Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It still felt new: the sensation of the wind through her hair, the feeling of the hard wood that she leaned against. She relished the slow burn of tea as it slid down her throat, the pain in her hands from the hot mug, the chatter of voices in the distance, the heaviness of her eyes as she watched the moon cross the sky. It was all something that Princess Zelda had been deprived of for 100 years, things she’d always taken for granted before everything… before the Calamity.

Those 100 years in the Sacred Realm, years she’d spent holding Ganon back with all her might, had deprived her of the life she’d always expected. Her father, sacrificed by the Yiga clan to bring back the Demon Lord; her friends, grown old through the passage of time, lifetimes she could never even begin to understand; the Champions, all killed… all of them. Daruk: the Goron who’d never thought a negative thing in the time she’d known him. Even when she’d come back from the final spring of the Goddess as a failure, unsuccessful in unlocking her sealing powers, Daruk had still smiled, if only to comfort her in her darkness. Mipha: the Zora princess who heeded the call to save the ones she loved. Revali: a Rito who Zelda had come to respect, despite his brash and abrasive behavior. Urbosa: the closest mother-figure she’d known since her own mother had passed when she was a young girl. And Link: her own appointed knight and the Hylain Champion.

At least she was able to save him.

Though he slept for 100 years, and though he’d lost most of his memories of her, she’d managed to bring him back. The Shrine of Resurrection had worked just as Purah and Robbie had promised. As her closest friends, she’d never doubted them.

She could see Robbie from where she sat. Once a handsome young Sheikah, he was now a crippled old man. Zelda could remember standing beside him, scanning though research journals or watching him tinker with his favorite Guardian, one he’d affectionately named Cherry. The Guardians had been his life’s work, and nearly the death of him. He’d lost both legs, forced to created new ones as he spent a hundred years making armor to resist the Guardians and weapons to bring them down in hopes of disabling them once and for all.

He stood beside his wife, Jerrin, a fellow researcher. Though she was much younger than him, she’d seen over the past few days that they got on very well. He’d told her that they had been together for a quarter of the century, though she couldn’t help but wonder what it was he’d done for the other 75 years. In the few days since Ganon’s defeat, he’d only spoken about his time with Jerrin and their son, Granté.

Beside Robbie and Jerrin stood a girl who looked like she could be their daughter. A young child, white-haired as many Sheikah were, with thick red glasses, circular and eccentrically shaped. Though she appeared to be a girl of about 6 years old, Zelda knew that it was Purah, her closest friend. It had been Purah who found a way for Link to hear her when he woke up, and expanded the Sheikah Slate for him. She’d tirelessly been working to defeat Ganon to the point where she’d reversed her own age just to give herself more time. Though, as she’d explained, it set her mind and body back too far. She hadn’t wanted to attempt to fix it, not with Ganon still a threat. Zelda imagined that she would change her mind soon without any looming darkness to halt her experiments.

If felt good to see them together again. She knew that they’d spent the last several years apart, consulting each other from their own labs, but never working together, as she knew them to before the Calamity. If she only closed her eyes, she could still see them bickering beside an inactive Guardian, ignorant to all the loss they’d soon share between them.

Zelda hadn’t been able to bear hearing too many more stories in a row regarding her friends. Impa, once an advisor to her father—King Rhoam Bosphoramus Hyrule—was now the village elder. Though she was more quick-witted and amusing than she had been in her youth, it still wasn’t easy to look at her, knowing that her granddaughter looked more like the woman Zelda remembered.

Her eyes moved to Paya at the Goddess Statue in the center of the village. From behind, she was truly identical to Purah and Impa, clear—even just from the back of her hair, her posture, her very demeanor—that she was their kin. Paya prayed often, Zelda had noticed in the days she’d been awake. She wasn’t sure what there was left to ask of the Goddesses. Being granted the power to defeat the Demon King felt like she’d used up all their favors on her own.

Even surrounded by the friends she loved so much, she felt desperately alone.

Her three old friends had moved on, lived their lives. Paya was about Zelda’s own age, but they’d barely spoken, and it had been entirely formal. And Link…

Zelda wished for nothing more than to sit and talk to Link, even if only for a short moment. She had spoken to him when she’d first woken up in Kakariko, but he left that same day to take care of a few errands he had to finish. She hadn’t even gotten the chance to ask what they were.

She felt a small smile creep over her face as she thought back.

Time had become an irrelevant blur to her. While 100 years in the Sacred Realm felt like a prison sentence, somedays dragging by with every passing second, at times, she felt years had gone by in the blink of an eye. One hundred years ago felt both like ages ago, and as if it had all happened yesterday.

She remembered her and Link’s adventure up Dueling Peaks, the day they’d first kissed, admiring the incredible view of Hyrule. She felt his arms around her as they ran through the forest, running from a Guardian just after the last Champion had fallen. She could still hear his laugh that she could sometimes manage to get from him when he’d guarded the door to her room and she’d needed someone to talk to.

Now, he remembered next to none of it. She didn’t even know what he did remember. He’d told her about the day he died, that he remembered her sealing powers, but that was all. He didn’t remember their conversation beforehand, that it had been her unwillingness to leave him that had gotten him killed. He didn’t remember hidden meaning that all but screamed behind their pleas for the other to get to safety. And though she’d never voiced it out loud, she was sure that he knew the extent of her feelings then, as she knew his.

Hoofbeats snapped her head up, and she rose to her feet quickly. Her heart raced, hands shaking. Who’d come into town this late?

The guards on either side of the steps immediately moved their spears into a ready stance. Everyone listened to the echoing through the night.

“Who’s coming?” Purah shouted, her innocence preventing her from knowing that everyone’s silence was to be mimicked, not questioned.

Robbie whispered something to her. She opened her mouth again, and he pressed his palm over her lips, stopping her words from spilling out quickly.

A familiar white horse rode into the clearing, the rider even more so.

Link dismounted from his horse quickly. He inched his way into the village, seeing the tension in the air, and then seeing it quickly disappear at the sight of him. Paya ran over to where Zelda stood, almost an accidental instinct just to be closer to her home in the event of an intrusion.

“I’m sorry, Your Highness,” Paya said, nearly crashing into her. “It will take some time, I believe, to get used to the safety of Hyrule again.”

“I don’t blame you,” Zelda muttered without taking her eyes off of Link.

In many ways, he looked the same. He certainly hadn’t aged as Robbie, Purah, or Impa had, but she could see that his few months head start in the new century had hardened him in a very physical way.

He’d smiled politely at her, but it wasn’t the infectious smile that she’d once seen from him, a grin that made everyone around join in his joy without even knowing why. Looking at him from a distance, she could see the trained soldier’s expressionless face, the rigid posture as stood beside the horse. It was how he’d once been with her, only worse. His eyes met hers almost immediately, and he bowed his head before turning his attention to the nearest Sheikah.

Zelda could hear the door behind her open. The slow, shuffling steps were clearly Impa’s and Zelda didn’t even need to turn. “Link’s returned,” Zelda said.

“Is that him? Despite these many months, I still remember him fondly with Epona. The white horse is still what I associate with your arrival.”

Zelda smiled halfheartedly. Her own horse, Storm, had disappeared during the Calamity, and she’d never been able to find him. But when she saw Link’s horse now, this white stallion with royal grace, her spirit recognized this to be the descendant of her own horse.

Her arms crossed in the chill of the wind she’d enjoyed only moments before. Now, she felt restless.

Link finished speaking with the Sheikah, who took his horse as he left, and headed in Zelda and Impa’s direction. Paya had moved up a few steps, trading places with her grandmother.

When he stood in front of Zelda, his eyes barely lingered on hers, as they once did. He clenched his fist over his heart and bowed, the old royal sign of respect. Zelda hated it. They’d moved beyond that long ago.

“It’s good that you’re back,” she said instead.

“Yes, Your Highness,” he said quickly. She was sure that her disappointment was written all over her face, because he hastily continued with his sentence. “How… how are you doing today?”

Zelda knew Link was guarded with strangers. He’d told her as much. She realized now, she was little more than a stranger to him; just someone from his memories. “I’m very well. Thank you for asking.”

Impa watched the exchange with an unreadable expression. “Well, it’s rather cold outside. Why don’t we all move indoors and continue this conversation?”

Paya moved to help her grandmother up the steps, but Impa ignored her outstretched hand. Zelda had heard Impa’s many refusals for any help over the past few days, though Paya never failed to try. Impa took her place inside on a pillow, resting comfortably as she waited. Paya grabbed two other pillows and placed them in the center of the room before standing on the side of her grandmother.

Zelda was eager to sit and hear what he had been doing, and she took her place as well. Link, however, remained standing. He slid easily into his guard stance that she’d seen every night, his hands behind his back while his sword was resting peacefully in its sheath.

Everyone was clearly waiting for him to speak, so he cleared his throat and stepped forward. “I went to check on the castle. There are no active Guardians, but there are quite a few citizens hovering about. It’s the most active I’ve ever seen Hyrule Field. On the outskirts, there are still Bokoblins and Moblins. I went to Hateno to warn the soldiers about those who may be in danger still. People saw what happened.” His eyes finally rested on Zelda. “They saw what you did.”

“’We.’ By no means did I defeat Ganon on my own. In fact, I barely did anything.”

For a moment, there was a flash of the old Link, the Link she knew well. He scoffed, rolling his eyes in annoyance as her easy dismissal of her own actions. “Don’t ever underestimate your role, Princess. I would never have been able to defeat him without you.”

She smiled, thankful to receive more than a forced response. “I’m not the one who had the sword or the bow but thank you.”

 “You held open Ganon’s weak points for me. You held back the worst of him so I wouldn’t have to face his most dangerous form. You kept Hyrule safe for 100 years, What makes you think you had a small role to play?” His eyes widened as his own words registered in his ears, his passion and determination to get through to her. To Zelda, it was a glimpse of the man she’d known. To Link, it was disrespectful to chastise royalty. His eyes lost all the fiery passion that had begun to build. He cleared his throat and bowed his head, refusing to raise it.

Zelda let out a short breath but said nothing. She could see his immediate change, and he wasn’t going to slip again soon; speaking to her in such a familiar way was not something one does with royalty.

“What else did you find?” she asked instead.

“People are confused. Without Ganon, they don’t know how to live peacefully. I spoke with several acquaintances, and they say it feels like they’ve woken from a dream in the night, unsure whether to stay awake, or go back to sleep. I believe after a few days, they’ll process what has happened.”

“I believe you are correct,” Impa chimed in. “For 100 years, the threat of the Calamity was all we knew. Our journeys had to be cautious, our livelihoods were uprooted, and our government thrown to shambles. It’s not a surprise that there is a great shockwave passing over Hyrule.”

“What do we do?” Zelda asked. While she’d been in the Sacred Realm, she had rarely though about what would happen after beating Ganon. She’d always left herself in a state of uncertainty, wondering what would happen if they lost. Never how to move forward when they won.

Impa knew that she had to take the lead for now. Looking at her old friend, she remembered that the King had only pushed her to unlock her sealing power, neglecting most of her training for her future role as queen. Neither had expected the course of events as they occurred, and Zelda had been left sorely unprepared to rule.

“I will call some of the more powerful figures in Hyrule to meet. We can meet here, or in a room at the castle that is still intact. It may help our case to be inside the castle. Hyrule has been self-governing for a century. We will need to consult the leaders in the kingdom before we make any rash decisions. But for tonight, I am rather tired. You kept an old woman waiting, Link. Don’t do it again.”

His lips tipped up slightly. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Paya?” Impa called, holding out her hand. Paya took it and helped Impa up the stairs. Zelda watched curiously, certain that Impa would have refused such a gesture of aid.

“Princess?” Link asked as they left.

Zelda’s head snapped towards him, shocked. “Yes?”

“Could we speak outside for a moment?”

“Of course,” she said, stepping through the door he’d held open.

They made their way back into the chilly night air, walking in silence for a few moments before Link said even a word. “I have a few things of yours, Prin—Your Highness.” He reached behing him, and Zelda heard a click. He held out the Sheikah Slate. “Purah and Robbie told me it had been yours before I found it in the shrine. Then, with all the photos that had been inside, I knew for sure that it hadn’t been mine.”

Zelda stared at the tablet. “I left it for you, Link. Keep it. You’ve gotten more out of it than I ever did.”

“It’s yours, though.”

“Not anymore. Please.”

Hesitantly, Link lowered his hand and clipped the Slate back to his belt. “Thank you.” He looked over at the hill where the Sheikah he’d spoken to had disappeared to earlier. “The horse, however, is yours.”

“No—” she started to protest.

“I remember your horse. He was white. Same spirit as this one, really. Their temperament is the same. Whether that’s a comfort or not is up to you. He’s not meant to be my horse. Like his ancestor, he was meant to be yours.”

“I can’t take your only horse, Link,” Zelda tried. In truth, the horse had been calling to her, reminding her of the long-gone past.

“I’ll find another. He’s called Cloud.”

Without realizing it, Zelda felt another smile come over her. “Cloud? My horse was called Storm.”

Though not a full smile, Link’s lips tipped up again. “Then it’s fate. The horse is yours.”

Zelda nodded, conceding. “Very well. Thank you. But I will only accept after you find a horse of your own.”

“That’s fair,” he said, pulling something out from a pouch that was far too small to hold anything. He offered something to Zelda, though she stared at it without recognition. Link turned it over. “Your father, the King, gave it to me the day I woke. I figured it was yours or meant for you.”

Zelda’s ears perked up. “You saw my father? What happened?”

“He helped me with the Sheikah Slate, and he gave me this paraglider. Was it not yours?”

Zelda had to stop her hand from brushing over the material. “My father died before the Calamity. He was sacrificed. How did you… did he leave you a message?”

Link coughed, glancing around to see if anyone was listening. “I saw his spirit.”

“Where?” she asked hurriedly, fighting the urge to grab him. “Will you take me to him?”

The discomfort was written all over his face. “I’ve gone back there a few times. I haven’t seen him again.”

“Maybe,” Zelda pleaded, “Maybe he’ll appear for me?”

Seeing the look in her eyes, Link’s own softened. “I suppose it’s possible. I’ll take you when Impa agrees that you’ve recovered your lost strength.”

“Thank you,” she said with a relieved breath. “I suppose it’s late now, but perhaps another day you could tell me more of what you faced? Spirits, my father… a paraglider. You have a story I’d love to hear.”

“I’m no storyteller like Kass, but you have every right to hear it, Princess.”

“Kass?”

Link smiled slightly and glanced around awkwardly, unsure of what to do with himself. “He’s a part of the story.”

“Of course.”

They stood together in an uncomfortable limbo. Zelda remembered all too well their familiar banter and easy companionship, but Link remembered so little that it was like speaking with a stranger.

And if nothing else, that she was determined to change.