Thanks to Peaches732 for beta-reading.
The glass of the windowpane was cold to the touch, reflecting the chill world outside. A figure moved on the ground below and her gaze darted to it instinctually, even though she knew full well it was only her father beginning chores in true farmer fashion – before dawn. She had her own work to do, but as of late she would hold off until the sun's first rays illuminated the clouds in a soft, pink glow. Sunrise had ceased to exist for those horrid seven years, and she was still convinced that any day now she would rise only to be confronted with a dead brown sky.
She completed her morning ritual, releasing a soft sigh of relief when pure light peeked over the misty trees of the Lost Woods. With nervous apprehension gone for another twenty-four hours, a subtle melancholy slipped into its place as she began her chores. The deserted pen in the stable, the empty hooks in the tack room, the unused feed bucket - all declared the missing presence of a certain Belgian mare.
She could not even sing her mother's song anymore. Knowing that not an enthusiastic whinny but silence would greet the tune's end was always enough to cut it off in an abrupt sob. Yet even that was not as hard as hearing that same song in the wind, the notes of his ocarina clear even from great distances. In truth, she was not sure which she missed more – her 'child', or the one to whom she had entrusted her.
Yes, she had heard the rumors from the marketplace. He was seen so often in the Princess' company that even he did not try denying them. And so when her thoughts turned to him, she would ignore them as best she could. There was no point in dwelling on what she could not have.
If only her dreams would follow the same logic.
She had trouble remembering the last time her evening hallucinations didn't include the hero. Sometimes he wore the weathered green tunic she knew well; other times his outfit was rustic cotton and hemp, more suited to a rancher than a warrior. Every dream found them in a clear, shallow spring, its sparkling waters spilling over a raised stone lip in a soothing cadence. They would converse – words to soon be lost in the obscurity of waking. But what she could always remember was his friendliness. Tenderness might be a more accurate description; sometimes, during a comfortable silence, he would meet her gaze. In these moments, when she dwelt in those sapphire eyes, she was sure he was looking just as deeply in her azure ones. Then she would bashfully look away, turn to her own image mirrored in the crystal pool – and awake with a start.
Her reflection had green eyes.
It was a jarring discrepancy, to be sure; yet she couldn't help but treasure the visions. She was unsure whether it was hope or a delusion, but though she knew he would never be hers in this life, maybe this was a sign she'd have another chance in a second one.
The clouds took on sunset's golden color as she wearily approached the spring. Dipping her feet in the cool, lapping waters, she leaned back and sighed. The children had insisted taking this last opportunity to play with her as an unwedded girl, convinced that matrimony would make her as tedious as their own parents. She had obliged, secretly sharing their belief that the village's elders needed to loosen up a bit; but after today, she could hardly blame said adults for their 'dullness'. Only the goddesses themselves could hope to match the energy of those young ones.
As the healing properties of the pool began to take effect, her hands toyed with the nearby horse grass while her mind finally succumbed to the musings it had been unable to dwell on earlier. While all the villagers were behind the marriage – had hoped for it since she was born – they were still surprised that it was happening. Although they did not understand the whole of what had transpired during last year's events, they could plainly see that he was not the simple farm boy he had been. And since he had been called to the castle at the request of the princess – multiple times – many had suspected a budding romance between them.
In truth, she too had suffered the fear of a possible betrayal at first. But after only a few evenings at this very spring, she realized that he had not changed as much he appeared to have; or rather, he had changed in a different manner. When he left, he had been a sheltered, small-town goat herder who learned a bit of swordplay in his free time and whose heart belonged to her. Now he was a traveled warrior who had seen darker moments than those her nightmares could create, who was now constantly on call to travel wherever Hyrule might need him – and who was more devoted to her than ever. It was amazing how precious she had become to him after he almost lost her.
The day's fatigue slowly crept up on her relaxed form, and her head drooped slightly. The fairies dancing above the surface became almost hypnotic in their movements, especially when one also watched ripples form at the base of the small waterfall. Her gaze slid across the pool until she was watching her reflection's white skin and red hair sway and wave with the water's movement.
Her head tilted in half-conscious confusion. Red hair?
Quiet footsteps alerted her to a presence behind her, and she turned to meet her father's warm, but sad smile. He came forward and settled in beside her without a word, and she leaned against his sturdy shoulder. For a long time they sat in silence, their distorted images in the spring doing likewise – although she noticed hers had the proper golden-brown locks again.
"You ready?"
The answer to her father's question was obvious, but she found herself unable to answer immediately. Foreign memories of experiences that she never had rapidly passed through her mind: hopeful childhood, heartbroken adolescence, a lonely death. And when she did respond, when her thoughts were once again hers, she had the inexplicable feeling that her words held more meaning than she understood.
"Of course – I've waited a lifetime for him."