Edited again!

Time was not enough.

As the Goddess of Time, any time at all should have been enough for Hylia. She could stretch it, bend it, go back and relieve it if she was feeling selfish. Time was hers to control.

But this boy, this mortal boy, had made it so that time, any time at all, was not enough for her.

The meager moments she got with him, though, were made even smaller by the blood flowing freely from his chest. If time could be captured in an hourglass's sand, then every drop was a precious moment lost.

And he was bleeding out faster than any healing potion could replace.

Though this hero was the one who had been stabbed through his chest, Hylia, too, felt pain in her chest. Greater than anything she had ever felt—greater than the joy at the creation of her Hylians, greater than the pity she had ever felt for their pain, greater than her anger at Demise—she felt this pain, here in her chest, and she was sure she would die if it didn't soon cease.

In this pain, she remembered the mortals' words. Mortals, short as their lives were, subjective creatures that they were, had feelings, and longings, and desires. Things that she and her Golden Goddess sisters could never feel.

Love.

Remorse.

Heartbreak.

Though Hylia had never had experience in these emotions before, she knew this must be what the mortals meant, when they prayed for the ache in their chests to fade, for the pain to go away and never see the light again.

She had tried to ease their suffering, but never having felt these feelings herself, she was at a loss for how to ease them.

Even now as she was feeling them, she didn't know how to make them stop.

So she cradled this Hero in her arms and screamed till the wrath left her lungs and left her empty with sorrow, and love lost.

She had loved this Hero.

And he had died, and died for her, and died so young.

Time was not enough.

So she would make it so that she would never have time away from him again.

"Are you sure this is what you want? You'll only be reincarnated when Hyrule needs you. You'll never have peace together."

"If it means that I get to be with him again, yes, I want this."

"But Hylia… Is it what he wants?"

"How can I know?! He's dead!"

"You knew he would die. You are the Goddess of Time, Hylia. You saw it for yourself."

"I was trying to prevent it!"

"You know you cannot prevent the outcome of death. You can only stall it. You know your limitations, Hylia. You can only stall his death. It won't be easy for him, or for you. You've already had to see him die once."

"I want to live with him. So long as I get some time with him—so long as there's a chance of us being mortals together, aging and dying together, then—"

"Hylia. He will be facing adversaries far stronger than him for all of his reincarnations. He will never exist when there is not evil in the world. You must understand that he may die again—and as a mortal, you will be powerless to help him, just as you were before."

"I won't be powerless. Love is not powerless."

"You won't be able to save him. You will be mortal, even if we allow you to keep some of your power."

"What of my powers will you let me keep?"

"Only the ability to know the future before it occurs, and to burden him with this same foreknowing so that he may fight to save the world we created."

"I cannot help?!"

"You will have light, and you will have time. They will aid you enough. Understand it as you wish, for we cannot tell you more than this. Hold out your hand, child, so we may finish this."

And she did.

"I keep having these dreams, Zel," Link said, running a hand through his hair, mussed and sweaty from his waking. "This monster… covered in black scales, in a place I've never seen…" His voice tapered off into a whisper, eyes still unable to meet hers. "I get the feeling that I've seen it before, but I—I don't know when."

A voice in Zelda's head told her that he was right—that he had seen all of it before—that he only needed to remember, and all would be right—

But she kept silent and simply put a hand over his, gently prompting him to look at her. "If it's important, I'm sure you'll figure it out soon enough. But don't lose sleep over it, Link." Zelda forced a wry smile, brushing his messy hair out of his eyes. "After all, I know how much you love your sleep."

Link laughed, and Zelda felt lighter—

But she still had the feeling that she, too, was forgetting something important. But they were up in the sky, alone in an endless sea of clouds. Nothing could hurt her Link up here.

(She wondered why she felt so ill thinking of what might lie beneath the clouds, though.)

Tetra wasn't sure why she felt so keen on staying close to the ocean. When she asked, everyone said it was a seafarer's calling, the song of the sea, the cry of adventure—

But Tetra always felt as if she was hovering over something important.

And, sometimes, when they were just near the center of the sea, and she grasped her mother's necklace, long hidden away under her neckerchief—

Sometimes, she swore she could feel a voice calling to her, telling her to remember something, someone, to not make the same mistakes as her ancestors—

But as they passed over that space in the sea, the urge to remember would fade, and Tetra would be left with a name she couldn't remember on the tip of her tongue.

Zelda's ancestor's journals were enough to keep her awake at night.

They were the writings of a queen the history books often skimmed over. Nothing of note had happened in her rule; yet, her journals claimed to have prevented something, and the history books spoke of that claim often enough. Her ancestor was said to have had premonitions, powers unlike any other Hylian, and she had preemptively locked away a criminal that had the power to bring Hyrule to its knees—

But the history books never mentioned a crucial character, arguably more crucial than the queen—and acknowledged by the queen herself. Her ancestor's journals were full of him, and little else.

The journals—and goddesses, there were plenty of them—were full of stories that this boy told her as a youth, stories that led Zelda to arrest the man called Ganondorf, stories that called her to action to prevent something terrible from befalling the land.

Her ancestor's journals spoke of how this youth claimed to come from the future, and had the Triforce of Courage as proof of his tale. The boy told of temples and dungeons, of a Hyrule long fallen to ruin, of a world he had saved and been sent away from to prevent Ganondorf's rise before it ever happened.

He spoke of her, too—of a princess in disguise, with powers of precognition, who had given him an Ocarina that gave him great powers and aided him on his quest. His mention of the Ocarina was first what swayed her to believe him, and his Triforce of Courage only further backed his story.

But the history books never mentioned this boy.

And so Zelda poured through her ancestor's journals while Hyrule was shrouded in Twilight, desperate for clues to save her land. Would she be fortunate enough to find an Ocarina that could prevent this tragedy from ever happening?

—Or would she, too, be dependent on a youth from nowhere to save her land?

Link still hadn't let go of Tetra. It had been hours since they'd arrived back on the pirate ship, and hours more since he'd defeated Bellum and changed her back from stone. But once they'd arrived back in Tetra's cabin, he'd wrapped his arms around her and hadn't let go.

For the longest time, she'd thought he'd fallen asleep, and she was fine with that—

But then she heard and sniffle, and she realized that he might have been awake all this time.

"Link," she said, shifting, attempting to pull away so she could get a good look at his face. "Link, it's alright. I'm not going anywhere."

He was silent for a moment more, but finally, he freed her from his grasp. With his callous-roughened hands, he wiped away what Tetra was slow to realize were tears. Not sure in the least how to handle this boy, Tetra watched as he took a few deep breaths to compose himself.

"'m sorry," he mumbled, and Tetra remembered (not for the first time) that this was just a boy. He wasn't much older than thirteen, if that. "I just… I thought I'd lost you. Again."

Though he'd just wiped away tears, there was the sudden threat that they'd return. Tetra was quick to lean forward and cup his cheek (still round with youth), attempting to soothe him. She wasn't good with tears. Tears made her worry; tears let her know that this was emotion she was dealing with, not an injury or a sickness. You had to use feeling to cure emotion, and feelings were what caused emotions in the first place—

She'd do whatever she needed to if it meant keeping this boy from crying again.

Tetra attempted to smile, hand still gentle against his cheek. "You'll have a harder time than that getting rid of me." Despite her proud words, her voice was soft, her touch uncharacteristically tender. "I'm stronger than that—and so are you. You saved me, Link. You always do."

It struck her, though, that when she spoke, she felt as if she was speaking of much more than just this boy's doing.

The statue in Hyrule Castle came to her memory in a flash; she remembered the proud raise of his sword, the stiffness in its spine, the melancholy in its eyes—

Link startled when he suddenly felt Tetra's arms around him, but he didn't protest.

"Don't you ever die on me," Tetra said. "Promise me."

Link was quiet for a moment, and Tetra worried that he was crying again. But when he spoke, his voice was clear and strong, and she wondered when this boy had grown up so much. "I'll always keep you safe, Tetra. But no one lives forever."

Her words didn't feel like her own when she answered. "So long as we have some time together, to grow up and grow old and die together… I'll be satisfied."

Skyloft felt too small, sometimes, now that Zelda had seen the world below. Link had agreed to come with her and create a new home on the surface, but in the interim, Skyloft was feeling more and more like a prison than the safehaven she'd created it to be.

Her memories as Hylia were fading, now that she no longer used them so frequently, but there were still flashes that stuck with her.

There was a hero, once, back in the ancient past.

And he'd looked an awful lot like Link.

She could remember a proud stance, and green clothes, and a somber, still expression. And red—there had been so much red. Hylia couldn't distinguish between his cape and the ground beneath him and the stains on his green cloak, and the red on her hands and dress—

Zelda closed her eyes, praying that the images would fade.

"Zelda?"

When she opened them, her hero was standing in front of her, clad in the white and blue of his life before his journey.

With his innocent expression, undaunted even by the horrors of his own journey, he was a perfect contrast to the man who had been made a sacrifice.

Link offered her a hand, and Zelda took it, quick to pull him into a hug after. "I'm fine," she said before he could think to ask about the somber expression on her face. "I'm just…"

She thought back to the image of Hylia's hero, and to her own hero as he returned from his fight with Demise, bloodied and bruised but still standing tall.

He had saved her life.

He still had the scars, he still had the memories, he still woke gasping for breath, but—

He had succeeded.

"I'm just glad you're alright," she finally said.

Though Link looked a little confused when he finally pulled away—after all, he'd been back from his journey for months now—he couldn't help but frown when he noticed the tears in her eyes. "I couldn't fail," Link said. "Your life was on the line, Zel. How could I die when I had to be alive to save you?"

Somehow, no matter how reassuringly Link meant it, Zelda had to fight back another wave of tears.

"I won't fail you!" Link said, voice strong and thick with emotion. "I promise you, Zelda, I won't fail you. I—I don't know if you can hear me, if this connection works like that or not, but—"

I can hear you, Zelda thought, sending the voice as a reassuring wave into Link's consciousness. And I believe you. You are strong, so strong, for fighting all this way. You only have a bit left to go. I believe in you, my hero. You have the courage to save all of Hyrule.

She prayed that it would be enough to put a smile on his face. Though she could only hear his voice, not his thoughts, Zelda couldn't help but love the way he spoke when he was speaking to her. So she concentrated, and prayed to the goddesses that he would feel better for her words. There had been a quiet desperation in his words, and as much as she loved his devotion, she wanted him to know that he had her utmost confidence.

He didn't have to convince her of a thing.

If anything, she had a feeling that this hero would be willing to give his life for Hyrule—and for her.

Zelda didn't know why, but she got the strangest inkling of sadness when she thought such a thing. Perhaps it was just the notion of death.

She wanted this hero to live, after all.

And I will never leave you, my hero. I'll help you where and when I can—I promise. I will fight by your side, even if I cannot join you in person.

It hadn't occurred to Zelda that her hero could fail.

She'd had precognitive dreams; she'd seen both Hyrule's fall to ruin and its subsequent savior rising above—both visions she knew without a doubt would come true. She'd poured her heart into Link, praying for him always, and finding information on him where she could. It only hurt that she hadn't been able to see him in person, much—she hadn't seen him since childhood, and then there they were at the final battle, Hero and Princess.

This was what he had been made to be. He was born to be a hero; the goddesses had set him apart for a great destiny—and they'd confirmed that destiny when he was capable of drawing the Master Sword.

So as Link fell to the scorched earth below, his blood only adding to the macabre of the setting, Zelda couldn't fathom it.

And yet—

The sight, of her Hero, sprawled on the ground, bleeding out as precious time slipped through her fingertips, Zelda felt as if she had seen it once before.

There was a rage in her, sudden and terrible, and there was a voice both her own and not that rose up in anger—

And then it passed.

Zelda felt herself come back to herself, and she was left merely with sorrow for this hero dying on the ground before her. It felt as though someone was showing her a portrait of this moment; it felt as though what she was seeing wasn't real—couldn't be real.

It wasn't until Ganon, laughing like the maniac he was, lowered the ring of fire separating her from Link that Zelda truly realized it wasn't an illusion.

"Go on," Ganon said, voice booming over the open ruins of the castle. "Go cry for your Hero." When he saw that she was still frozen, he roared with laughter. "He doesn't have much time left, Princess. Nothing would make me happier than for him to die alone, but my victory wouldn't feel complete if I didn't get to watch you cry for him. You're the reason he ever left his home, are you not?"

Zelda's guilt, in the end, is finally what drove her to action.

Her body moved on automatic, running towards the Hero she had put all of her faith in—the Hero who was dying at only sixteen, who could have stayed safe if she had only sent him back home when he had come. Zelda stumbled on her way to him; even the rough terrain was trying to steal away the precious moments she had left with this Hero.

When she finally managed the last steps toward her fallen hero, it was all Zelda could do to cradle him in her arms.

"Link," she managed, breath quick and frantic as she started applying pressure to his wound. Even if she knew there wasn't a chance of saving him when he had an exit wound. "Link, look at me—"

To her relief—though she knew he hadn't much time left—he managed to move his eyes up far enough to meet her own. "I'm sorry," he rasped. "I… I thought I could…"

"Don't—don't speak, save your breath," Zelda urged, pressing tighter against his wound, praying that it would be enough to save him. "Please, Link, don't give up. You can still beat him!"

"You have," Link started, speaking regardless of her wishes. "You have to run, Zelda. Someone else has to take my place. I do—don't have… I don't have m-much time left…"

"Link," she said. "Please—you can't give up, you can't just give this job to someone else! You were our last hope. You can't—"

Link coughed, only agitating his wound. "Take the Ocarina. Y…You know," he paused, trying to force more air into his lungs so he could speak. "You know what to do with it."

And in an instant, there were no more words left within him.

As Ganon roared with laughter a mere stone's throw away, Zelda reached into Link's outermost pocket, procuring the Ocarina she had cursed him to carry.

"And what, pray tell, will you do with that?" Ganon threw his head back, high from the thrill of victory. "You have lost, princess. Your hero is dead. He failed you."

That rage Zelda had felt earlier, a mere flicker before, was now an inferno, igniting her chest.

There was grief, so great and terrible, that Zelda felt as if she no longer existed. It was as if someone else resided within her—a monster, vying for revenge, as bloodthirsty as Ganon and twice as powerful.

"You will pay for this," Zelda said, and her voice felt like three voices at once—as if it were one of the gods'. "You are not safe here. You will end up sealed in the Sacred Realm till the end of your days, Demise. You have stolen away my hero from me twice now—and I will not allow a third."

Though Ganon took a step back, he didn't look intimidated—merely surprised. The name she had called him was ancient, calling forth a memory so distant Ganondorf knew it was before his own birth. And yet, it was familiar to him as his own name.

"And who," he finally said, watching as she put the Ocarina to her lips, "are you to make such claims?"

"I am the Goddess of Time itself," Zelda said, Hylia's words thick in her throat. Her eyes flashed white; the Ocarina glowing with her. "You may never know of the wrath I will rain down on you. But though you will have victory in this time, you will know no victory in the others."

Ganon, for all his power, looked somewhat taken aback. But her meaning became clear to him soon enough, and he threw his head back in laughter, satisfied that his victory would still reign true. "So I am to understand I have still won, then—and you are retreating back to the past to create a different future? Princess," he said, voice patronizing, still insisting on addressing her as the simple Princess Zelda rather than the Goddess Hylia. "I am undefeated here. There is no Hero to make me suffer—I've already made sure of it," he said, kicking Link's prone form for good measure. With a smirk, he added, "I have taken the last beacon of good from Hyrule. Who, pray tell, will stop me?"

As Zelda began to play the familiar notes of the Song of Time, her powers of both Light and Time starting to piece together a bridge to the past. Her lips, occupied as they were, nonetheless cried out against Ganon one last time.

"You may have sworn to eternally pursue my Chosen Hero and his descendants," Hylia's voice boomed, loud as thunder as the ruin of Hyrule faded from her vision. "But you will never be safe from the Spirit of the Hero. He will pursue you all of his lives. Your reign will never be eternal—but your death will always be bloody."

And as she faded from time itself, as Ganondorf stole away the Triforce and Hylia created a new future, her last message echoed in Ganon's ears.

"You will meet him soon enough."

The statue in Old Hyrule had had such sad eyes.

Even years after finding New Hyrule with Link, Tetra couldn't help but think back to that statue. Something about it stuck with her—and not just its uncanny resemblance to her own hero.

There was something familiar about it—something that made her heart ache every time she thought back to it.

She knew it had been the Hero of Time, the legendary hero who had saved Hyrule and had vanished before he could save Hyrule from the Great Flood—

But it was almost as if she'd known him, once.

"You said I would be able to save him!"

"No. We told you from the start that you would be unable to save him as a mortal."

"I didn't ask for this cycle of reincarnations for him to die so young again! You deceived me!"

"You heard what you wished to hear, Hylia. We told you that you would have Light and Time. And you do. Do not abuse the powers we allowed you to keep."

"I will not allow him to die again." Hylia's voice was terrible as she raised it in defiance of the Goddesses. "I will go back. I'll change things."

"You know better than any of us how time works, Hylia. You know what you will cause. You know what you are leaving that time with."

"But I will give another time victory!"

"You have abandoned a time entirely. It is without a hero, and without its princess. The sages will seal Ganon, you know this—but the seal will not hold."

"Another hero will rise."

"You are truly abandoning that time, then?"

"I am. I will ensure his victory in another time. You cannot stop me."

"We cannot." The Three were silent for a moment, but when they spoke again, their voice was a soft threat—like a fly buzzing in her ears. "But for abandoning that time, you will not be allowed to keep Hyrule."

"You'd condemn an entire people?!"

"You are condemning them in the time you abandoned. But we will save the people, both in that time and the time you are headed for. No, Hylia—we are merely condemning you. We will take Hyrule away from you, just as soon as it's saved. You will have no taste of victory in this time. You will learn from your selfishness."

"If it means saving Link, I will accept the consequences."

The Three spoke in a voice like honey, but their words burned like fire. "He will not be your Link any longer. He will be from a world parallel to yours, identical in every way—but he will not be yours. Your Link is already dead."

"I will make this new one mine, then. I will save him!"

"You will. We are not saying that you are incapable. We are simply saying that when you do, you will discover that you do not want him. You will send him away."

"How dare you say such things?! I love him!"

"It is because of that love that you will send him away. You will know him better, this time, Hylia. You will let your guilt cloud your judgement yet again—and you will make yet another decision for his soul without thinking of his wishes. Your selfishness disguises itself as charity, but it is still selfishness. You would rather send him away when you see his misery than keep him close and comfort him. You will believe that he is happier where he ends up, but you will never know what becomes of him. You will never know the times he will wish he had ceased to exist after victory. You will never know that he will never love you in the time he is sent to."

"You're telling me all this now! How will I not know?!"

"You will not keep your memories as Hylia when you become Zelda once more. You never truly do. And you never truly learn."

The light faded. Zelda awoke as a mortal in a Hyrule transformed into Chaos, just hours before the Hero of Time would awaken in his new form.

It was a world where she knew she could not be recognized as the Princess Zelda; a world where she knew she needed to disguise herself in order to protect the one she had come back to save.

And so she put a glamour on her form, painstakingly changing her skin, her hair, her figure, until she was no longer recognizable as the princess she truly was.

"Sheik," she decided, transformation finally complete.

As servants to the Royal Family, the Sheikah were guardians that performed their duty without complaint. They were trained from youth to assist and protect the Royal Family—and Sheik prayed that she would be as useful to Link, and tend to him as diligently as her Impa had tended to her. More than anything, she wanted to embody the servitude that the Sheikah possessed.

She wanted to be a shadow for her hero, a constant in his quest—a silent bodyguard that only made her presence known when she was truly needed.

She wanted to show her love, her servitude, her diligence and duty and care.

And despite the darkness associated with shadows and with the Sheikah, Zelda knew better.

What better diligence could she show better than that of a shadow? What better love could she give than that of a Sheikah?

This time, Zelda reminded herself, watching him tumble half-blind out of a temple. I will save him.

This time, Zelda reminded herself, pulling her lyre out and starting to play. I will help him.

This time, Zelda reminded herself, threading needle through a gash on his arm. I will heal him.

This time, Zelda reminded herself, slipping a blanket into his pack. I will care for him.

This time, Zelda reminded herself. This time, I will not fail him.

The Hero's Shade, Link had told her, was a frightening thing, but noble. He was a specter, a ghost, a phantom—but there was no ill will within it. It was simply unable to move on till it had taught him all it could teach him.

But there was something amiss, something Zelda couldn't quite put her finger on.

Something that made her heart feel as though it had been taken out of her chest.

"He said that he had not been remembered as a hero," Link said. The words must have struck a chord with him, because he remembered them well: "He told me, 'Although I accepted life as the hero, I could not convey the lessons of that life to those who came after.' He… He passed on, after telling me one last farewell."

"Not remembered as a hero," Zelda said, pursing her lips. It was all too similar to her ancestor's journals—and this pain, thinking of the Hero's Shade, was all too similar to the ache she felt when she read those journals.

Link gave her an odd look—it must have been strange, seeing her so sorrowful for a spirit she had never met—but he kept his voice solemn. "He said a few times that I… that we had the same blood. And I don't think he meant it like a calling or a destiny. He called me son."

Zelda's gaze snapped back up to meet Link's. "He… had descendants, then?"

"Must have, if I'm here." Link fidgeted. "I think… He must have been one of the first settlers of Ordon. I don't know. His style of armor seemed very old. And the first place I saw him was in the forest I was raised…"

The boy from the forest. The boy who had saved Hyrule from a threat that had never even revealed itself.

The boy who only confided in the princess.

"I… I think he was more remembered than he thought," Zelda finally said. "My ancestor. He—He knew my ancestor. She spoke of him very… fondly."

"The boy from the forest," Zelda scribbled out in her journal, "Is so fascinating. He tells me such wonderful stories… For a while, I thought he was making them up, but…"

She closed her eyes, thinking back to the Ocarina he mentioned, and to the triangle on the back of his hand that glowed when she got near.

And yet, for all that he claims they are the only proof of his journey, it's for another reason that Zelda believes him.

"But he has such sad eyes, I can't help but think he's telling the truth."

Zelda prayed that Link would save her soon. Though they'd only known each other a short time and Link had already rescued her once, Zelda had grown quite fond of him. Now that she was here, imprisoned in Turtle Rock with only a telepathic connection to him, she prayed that he would hurry.

She wasn't sure why, but she felt as if she had known this boy for forever.

And the look in his eyes, when she had seen him in the Castle Dungeon, was of one dependable, and reliable. There was adventure in his eyes, and pride, and servitude, and a quiet strength.

Zelda wasn't sure why, but she trusted those eyes with her life. So caught up in her thoughts, she hardly noticed that one of them had escaped, and made its way to her hero's head.

I am honored to be the Princess of such a Hero.

"No, your highness," she hears Link from far (oh, so far) away. "The real honor is fighting on your behalf."

I will fight by his side.

The thought startled her, but Tetra was growing used to strange thoughts invading her mind while she was in the kingdom under the sea. This place was so familiar, and so strange—and she wondered if maybe this was what she had been longing for when she crossed the sea over this place.

She tried to ignore the thought and move on, but this one was more insistent than the rest. The others were flashes, bits and pieces; —save him this time; Must help; Sent back through time; Is he—? Shadow Temple; Temple of Time; Sealed away; Seven years; Dead…? Escape the tower before it—

But this? This was complete.

I will fight by his side.

"You will, huh," Tetra said, addressing the thought aloud. "And how do you suppose you're gonna do that?"

In the stained glass across her, a story was told, of heroes and sages—even of a princess that looked eerily like Tetra (er, 'Zelda') herself.

Between the hero in the stained glass and the statue in the other room, Tetra could gather that the hero of old was much like her own hero. She wondered: had he spent as much time alone on his quest as Link had?

I will fight by his side.

"Did you?"

Tetra kicked her heels against the concrete block she was sitting on. It was lonely, waiting here all alone, but she supposed she had no right to complain. She was safe here—and Link was the one doing all the hard work. It bothered her, playing damsel in distress while Link was out saving the world.

She found she could empathize more and more with the thought drilling into her head.

I will fight by his side.

"Well," Tetra finally said, sighing and leaning back against the concrete. "I don't know if you ever managed it or not, but I'm gonna. I won't let that little guy fight alone. Not against Ganondorf."

It was strange, but Tetra could have sworn that this time, there was an answer.

Thank you.

A family. Link had a family.

"The kids are growing up really well, Zel," Link said, a smile on his face as he took hold of his childhood friend's hand. "I'm so glad. I… I didn't expect, you know, to end up a father, and I didn't know what I was supposed to do to raise kids, but… I—I'm doing my best, and it's incredible, you know? Knowing that you're responsible for these precious little people and getting to see who they're starting to be. The littlest one can almost crawl now!"

Link had a family.

Link was married.

With children.

"I know it's been a while now,"

Five years—

"But I'm just so glad to get to see you again, Zel. I've missed you a lot."

"I've missed you, too, Link." Zelda pulled him into a sudden embrace. If her face was out of his line of sight, he wouldn't notice the way it crumpled when she thought of him with someone else. "So much. How… When did you get married?"

"Not long after I last saw you." Link finally pulled away and—was that a flicker of pain in his eyes? "It took me by surprise."

Zelda kept her smile on her face, unwavering even as she asked. "You never told me you had a special lady in your life, Link!"

"I… I didn't, when we were still talking." The smile on his face was strained. "It happened very quickly. I—It's a long story, I'm sure you don't want to hear it. What about you, Your Majesty?" he asked, remembering his place. "I've heard no news of you settling down yet. Have you been seeing anyone special?"

The smile on her face froze, but Zelda slowly forced it into something warm, and genuine, no matter how her heart was breaking. "Oh, no. I'm just… waiting for the right person to come along. That's all."

And that person had vanished for five years.

She thought he'd never return.

And yet, here he was. Standing in front of her, still alive—healthy, thriving, even—

Married.

With children.

"Well, it's good to wait for the right person," Link said, and there was that pain in his eyes again. "I hope you find someone who makes you truly happy. And… even if you don't, there's something about kids, you know? I'm so proud to get to raise them."

The pain in his eyes at the mention of his wife had left, replaced only with true excitement, true joy, at the prospect of raising his children.

And Zelda could only wonder what, exactly, had happened to the boy she'd given her heart to so long ago. She could only wonder when he had decided to settle down without her.

"Do you think you'd ever end up with someone else?" Link asked her one day in Faron Woods, looking up at the sky with an unreadable expression.

"Why would I end up with anyone else?" Zelda asked, elbowing him lightly in the ribs. "You're all I want." A sudden thought gave her pause though, and she stared at him with wide eyes. "You're not thinking of seeing someone else, are you?"

Link looked startled, and he was quick to shake his head. "No, no, not at all! I just… You're so great, you know? I just… I wonder… If you'd ever decide that you didn't want me anymore." He averted his eyes, cheeks pink as he looked down at the ground below them. "I was just curious. Don't worry about it."

Zelda's expression softened, and she was quick to take hold of his hand. "Don't be so silly," she said, brushing hair out of his eyes and pressing a quick kiss against his forehead. "I've only ever wanted you."

"I'm the Princess Zelda," Sheik said, finally—after months of trailing his adventure—letting her glamour drop to reveal her true self.

The end was so close—she was so scared that they would fail again, and she would have to hold Link in her arms again as he bled out—but this time, she was certain he could win.

This time, she'd stuck an extra fairy in his bag. This time, she would make sure he was fully healed before they headed outside. This time she would lead him outside the ruined castle faster. This time she would do whatever it took to ensure that her Hero did not die.

I will fight by his side—

It was strange, but being a ghost wasn't so terrible. As a ghost, Zelda got to help Link out all throughout his quest—something that (as she'd read in Tetra's journals) no other Zelda seemed to have done before. It made her proud, in a way, to be able to help her hero so much.

Yet, there was a strange sorrow that followed her nonetheless.

A feeling that this was, in some manner or another, retribution.

As a ghost, Zelda was no stranger to spectral voices speaking to her. She made no mention of it to Link, for fear of frightening him—but there were a few that set themselves apart. And sometimes, it seemed as though they were speaking to something within Zelda—not just herself.

'Now you know what it's like to die.'

As Link started up the Spirit Train's engine, Zelda tried not to appear bothered by the sudden comment, but she was curious. What did they mean?

'This is more than the seventh time he's put his life on the line for you.'

Seventh?

Zelda nearly opened her mouth to correct the spirit speaking to her—Link had decided to help her on his own, thanks very much, and he could back out at any time he liked. But Link was looking her way, and so she kept quiet. She didn't want to scare him or alert him that there were so many other spirits in the world.

'What do you think his odds of living are? Twice, he's died for you.'

Zelda frowned, floating towards a window and angling her face away from Link. If he looked, he would merely see her watching the countryside as it started to fade behind her—but Zelda was preoccupied with listening to this specter.

Though it seemed to be lying, it was strange to lie about something so specific.

'How does it feel to be the one to die, for once?' the voice continued. 'How does it feel to know that this is what your hero risks? And yet you still have a chance of reclaiming your body. Your Hero never had that chance in his past lives.'

"That's enough," Zelda whispered, praying that her voice would be lost in the wind as the train moved forward. "Link isn't going to die. I won't allow it. I will fight with him all the way. We're going to see this through to the end—together."

The voice was silent, and Zelda took it to mean that it was considering—truly, deeply considering—what she'd said.

'You're the first to truly stand by his side all along his journey.'

"So I've heard."

There was silence for a moment, but just as Zelda was growing accustomed to watching the world pass by, it reared its ugly head once more. And yet, its words were the sweetest she'd heard yet.

'Perhaps, if you stay with him, he will be more likely to be successful. Treat him well.'

"I wish I'd known about them from the start," Link confided to her, late one night. He hadn't been sleeping well, lately; Zelda wasn't sure if he ever slept well. "Midna's people… If I had known that they were her people under a curse…"

"You had to stay alive," Zelda said softly, taking his hand. "And she must have known that you had a good heart—that's why she didn't tell you from the start. She knew you would have hesitated. It isn't your fault, Link. You didn't know."

"But towards the end—"

"You had to finish what you'd started." Zelda brushed her thumb against the back of his hand, long since used to the leathery feel of his skin. "If you'd known you could have reversed it for them, you would have—but it was a race against time, Link. For all you know, you were breaking the curse on them."

Link let out a shuddery breath, looking ill at ease. "There is always time to save people, Zelda."

Zelda's expression softened, and she thought back to her sacrifice to save Midna. "No, Link. There isn't always enough time to save everyone. Sometimes, you have to choose who you are able to save. No one can be in two places at once." She closed her eyes, thinking of the day that started it all—the day that Zant stormed her courtroom and demanded a surrender. "Sometimes… you have to choose your battles wisely, and pray for the best."

Link fell silent.

Zelda would never know if it was because of the late hour or because of the sleepless circles underneath Link's eyes. But as they sat there in the stillness of the night, she wrapped an arm around the man who saved Hyrule and still felt guilty for the bloodshed he had caused to achieve it.

"You need to sleep, Link," she said. "I'll stay with you until you do."

Link managed a wry smile. "That's not much incentive to sleep. I like your company."

"Then I'll stay regardless," she said. "But I'll be happier if you sleep."

The night passed without incident, but as Link slowly drifted off, head finding a place on her lap, Zelda stayed awake for hours more.

The previous Hero had saved Hyrule, then been sent back to save it before it was ever in danger. But by doing so—even though the Zelda from his time had also been trying to give him back his childhood—the Hero had had his life flipped upside down.

Every support he might have known, every friend he made on his quest—none of them had any memory of him.

It was no wonder he had been unable to pass on, Zelda thought as she ran her fingers through Link's hair. He breathed slowly and deeply, silent as he laid his head on her lap. Just Midna leaving broke Link's heart. Zelda couldn't imagine what he would have felt like if his entire quest had been erased from the minds of all who knew him, and he knew he could no longer stay in his home forever.

"I will not allow you to fight alone," Zelda said softly, fingertips gently rubbing into the hero's scalp. "Just as our last battle together, I will stand by your side."

"If you had to do it all again, would you?"

Link glanced up at Zelda, brows furrowing. "Zelda," he said, sounding genuinely upset. "Why would you even ask that? Of course I would."

"But—"

"In a heartbeat," Link said. "You mean too much to me. I'd never just abandon you to the world below the clouds. And… And once I came to the Surface, once I saw this place, once I realized just what was at stake… It wasn't just you I was doing it all for, after that."

For such a sweet face, there was an uncharacteristic set to his jaw. Link looked as though his entire world depended on Zelda truly understanding his commitment to this world. That was her Link, alright. Always determined…

"Alright," she finally said. "I believe you. I… I just get the feeling that someday you'll have to. Or one of your descendants will, anyways. I don't think Demise was bluffing."

Link let out a sigh, shaking his head. "I just hope our descendants will be ready for it."

"Our descendants?" Zelda raised a brow, offering a cheeky smile to her hero. Right now, all she wanted was for the sad look on his face to go away. If it took tasteless jokes to make it happen, Link would simply have to deal with it.

As she'd hoped, Link shook his head, a wry smile finding itself onto his face. "Our descendants," he confirmed, taking her hand and pressing a quick kiss to the back of it.

"Congratulations," Zelda said, voice smooth and clear, even as her heart broke yet again. How many times could it be broken down further, she wondered—how many more pieces could it possibly break into? "I'm so happy for you and your wife, Link. I know you've been trying for another child for a while now."

Link's smile was blinding as he wrapped an arm around his wife, their youngest in her arms, and their oldest sitting at the Hero of Time's hip. "Well, with my new position as your head general, we decided we could afford another kid—and well, if we could, why wouldn't we?"

The only thing Zelda could hear coming from his lips was that she had contributed to her own heartbreak this time, by giving him that position.

And yet—

In a manner of speaking, wasn't she always the reason for her own heartbreak?

If I was the Zelda from your timeline, she wondered, would you have wanted me then?

Zelda never truly knew the hero she'd lost. He'd bled out in her arms, sure, but she had never truly known him. It wasn't until this second time that she understood who he truly was; it wasn't until she followed him and aided him as Sheik that she understood just who this Kokiri boy was.

He didn't talk much, this boy from the forest. He was quiet, preferring to keep to himself unless he was humoring his companion, Navi.

But he was noble and kind in the best of ways. He always stopped to help lost children, always was willing to help a friend in need, always made sure his horse was well, always tried to return stolen property, always was willing to listen to someone in distress, always was willing to go out of his way for anyone that asked for help.

And he always, always, always waited till his enemies were armed before charging them.

The princess knew he had the Triforce of Courage—but perhaps he also had an emblem of kindness, or of nobility. Because what he went through and what he was willing to do for others—

That went so much further than just Courage.

This boy was everything—and he deserved to be anything he chose to be, not just a hero for a kingdom in peril. So she decided to send him back.

Yet, after Zelda sent Link back to his childhood to reclaim the life he'd lost, she cried, and cried, and cried.

Tetra woke in the dead of night to the rocking of her ship and to the quiet crying of the one beside her. She wished it was the first time.

"Link?" she asked, keeping her voice quiet to keep the crew from overhearing, had anyone decided to linger near her quarters.

Her hero simply shook his head, resting his chin against his knees. He was curled up like she always found him on nights like these; trying to make himself smaller, smaller, small enough to hide away from any bad memories looking for him. In the morning, she might find it funny—Link always fussed, trying to appear taller than he was, perhaps holding a grudge that Tetra was taller than him. But now, she didn't think it was funny at all.

He looked small and scared and vulnerable.

It was almost worse than his tears—and his tears just added to her inability to help.

But she'd try anyways, for him. She'd always try if it was to help him.

"What dream was it this time?" Tetra finally asked. She put one hand on top of his knee, trying to meet his gaze even if he was stubbornly looking away from her.

He was quiet, tonight. But Link was always quiet, especially on nights like this one.

Link sniffled, breaths still deep and shuddery; his shoulders shook as he both cried and tried to stop crying. It was strange to see someone so brave reduced to this, but then, she knew that it was his feelings that drove him to help. They were what motivated him to save his sister, to save her, to help Hyrule and each and every resident at each and every island they passed by.

She couldn't begrudge him his tears if they were part of the same mechanism that made him so genuinely good.

She couldn't begrudge him his feelings.

Link took a long time to speak, but when he did, his voice was shaky. "You were turned to stone again," he said. "We were living in Hyrule, and… And you went by Zelda, not Tetra. A…and… and someone named Vaati… he was the one who—who turned you. Not Bellum."

The name 'Vaati' sent a shiver down Tetra's spine, but she couldn't place why. She wasn't about to let Link go on feeling scared, though—not on her life. Gently, oh-so-gently, she wiped away the tear trails on his cheeks and pulled him into a hug. "It's just a nightmare," she said, letting the hug linger a moment before pulling away. "Don't worry so much. You saved me from Bellum, that's all that matters. I'm sure you could save me from this Vaati guy, too, if he even exists."

"I—I don't know, Tet," he said, shaking fingers running through his already mussed hair. "It felt so… so real."

Tetra just gripped his chin and tilted it up so he could look at her. "Well, even if it was real in your dream, you woke up, didn't you? This is your reality now." She shifted her hand, cupping one side of his face and absently wiping away the tears on that side with her thumb. "I'm real, Link. And you're real. And you're the one that saved me. From Bellum. And Ganondorf. And if anything else ever tries to hurt me again, I can guarantee that you'll save me from them, too."

Link let out a nervous bubble of a laugh, but it was something. Without warning, he pulled her into a fierce hug. "I promise, Tet. I promise I will."

When Zelda learned of the presence of a great evil within Hyrule, she half expected that Link would appear, regardless of him being sent back through time. He was stubborn, that one—dead set on saving Hyrule.

And Zelda wasn't the only one to think that he would return. As the people suffered under the great evil, more and more of them started praying to the goddesses to send Link back—asking where he'd gone, and why, and how he had been sent away. Some even offered to follow him and try to persuade him to come back from where he had gone.

Zelda didn't have the heart to tell her people the truth.

She was the one who had doomed this land. Hyrule, which she was supposed to protect with her life; she had sent its hero away. And before that, in another time, she had abandoned it entirely.

Part of her wondered—was this evil retribution for what she had done? Was she being punished for altering the flow of time? If this world had not changed from when she had sent Link, then that meant he was living in a completely separate world—and that meant that the one she had abandoned was still around as well, though inaccessible.

And it stung, a little, when she realized just she had done.

The sages had needed her help sealing Ganondorf, as well as Link's.

For the sages to have neither meant that it would only be a short time before Ganondorf reawakened.

This was punishment, Zelda decided, and deserved punishment at that. They would sooner end her kingdom than have a princess without the heart of the people to rule it.

The rain started just after Zelda's tears plopped onto the ground beneath her. And as the sky opened up and she boarded a boat with the few remaining servants of the castle, she wondered at how she'd reached this place. Though she was an ocean above the kingdom she used to rule, she felt as though she had sunk to her lowest.

But it was only fair, wasn't it?

If she would so willingly give Link away, then it just made sense for the goddesses to take her kingdom from her, too.

"Chains," Link said, voice raspy from the after-effects of his nightmare. "They had me—they had me up in chains, Zel. It felt so real…"

The Hylia in her knew exactly what it was this Link was remembering, and why it felt so real to him. But the Zelda in her couldn't allow him to know. "I'm sure it's just a normal nightmare, Link. Maybe something you faced on your journey?" Zelda kept her voice soft as she ran a hand through his sweaty bangs, gently pushing them away from his forehead. "You were locked up in a moblin camp after that awful volcano eruption, weren't you?"

Link let out a hum of dissent, and Zelda knew this conversation wasn't going away anytime soon. "It didn't feel like that time at all. It… It didn't even really feel like a nightmare, Zel. It felt like…" He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to find the right word for the deja-vu he'd felt upon waking. "It felt like a memory."

"Link," Zelda said, voice firm. If she got any more set on this, Link might suspect something wrong—but here, half-asleep and still recovering from a nightmare, she was certain she could have gotten away with a much more defensive tone. "You were never locked away, thank the goddesses. You were never in chains. I promise."

And it wasn't a lie—it wasn't, it wasn't, it wasn't—but it felt like one all the same, because she knew that his dream was a memory. She knew that some part of his brain was telling him the truth even when she wouldn't.

But how could she tell her beloved that the reason he was here now, as he was, was because she selfishly demanded his spirit back from the grave eons and eons ago?

How could she admit that she took a hero from rest and instead arranged for his soul to be a part of a new body, just so that she could spend a lifetime with him as a mortal?

She was to blame, entirely, for this nightmare—and all the others.

Whether he was remembering being chained and tortured in another life, or remembering his own hardships—the monsters, the blood, the brushes with death—Zelda, Hylia, was the one who caused it. She had preserved this soul, and the subconscious that came with it—and she sent him to finish the quest that her first hero had failed.

And yet, for all of her guilt, for all that she had taken away from him—because what does it mean, if her Link is remembering Hylia's?—Link smiled up at her. It was strained. It was still recovering. It was temporary at best and forced at worst.

But his smile…

Zelda couldn't pretend she didn't know why Hylia had done it.

"You need to get back to sleep, Link," she said fondly, pulling him close and pressing a gentle kiss to the top of his sweaty head. "But I'll stay with you, if you'd like."

"Hey, Zelda?"

The newly crowned Queen looked up at Link, clad in the comfortable clothes he'd started his journey with. They were simple, cotton, Ordonian; nothing too special. But Zelda couldn't help but think it was fitting. In these, Link looked so comfortable, so at peace; all Zelda wanted to do was pull him into her arms and hold him a while.

Instead, she closed her book and set it aside. "Yes?"

"Do you think," he started, looking anywhere but at her. "—that maybe, you know. If we're reincarnations… Do you think we've ever loved each other? In past lives?"

Zelda couldn't help but think back to the Hero's Shade, back to her ancestor's journals. She thought of how her ancestor's journal had notes on her wedding—and how the groom wasn't the childhood sweetheart who she had loved so dearly.

And yet, that indescribable sadness never filled her when she thought of other heroes and their respective princesses. Whenever she thought back through history, at each hero of each era—there was never such a feeling of intense longing.

After a few moments' contemplation, Zelda set a hand on Link's knee, brushing her thumb back and forth against the soft material of his pants. "I like to think that we did," she said. Remembering the Hero's Shade, she pressed a kiss to Link's cheek, a rare desire to be affectionate taking over. "And I like to think that, for the most part… we got a happy ending each time."

Link hummed, indecision on his face. But he didn't protest the affection or try to argue. Instead, he leaned his head over and rested it on his fiancee's shoulder. "I'd like to think we got happy endings, too."

((Thank you so much for reading this mess of a fic! I always appreciate reviews, feel free to leave some!))