Work Text:
“Do you want to go home, Princess?”
Oh no.
That was a year ago, Link’s question beside a campfire the first night after the Calamity was over. Zelda’s first instinct had of course been refuse, but maybe it was the way that prayer gown clung to her skin, or the way her eyes begged for sleep, or the way her muscles ached for rest. Perhaps it had just been Link’s hopeful, somewhat nervous, and devastatingly kind expression while he waited for her answer-
“I’d love that, Link.”
At first, everything was wonderful. Zelda fell asleep against his back as his horse carried them to this “home” in Hateno Village, and then again in the bathtub, before finally laying down to rest upstairs.
The guilt hadn’t quite washed over her yet- until she woke the next morning (or afternoon, she couldn’t be sure), and realized she’d fallen asleep in his bed. He’d given her clean clothes, taken off her boots for her. Link had slept on his bedroll on the floor. The realization made Zelda feel sick.
She was able to push the feeling down for a while, the nauseating and almost paralyzing guilt, and distract herself with other things. Like learning to be able to eat, or telling stories to the children in the village. She started researching again, with Purah at the lab on the hill.
But it never left. It haunted her. Practically every time Link would insist at her refusals, or shrug off her thanks for all he’d done for her. Hylia, every time he so much as looked at her, Zelda felt terribly guilty.
He made them breakfast and dinner. Lunch, when he wasn’t out doing something else for her. She tried to help once, but couldn’t shape the rice balls correctly, which made her perhaps unreasonably frustrated. He gently stopped her and smiled, helping her shape them with his calloused hands around hers. It was sickeningly sweet, and it made Zelda feel humiliated. She didn’t try to help him anymore after that.
He bought her two simple dresses, different shades of blue, because he felt bad that all he could offer her were his simple tunics and trousers to wear. He felt bad. Zelda had practically laughed when he told her that, but Link just looked confused. So she’d slipped enough rupees to pay him back, and then some, into his satchel. It didn’t make her feel any better, because she was still sleeping in his bed and Link was still sleeping on the ground.
The first time Zelda had a nightmare was two weeks after she’d moved in with- (intruded on, taken advantage of)- her swordsman. In her sleep, she watched everyone who loved her die that night, like she was reliving memories that weren’t her own. Her father, the Champions, Link, all bleeding out until they were lifeless. She’d woken up crying and sweating, clutching at her chest like she could tear her own heart out.
Link was upstairs before Zelda could even take in her surroundings. Crouched over her, one hand on her shoulder. He was shirtless, and without his hair tie, his eyes wild and terrified. She tried to tell him she had a nightmare, and somehow he understood her between sobs. He sat on the edge of the bed.
“Breathe, Princess, please.”
“You were- I watched you-” She tried to breathe. She couldn’t. The one thing Link had ever asked of her, and she couldn’t even do that.
“Look at me, I’m here.” His voice was remarkably gentle. And then he took her hand, hesitating for only a moment before bringing it to his chest. He pressed her palm just above his heart. And Zelda his heartbeat, steady and strong against her shaking hand. He’s alive, he’s alive.
They breathed together for a while. Link’s skin was beginning to feel like it was burning underneath her touch. At last, she moved her hand away despite herself. She roughly wiped her tears.
“I don’t want you to sleep on the ground anymore.” Her voice broke on the words. And Link smiled at her, but it wasn’t taunting or teasing, just unbelievably kind.
“There’s nowhere else."
“Your bed?”
“I can’t let you sleep on a bedroll, Princess.” He said it like it was obvious, and Zelda was stubborn but tired. She knew that he wouldn’t argue with her about this, and she really didn’t want him to go back downstairs.
“What if we just… shared?” Zelda hadn’t really considered the implication, but Link’s silence, plus his wide eyes and positively red face, made her regret asking almost immediately. She finally looked away from those piercing blue eyes in embarrassment. “I just figured that… well, we won’t if you don’t want to. I don’t mean-”
“Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “Yeah, if you wish, Princess.”
That title- once again reminding her that she’d taken advantage of her knight’s kindness. Link had sworn an oath, all those years ago. He would serve her until he drew his last breath. Zelda’s request was an order from his Princess- he could not refuse even if he wanted to.
So they slept in his bed- he called it “their bed” but really, it had never been hers. Zelda had nightmares often. His strong arms would ground her; they’d breathe together, and he’d always fall asleep last and wake up first.
Link had a few nightmares, too. He’d jerk awake and sit up, his shoulders and back drenched in sweat. Tears silently spilling from his eyes. She wiped them as they fell, let him hold her until they stopped.
“Oh, Link…”
“I’m sorry I woke you.”
Infuriatingly selfless.
It was rather intimate, what they were doing- and sometimes it broke Zelda’s heart. But she’d noticed it was the only time Link ever needed her, the only time she felt somewhat less of a burden. So she’d take what she could get.
This new life of hers, post-end-of-the-world, was very different. Everything she’d ever known was gone. Zelda had grown up drowning in corsets, overhearing gossiping handmaidens, folding napkins in her lap, and crying herself to sleep in her grandiose bedroom.
Now, everything was all paint pots, ripe strawberries, loud laughter and dirty hands.
Miraculously, the boy who lost his memory was the only part of her new life that hadn’t changed much. The Link she knew now wasn’t much different from the one she knew Before, she’d decided after a few months of knowing him. He’d joked that Zelda was researching him. She couldn’t help herself! It was truly incredible, how despite dying and resurrecting, piecing his memory back together, he was strikingly similar to the man she knew a century ago.
Most would say he was feistier, more paranoid now. Slightly less serious and cracked a smile far more often. But he was still kind, patient, compassionate, protective… devastatingly handsome.
He was still the same Link she fell in love with.
It was selfish. She knew Link would take care of her forever if she wished, in his house, in his bed. Because that’s who he was and who he had always been- a man with an unwavering devotion to his duty.
“Why are you still here, Link? Please, just tell me why.”
“I have every reason to stay, Princess.”
The most political non-answer he could’ve given her.
Having fulfilled his role as the hero of legend, he could have chosen to finally live his own life without being tethered to the crown.
But here he was, making her breakfast and wiping her tears and buying her clothes. Zelda loved him simply and selfishly- keeping him at her side each day because she couldn’t bear to lose him.
He’d done so much for her, and the only way she thought she could come close to repaying him was by finally letting him go.
They’ve just had dinner when she finally gathers the courage to give up the only thing she’s ever truly loved.
They’re planting flowers at the front of the house, Link had picked her favorites, of course. The sun is starting to go down and casts a golden light all over the village, over Link’s sculpted figure and auburn hair. She’s not sure why he needs to garden without a shirt, or how he got that smear of dirt across his cheek. But he looks just as beautiful as the day she met him.
She blows a hair that falls from her ponytail out of her face as she thinks about how she’s going to phrase this. Come right out and say it? Start up a nice conversation first?
She chooses the former.
Her hands stop moving in the soil, and Link immediately notices, looking at her expectantly. This might be the last time she’ll ever be this close to him again- his tanned cheeks, the dusting of freckles over his nose, his eyes that were the same blue as the flowers they planted together. Hylia, I’m going to miss him.
“I think I should go,” she says, before she can change her mind, and perhaps she’s spoken a little too loudly and a little too fast. She stands up and wipes her hands on her trousers, putting enough distance between them so that she won’t do something foolish.
Link blinks. Twice, three times. He has that same blank, stoic expression he always had Before. Then confusion riddles his face, his brows furrowed.
“What?” He says, standing up to level with her.
Zelda wishes he would have mercy on her. She wishes he wouldn’t make this any more difficult than it already is- she’d half expected Link to immediately sigh in relief and help her pack her things.
She swallows hard and takes a deep breath.
“I’ve asked Impa if I can stay in Kakariko Village for a while. A long time.” Link just stares at her, his expression unchanging. She clears her throat. “I… think I should go,” she repeats lamely, her voice small.
“Why?” He asks, frowning. Zelda’s throat is starting to hurt.
“I’ve overstayed my welcome, Link. You know that.” Her vision becomes blurry, and she’s horrified when she realizes her eyes are flooding with tears. He shakes his head and squints at her.
“Overstayed your- Zelda, I don’t understand.” Her heart stutters- it’s not very often that he uses her name. She remembers a time when she thought it romantic whenever he did. Link never said her name with venom, like her father- never with pity, like Impa.
She tries to blink away her tears as he scrubs a hand over his face. “I’ll go with you,” he says.
“No, you won’t.” She hadn’t meant for her tone to be so harsh.
Remarkably, Link looks hurt. His frown deepens, and his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. And suddenly, Zelda thinks she’s lost her nerve- but then she remembers she’s wearing his tunic, and he’s planting her favorite flowers, and his eyes look tired from waiting for her to fall asleep last night.
“Your duty to this kingdom has been more than fulfilled. You don’t deserve to carry that burden anymore.” A tear falls down her cheek. When Link steps closer, she steps back.
“I don’t want you to go,” he says simply, and his voice sounds like he’s straining. Zelda shakes her head and hopes he still hasn’t noticed that she’s crying.
“Do you want to go?” He asks softly, like he can see right through her. He looks devastated, and it’s Zelda’s turn to be confused now, because this is the opposite reaction she thought he was going to have.
She opens her mouth to lie, then closes it again. Tears are falling freely now, and Zelda supposes that since she owes him everything she has, she can at least give him the truth.
“No…” she says, a broken whisper, and wipes a palm over her cheek roughly. Link steps forward again, gently touches her arm. She can’t bring herself to move away.
“Then don’t.” He’s pleading with her. “I want you to stay, Princess.”
She pushes his hand off her arm.
“No. You’re only saying that because of your oath.” He looks desperate now, and it makes her chest ache. “I have always been your obligation.”
“How can you say that?” His tone is almost angry, and his eyes are shining. It surprises her. “You know that’s not true.”
“Isn’t it?” She says, exasperated- she’s tired of talking about this now and wishes he would just let her go. Let her at least have a shred of dignity left. “Before, Link… you spent every moment following me around, and I treated you terribly-“
“Princess-“ He starts.
“Please,” she holds up a hand, stops him. She’d already apologized a thousand times before, and he’d already insisted that it wasn’t necessary. “I failed at the one thing I was born to do. We lost everything, I let you die.”
A tear falls down his cheek and smears the dirt there. It makes her heart ache almost unbearably, but she’s already started, so she continues- “And now, you’re still here, offering me everything you have when I have done nothing in return…” her voice breaks on a sob and her arms fall at her sides weakly. “Link, I just want you to be happy,” she whispers.
He offers her a sad smile and takes her hand in his own. His touch feels like it’s burning her.
“Of course I’m happy,” he says quietly, like it’s obvious, and it’s so sweet it makes the pit in her stomach feel deeper somehow. Link could never lie to her, and she trusted him more than anyone else- but he had never known a life where he wasn’t tethered to her. Link did not know what happiness felt like.
Her face is hot and so is her hand.
“Just let me go, Link,” she begs him. His smile disappears. His eyes widen, and his face flushes like he’s starting to panic, realizing she’s made up her mind. “Make this easy for me.”
“Princess, please.”
She turns away from him and starts to walk into the house, unable to look him in the eyes anymore. The eyes that are starting to make him look a lot like some kind of wounded dog.
“Are you going to make me say it, Zelda?” he asks.
If he’s trying to catch her attention, he’s succeeded. She turns to look at him over her shoulder apprehensively. She’s standing in the doorway, and he’s standing in front of her favorite flowers. He doesn’t have a shirt, but he has tears falling down his face and dirt on his cheek.
“The house, the clothes, the bed… I don’t know if any of that falls under my oath, but that has never been what this is about to me.” He gestures between them frantically, pointing to her and then to his chest. For a moment, she thinks he’s going to continue, because he opens his mouth and then closes it again. He looks like he’s in pain. Her mostly stoic, entirely immovable force of a knight.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
For the first time, she realizes that maybe she does. Maybe she just doesn’t believe him, or maybe she wants to hear him say it, or maybe she doesn’t. But perhaps she’s always known in her heart.
Perhaps she’s felt it in the strong arms wrapped around her in the dead of night, rain against the windows and thunder on the roof. She’s tasted it in the fruitcake he makes her, heard it in his laugh when she asks if she can have a bite of it before dinner. She’s seen it in his eyes when she reads or researches or cooks or gardens.
“I think you do.” His voice doesn’t waver now, because he’s challenging her. He can see through her; he always has. She’s already lost. Shouldn’t she just give in? Lay down her sword and stop denying something that had been woven into their destinies by the Goddess herself?
She’s always been stubborn, competitive, perhaps naive.
“I’ve always been your Princess, Link, I’ll never be more than that to you.” He repeats her words to himself under his breath as if he can’t even believe she spoke them.
Link looks so hurt, and Zelda’s heart breaks at the sight of him, but she can’t undo what’s already been done. She can’t take back what she said just minutes ago, she can’t unsay those cruel words to him from Before, she can’t undo Link dying. Her mouth tastes like venom, but maybe this is the bravest she’s ever been.
When he doesn’t say anything more, Zelda supposes she’s won. She chokes on a sob and hangs her head, the two of them sitting in painful silence.
“Let me go, then.”
That’s not what she’s expecting him to say. Zelda can hear her heartbeat in her ears and accidentally lets her jaw fall open in surprise, before quickly closing it again.
She could barely even remember a time when Link hadn’t been her knight. Her heart aches in protest at the thought of him not being at her side anymore, and Hylia, wasn’t that selfish? She bites down on the inside of her cheek to keep herself from telling him she loves him and she’s sorry.
Even if Link did not love her, Link loved to fight. He loved his sword, and he loved protecting his kingdom- and now he was giving that up because of her. She realizes that perhaps she’s a burden to him no matter their situation, that their intertwined destinies would always haunt both of them. Tears fill her eyes again and spill over.
“Let me go so I can speak freely, Princess.” His voice is sharp and demanding, a contradiction to the respectful title she wishes he wouldn’t use anymore. Link has never, ever raised his voice at her. She swallows and lifts her chin high, taking a deep and shaky breath.
“Sir Link… You’ve fulfilled your role as the Hero of Legend.” Her voice shakes and there’s no doubt that he’s noticed, and despite his hard expression, it looks like he might still be crying too. “You’ve been an exceptional knight, to the Guard and myself. Hyrule is... eternally indebted to you.”
Her palms hurt from where her fingers are balled into fists. She can’t help but think that he looks beautiful like this, the golden light illuminating every plane of his face, his build- Zelda closes her eyes and tries to engrain the sight behind her eyelids.
“And, being out of harm’s way of the Calamity… I’m no longer in need of your service.”
Link makes a strangled noise and looks to the sky as tears fall down his cheeks. She can’t stand to look at him like this now, and hangs her head to stare at her feet. Her heart aches unbearably, unlike anything from her past- trying to awaken her power, not even the unimaginable grief of the Calamity. Zelda cannot fathom how much she loves this boy, and now she has to leave him all alone.
Then, he steps towards her. Closer and closer, until his feet are in her view, despite her tears fogging her vision. Another moment of silence, and then she feels his warm touch, always devastatingly gentle, find the spot where her jaw met her neck.
Despite the butterflies that erupt in her stomach, she shakes her head as tears fall onto his hand. Link brings his other palm to her face and lifts it to meet her eyes.
His brows are furrowed and his mouth is pulled into a thin line, cheeks stained with tears. Link looks like he might be conflicted, his features creating the same expression he does when he’s about to make a big decision. Zelda can’t help the confused face she gives him in return.
“I love you, Zelda,” he says. Her heart stops. “I always have.”
His voice breaks and he rubs his thumb over the tears that fall down her reddening cheeks. She, no doubt, looks like a fool- jaw open in shock and eyes impossibly wide. A warm feeling blossoms in her chest, through her ribs all the way down to where her hands reach up to meet his.
Because Thank Hylia. Link, the most compassionate and kind and courageous boy she’s ever known, loves her. The same boy who would throw himself in front of a Calamity for her, the same boy who made her fruitcake and planted her favorite flowers- would do all of those things a thousand times over because he loves her, even without his title as her appointed knight.
And doesn’t hearing the words make it feel so much more real?
“How can I make myself more clear?” He asks brokenly, and Zelda realizes she hasn’t said anything for some time. She can’t stand to see him look so heartbroken anymore, and can’t help the smile that spreads across her face, the waterly laugh of pure relief that bubbles from her chest, the deep shade of red her cheeks become. Link looks surprised at first, then returns her smile with a confused look in his eyes.
“I can think of a couple ways,” she says, squeezing his hands where they meet her face, giving him a look that she hopes somehow says, I love you more than you’ll ever know. More than words could ever say.
Link grins. She nods.
And then he kisses her like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do.