them about anything and everything. They hosted dinners to the children’s families often, and their friends traveled to see them whenever they could. Link would cook for everyone, and send them off with heaping portions of leftovers.

Zelda would play the piano Link got for her. He was once able to play, too, she knew, but he hadn’t since she returned. Alas, he painted, and his art filled the walls alongside her dried flora. The villagers loved their home almost as much as their own.

The world around them healed, so, so slowly, but the changes showed in little ways. Estranged family of villagers felt safe enough to travel and visit. And when they did, Link and Zelda met them. Link, as it turned out, knew a great many people already. He would chat with his hands while Zelda watched and listened, noting how different he was from the knight she knew before. People brought wares Hateno had forgotten existed with traveling merchants, and Link would pay exuberant amounts for it all.

The people began to call Zelda their Princess again. Some even called her their Queen.

It was a fitting title for the woman she was becoming, Link decided. She grew with their home, with their village. She was no longer that child her father saw. She was the Princess that returned from the dead for her people.

For him, too, but that thought made him blush so aggressively he chose to ignore it when she said so.

Soon the newspaper began, as well, working out of Rito Village, with its own small team of people. The house got each new issue with the stories people began to send.

Letters were also becoming more and more common, with the beginnings of fearless travel across the Kingdom. After so many years of fearing the wilderness, the people ached to explore.

Link, for once since waking, didn’t feel it. He wanted nothing more than to remain home with Zelda. But she wanted to see her Kingdom when she felt well enough, so he obliged, if only because he couldn’t deny her.

On such journeys, their return was his highlight.

They rode in one evening after a short trip to Kakariko. They weren’t gone long, but nearly as soon as they passed the gate the people seemed to know they had returned. Zelda’s school children ran up to their steeds, asking questions about their journey. As they slowly rose through, Zelda promised to tell them about their trip the next morning at school. The children begrudgingly returned to the village center as the pair came to their bridge.

Link sighed from relief as the house came into view, and if the place were sentient he was sure it would have done the same.

Link carried their bags while Zelda lit the candles. He made dinner while she started the laundry. The house filled with the sound of Zelda’s voice, followed by short pauses where she watched for Link’s response. The routine was sweet, peaceful, and when they retired they didn’t fear their nightmares, because when they woke they knew it would be no different.

Chapter Text

A lot can change in a couple of years.  

The Hateno house saw change. The sign outside got a name added to it. The walls were filled with art and flowers and weaponry that shifted. Dishes sat on the table as the seasons changed. Decorations and festivities changed the look. Flowers grew according to their ever changing seasons, cared for by Zelda’s watchful eye.  

The people inside changed, too.  

It took a better part of those years for Zelda to realize the boy she loved a century before really had died in the Plains that night, but the man she shared a home with was just as charming, just as kind, and she as just as in love with him, if not more so. Link had changed so much, but only in ways that made her fall harder, until not a day went by where she didn’t almost say something to him about it.  

She didn’t, however. The fear that he would reject her, and some animosity would shatter the bubble they’d fought so hard to build kept her mouth sealed shut.  

Link, it seemed had a similar struggle. Though he didn’t have to worry about blurting his feelings at every given moment, he certainly noticed himself staring at every possible moment. He adored her. He had before, too, despite thinking she hated him.  

Through it all, he loved her more than almost anything. A century’s worth of affections wasn’t so easily stomped out.  

Their inner conflicts hardly effected their work as a Kingdom. Roads were being rebuilt, towns and villages were being expanded, people were traveling and selling without fear of monsters ot Evil.  

Even Castle Town was being delt with.  

One part of rebuilding the Kingdom Link rather enjoyed was training people to fight. When they began to considder going back to Castle Town to take it back, Link already had a small team with him. They would travel down for some days at a time and camped, clearing the rubble town of enemies. One of Zelda’s greatest wishes was to restore her old home, even if she felt she truly belonged in Hateno.  

When they began building, Link was there in the thick of it. The roads and villages were clear of monsters. By then, Link hadn’t drawn the Master Sword from his back in weeks.  

It was a strange ask, but it was late. They both sat at the dining table by candlelight, working on their own projects. Zelda had a lesson plan in front of her. Link had a painting. They were quiet for a long while before Zelda broke the silence.  

“Why do you still carry the Sword?” she asked.  

Link looked up, slightly startled. He stared at her, and she could see the thoughts in his mind as clearly as if he spoke them. Slowly, he lifted his hand.  

“I don’t know. I suppose I’m used to it.”  

“Have you thought of consulting the Deku Tree? Perhaps he could tell you if it’s needed or not.”  

Link thinks again for a moment. “I haven’t thought about it. I suppose it wouldn’t hurt.”  

“Only if you want to get rid of it, of course. If you feel more comfortable with it, it doesn’t matter. I was simply curious,” she clarified after a moment.  

Link shrugged. He asked about the Deku Tree, if she’d spoken to him before. Zelda said yes, but didn’t divulge her full final conversation with the tree.  

Tell him that I- 

I think words meant for him would sound much better in the tones of your voice, don’t you? 

She had smiled. I do.  

She wanted the Deku Tree to relay her affections, if only for Link to know that even if he felt alone in a new world, he had someone rooting for him. Someone that knew him, someone that cared.  

Yet she was glad she would get to tell him that, if she ever had the courage.  

They dropped it as the conversation drifted, as it often did. The Sword was still perched against his back, an ever-present figure over his shoulder, reminding them their chains remained around them, even if they were shattered.  

But they forgot until that night, Link was in his hammock. Zelda was reading by the light of their many nightlights. Link tugged on her blanket, and she looked up.  

“Let’s visit the Tree. I want to get rid of this thing, if I can.” 

Zelda smiled. “We’ll leave tomorrow, then,” she said.  

Link grinned, nodding his thanks.  

The following morning, they left their home. Two days later, they returned. Link had a normal soldier’s sword on his back, well polished and heavier than most. The Master Sword was left behind.  

He described the feeling as empty. Like he was missing a limb. But the weight was gone. Not just the physical one, for that could and was easily replaced, but the mental reminder of his duty, of everything he’d lost.  

It was the most free he’d felt since pulling it from the resting place, walking back into his house with it gone.  

That night the two continued their routine like normal. Link cooked, new sword still on his back. Zelda set the table with mismatched dishes, and they hummed tunes and talked quietly like they hadn’t danced with koroks the night before. They ate and went to their own devices.  

Zelda said she needed to take her lesson plan to the school for the next week. Link offered to go with her, but she refused, and pretended not to notice the mix of concern and confusion on his face.  

As soon as she crossed the bridge her pace quickened with each step.  

Link had wandered through the forest the night before. The Sword had already been returned, the Deku Tree told them they were free from Evil. Link left to gather dinner.  

Zelda as left alone with him.  

Did you tell him what you wished? The Tree boomed.  

Zelda sat cross legged on a branch. No, she answers softly. Not yet. 

The Tree hummed. You should. His propriety is strong, his loyalty feirce. With this new freedom, I assure you can do whatever you wish. 

Zelda pondered his words for a moment. I don’t want to change anything, she said.  

Maybe consult your goddess over your anxieties. 

She hated that answer. But it stuck with her once they left. So, instead of going to the school, she went to the village’s Goddess statue by the inn, and knelt like she had been taught to all those years ago.  

Her power was gone, as far as she knew, and she didn’t miss it. She had succeeded, in the end, and had no need for it. So it felt strange going to the Goddess of her own fruition.  

The prayer wasn’t practiced or formal like it had been. It was completely different, really. No special clothes, no freezing water, no offering. Just her and a prayer for peace over her decision.  

Hylia had never answered one of her prayers so quickly.  

Of course, after years since returning to the living, and healing and grieving, she accepted the Goddess had answered her prayers, in a tragic, round about way. He anger remained, but being grateful was easier to her than being bitter. Besides, it was hard to be bitter when her situation was so wonderful.  

But the peace she felt was instant. Once she was done, she practically skipped home, smiling.  

Zelda flung the front door of Link’s house open. Their house. Forever, she hoped with her whole heart.  

Link was over the sink, washing their dishes. He looked up and smiled as she strode across the kitchen, feeling bolder and more sure than she ever had.  

She had to act before she chickened out.  

But when she stopped, a mere breath away from Link, inches from him, if that, and she saw the way he looked at her, the sparkle in his eyes, she was positive. Her answer laid in his eyes, really. Had she been blind to not see it before?  

She tilted her head and kissed him. Hands behind her back, eyes closed, it was quick and soft. She pulled away after only a moment and inspected his face.  

It was far too quick for Link’s liking. His thoughts were muddled, but one was practically screaming, and was almost let out on his breath. I love you. It was the most amazing feeling.  

No words were shared. Link pulled Zelda against him by the hips, wrapping his arms around her there and kissed her harder, properly. Zelda lifted her arms to hold around his neck, and he could’ve died right then, perfectly content.  

They stayed like that until they were out of breath. Zelda was the first to pull away, and when she did her grin was wild and beautiful. Link’s was lopsided, bewildered, and perfectly content.  

The dishes were forgotten. Link picked Zelda up under the legs, one arm there, the other braced against her back. He lifted her effortlessly, and she yelped, throwing her arms around his neck again and laughing. He carried her up the stairs.  

They got ready for bed slower than normal, interrupted by kisses and giggles and relief that flooded their veins.  

Link got in the hammock, Zelda in the bed. Suddenly, the distance was giant. To Zelda, he might as well had been in Hebra.  

“Get in your bed, Link,” she said with finality, throwing the blanket aside.  

Link hesitated, but for not as long as she expected. He didn’t argue, either. He got up and settled in the bed with her, and suddenly she was using his chest as a pillow.  

“I love you.”  

The voice was so jarring Zelda shot up and looked around the room, looking for a possible source.  

It was hauntingly familiar and so beautiful. She finally looked at Link, who was grinning with tears in his eyes. Her jaw dropped.  

“Say that again,” she breathed.  

“I love you,” he said again with zero hesitation.  

Zelda laughed in disbelief. She buried her head in the crook of his neck, arms around his neck. Link held her back, chuckling himself.  

“Say it again,” she said.  

“I love you,” he repeated, over and over again.  

They had a century of loving each other to catch up on, after all.  

Chapter Text

The mundane became infinitely better once they were finally honest. Who would have thought.

Their moods were better, and everyone noticed. They didn’t announce anything, but it was plain as day when they walked down the streets holding hands, or arms wrapped around shoulders. They were hardly ever seen apart. Link even made his way to the school more and more often.

The people talked, and for once Zelda let them. In her new life she no longer had to care what her people said about her. Whenever Link was confronted about her in the village people’s silly ways, he would only smile. It was bound to happen eventually he said once.

When word got to Zora’s Domain, Sidon abandoned all his duties and journeyed to Hateno, as he often did before the Calamity’s end. Despite his growing duties, he stopped it all to question his bestest friend.

He didn’t even knock. He walked in on Link in the kitchen, and Zelda at the table, papers spread before her.

He stared at the scene for a long moment, glancing between his friends that looked at him with looks of shock and confusion.

“Link,” Sidon said suddenly. “A word outside, if you will.”

Link looked to Zelda, questioning. Zelda shrugged. A beat passed, then Link dropped the spoon and informed Zelda to stir once every ten minutes. She nodded and stood as Link slowly followed Sidon to the back of the house where their pond was.

Sidon jumped in instantly, finery and all. Link took a moment to strip to his underwear, then dove in after him.

Moments passed in awkward silence once Link came up for air. Sidon studied him with strange intensity that made him want to dive under and never return.

“I heard rumors,” Sidon said finally. “Are you and Zelda courting?”

The question was so seriously asked that in every other situation Link would almost be afraid to answer him in fear of his reaction.

But the answer was so simple he couldn’t fear it.

“That’s what you’re here for?” Link asked.

Sidon nodded.

Link chuckled under his breath. “Yes, we are.”

Another long beat of silence passed between them. But Link didn’t falter. He would never falter over his feelings for his Princess again.

Then, finally, Sidon grinned. Then smiled. Then began to laugh wildly, so heartily Link had to nervously grin watching the strange fit.

When he had barely composed himself, he sighed. “Finally! It only took well over a century!”

Link shocked at the confirmation of what he figured. “Over a century?”

“Oh, yeah. All of the Champions figured the moment they all came together. Mipha didn’t want to believe it, but she couldn’t deny it, either.”

That twisted his heart in a familiar way. Mipha and her dear friendship was never far from his mind, and it would have been a lie to say he didn’t think about her hidden affections in the recent weeks. How different his life would have been if she’d gotten the chance to propose to him.

The mention of his sister sobered them both for a long moment, the wound still feeling fresh for them both. It may never truly heal with everything left unfinished.

“She would be happy for you both,” Sidon said after a long moment. Link looked at him. “I know her affections ran deeper than Hyrule’s rivers, but in that she truly wanted nothing more than your happiness. And by Hylia does Zelda make you happy.”

Link smiled, just a little, at the simple thought of the woman he got to call his inside their home. “She does.”

One final beat passed in their solemn discussion before Sidon decided it was enough.

“So, when is the wedding?” he asked, grinning and wiggling his brows.

Link smiled, and splashed him. Their conversation quickly turned to a battle of splashes, one which Link was ill equipped for.

But Sidon’s question stuck in Link’s head. He’d wondered the same thing himself.

Chapter Text

Another year passed. The Kingdom changed for the better, continuing to grow and flourish. The people seemed to ache for the way it was, the improvement ls that had been made that returned with vengeance. Roads were constructed, settlements were built. The birth rate skyrocketed. Suddenly, Link and Zelda had baby showers to attend nearly every month.

The little house changed, too. It was the center of Hyrule’s change, after all. Some called it the new castle, one of Zelda’s own making.

They opened it to anyone that cared to pay them a visit, offering food to anyone that dared to stay for dinner and endure Zelda’s endless questions.

She quickly leaned that Link knew nearly everyone. Merchants began to visit more and more often, with the change in travel safety and new roads. Link had bought or sold something from every single one at some point or another, and made each purchase memorable in some way or another. Memorable enough that when each one stopped by they were shocked the feral looking man they bought all their arrows was suddenly a homeowner with a woman on his arm.

One merchant came through that Link recognized immediately.

Their first interaction was a while after Link woke up, near Goron City before he had tamed their Divine Beast. The man had asked Link if he had a woman while Link peered at his wares, searching for maybe a new pair of earrings.

Link had said no. The man asked if he would propose with a ring, like most did. He thought the idea was insane.

You’re supposed to propose with clothes, Link had tried to explain.

The man was shocked. That was how the Zora did it. Julian’s often used jewels to proclaim their marital status.

When the man walked I to his house, Link nearly laughed in his face. It didn’t take long for the merchant to realize, either.

He stayed the night, and Zelda stayed up late with him listening to his stories of travel und Akkala. Link listened.

Before the man left the following morning, he pulled Link aside.

“I’ll make you that ring now, unless you want to do it the Zora way”  he said with a wink and a grin.

Link shelled out money for a ring right then. He spent a few minutes drawing out a design for what he wanted. The man glanced at it and smiled.

“She’s a lucky woman, our Princess. And the Kingdom is lucky to have you as its defense.”

Link just smiled. He hoped this man wasn’t a scam.

He’d nearly forgotten about it, until a few months later the man appeared on their doorstep once again. They offered him a place to eat and stay, and Link waited anxiously the whole time. The man said nothing about his purchase until he was about to leave.

He slipped Link a small box. There wasn’t much weight to it, but as soon as Link slipped into his pocket and signed his thanks it began to burn a hole there.

Link didn’t even look at it until a day later, after the man had left again. It took  several long moments to gather the courage to even open the box.

Inside sat a beautiful diamond, cut and clustered in the shape of a familiar flower, one that symbolized a long, happy life for couples, and his Princess’s resilience.

A silent Princess that would never wilt. One that will live strong and tall for eternity.

That hole in his pocket only got larger the longer he waited until he couldn’t stand it any longer.

He didn’t plan anything, but he knew it wasn’t necessary. He practically knew the answer already.

They were in the kitchen one night, as they usually were. Zelda was at the table after setting, talking about her school children. Link was suddenly struck with the idea of a family with her, and he turned from their dinner in an instant.

“If I asked you to marry me, hypothetically, what would your answer be?” he asked, somewhat dumbly.

Zelda looked up at him and laughed lightly. “Yes, obviously. That’s a silly question.”

It wasn’t. but I gave Link the courage he felt as though he desperately lacked. He stepped away from the stove and stopped a step away from her chair. He knelt down to one knee and watched Zelda’s face fall from a lighthearted smile to shock.

Link pulled the ring from his pocket. he’d been keeping it there for two weeks.

Zelda gasped with her hand over her mouth before Link even opened the box. He used both hands to flip the lid open, leaving them u usable for speech.

His question, he felt, needed to be spoken anyway.

“Will you marry me, Zelda?”

His voice was shaky and strained from disuse, but it was still just as beautiful as she’d found it to be a century before. Zelda smiled behind her hand, tears welling in her eyes.

“Yes!” she finally shouted, jumping from her chair into Link, who tumbled backward from the force of it, sending them to a heap on the floor.

Link was laughing, too, as he pulled her left hand from behind his neck and slipped the ring on her finger. She glanced at it only a moment before she kissed him.

They laughed and cried and remained on the floor until the smell of their dinner burning brought them back to their perfect reality.

Chapter Text

Zelda had always dreamed of eloping, long before she ever imagined who she would elope with. When so much as out of her control, the idea of leaving everything behind for someone she loved kept her through some days. When she first fell for Link, her desire to leave everything behind to marry someone she chose was even stronger.  

So, when it came to planning a wedding, there wasn’t truly much to plan.  

A dress was ordered and acquired. Zelda got Link a wedding band, simple with hints of emerald to resemble vines. They weren’t subtle about it, but they didn’t plan a party, either. Link wanted one, but he only half-expressed that to Sidon once. He knew that if he told Zelda, she would do what he wanted; it was her day, however. He only wanted her to be comfortable.  

They planned to go to the Great Deku Tree. They figured no other was worthy enough to officiate what couldn’t be the first wedding between their immortal souls.  

They made the journey on horseback. It was fun, and easy, and they had a blast.  

The house saw them again nearly two weeks later. Since they were gone, it was occupied instead by Link’s friends and the villagers, preparing for something magnificent.  

It was silly of them, really, to think the marriage of the Princess and her Knight wasn’t reason enough to celebrate, especially in a village known for its festivals.  

When the couples returned, they didn’t expect their house to be full of people. Their closest friends came from across the land to congratulate them. Even Lady Impa and Purah left their homes of Kakariko to see them. It scared Link and Zelda out of their wits when they entered, they didn’t even question the people’s finery they were dressed in.  

The better part of the afternoon they returned was spent talking to their friends about anything and everything. It was the counsel of the entire Kingdom, but it didn’t feel like it. How lucky were they, to hold the Kingdom’s most powerful in one home. How lucky was Link, that he got to build his family so perfectly? It wasn’t lost to him, that was sure and certain.  

When night fell, Teba, Tulin, Yunobo, and Sidon nearly pushed Link out the door. They made him change back into the suit he wore while at the Deku Tree, and helped him with his hair.  

Meanwhile, inside, Zelda asked how the preparations for the feast went. Sidon had told her about his plan for when they returned, and she was thrilled to oblige. She returned to her wedding dress, a beautiful but simple thing of linin and embroidery. She’d designed the hem herself. Her only request was that she kept the braid crown Link had done for her that morning. Riju and Paya helped her pin it neater with diamond pins.  

The koroks followed them back, they both noticed.  

When they were in the Lost Woods they were shocked by how well the forest spirits put on their wedding. It felt as though they had done it before. Their wedding was perfect because of the pure little things.  

A lot of them wandered around the house, some that followed the two back from the forest. It was funny, trying to explain to the others what they saw.  

They met back outside the house. Link was utterly bewildered, both by what was happening and by the sight of Zelda – his wife – in her own finery. He grinned, lopsided, and took her arm.  

While they walked to the center of town, where they could already hear the people talking and the band tuning up, he asked her if she knew about Sidon’s plan. She said yes, that it was his day, too. He knew everyone, and if he wanted to celebrate he was more that deserving of a day to dance.  

And that’s what they did.  

Hateno was known for its festivals a century before. Zelda was glad to see it wasn’t a lost art.  

They danced and ate and toasted to the royal couple. Children ran and played with the koroks that they could still see, and Link watched them, smiling. Zelda and Link laughed and twirled until their feet hurt, but the ale pouring tuned it all out, until it was just the two of them in their wedding clothes, basking in their glorious victory, and the possibilities of a life together spread before them.  

Chapter Text

Zelda didn’t intentionally take the title of Queen.  

She’d never wanted it, but it happened so slowly she didn’t notice it enough to argue. 

He people began to call her Queen on the streets. When she stopped to talk to them, she corrected them to just her name. Link called her his Queen to tease her, knowing she didn't prefer it. 

With their marriage official and more and more people figuring it out by word of mouth, it began to confuse the people, too. Some called Link their King, others Zelda's knight. Link hated the title of King almost as much as Zelda hated hers, and was more adamant about correcting them. He was nothing more than Zelda's husband, a knight only when she needed protecting, but nothing more. He didn't need anything more. 

The titles, however, didn’t change how the to of them lived, as Zelda had once feared it would.  

She and Link still cooked their own meals. They talked to each other constantly, especially as Link became more comfortable and used to is own voice. They sat at a table set for two but large enough for more, washed their dishes, and retired to one bed. They woke up and ate breakfast. She would go to the school while Link trained men who wanted to learn the old ways of knighthood. Sometimes they would go to Lookout Landing, a new center for the people Zelda worked with to work out of.  

They would play the piano, talk about their days, and dance to no music. 

The Kingdom seemed to grow and change with them, all for the better.  

People were traveling, selling wares and rebuilding markets. They could, so they took advantage.  

Despite not wanting to rule, and hating the cards they were once dealt all those lives ago, Link and Zelda loved Hyrule nearly as much as they loved each other, if not more. They cared for her together, made the decisions together. There wasn’t a single problem Zelda faced that Link didn’t know about. Zelda’s care for her people was evident in everything she did, in every conversation she had. It was one of the many things Link loved about her; her dedication. That’s what made her a wonderful Queen. And he believed the title suited her.  

Challenges rose, but the people and their leaders took them each in stride. Nothing could seem to shatter their reality.  

So, when people began to fall ill, Zelda wanted to get to the bottom of it. She began digging, and Link helped. He was always willing to help.  

Her research was fruitful about the strange happenings, that led to the discovery of new technology that aligned with ancient myth. It was new, like the Shiekah tech all over again. Zelda was so excited, so hopeful about the discoveries she'd missed from a century ago. 

Until their research brought them to the cavernous tunnels under the castle.  

When they were children, they had both gotten lost under the castle, on separate occasions. It was deep, and terrifying. Once used to protect the royals and their staff in times of Evil before they royals became too proud and decided to try and fight back without Goddess blood. It was still haunted by monsters, and in all their advancements, they still hadn't cleared out and mapped the tunnels. Even with the emergency shelter in Lookout Landing being one of the many access points, they still didn't dare to venture too far. 

Link had no intention of returning, was the point.  

“Link, please. It could help people,” Zelda pleaded.  

She was going for her bag under the stairs. She had already made up her mind. Link set his jaw in determination, though even at his strongest he knew there was little hope to convince her otherwise. 

“Zel, no. I don’t want you going down there again. It's still unexplored and dangerous. We have no idea what's down there.”  

“But that’s where the sickness is coming from, based on out witness accounts. We have to go investigate, the people are only getting sicker.”  

Link groaned audibly. “Please, Zelda, listen to me-” he said, grabbing her wrist before she reached the closet. “I don’t want you to get hurt. I have a terrible feeling about this, and I can’t explain it, but I don’t want you to go.”  

Zelda knew how he felt. She felt something similar. But she couldn’t let her research go unnoticed. So she smiled, and kissed Link on the cheek.  

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’ll be there, so I know nothing will happen to me. And if you get that feeling while we’re down there, we’ll turn around and gather a team. Deal?”  

He couldn’t convince her otherwise, he knew. It was fruitless to try. So he sighed and kissed her before he released her wrist. “Deal.”  

They packed that night and left the next morning for Lookout Landing.  

The house didn’t see them again for weeks, nearly months. While it waited, it prepared for more heartache.  

Chapter Text

Link returned to the house months later, with piles of new armor, rusted weapons, new technology and flora, and a heaping pile of sorrow. The house knew the feeling well. 

Hateno had watched from their vantage point, the new center of Hyrule, as the land around them crumbled again. Islands, puts to hell, stone falling from the heavens, new plants and animals and technology. Some settlements, old and new, crumbled and their people had to relocate. Lurelin was completely abandoned with a new onslaught of monsters on their shores. The whole story rang achingly familiar to everyone that had lived to see the end of Calamity. 

The world called it the Upheaval. The Lucky Clover Gazette coined the term, determined to continue. If one thing was different from the first time, it was the people. They would not bow so easily to Evil again. 

Link stumbled into the house, broken and wounded worse than his home. He'd been missing for two weeks, and then ran around the Kingdom like a madman for more. He was covered in wounds and bruises, constantly sick from the gloom that now shrouded the land. He was weak, and his sword was broken and taken. Where it went, he had no idea. He'd only recently gotten it back from a strange calling back to the Deku Tree he didn't question at the time. Every other weapon he found was rusted and brittle from the Upheaval's attack. It seemed everything around him was falling apart. 

A new dragon even made and appearance, one he'd never seen before. It seemed to follow him, or he might've been going crazy. But it now circled Hateno while he stayed there, and had been seen from the temple above Zora's Domain. He wanted to see it, to get a closer look, but he couldn't let himself be distracted. 

And worse than that, he had no idea where Zelda was. He’d failed her. As soon as he entered the threshold of their home their last conversation still seemed to echo off the walls.  

You’ll be there, so I know nothing will happen to me. 

She trusted him with her life, and he failed her. He was sick to his stomach down there with the feeling of doom, yet she was so excited and determined he continued on, trusting himself, too. Yet he failed her, and now he had no clue where she was. She'd fallen down that hole, she could have died that night, but something told him she didn't. 

She was still alive somewhere. He just had to figure out where. 

His quest was made perfectly clear from the moment he woke up on that island. His new and hauntingly familiar reality closed in on him, making him feel sicker than the symptoms of the gloom ever could. It was made clearer still when he remembered the events that led up to the fall, with the pain of his arm being burned and ripped apart. The mummy they saw came alive, knew them by name, threatened their lives and their home. 

And he couldn't catch her. Maybe things would be better if he hadn't been saved by yet another dead King. 

It was clear a new Calamity was coming. This one, however, was sentient, was smarter, even. It frightened him more than he would ever admit out loud, but the house knew. 

He sat at his table; their dining table still set for a dinner they never got to eat. Her clothes were still in the cabinet upstairs, her favorite cup on the shelf, her flowers in the garden and filled vases that had died in his absence (he tried not to think about those potential metaphors), her notes and books in the well out back. He reeled and sobbed and couldn’t sleep with the lack of her on the other side of the bed, despite how terrible he felt about everything happening to him.  

He’d already given Sidon a new title, one of an ancient Sage, on top of everything else, and his fiancée Yona now had her own shit to worry about. It was an accident, at first. Needing to get out of Lookout, he went to the next best place to find some sort of comfort, but instead jumpstarted his new quests. There are similar happenings to every corner of his Kingdom, according to Purah, so he figured he’ll have to subject the rest of his friends to something similar. How cruel is it to pull his friends into a war he doesn’t want to fight himself?  

He needed to find Zelda. She would know what to do, how to help, how to use the technology they found everywhere, how to study the islands and strange little dragon that descended from the clouds.  

He had to find her.  

Chapter Text

Link didn’t return to Hateno often, constantly in search of Zelda and how to find her, but when he did return he was haunted by every family he’s ever had, and how ruthlessly they were torn from him. So he opted to keep moving, to stay in the wild, always on the lookout for something or someone to help, some lead on Zelda, or the Upheaval. 

Often, when he did return, it was in fits of blind rage. He would come in, shatter some things (or several) and leave before he could clean it. The villagers took to cleaning when they knew he was away, their kindness outweighing their fear of him. Sometimes they had to patch holes in the walls from where the Master Sword struck them.

He looked half mad all of the time, wild looking, battle hardened and weary. The school children went from being friends with him to being frightened. 

His friends try to comfort, to be there, but even after he goes to help with their phenomena, they have their own duties to attend to. For the better, he believed, so they weren’t put in danger. He could handle it. He tried to keep it contained, to seem as normal as possible when he was around anyone important, like Impa or his newfound Sages, all his friends, and he put on a good face despite the twitch in his eye and the scars on his skin. They were so bad he began to cover them, which helped the façade. 

He let the mask drop when he returned to Hateno. No one knew his sobs like the walls of that home. Every night he spent there was sleepless. Every meal there was fast and bland in hope he could keep it down, a rarity when he was able. 

Sometimes Sidon and Yona were able to catch him there. They traveled to Hateno often, usually the ones to help clean the house up, but sometimes they tried to meet him there. When they were successful, they trapped him there until Yona could heal the wounds before they got infected, which they often nearly did. 

One of these such times, Link sat in the couch, staring off into space. Sidon sat across from him while Yona worked on a particularly nasty gash on his ribs. From a lynel he'd said with little more explanation. Yona inspected it and knew it was worse than that, and that it was poorly cared for, but she said nothing. 

While his girl worked, Sidon tried for a conversation. 

"Where are you going next?" he asked softly. 

Link shrugged. "Wherever I need to be," he signed with one hand. The motion made him wince. 

"You really should rest for a while. Nobody would blame you." 

He shook his head. "No time."

"You're doing this alone, Link, running in the wild like a madman, and it's destroying you," Sidon said, softer still, but his tone portrayed his concern for his friend. 

Link shrugged again. "I am the only who can do this. I'm the strongest weapon we have against the Evil." 

Sidon sighed. He dared to mention Zelda. "She'll have nothing to return to if you keep up like this." 

The change was subtle and instant, but Sidon noticed how Link's eyes glazed over at the mention of her, shutting down. He wouldn't hear any more, even if Sidon tried his damnedest to get him to listen. Yona gave Sidon a sidelong glance, silently scolding him for bringing her up. They left as soon as Yona was done with her magic, and Link was left alone. 

Link stopped speaking, something he had been doing more and more with Zelda and everyone else. He returned to heavy training, trying to get back all his strength he’d lost from his arm being torn off by gloom. He wore his hair down because he didn’t care to worry about it. He went from one place to another, hardly looking up unless there was a lead on Zelda’s whereabouts.  

They were all dead ends. And every time he was met with one he returned home and sobbed.  

Not remembering was one kind of frustrating pain. But knowing exactly what you lost and how you lost it was entirely another.  

It felt as though he was given the tiniest sliver of happiness, only for it to be ripped away.  

He stopped praying altogether. Not that he really did before, but the carefully hidden bitterness he’d had for the Goddess Hylia was shattered, turned into hatred that fueled his fire to beat the new Evil that arose.  

How many Links had suffered two Ganons, he wondered sometimes. What did they think of him, of the monster if felt like he was becoming?  

The ghosts – all of them - try their hands at comfort in the halls of his house. But there’s not much to be done from the other side of the veil.  

Chapter Text

The one hundred and sixth anniversary of the Calamity came, and the people wanted to celebrate, despite the Upheaval's grip on the world.  

As they had the past five years, Link’s friends returned to his home for the festival, each with a Secret Stone on their person, and a new air of power. The whole lot seemed to be hesitant but were also sure not to make it obvious. It was clear how haunted the home and its residents were. 

They preferred to meet in Hateno over Lookout Landing, anyway, but the festival was no meeting. They didn’t want to talk about the state of the Kingdom. They came to eat and dance and forget for a while. So, they asked Link to play them a tune. 

He refused. He didn’t play unless he was with Zelda. Despite his friend's efforts, he couldn't forget. The reminders ached along his body, coursing through his blood. He didn’t even want them there, really, but he couldn’t deny them when they tried so hard to make it feel normal.  

Finally, he agreed.  

His limbs hurt from gloom sickness and his arm from Rauru that always throbbed, and wounds and bruises from fights he kept expertly hidden. He became adept at blaming his clothing on the cold. 

He played from memory, a happy tune he knew his friends loved to dance to, but he couldn’t enjoy it. Zelda danced to that song, and always made it fun.  

Link entertained them until nightfall, which led everyone outside until most of them retired to the Hateno Inn.  

Sidon, as usual stayed behind. Link didn't notice until it was too late; he'd already taken off his jacket. 

"That's new," Sidon said blandly, looking at a fresh bandage, still bright red from bleeding around his bicep. He'd gotten stronger, regained his muscle after years of domesticity, which only added to his frightening appearance. The ancient looking arm didn't help, either. 

Link didn't look at him. It was too late, so he only continued, moving to comb through his hair. Zelda loved his hair, so he tried to keep up with it. He rarely put it up anymore. Some days taking care of it was the worst task he ever had to complete. 

He turned around, brush in hand. "Bokoblin horde," he signed simply. Even in sign, his words were clipped and short. 

Sidon grimaced, weighing the idea of calling Yona to come sooner than they had planned, while they had him at home and knew where he was. Often times even his whereabouts were a mystery. 

Before he could truly consider, Link shook his head. "Don't." 

Sidon sighed deeply. He left that night, later than the rest. When the team awoke and went to find Link, he was gone again. 

Chapter Text

The weather gets colder, but Link doesn’t slow down as the rest of the Kingdom tries to. While everyone found the changing of seasons enough reason to take a day off, Link only saw a better and easier way to hide how terribly his body was deteriorating.  

He hardly even lit a fire in his home. He slept in his clothes, in his down feather jacket with the Sword by his head.  

The only time he did rest was when he felt so terribly he could truly barely move. He made it back to Hateno, but crashed and burned, remaining in bed for days until Sidon and Yona came to search for him. 

What a week it had been. He’d ever felt such betrayal before in his life, than he had when he thought he’d found Zelda in the castle.  

He was damn lucky his friends were there to rescue him, in Lookout Landing for a meeting, or else he would have been dead from the battles that led him to the sanctum. The thought didn’t scare him as much as it should have.  

But he’d found his Sword again, on the back of the Light Dragon. With it, he went to Lookout Landing to tell Purah, but when the blood moon rose that night he thought he'd found something better than his Sword. One thing led to another, and he'd been so terribly tricked. Ganondorf used images of Zelda to ware him down, to try and keep him weak and tired. The only reason he made it out of that sanctum was because of his Sages. He hated that they were involved, but was indebted to them now. He hadn’t slept in days before that, either, and the wounds he kept aggravating hurt like hell. The fight only added more. Some weren't entirely by accident, either. 

Link returned to a cold house, only to sleep, barely conscious.

It wasn’t much of a house anymore. It more closely resembled the storage closet he'd found it as. 

He dreamed only of what the Light Dragon’s tears showed him. He knew that dragon was connected to his Zelda, he just couldn’t figure it out. He was never half as smart as she was, anyway. It infuriated him to no end.  

When Sidon and Yona came to check on him, he woke up to a familiar healing magic. Only in his half lucid state did he notice how similar it felt to Mipha's grace. He woke up crying silently.

Sidon shouldn’t have been there, Link knew. He had a fiancée to take care of, not Link’s sorry ass. Once, he shouted at him, using his voice for as long as he was able, until it hurt and scratched from misuse and lack of use. That drove him away long enough for Link to sleep. That time, however, he had no energy to be angry, let along fight off Yona's hands. 

When she finished healing, she and Sidon pulled chairs to the loft. Sidon eyed him, in his pathetic state, and sighed. It looked, Link swore, like he'd been crying. 

"How are you?" he asked softly. 

Link huffed a joyless, bitter laugh that sent a wave of pain through his body. 

"Like hell," he was barely able to respond. 

Sidon nodded. "You look like it." 

A beat passed between them for a long moment. 

Sidon had seen Link fight before. He knew what his style was, how he fought. What he saw in the sanctum wasn't Link's way of fighting. No matter how tired he was, he was too good to be hit that much. When he was ready, he was able to fight well then. But some hits, Sidon barely noticed, Link stopped. He stopped moving, and let himself take the hit. Never fatal, but enough to hurt. Paired with a sick, sadistic grin, and Sidon knew too well the Hero's thoughts. 

"Link, why did you allow yourself to get hit in the sanctum?" Sidon asked suddenly, coolly. 

Link looked at him like he had offended him, before relenting. "Don't know." 

Sidon sighed. "You're ruining yourself, Link. this is dangerous." 

A flash of anger lit in Link's eyes, and he turned sharply to look at Sidon. 

When he spoke, his voice was weak but determined. "I've broken my bones and sold my life for this battle, Sidon. For the Kingdom, for the people, for you and the Sages and for Zelda. The Goddess repays me with suffering, with more Evil, with worse wounds. The only reason I'm even still in this fight is because Zelda loved Hyrule too much for me to just give up on her. I will defeat this Evil, just like I have and others before me have, because that's what I do. I am little more than a living weapon to the Goddess and her plans. In case you forgot, this whole Upheaval was preordained, and I was nothing more than the body to hold the Sword. If that's all that matters, then damn whatever happens to me in the process." 

Sidon remained still, breathing. There were no words, really, to assure him that wasn't the truth. The only assurance they could come up with was lousy in response. 

"We may still find her yet," Yona said in Sidon's shocked silence. 

At the mention of her, Link shut down, as he usually did. Bringing her up was a dumb mistake anyway, after the betrayal they had just faced. 

Link wanted to believe them, really, but every lead ended in a dead end or betrayal. Often, the Yiga used her as bait, and Link continued to fall for it. The last Yiga trap was so convincing, it nearly ended in bloodshed. 

He had almost killed a man that day. The closest he had ever gotten to shedding Hylian blood.  

After it was true there was no convincing him, Sidon and Yona left. Link went back to sleep, and was uninterrupted until he could stand again. 

When he woke up and left the house again, he had no plan. The plans seemed to find him, anyway. He had no energy to find a reason, he just had to keep going. He had so many battles to win but hardly any reason to win them.  

That knight of a century ago would fear for the man’s lack of purpose. He would fear for what his life became.  

Chapter Text

Link returned to the house once more, not in a rage, but in complete defeat.

He had a bag of scales and horns that had a faint blue glow to them, and finally news on what happened to Zelda.

She’d been there the whole time; that had to be the wrost part. She been following him, watching from the skies, though she didn’t remember him.

Dragonification was irreversible. She’d know it, said so herself, yet still went through with it. All for the sake of her Kingdom, so he could complete his purpose, so her people could be free.

Despite how terribly he hated his fate, he couldn’t be mad at her for choosing it. If she had the choice, he knew she would always chose her people.

Though he knew it, he couldn’t continue.

Their house was full of her. Her scent, her things. It remained littered in the wreckage he left behind every time he moved. Lights in the midst of his chaos, except now that he knew the truth it felt diminished.

Would she ever return to their home? If she didn’t, what was the point of it, anyway? Who was he, a knight, the Hero, without his Princess?

All of the battles, all the wars he’d fought, all for her, meant little if he couldn’t be with her in the end. Giving into the injuries, the gloom, the battles that awaited him seemed easier than living in a world without Zelda in it.

Link didn’t leave their house for nearly three weeks. His friends came and went, but he didn’t notice. He was content to rot there, to join the ground as she joined the skies.

“She’d hate what you’ve become. She did what she did for her Kingdom; gave up her being for a chance it would survive. And you’re going to let her sacrifice go to waste.”

It was harshly, cruelly said before the door was slammed. It was Sidon’s voice. Link hated that he put it to words, everything he’d already considered. He hated that it was true, and he hated Sidon for saying it.

But it worked.

Link was far from better. He didn’t plan on living to see the prosperity and peace he was now certain on bringing. But he had to finish what Zelda started. He had to fulfill his destiny, one way or another.

Chapter Text

The final Sage was difficult to store. Link felt bad about it, but when he returned to Hateno Mineru had to stay outside. Luckily, she said she didn’t mind the stable.

One night, it was raining. He had enough humanity left to go outside and sit with her. He made a small fire under the stable covering. The robot didn’t say anything, but she watched him closely, as if trying to remember what if felt like to exist without aid.

Link hardly remembered himself. He used Rauru’s arm for just about anything, and had grown grateful for it despite the pain it constantly caused him.

When the fire was large enough to leave alone for a while, Link sat. He didn’t do that often.

Moments passed in silence. He watched the flames, the smoke pool at the roof of the structure before making its way to the holes in the metal. Epona nickered in the next stall over. Zelda’s steed, Star, had been left at Lookout Landing, and was being well taken care of.

He should let that horse free, since her rider would never return.

“Your Princess was a remarkable woman,” Mineru said softly, her robot voice tainted with something slightly human.

Link drew his knees to his chest, hiding his face in his arms. He fought tears.

“She was smart and cunning. And she had every faith in you,” she said, voice soft.

“Why do you doubt yourself, Hero?”

Link breathed through his flare of anger. They came so naturally now. “I don’t doubt I can fight. I doubt in my ability to live afterwards.”

There were still stones. It was impossible to ignore the idea of taking one of them from his friends.

Something about Zelda’s fate seemed calming. Aimless, peaceful, above the world and all his duties. Link wondered what his dragonic form would look like. Surely he would fly alongside her.

Mineru seemed to consider his answer. Comparing it to whatever Zelda told her about him thousands of years ago.

Moments passed in silence. “She hated what she did, with every fiber of her being, but she did it for her Kingdom. But I believe she knew the pain it would cause you. That was a great deal of her hesitation.”

Link ground his teeth to keep from crying or shouting. It would do no good against a robot spirit, anyway, he supposed.

“My point in saying that,” she continued, “is to say that despite it, she knew you well enough to know you would succeed. And I have no doubt there is a beautiful life beyond.”

A beautiful life for his people, he would make sure of that.

Against his better wishes, tears brimmed in his eyes. It happened, sometimes, when the grief hit him in the gut harder than any blow from any enemy ever could. He let them fall.

Ninety observed for a moment. Her glowing eyes of sorts seemed to see right through him.

“How did I end up here?” he heard himself asking. Sobered just long enough to feel the ache through his body from purposeful recklessness and wonder what he was doing.

But his reality was worse every time he recalled the totality of it. Zelda would never walk the threshold of their home again. She would not longer dance in the kitchen, study in the well, walk to the school. It haunted him, as every single loss in his life had always haunted him.

There was nothing to say that hadn’t been said to him before, Mineru was sure, so she just sat.

It was simple, and Link didn’t realize the significance of her presence until much later, but he came to appreciate it eventually, but not before he would be able to properly thank her.

Chapter Text

In the darkness of twilight, two broken bodies and even worse broken souls stumbled, battered and bleeding, into the house.  

Link carried Zelda with one arm, attempting to keep a hold on her. It reminded him, vaguely, but instead of reveling and joyful, he was panicked and quick, his blood intermingled with hers as it dripped to the wood floor.  

He laid her down, unconscious still, on the dining table. He carefully removed her clothes, checking for injuries, tying and stopping bleeding.  

But she had few cuts that were open. Other than dirty, she appeared to be alright. All her bleeding came from patches on her skin that resembled scales. They shimmered in the candlelight once Link had the good sense to light them.  

Once her bleeding was covered he moved her again. She squirmed and groaned in pain, and Link wondered how terrible it must be to once again have a human body after thousands of years of roaming the skies.  

He settled her atop the unmade bed, writhing slightly and wonderfully alive, and Link finally worried about himself.  

He’d done all he could until she woke up (and she would wake up, he told himself), so the only thing left was to keep his hands busy and watch her bandages.  

He bound his own wounds with a leather strap in his mouth. Some needed stitches that he put in himself, shaking and uneven. He tied the cloth around his arms and prayed the bleeding would staunch before he passed out. He did it all by their bed, thanks to the first aid kit he kept underneath it.  

Link wasn’t aware of when he was awake or when he was asleep. Dreams and visions of battles and wounds and blood, the death of his friends, Sages and Champions he wasn’t sure were real, and a beautifully disfigured Zelda in their dark home. He didn’t know what reality was and what was something of his nightmares.  

There was a certain ghost in the home adept at healing. She’d left him all of her old supplies, and he kept it all stocked for himself and others. He prayed to his little sister for healing in whatever moments he could. Sometimes it felt more like he was talking to her again. He calls for Zelda’s healing more than his own.  

Several unknown days later, Link began to come to. He was able to eat something, down a gallon of water, and walk without wanting to vomit.  

Zelda had still yet to wake up, but Link trusted that she had what she needed in her body to keep fighting. That’s what she did; she fought, in whatever way she could. He had to hope she was fighting then, too.  

In the meanwhile, he changed her bandages. In doing so, he took in her form.  

The transition she took from dragon to human looked horrific, and seemed to last an eternity in that dream world they were in. Rauru and Sonia were there, so it had to have been some sort of spirit realm. He’d never felt such peace, other than the moment he was surrounded by death and Zelda’s power.  

But it looked painful, and when she returned not all traces of it were eliminated.  

Scales glittered along her skin in small patches, the same size as they were when she was a dragon, small enough to use and repair his armor. Small blue horns stuck out through her unbrushed hair. Her teeth looked sharper, her nails stronger and a little pointed at the ends.  

She looked like a Goddess, Link thought as he stared at her, wishing and hopeing and praying to Aryll and Mipha and all his dead friends for her to wake up. She looked ethereal, perfect. He’d always thought she was gorgeous, but with her new (or old, depending on how one looked at it) additions made her otherworldly.  

It was a stark contrast to how Link appeared.  

He was more monster than man; or at least that's how he felt. Every terrible, treasonous thought he’d gone through in the past months came back to his head. He didn’t disagree with how he felt, nor had much changed in his mind, yet he had thought then Zelda would never return. Some sadistic part of him said she never would, and that the only difference would be that he had a body to bury now, but he refused to believe it. He regained his muscle mass, which added to his monstrous feeling, stretching and contorting the scars he collected like sick trophies. He felt unworthy being next to her. Sometimes he thought he should run.  

But something kept him sat in place.  

He wasn’t entirely unchanged, either. He had his own wounds to care for.  

One of which being an amputation.  

His entire right arm was taken in that spirit realm when his power from Rauru was taken, too. He didn’t truly notice it until he was fully lucid, but the amputation area had already been nearly completely healed. There was still pain, as if his arm was still there, aching, but he wasn’t.  

Sidon was the first to find them. Of course, Yona was with him, ready to use her magic.  

They walked in unannounced, and found Link with tears in his eyes, watching Zelda sleep. They didn’t say anything. Yona only set up next to him and got to work. She was shocked to find most of his wounds were taken care of. Sidon said it was only because he had nothing better to do.  

Zelda looked fine to her, too, but they both stared at her form for a long time.  

When they moved on, Nothing much changed. Link remained by Zelda’s bedside, praying to his home’s ghosts that she would wake up.  

Chapter Text

Link is roused from sleep on the floor by the sound of someone vomiting. It was the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard when he realized who it was.  

Zelda was leaned over the side of the bed, vomiting on the floor. Link surged forward, rubbing her back and whispering soft comforts. She hadn’t eaten since she returned, so he decidedly didn’t think about what it was she was throwing up.  

Finally, she stopped after several minutes of dry heaving and slumped her head down with a groan. She hung her head there for a moment, and Link watched, a hand still on her back, confused and bewildered.  

“Zelda?” he broke the silence after a moment.  

Zelda lifted her head and eyed him through the hair in her face. He moved his hand to move the hair behind her ear. It was practically one big mat.  

When she saw him clearly, through half-lidded eyes she grinned, which looked like it took all her effort. “What a pleasant dream,” she said softly.  

Link looked at her, confused, and shook his head. He grabbed her shoulder and hoisted her back into a sitting position.  

“You’re not dreaming, Zel,” he said.  

Propped against some pillows, she regarded him with tired skepticism. “I’m sorry I wont remember you when the dream is over,” she said.  

A lump grew in Link’s throat. He wondered if he felt the same way, if he dreamed while he was in the Shrine. “Zelda, it’s me. I’m real, and you will remember.”  

Zelda’s brows knit together. She looked him up and down, taking in his frame. “You do look… different,” she said slowly.  

Link grinned. It felt like the first time he’d smiled in a long time. “So do you,” he said.  

Zelda smiled softly. “You’re funny.”  

“And I’m real,” he said.  

They went back and forth like that for hours. Link was perfectly content to, just happy she was awake at all. With each time they went around, Zelda seemed to become a little more aware. When she finally started to take in their home around them, it began to sink in.  

In one moment, it all seemed to hit her. Suddenly, she was crying.  

Link jumped forward at the sight of her tears, wiping them away with his thumb to no avail. He tried to grab her hand with his, forgetting he no longer had one to spare. He whispered assurances, but when a smile broke across Zelda’s tear streaked face he calmed.  

“Link, am I truly home?” she asked.  

Link smiled, truly, for the first time in months, and nodded. Zelda’s tears came faster, but with the rest of her strength she surged forward into Link, hugging him around the neck. Link held her back with all of his strength.  

He was finally able to ask her how she felt (Heavy, sick, exhausted, in pain), and what she remembered (Rauru, Sonia, war, and the stone she ate). She didn’t seemed to notice the extent of change around her, and didn’t have the capacity to ask Link much about what happened in her absence, but he knew that time would come, and that he would have to explain why their home looked more like a storage shed and why his scars and wounds were covered, and why he had so many of them. He was content to put off those conversations for a while, and just enjoy her company.  

Several days passed by slowly, mirroring her recovery when he saved her from the Calamity. He got her to eat, made meals and tea that was easy on the stomach. He coached her through eating again, and when she asked if he’d eaten he would only smile and nod, unable to verbally answer lest he share the truth.  

She began to notice more. She first noticed Link’s arm – or lack thereof. She asked about it, and he explained in brief Rauru’s gift to him, and the price for that magic was the lack of his arm when the King took it back. The Gloom still had a hold on him, but it was better. He tried to assure her that it didn’t bother him, but it did. He didn’t let her see how he struggled to accomplish even the simplest things.  

That night, when she thought he was sleeping, she cried for him. He heard her, but didn’t step in. When her breathing evened out and she drifted to sleep, he cried a bit, himself, out of frustration more than anything else. How could he be there for her properly if he could barely take care of himself?  

Switching from having a plan for the end to attempting to take care of oneself is not easy, either. The thoughts didn’t simply vanish. But with someone to live for, it was a little easier to live day by day, as long as he didn’t think about himself.  

When she was stronger, she wanted to walk. Moving had always been easy for her, something for her to look toward, something to keep her mind off things. So Link helped her. He would put his arm under hers and lift her up. They would take a few steps then return to bed. Rinse and repeat the process until Zelda could take those few steps to her dresser on her own.  

She was able to walk down the stairs soon enough, but needed help going back up. She would eat at the table and watch Link struggle to cook with one arm. She would look at their home, the glass in the corners that had been missed, the furniture that had been broken and haphazardly put back together, and her husband, who harbored secrets and pain she couldn’t fathom.  

It was a long time before she was strong enough to care about how she looked, but when she did want to dress for herself, she asked Link where their mirror had gone.  

He looked skeptical, even a little guilty, as he went to the shed to get it after some hesitation. He returned it to its place between their dressers, however.  

It was cracked across, so Zelda made a note to get a new one as soon as she could make her way into town.  

But when she saw her own reflection, she broke.  

It was not a human that stared back at her. What she saw more closely resembled a monster.  

So much of her dragonic form remained. Scales glittered in small patches along her skin, horns peaked out from her hair that she’d yet to detangle, and her eyes swarmed with a sickening mix of purple and blue over their original green.  

She fights back her tears as she dresses herself in a clean nightgown. That evening, she laid in bed thinking. Link sat on the floor, writing something.  

“Link,” she said softly. He looked up. “Come to bed,” she asked, and scooted over to make space for him.  

He didn’t fight her. He climbed into bed next to her, throwing his one arm over her shoulders and around her back. She curled up against his chest. For the first time, she thought, since she returned he didn’t wear a shirt.  

She first noticed the muscle he regained in her absence. Before, she would have loved it, but what diminished her excitement was the scars that covered his body.  

So, so many, most jagged and raised, signs that they weren’t properly cared for. She stared, tracing them with a finger. How had he gotten so many?  

“Link?” she asked softly after a long time of silence. The darkness had finally hidden their broken bodies, leaving nothing but their bare souls still awake.  

“Hm.”  

“Do you feel like a monster?”  

The question shocked him, like she’d read his thoughts. He looked down to find her beautiful, mesmerizing eyes staring up at him.  

“After everything I did the past few months, yes. Sometimes I do,” he answered softly, honestly. “Do you?”  

“I am a monster.”  

Link looked shocked. “What?”  

“I look more beast than human now.”  

“You look beautiful.”  

“Don’t lie.”  

“I’m not lying. When you fell, I thought you were a Goddess falling from heaven. Never did I think you were a monster.”  

“The people will think so.”  

“If the people cannot see what I do they’re fools. Besides, the people love you. It would take a lot more than a few scales for that to stop being the case.”  

Zelda sighed. If she believed him she didn’t show it. Another long stretch of silence passed before they broke it.  

“Do you think we’ve earned our stripes?” Zelda asked, softer still, already half asleep.  

Link chuckled. Stripes were a name the knights called one of the war medallions given to soldiers. He couldn’t remember what the award was actually called, and hardly recalled anyone that had one. It was the worst one, the highest honor. The battles one had to endure and survive to attain it were severe.  

“I think we have.”  

Chapter Text

Recovery is slow. It comes with easy dinners and conversations across the table that always end in tears. It comes in waves of late night talks when they both wake up from nightmares. It happens when they least expect it.

Link learns Zelda doesn’t remember either transformation – only the pain that came with it. It was the worst she ever felt. He learns that she held Sonia as she died. He helped her through the grief of someone that had been dead for thousands of years. Somehow, it always happened like that. He learned that her power, once again, was diminished over the time she spent as a dragon. She doesn’t remember roaming the skies. It felt as though a part of her was missing.

Zelda learns that Link was suicidal, though they refuse to put a name to it. He was reckless, angry, stubborn, and entirely different from the man she married. He’d gone through so many changes in his life. Some of those tendencies were hard to break. She learned he ruined their home in fits of anger, and injured himself during battles. She learned he’d yet to fully recover from the gloom sickness he got in the cave, and often contacted more gloom before he could recover.

She didn’t learn any of it from him. Not originally.

She was in the kitchen, Sidon at the table for a visit. He had come to talk to Zelda about he and Yona’s wedding, and had pushed Link out of the house insisting he would do nothing but meddle, but the topic shifted when he noticed Zelda unwrapping a new set of cups Link had bought.

“He broke them all, didn’t he?” Sidon asked.

Zelda couldn’t see his face. She only nodded. “We’ve been drinking from bowls, she said lightly, as if it were funny.

A beat passed in silence.

“Sidon,” Zelda stared, sensing the weight of her questions Link had been so careful to answer. “Link was much worse off than he lets on, wasn’t he?”

She turned to see tears in Sidon’s eyes. He wiped them away quickly. “He was purposefully reckless and brash. He fought poorly on purpose, sometimes, for the ache of the hit.”

Sidon explained Link’s anger so plainly it shocked Zelda. Suddenly his actions seemed obvious. Why had she been so blind to the changes in him?

“He only fought because of your love for Hyrule. After he fought he felt there was no reason to see the Kingdom afterwards,” he said, and the weight of the reality sat heavy on Zelda’s heart.

“I was so scared for him,” Sidon said, tears in his eyes anew.

To say she didn’t blame herself would be the biggest lie in the world. She made him return to the Castle catacombs, despite him telling her not to.

Link thought the same thing.

They admitted it to each other one late night. It ended in tears and hugs and kisses.

People acted different around Link. They sidestepped away, tried not to make eye contact. Suddenly, Link hated their reaction to him. Zelda noticed, but didn’t question him about that until later.

Zelda goes out to town alone sometimes. She doesn’t go back to school, but she shops for things Link had broken. On one of these trips, she returned home with a new set of plates since Link had broken most of theirs.

When she opened the door, glass shattered on the ground. Link loomed over it, a knife in his only hand, staring at it with a hatred she’d never seen in him.

Zelda panicked, dropping the new dishes on the table and stepping on front of him, over the glass. His gaze focused on her slowly, and his face softened into something akin to guilt. Zelda felt like she was taming a wild animal, arms out, moving slowly. She took the knife from his hand and tossed it to the side, telling him it was alright, that she would help.

Tears welled in his eyes against his will, and Zelda stepped forward, hugging him. He cried for a few minutes, and suddenly they were seventeen again, grappling with the fact their lives would never be normal. Then she pulled away and asked him to help her clean up. He agreed, the gentleness she knew was still in him returning. He helped her sweep, still silently weeping, until the glass was cleaned.

When they went to bed that night, their new dishes put away, Link apologized. Zelda said there was no need, that she was there for him.

Those two children that were thrown into war a century and then some ago were the ones that helped clean after their relapses. They happened often. But the weight of their wedding bands kept them grounded, reminding them they weren’t alone anymore, never again.