How long had it been? Too long, Link knew, as he lay awake on the warm sands. He left Hyrule ten or so years ago, not long after becoming a boy again. His wanderlust hadn't bothered him as a child, but now it did. He had no idea of the seasons in his homeland- the new places he'd seen were their own set of rules against the seasons. Somehow he followed his heart to places that needed him, doing what he saw now as meaningless tasks- slaying mammoth lizards here and there, striking down the wicked and cruel with a sharp wit and a sharper blade- certainly not the legendary Sword of Evil's Bane, goddesses no- that was resting peacefully in the temple of time, to not be seen again by himself or Zelda.
Link stared up at the strange stars, looking for the familiar image of Nayru's eye- a massive cloud that dazzled with stars. Despite knowing this constellation from his childhood, he had not seen it in years. Now he stared at new collections, a few which he gave crude shapes and names to, for following his way. He looked at the one he called Zora's Fin, a simple arch of stars that pointed, according to the setting sun, northward. Link sat up and dusted some of the glittery white sand from his clothing. His horse was standing nearby, eyeing him resentfully. He'd given her a few days of restful, slow riding, and she was just learning to take that for granted. They would wait until morning before heading back to the dense forests and grassy moors of Hyrule.
-
Zelda was once again writing on a piece of parchment, her quill scratching away. She was alone in her chambers, a fire crackling in the stone hearth behind her. Her hand was moving faster than the ink could dry, and she was being careful not to smear it. She did not even know if Link had the ability to read, having not seen him in years. Her only reassurance that he was even alive was the fact that her triforce hummed gently when she thought about him, which was quite often. The letters she wrote to him were at first rather civil and simple, friendly, detached. They started with things like, "Be careful out there!" and "Tell me everything!" Over time, they became less like letters and more like personal journal entries, her father's sudden death, her concern for her people, and her painful, unending loneliness. Even with servants, a ladies' court, countless guards and the other sages to commune with, her heart continued to ache for a true connection with someone, anyone.
Her father, a procrastinator in everything, had finally been working on a list of possible suitors for his daughter when the angel of death took his hand. Since then, there had been so much piled upon the young queen's shoulders- funeral arrangements, estates to manage, people to address, dignitaries to inform. The list of suitors she had glanced at once or twice while going through her father's things. It was a dismal list- Hyrule was so large, they had friendly connections with some of the neighboring countries, but it took weeks of travel to get to the others. Her father had never gotten to these places to propose marriage to his daughter, which would have been quite the lucrative offer. Either procrastination, a fierce fatherly protection of his only child, or the disdain at turning over lands to another kingdom entirely had prevented these negotiations happening sooner.
The people were whole-heartedly supportive of Zelda, which she found heartening- a few grumbling dukes were quieted when they realised how capable she was (for a woman, of course). But with the shock of her father's death wearing off, some had been convinced there was need for a king, certainly not out of concern for Zelda's health, but because it "wasn't right" to have a woman running a KINGdom. Snickers and rumors abounded that Zelda was damaged goods by the hands of a few rowdy knights, others that she didn't even care for the stronger sex, and still more that she had become hideously disfigured in an equestrian accident, and no prince in his right mind would marry her for fear of equally disfigured children. These last rumors, though, were put to rest at a solemn Kerzenacht ceremony a few years back, when she appeared in the snowy castle market to hand out food and clothing to the needy.
Zelda hissed and dropped her quill carefully back into its inkwell- her right wrist throbbed in pain. The royal doctor had insisted on her resting it more and writing less, and she'd failed to pay attention. To take her mind off the pain, she stood and walked to the window, peering out at the winter day. The sky was a deep steely grey, and the snow fell gently atop the massive drifts. Even Death Mountain looked bleak, quietly puffing a small cloud of smoke now and again, like an old man's pipe. This was normal winter in Hyrule- the worst snowstorm Zelda could remember in a while, but normal for this northern region. She pressed her aching wrist against the stained glass of her window, and the bitter chill helped to ease the throbbing ache. She smiled at memories of winters long past, waking up early on Noelmas to open presents from Father Nichol, making snow fairies, and attending the celebration feast at midnight on Kerzenacht.
She turned her head away and went to her little desk, tucking the half-written letter away in a drawer with hundreds of others. She'd never sent any out, not sure how to reach him with any. Zelda carefully slid the drawer closed and decided to head downstairs for something to eat.
-
Link wrapped his heavy cloak closer around himself, frowning and also trying to warm his horse's poor flanks with the ends of it. "Forgot this part of home," he muttered darkly, rubbing his hands together and then pressing them along his horse's neck. She snorted gently, continuing on carefully through the drifts nearly brushing along Link's boots.
The bleak landscape made all of Hyrule look smaller than Link remembered, and the castle appeared as a child's plaything in the distance. They topped a small hill, and he carefully dismounted, the snow up to his waist. Grasping Epona's reins in one hand, he led her along the edge of the hill, feeling carefully with his feet for the footpath he knew would be around here. Even with careful shuffling, he nearly twisted his ankle when he stumbled into a small pit, and letting go of his horse, sunk down into the snow to see what it was. "These look like… carriage wheels or something?" he muttered. It shouldn't have surprised him that Hyrule's pathways would have become wider and used by wheeled carts. Link shuffled through the snow to give himself an idea of how wide they were, and led Epona along by her reins on the outside of the ruts, himself inside of them. They approached the castle slowly, Link almost certain his legs were going numb in the snow. He hailed to the castle guards, watching them over the distance. After a few minutes, they waved back, and started heading towards him. Their neat, smart armor, heavy fur cloaks, and clean shaven faces only served to remind Link of his own beggar's appearance, but even if they did not believe he was a trusted friend of the princess, they would ensure he had some warmth and comfort. "My name is Link, I am a good friend of the Princess Zelda," he explained. The soldiers nodded and brought him inside. "Come, we'll take you to get something warm to eat, and your horse will be put in a stable." The soldier reached for Epona's reins, at which she began to buck nervously. "No, no no no- I'll do it. She's very skittish." Link patted her snout and nodded to the soldiers, keeping her comforted.
Link was soon sitting at a small wooden table sipping at a bowl of broth, trying not to chug the scalding liquid. A few soldiers had been sent to ask the queen if she knew of this fellow, or if he was not simply crazed from the cold. As a few remaining men watched him, though, they were strongly convinced that this tanned man was in his right mind. He looked around from time to time, studying the place as if he were a curious forest animal. Zelda had been in the kitchen, sitting with a few scullery maids (something she'd done since she was little- though she was of royal blood, she was no more special than the women who cooked for her, and had been taught this all her life) and nibbling on a honey biscuit when the reserved guard came to ask her about this stranger. Her pale face set him on edge, but when she stood up briskly and demanded to be taken to this man, the guard met with obedience- what more could he do?
Guards jumped to attention in her path. She shoved open the door to the soldier's quarters, breathing hard from her brisk walk, face flushed. She looked around at the familiar gleaming armor of her knights, then at the deeply tanned stranger sitting at the table, who hurried to drop his half-empty bowl and stand. They stared at each other for a long time, taking in the changes in the other's face and stature. Link knew her and didn't at once- he knew the child, but not the woman she'd become. Zelda, always a little shy, was the first to break their eye contact. She waved her hand at the guards around them. "Dismissed- go, um… just- just go," she mumbled, grabbing a nearby chair to brace herself.
The guards eyed her, then Link, and slowly shuffled out the door. She went back to gazing at him, their eyes locked, Zelda searching, Link studying, sizing her up. He finally cracked and broke into a grin. Zelda choked out a laugh, then fell into the chair she'd previously been clutching, laughing harder. Link joined, falling back into his chair as well, and they roared until tears fell from their eyes. They panted slowly to a stop, Zelda running her fingers back through her hair, Link holding his sides in pain.