Burns the Match

Pairings: Well… I love Midna.

Rating: K

Disclaimer: I don't own them! I am poor, and not at all gifted in programming.

Author's Note: So this may or may not be a oneshot. I have a few scattered ideas about where it could go, but I kind of like ambiguity of the ending now. Either way, I hope you enjoy it!

"Come on, you lazy boy! We have a summons! To the CASTLE! I'd known you had met the Princess while you were journeying, Link, but an invitation to Hyrule for a private audience?" Illia's voice rang out through the morning, the woods around his house making her words echo, and her tone was the one she only used when she wanted to needle him especially. He wiped a hand across his eyes, wondering what time it was, and then wondering if it really mattered what time it was, considering that sleep had once again proved a dream outside of his reach. He shook his head. Dream outside of his reach? He really did need sleep.

He hauled himself up wearily, to call down that he'd be ready soon, but before he could move to the window, he heard his front door bang shut. He swung himself out of bed in time to see Illia's face disappear down into the cellar, for what reason he couldn't pretend to guess.

He grabbed his bath sheet and the soap and crashed carelessly out the door to wash up at the spring. He understood her decent to the pantry when he returned to the smell of brewing coffee and frying bacon. He smiled at Illia, hoping that the motion didn't look as forced as it felt, and had felt since his return from the aforementioned castle exactly one month ago. He was pleased that she smiled back, that she seemed so excited over the prospect of her first trip to Hyrule Castle and its surrounding town that she didn't have the wherewithal to realize that his expression was more a grimace than anything else.

He looked at the food, with no real appetite. He made a show of it for Illia's sake though, scooping up some egg, and managing one piece of bacon. He didn't taste it. It was like the rest of his world since returning from hers- pale, with nothing substantial to it.

But he wouldn't think about it. Not now. Illia was talking, and so he tried to focus, wishing he felt like listening.

"-says that it's not going to be nearly as bad a journey as it was getting home. The monsters- what do you call them? Mobies? Mobbins?"

"Mob-lins."

"Whatever, those things with the teeth, they aren't there anymore, and so the soldiers have been out improving the roads. Epona will be so glad for some soft turf, really, Link, you worked her way too hard! I mean, thank you for the rescue, and you did take wonderful care of her, but it's not good for her to have had so little rest!"

He gritted his teeth, knowing that she thought she was funny.

"But yeah, go finish packing, so we can get going. I'm going to go say my goodbyes and make sure Fado has hitched up the wagon. I really only came to make sure your lazy self was awake. It seems like all you boys ever do is sleep."

It was good that she didn't know he hadn't slept through the night since the day that the kids went missing. She would worry and then he would never get a moment's peace, let alone a good night's rest. He looked at her and if she noticed his eye roll seemed half hearted, she said nothing about it as she took her leave.

He cleaned up from breakfast and hauled himself up his ladder, shoving shirts and trousers into his saddle bag at random, and tossing it down so he could grab his shaving kit from the basement. He stopped in front of his desk, and looked at the inkwell.

One more couldn't hurt.

He sat down, quickly, guiltily, and uncapped the ink, grabbing his quill, and prepping the blotter.

Dear, he wrote, and then he sighed, wanting for this to be the time when he stopped there, stood up and left all this behind him. He looked at the paper.

Dear

If only that weren't true.

Dear Midna,

It's another day, but much the same, since I wrote you last. I don't know why I keep doing this. I know where you are, and I know that where you are is not here, and that you won't be here, and that these are never going to get to you and that I am terrible with words, whether I'm talking or writing.

I miss you. It's as plain as that. Rusl thinks it's just the adventure, the shock of it, the strain, that it bonds people and that it would have faded had you had more time here, and we could have 'adjusted' together. Of course, he also thinks I'm 'adjusting' myself, that I'm getting better, that I've put it all behind me, so I guess he could be just as wrong with his first ideas.

I can't stop seeing your face, hearing your voice. The whole time we were together runs through my head like it wants me mad. All the horror, all the exhaustion… I remember how many times it was you that stood between me and the end. You, in your twilit glory, held the darkness back for me.

I'm so stupid. You're probably in your palace, happy and well, your realm at peace once more, and here I am, half wishing I had never reassembled the mirror, so that you would still be here with me. On the Goddesses, I never thought I was a selfish person, but I must be, because right now the well being of two worlds full of people mean less to me than the chance of being with you again. The worst part is, you were here because you had to be. You had to save your people. If you were still here it would be because we had failed. And you would have never been okay if your people weren't okay, if we had lost.

I remember how much you hate to lose. You wouldn't let me hear the end of it for days, the first time I tried that game in Hyrule.

Link heard the boys' voices in the distance, and he realized he had yet to finish packing up. Still, he was unable to take his eyes off the page before him.

I have to stop now. I can't begrudge you your happiness, and I can't sacrifice it. I need to let go. I dream at night that I'm keeping you from your life, that you are somehow feeling my sorrow and that it's tainting your reclaimed peace.

I'm scared of forgetting you. I'm scared that if I try I'll forget me too. Each time, each monster I faced was worst then the last, so it makes a certain sense for the end to hurt like this.

I love you, Midna.

Good-bye.

He folded the letter once, quickly, as though afraid he would change his mind, and Illia was already opening the door when he took the others out of the drawer he'd shut them up in. Link did not look at the papers he clutched but arranged them neatly in the corner of his desk, lacking the time to properly dispose of them. He only caught a brief glimpse of the thick pile of letters, illuminated as though preternaturally in the wide stripe of sunshine gleaming in through his upper window. He was down the ladder and out the door in a flash, grabbing his pack and swiping whatever he needed on the way, not wanting to give himself any time to dwell on what he wrote or the person he wrote to.

He was already in Hyrule, attempting somewhat resignedly to reign in Illia's boundless enthusiasm for the large city, by the time the long shadows of dusk had begun to creep their way over the land. Link was scolding Illia for not looking in both directions, telling her that she ought to remember that Hyrule was a different world from Ordon before she found herself run over by a wayward tow-cart, when the evening swirled in, brushing away the last rays of sun clinging to the passing day. He was thusly occupied, and so he didn't see the uncommon occurrence that took place when those creeping twilit shades danced over where the dear and dangerous stack of letters lay, waiting to be forgotten. He didn't see them disappear, silently, and so quickly it was like a match being struck.

His only clue that something was amiss came much later, while he was turning down the blankets on his too big, all-wrong bed in one of the multitude of guestrooms the palace boasted. He had already snuffed his candle, and was staring out the massive window that overlooked the western province. In the distance, so far away he knew it must have originated over Lake Hylia, at least, was a flash of unusual light that burned purple in sight but left an orange afterimage. The air around it seemed to grow darker from the flash, rather than brighter, and then it was gone as suddenly as it had come.

Link noticed it, but he tried to put it out of mind. He willed himself to set it aside, and climbed into bed, reconciled to another sleepless night, unsettled by more than just the unfamiliar sheets.

Unsettled because he hadn't seen a color that shade, except in recollection or snips of too brief dreams, since the mirror broke.