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Though she had witnessed his entire journey leading up Calamity Ganon’s defeat, the last thing Zelda expected was for Link to revert back to his old self as soon as they reunited.
Perhaps revert was too harsh a term, as it implied Link regressed into a worse version of himself, which was far from the case. Despite not fancying him for a majority of their time together, Zelda would never say there was a poor version of Link. He was always attentive, observant, and sturdy. In fact, he was the strongest person she’d ever met, and as a member of the royal family, it seemed Zelda was only able to interact with the strong.
Admiration aside, it was difficult to hide her disappointment when Link still refused to say a single word to her, even after their hundred-year hiatus. She was hoping they would at least be able to bond over a shared trauma, considering nobody else would remotely understand what Zelda had been through, and absolutely no one could know of the burdens Link carried due to his near inability to share his thoughts and feelings.
Maybe it was asking too much, for a knight to view a princess as an equal, especially if said knight had known no other lifestyle other than that of servitude. The fact that it seemed he was still missing most of his memories made her wish even more unlikely to come true.
Zelda couldn’t help but stare at the champion’s back as he set up camp for the both of them with the same diligence as one-hundred years prior. It was their first night together again, and while she wasn’t exactly expecting a heartfelt conversation by the fire, Zelda couldn’t help but hope Link would at least ask her about something, anything. Out of the two of them, Zelda was far more curious. She was lucky enough to indirectly witness Link’s post-slumber navigation through Hyrule, so she had no burning questions. On the other hand, Link knew nothing about how Zelda was faring outside from her physical appearance and her relief that she was no longer Ganon’s warren. She was able to restrain herself from bombarding him with personal inquiries for their entire first day together, save for the first words she said to him after their reunion: “Do you really remember me?”
Of course, he never answered, though he did bow to her. What would have caused her to storm off in a huff all those years ago made her burst into tears in that moment. Though it was mere hours ago, Zelda felt it had been ages since she cried, despite the wind reminding her of her outburst as it prickled the raw skin around her eyes.
She subconsciously let out a groan as she poked around her puffy eye bags, which caused Link to put his attempt to light a fire on hold. Zelda could tell he was looking at her, but she kept focus on the flint in his hands. She wondered if she would be able to see her reflection in the material if Link held it at the right angle.
It was possible he was waiting for her to say something, but if that was the case, she was not going to oblige. After a few more moments of staring, he went back to striking the flint with a dull blade they found in the woods. Zelda felt the corner of her lips twitch in growing unease with every spark flown into the air.
“Why are you using such a rusty sword?” Zelda broke the silence. “I… You know I’ve seen you light fires with the Master Sword, yes?”
Link paused for a fraction of a second after she spoke up, but continued to use the same weapon.
“Are you embarrassed to use it for such a minor task because of what the sword stands for?” No answer. “Maybe the voice inside it told you to stop using it so much? I still can’t hear it, so I wouldn’t know. Or perhaps now that you’re in my presence again you feel it would be improper to use it like you used to? Because I’d much rather you misuse it if it means we can get a fire going sooner, since it’ll be dark any–”
Zelda cut herself off when she saw Link’s lips were pursed: a tell-tale sign that he was attempting to speak. His eyes shot up to make contact with hers as soon as she stopped speaking before they darted away just as quick.
Ah, Zelda sighed internally, now I’m certain he won’t speak to me.
Link dropped the worn-down weapon and for a moment Zelda wondered if he was actually going to pull out the Master Sword as he reached for the Sheikah Slate. The curious little device had the ability to store real-life objects such as food, clothes, and of course, weaponry. It was a feature Zelda was completely oblivious to when the Slate was in her primary possession, but now, it was where Link kept all his belongings, including the Sword of Legend itself.
He did manifest a sword, but not the one referenced. Instead, Link wielded an intimidatingly large Great Flameblade, and struck the firewood in one swift blow. The wood cracked and groaned as the fire made it bend to its will. Zelda’s eyes stayed glued to the flames as Link put the elemental weapon away. He sat back down with a subdued huff.
“It gets dark fast this time of year,” Zelda changed the subject.
Link hummed in what she believed to be a response, though it registered more as an agitated moan. She glanced up at him at the same time he opened his mouth to say,
“I don’t like that Sword.”
Zelda blinked in shock. Technically, it hadn’t been a century since she last heard Link speak; he was quite talkative after his resurrection, but it was the first time he had spoken to her in over a hundred years. She’d almost thought she would have to wait another hundred just to get him to say one word.
Zelda shook her head slightly before latching onto the opportunity to get Link to speak more. “What do you mean?” She could always guess, but she already was guilty of assuming far too much about her knight than she would’ve liked to in the past.
Link picked at some of the scars on his hand, which indicated just how much of a toll the discussion was taking on him. It seemed it was now his turn to stare into the fire as a means to avoid eye contact for as long as possible.
“It’s okay to dislike what the Sword stands for,” Zelda opted for a more reassuring route. “The Master Sword is not a representation of you, nor is it a part of who you are. It’s more like… a companion. One that you certainly do not have to get along with.” She winced at how preachy her words sounded.
She was about to give up on their mostly one-sided conversation, when Link spoke up once more.
“I don’t want to use it again.” He briefly squeezed his eyes shut tight, like talking was physically painful. Given how little he actually talked, it possibly was. “I don’t want to use it again, because I don’t want to be in a position where that Sword may be our only salvation.”
For the first time, it occurred to Zelda that Link may be just as terrified of the future as she was.
“We could re-seal it,” Zelda suggested. “I read in multiple history books that many legendary heroes of the past would seal the Sword away when it finished serving its purpose. If that’s the case, then I don’t see why we wouldn’t be able to.”
“I…” Link started, but shook his head. Zelda could see signs of his voice retreating. He would most likely be unable to say anything for the rest of the night. However, Link didn’t need to finish his sentence for her to know all the thoughts he was unable to verbalize:
I can’t seal the sword /
I am afraid /
I fear we may need it again some day /
I can’t let it out of my sight /
I won’t be able to relax without it on me /
I am nothing without it /
By simply looking at Link’s eyes, Zelda saw more words buzzing around inside of him than in the loftiest of dictionaries from the castle library. It was a newfound experience, being able to pick up on his thoughts with more ease, though a heartbreaking one. She tore her eyes away from him in fear that if she held eye contact for any longer the tears from before would spring up again.
“We don’t have to talk about it,” Zelda decided with a clap of her hands. “I mean, everyone knows discussing heavy subjects before eating is practically a crime! It’s far past sundown at this point and we haven’t eaten once. I haven’t eaten in years, literally!”
Link seemed eager for both the subject change and the prospect of a meal, even if he’d be the one cooking it. It seemed to work out fine for the both of them; Link loved to cook, and watching him prepare meals was almost cathartic for Zelda. Though she watched him cook numerous times from afar, it was the first time in ages she was finally able to be with him in person as he did it. To say Zelda missed Link’s cooking was a gross understatement.
She relished in the scent of a fortified pumpkin hitting her nose as Link gutted one. The sound of him delicately setting seeds aside on a tin plate nearly made her break out in goosebumps. Zelda felt her throat tighten once more, and silently cursed at herself for being hypersensitive. She simply couldn’t help herself from getting emotional at the sight of Link enjoying himself. Even if he wasn’t smiling, Zelda knew cooking was one of his favorite pastimes. It was possibly the only time her knight ever felt truly at ease.
“Oh no,” Zelda accidentally mumbled aloud when she felt her eyes re-fill with tears. She covered her face with her hands, but could tell that Link had already set the pumpkin aside along with the rest of the vegetables he’d brought out.
“I’m fine,” she spoke through her hands, the sound muffled and a bit wet. She sniffled, far louder than desired, and let out an equally snotty cough of embarrassment. “I just haven’t been in nature for so long,” her voice cracked, “I must’ve developed some awful allergies!”
Zelda almost shrieked in reflex when she felt a hand touch her shoulder. She wiped her eyes to look up at Link, who was staring at her with a similar expression to that of when the Calamity first re-woke.
“Perhaps I need a fairy tonic to cure my sniffles,” she said. Instantly, Link sprang into action at the sound of the princess in need. Without taking his eyes off her, Link reached with one hand to pull two glass bottles with little wings on them out of his pack, and took Zelda’s damp hand with his other one. He hesitated a bit before he gently rubbed her palm as a means to coax it into relaxation. Link then set one of the tonics aside and balanced the other in-between his fingers. He began to peel back her own fingers until her hand lay flat on his kneecap. He placed both the bottles on her hand and gently pushed her fingers inward until they gripped the tonics on their own.
Zelda stared blankly at pink liquid swirling in the bottles for a bit, as she’d not quite fully registered what happened until Link had already shuffled away and brought his attention back to their meal. She felt her face heat up as she replayed the memory in her head, and her fingers twitched at the thought of Link’s warm hands back on her own.
As Zelda set the bottles aside for later, Link let out a sound of contentment (a habit she noticed he did with every successful meal) when he removed the pot lid to test the stew. The smell of pumpkin re-filled the air, this time reinforced with buttery vegetables and warm spices. Link poured them both a fair portion and set both bowls down onto the grass, with one placed closer to Zelda.
“Pumpkin stew,” she couldn’t help but grin at the sight of her dinner – one of Zelda’s favorite comfort foods. “What a perfect meal to reactivate my taste buds.”
Link smiled softly at her before his attention focused on his food, which he slurped down without ever touching his spoon. On the other hand, Zelda went at a much slower pace, taking time to blow on her spoon before putting it into her mouth.
“Mm,” she nearly moaned. “This is fantastic! It’s so much better than I even vaguely remembered!” All her etiquette training flew out the door when she mirrored Link by picking the bowl up to drink from.
They both had an additional serving, which was enough to empty the original pot the stew was made in. Zelda offered to wash their dishes in the nearby river, but Link shook his head. He signed dangerous to her, and she scoffed.
“Why don’t you come with me?”
Lazy, he signed. Along with his memory, it was apparent Link had also lost most of his sign-language. From what Zelda while watching his journey, a few Zora were in the process of ironically re-teaching him the language he initially taught to them from when he’d stayed there for long periods of time.
“We can worry about the dirty pots tomorrow then,” Zelda shrugged. “For now, bed seems like our best option before we plan out our journey to Zora’s Domain.”
Link already rolled out quilts and pillows for the two of them, so all that was left was to crawl under everything and get some well-deserved rest. Zelda was so exhausted her body registered fatigue as some kind of adrenaline, which made it even more difficult to ascertain just how sleepy she was exactly. Link looked equally tired, though in a more standard manner. She was certain he would have no trouble falling asleep as per usual. Witnessing Link’s journey included bearing witness to his never-ending nightmares. Yet through it all, he always managed to fall right back asleep like a baby when they caused him grief.
Zelda patted her quilt down while Link gently doused the fire with some water, leaving only a few twigs clinging to life. She felt her eyes grow unfocused as she stared at the wood flickering with a deep red hue. Link seemed to notice her not properly in her bedding and made a quiet sound in the back of his throat, which was enough to zap Zelda out of her trance and wriggle under the thick blanket.
“Sorry,” she whispered, knowing full well Link would not be unable to close his eyes until she was warm and snug. “Thanks for the meal, and, well… everything else I suppose.” She paused for a second to see if Link would respond in any manner, though she couldn’t help but pity him when she noticed just how sleep-deprived his face looked. “Goodnight,” she decided to leave it at that, and rolled over on her side just like how she used to sleep all those years ago.
Falling asleep was a far more difficult task than Zelda remembered. Time seemed to be against her even now; it moved at the same speed for everyone, so why did it always have to feel agonizingly slow for her? It felt as if she had been attempting to rest for hours, but a part of her knew it was only around forty minutes. Link already seemed to be comfortably dreaming, and the sound of him lightly breathing was her only other company besides the crickets and critters going about their evenings.
Zelda rubbed her temple in frustration. Her body was begging for rest, but seemed unable to get her eyes to stay closed. She supposed she couldn’t blame her body for acting the way it did. Every time she shut her eyes, Zelda’s brain superimposed stressful images from her last time in Hyrule – from the guardians’ trekking mercilessly through her kingdom to the sight of Link’s previously dead body limp in the grass.
It was all too much to bear, even now. Although Zelda had an entire century to lament her losses, her battle with Ganon took up so much of her focus that she was never able to truly come to terms with what happened. The temple rubbing turned into digging her nails into the skin on her face, which escalated to smacking her forehead in an attempt to shut her brain off.
Link shot up from his position from the sound and immediately his eyes were on Zelda, full of the same concern as last time. The guilt hit her immediately, his deep eye bags reminding her she was the reason they were there in the first place.
“You should go back to bed,” Zelda attempted to dismiss him. “I’m just having a little trouble falling asleep.”
Link, being Link, completely ignored her request and instead moved next to her. Zelda felt her breath catch in her throat when he leaned in dangerously close to her face. She didn’t know where to look, and her brain shouting anywhere but the eyes backfired when her gaze landed on Link’s lips. They were slightly parted and puffy due to his body still in sleep-mode.
Link surprised her once more when he closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against Zelda’s. He inhaled slowly and held his breath for around five seconds, then formed his lips into an ‘o’ shape and exhaled. Zelda could feel his warm breath against her own lips, making her shiver slightly.
He repeated this once more before glancing up at Zelda expectantly. When she realized what he asked of her, they breathed in and out together with their foreheads still touching. They went through the breathing exercises three more times, then Link backed up to gently brush some of Zelda’s hair off to the side. Once satisfied, he made his way back to his own blankets, but was unmistakably positioned closer to her than before.
Zelda brought her fingers to her lips, tracing every nerve that Link’s breath touched. She swallowed thickly, and repeated the breathing exercise on her own as an ironic means to get her brain to stop reeling. Ignoring the lightheaded feeling she received from Link being the closest to her he’s ever been, Zelda genuinely felt more relaxed after taking the time to just breathe. Link had reminded her that even if she would have nightmares, he would be there for her when she’d wake up.
Zelda dreamed of holding Link’s hand.