Chapter Text
i.
“Are you… alright, Link?” Zelda asked, her brows furrowing in concern.
Link stood frozen, unable to tear his gaze away from the glittering statue made of luminous stone at the center of Zora Domain. The packs containing their supplies for the night slipped from his shoulder and clattered against the smooth floor, but he made no move to pick them up. The mishap didn't even register on his face.
A cool hand rested gently on her shoulder blade. “Princess Zelda.”
“Prince Sidon,” she acknowledged, still hardly able to reconcile the image of little Sidon with the tall man standing beside her now. She had to tilt her head backward to look him in the eyes, and she marveled at how large he was compared to her.
Stooping down briefly to collect Link’s bags from the floor, Sidon hoisted them over his shoulder before motioning toward the inn with a sweep of his arm. “I think it would be best if you settled in for the night.” He handed over a few rupees to the innkeeper swiftly before she could open her mouth and object to his kindness. “Father will be ready to meet you both in the morning.”
“I understand.” Another worried look crossed her features as she sought out Link’s immobile figure in the distance. “I don’t want him to be alone.”
Dropping her bags beside one of the slim beds, Sidon returned to join her at the inn’s entrance. “Grief is difficult to live with,” he replied simply. “I haven’t escaped its grasp for a hundred years.”
Zelda glanced up at him, hardly able to hide her own sorrow. “Neither have I.”
And Sidon reached out to her again, briefly, with amber eyes that understood. Instead of turning toward him, she pulled away and entered the inn.
“Goodnight, Prince Sidon.”
The Zora Prince flashed a half-hearted smile. “Goodnight, Princess Zelda.”
ii.
King Dorephan regarded her with sadness in his eyes, and his voice was a low rumble when he spoke to her. “I am grateful for your condolences, Princess Zelda, and I would like to offer you my own as well.”
A king who lost his firstborn daughter. A princess who lost her father.
Hanging her golden head, Zelda whispered brokenly, “If I could have taken her place, I would have.”
The blatant resentment that rolled off the various members of the Zora’s Council of Elders was very nearly palpable as she spoke.
“Perhaps you should have,” Muzu spat back at her. “Perhaps then our Mipha would still be alive.”
Sidon looked aghast at the sentiment. “Muzu, how can you speak so cruelly toward Hyrule’s Queen?” The pair of tridents he kept strapped to his back jostled as he stepped forward, presumably to defend Zelda’s honor.
Although stricken with grief, King Dorephan said not a word in her defense. He simply sat on his throne, eyes downcast.
An unwelcome chill spread throughout Zelda’s body as she squared her shoulders and did her best to hide just how deeply wounded she felt after Muzu’s hurtful remarks. “I’m sorry for your loss, but I did the very best that I could to protect our people. I’m sorry that it was not enough.”
“You did everything that you could,” Sidon reassured her, and she thought that he might reach out again despite all the eyes that watched them. “And that is more than we could have ever asked for.”
Link remained at her side, his lips pressed into a firm line, his blue eyes cold and distant.
With a ragged sigh, King Dorephan bowed his head. “We are grateful for all that you’ve done to save Hyrule. You are both heroes in your own right, as are all the other Champions who gave up their lives to aid you.” He finally looked her in the eyes. “Their sacrifices were not in vain. May Mipha’s life and legacy continue to illuminate the world around us, and may her grace never be far when we need it.”
Zelda was overcome by guilt. For the briefest of moments, she allowed selfishness to take root in her heart as she wished, not for the first time, that Calamity Ganon had swallowed her whole.
iii.
Zelda couldn’t bear to continue watching Link stare aimlessly at Mipha’s statue, so she found herself sweeping through the Domain out to the East Reservoir, where Vah Ruta initially wreaked havoc. As she climbed her way up the crystal stairs that led up to the reservoir, she fought to keep her breathing steady.
When she arrived at the top of the stairs, her feet carried her across the smooth floor to where the platform dropped off into the reservoir. Lowering herself so that she could sit at the drop off, she watched the sunlight dance along the surface of the water. And soon, small droplets slipped from her eyes, skittering away to join the reservoir’s endless pool of tears.
Although they were both princesses, Zelda had never been especially close to Mipha. She’d found a mother in Urbosa, Chief of the Gerudo, and Revali had been a kindred spirit (perhaps he could have been more), but she never knew Mipha or Daruk much beyond what she could see from their meetings as Champions.
Link had always been closer to Mipha and Daruk. He’d grown up with Mipha as a child, and he’d feasted his way through Death Mountain with Daruk.
The Zora’s Council of Elders hadn’t been pleased to see Link return to the Domain. They spoke in hushed tones about him (“the Hylian”) and Mipha and a certain set of Zora armor that seemed to be of great importance. They weren’t pleased to see her either.
For their princess to die while another managed to survive… It was simply too painful.
“Princess Zelda!” A voice called from the stairs to the reservoir. “Are you well?” Prince Sidon emerged from the staircase, and she wasn’t quite sure if she was imagining the concern that shone in his amber eyes.
Hesitating for a moment, Zelda found herself twisting her hands in her lap nervously. “I’m quite alright, thank you.” She prayed that he’d return down the stairs so that the tears streaking down her cheeks weren’t apparent.
No such luck, it seemed.
Prince Sidon crossed the crystal floors to where she was seated, getting down on one knee at her side, “We grew worried when you did not return for the noontime meal. A terrible lynel used to dwell at the top of Shatterback Peak, and we do not know whether or not it still remains after Calamity Ganon’s defeat.”
“I’m sure that Link can see to it if you ask him,” Zelda replied, her legs swinging out from beneath her. She half expected him to leap to his feet and do exactly that.
But he didn’t.
Instead, he lowered himself to the floor so that he could sit properly beside her. “I am sorry,” he said, not quite meeting her eyes. Sitting at her side, he didn’t seem quite so large as she initially thought him to be.
“You have nothing to apologize for, Prince Sidon,” she protested, eyes seeking the pristine waters that flowed beneath the drop off.
A peculiar look crossed his handsome features. “Just Sidon will do.”
“Sidon, then,” she agreed. “If you will call me Zelda.”
Sidon nodded his head, “As you wish.”
They lapsed into a bout of silence, watching the sun cast its brilliant rays upon the glistening rocks and shimmering waters.
“This is not how I expected to win,” Zelda admitted slowly. “I spent years dreaming of the day that Link would finally storm the castle and defeat Calamity Ganon. One hundred years is a long time for dreaming when one’s only other bit of company is a monster.” She buried her head in her hands. “Nothing is as I remember it. Link is not the Link I once knew. Your sister and the other Champions died in my service. The Rito, Gorons, and Gerudo have all passed on. Impa is now old and gray. And even you… You’re not the child I once knew.” Her hands were trembling uncontrollably now.
Sidon rested a tentative hand on her back. “I cannot begin to understand the pain you’re experiencing now, Zelda.”
With a sudden viciousness, Zelda snapped up, her eyes wild. “I have no right to be in pain!” A broken sob escaped her lips as she tucked her legs up and curled inward on herself. “No one was exempt from loss during this war, yet I could have prevented it. It’s my fault, Sidon. My fault that everyone lost so much.”
“No, Zelda,” Sidon cut in with a swift shake of his head. “What happened was not your fault. I was but a child when this all began, but even I could see the amount of fervor with which you sought your sacred powers.” When he saw she was going to disagree, he added, “It’s alright to let go, Zelda, and it’s alright to grieve. What happened a century ago was almost entirely unprecedented, and you were but a child when it began too.”
A sob threatened to escape her lips, and she hung her head again. “Your people hate me.”
“We hate what happened,” Sidon said, cupping her face with cool fingers. “And we all hate that we lost my dear sister so soon.” He didn’t pull away, and she almost found herself leaning into his gentle touch. “But we could never hate our queen.” Then, pity filled his eyes. “For all that the people of Hyrule have lost, you have lost everything too.”
When Sidon opened his arms to her, Zelda allowed herself to find comfort in his embrace, tears slipping from her eyes and down to the reservoir before slowly ebbing away.
iv.
Before the arrival of the Calamity, goodbyes had never been one of Zelda’s strong suits. But here, now, she was faced with the hardest one yet since her rescue from Hyrule Castle. Granted, she hadn’t had many opportunities prior to this particular moment, but it still hurt all the same.
As Link returned to the Domain from a nearby stable with their horses in tow, he retrieved his pack from Zelda before stuffing it into one of the saddlebags. Then, he said his goodbyes to the various friends he’d made along his journey, allowing her space to do the same.
Meeting Sidon’s eyes, Zelda bowed her head slightly in thanks. “Link and I have been most grateful for your hospitality here at the Domain.”
Flashing her a brilliant smile, Sidon was quick to return the gesture. “The pleasure has been all mine, Princess. You’re welcome here anytime you’d like.”
“You haven’t been at all what I expected,” Zelda admitted again, her lips tugging upward. “Before our arrival here, Link… Link said that you’re a cheery optimist who believes that anything is possible.” At that, his smile faltered, and she was almost desperate to have it restored to his handsome features. “But I’ve found confiding in you to be most comforting.”
Sidon’s smile turned slightly bitter as he replied, “You of all people must know how difficult it can be to lead a nation. One must be strong, trustworthy, and capable of bringing forth a better future.” The sharp contours and contrasting curves of his strong body painted a beautiful picture under the golden sunlight as he continued, “I can only hope that I can be that for my people.”
With a small nod, Zelda almost found herself leaning forward, ever so slightly. “I understand the feeling better than most, I’m afraid.”
“The masks we must wear to protect those that we love can be quite painful.” Sidon took a small step closer, but she didn’t shy away from his advance. “But you do not need to wear one with me, Zelda.” His expression was serious, absent of the usual mirth that it normally held, and she found that she believed him.
Zelda moved forward, closing the gap between them, wrapping her arms around his waist. “I’m most grateful.” Her heart was twisting terribly in her chest, but his embrace somehow made it more bearable. “Thank you, Sidon. The same is true for me as well.” She didn’t want to let go. “I do believe that we’re well on our way to becoming… very dear friends.”
For a moment, Sidon was silent, though his arms around her tightened slightly. “Of course, Zelda. We can be anything you desire.”
They stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, before finally pulling apart. It was prudent not to linger too long with each other, lest the Council of Elders get any false ideas.
Flicking her eyes downward, Zelda resented the waves of sadness washing over her. It seemed that the Goddesses deemed her unworthy of every comfort she could find. “We will meet again, I believe,” she whispered, hardly trusting herself to speak.
At that, Sidon’s features pulled into a pleasant smile, one that caused warmth to spread across her cheeks. “No doubt about it.”
“Farewell, Sidon,” Zelda finally let him go, hoping that the way her bottom lip was trembling went unnoticed.
Though she wasn’t entirely certain, she could almost swear that Sidon’s smile faltered once again as Link helped her onto her horse and they turned to leave.
“Farewell, Zelda. Until we meet again.”