Warning : Basically, this can be read as a crack!fic. Hylia-Zelda is busy complaining about...everything in her world. There is a bit self-bashing, but the atmosphere is supposed to be humorous, so it's nothing to be taken seriously as they still loves each other. Sorta. Let's just hope you'll not hate me for this. :D

It was calm outside. Little sounds, softly filtering though the wooden walls of their cabin. He had managed to build it on his own after few attempts.

Link did this much while she could only sit and look. Because all she had offered so far were bad plans, two shreds of will, and a sweet petite figure...

And she could knit.

She sneered.

The list came easily: she could hardly bend his bow, she lacked strength to hurl herself at anything with the hookshot, and she couldn't throw bombs.

From there, it only went on: she couldn't lift a sword to save her life, her throwing of knives and whip lacked velocity, and the scattershot wasn't much use for hunting unless for strategic distractions while he did the job.

Now it hadn't been much of a problem before.

Zelda, had passed her wing ceremony and had been content to set down weapons from that point on. But with fresh divine memories, the weakness and dependence of her new body felt insupportable. She hated the role in which she had set herself.

Her plan had never been kinder to her Hero's comfort than to her own. But right now, all she could think of was everything she had lost. What little of her damaged soul and memories that had been saved became caught in a body she had molded herself for the sole pleasure of another, both slaves of time…

She turned in her sheets and pierced a dark stare through her small pillow. It didn't do much to help her restlessness, so she decided to banish it from her bed and, watched with a bemused expression as it fell to the floor.

Now where was she? Yes:

Her hero had designed an ocarina so they could practice together, and it was a welcome change when she tired of playing the lyre and watching over the tiny lives of the insectary she had built.

Since she retrieved the knowledge for it, when Link found the needed pieces in Lanayru, and when she could gather enough magic to deal with minuscule components, she went back to build little robotic birds and insect-like devices; the only kind of beings she could create anymore.

True, she found amusement in the way tiny songbirds were still drawn by her whistles and kept hopping around her as if surprised by a hidden part of their instincts.

Link seemed to have gotten used to what had first appeared as mood shifts. She wondered if he begrudged her. For having took root, silently, just listening at first, then thinking and considering things with a bit less romantism, a bit less optimism than his childhood friend had and would.

Of course, Zelda was still part of her and would always be. But her previous consciousness now felt like a closed room, a small part of a whole that had one day made her, that had made Hylia.

Since she had opened that room, and seen the world of memories and powers outside if it, she couldn't just go lock herself back in and pretend to ignore all of what she had seen and felt. She had tried. But she knew she couldn't hold on to the charade forever with her mortal father. She had know and seen and been too much to be codled as a daughter, and she knew that at some point she would forget herself and sigh, roll her eyes or want to kill herself from boredom or exasperation. Her father deserved better than that. So she was glad that the Hero had agreed to live on the Surface. With her.

A goofy smile broke on her face.

If she was to be honest, life on the surface had been good. In anything, she just wished that Hylia - would it be better to speak about herself in the third person? - hadn't set herself to end in the doll role.

Cynicism.

She wasn't sure how she felt about this. She didn't want to become bitter! ... It sounded so ungrateful, didn't it?

She sneered softly. These somber thoughts sounded out of place in this world of peace, but she just felt so dramatic tonight. She liked her Hero. She liked him enough to welcome his fiercer affections.

Could it be enough?

Sometimes, she felt like a prisoner. Sometimes, the knowledge was extremely frustrating. In the end, she had fallen back under a mortal man's wing.

Link wasn't just any mortal. She was his best friend, he was her only friend who actually knew what she had been. He was easy to confide in. No secret could stand long between the two of them. Yet, Hylia had tasted too much power to be content being coddled by a mate.

Hylia didn't crave power, but the mourning of freedom was not an easy path and she feared gratitude would slowly turn into obligation and servitude through the years. Already, she knew him too well to not enjoy catching him up in sadistic, if harmless, mind games. The worst thing was that he didn't seem to mind. Did he? She was almost sure he couldn't enjoy them as much as she did, at least. (Yet again, when his body laid broken and content beneath her hands, when his gaze burned a sweet searing mark into her mind through half lidded eyes, she wasn't really sure anymore of who she was supposed to be. Was the boy with the sloppy smile and bouncing golden locks still alive somewhere in the hero?)

She had been severe, relentless, possessive and deceivingly naive to test his limits. Nothing new here. Except that it wasn't to save the world this time.

Sometimes, she felt a little bad. But feeling in control made her feel free. Was that bad even if he was happy?

...What had made her even think the Golden Powers could allow her to wish upon them as a mortal? She had, after all, wrapped nothing but personal desires of freedom into her oath to fight for the land.

The Goddesses must have seen through it all anyway, because now, her wish caught her up in this ironic situation, in a millennial body and under the protection of a boy. ...Allegedly mature enough to balance the Golden Power.

There was that.

But it didn't solve her helpless feeling.

Regardless of all her feats of war and strength of heart - throwing herself at a mortal man after barely ten little years of swooning - Hylia had probably not been ready to her goddess role…she had forgotten to close a Gate of Time (!)

More than the control she had been used to through time travels, she mourned her wings (ironic as that order was). Being root to the earth dropped an indefeasible weight on her soul. From then on, her every hour, day, year of sleep in that crystal had slowly taken a bitter toll. Then she began to feel them ; the myriad little losses that she had not clearly defined until then, when they were just lifeless memories.

Then he had come. Seeing him—as young as she has left him—she had almost collapsed of relief. Her Hero had survived. Everything was over. And there was a perk to being mortal : they could live together, they could attune their voices to a new song…

They sat and made light talk, enjoying each other's presence for an hour or so. He wanted to make sure that her body had time to learn to walk, and…and she was glad to be able to stay alone with him before meeting the world again. She quickly realized that even if it was him, it wasn't really him. It would never exactly be him—and different parts of her had different feelings about that. It took a while to get used to the differences between them, and she worried that if she let herself go, she might blurt out something that was not meant to his ears. Their similarities were heartwarming and painful at the same time… It rose memories of an unbreakable knight from another life that had never left his soul been tarnished by fate. It rose memories of other trials she had set long ago ; long, old things she held most dear and wanted to remember even if the Hero couldn't anymore.

She had been surprised by the shining love that Zelda's husband had shown her despite of the differences.

She never had the time to sort out what feelings would be expected of a Hylian teen. When she awakened in her incarnate body, the older and deeper emotions she remembered rushed back in, along with her ancient philosophies. As a result, she now only felt respect...admiration for her Hero. Maybe…a little more for his spirit...that lovely spirit that all of his incarnations would share.

But she knew that her behavior had changed. She spoke to him more carefully now, weighting each word. She had reasons to feel gullible and couldn't always prevent it to weight on her face. Laughing had been tedious at first.

Yet, even when the Demise's messenger had made everything futile—through a Door of Time…her own device—this Hero had followed her again. Link had brought her back, patched her up and wound his arm around a little girl who was afraid to hope again.

She had thought that he would quickly tire of the charade; he would have to accept Zelda's changes. She hoped he would speak, he would blame her openly, anything to avoid his complete rejection. Yes, Demise would return. And it meant that many of her cruelties had been vain…

But he was never sullen and his patience, his hope slowly made her feel at home. Still, the simplicity of their relationship had been tarnished, and she hoped it wouldn't be lost forever. She had much to sort out, and didn't know how much she could tell him about it, but in the end she wanted to believe that they could both recover and find each other again.

So she had carefully wrapped herself around him, making sure to be the center of his world, making sure his soul would not have a chance to escape, to make their fate unmovable through the tides of time.

Demise might have been right. She had been selfish and intrusive with the Heroes' lives. She supposed the old Zelda would have felt guiltier about it. But she was many more things than that name, and being endowed with divine-like powers did strange things to one's reasoning.

The Link she had loved thousands of years ago, the one who had fought alongside her in the war, barely used to conceal his words around her. What would he say if he realized what she had taken the liberty to do with his soul and spirit? She could only hope for the best. As long as her Hero would be alright with her decision, she didn't have any reason to feel guilt.

His new incarnation, through, only saw Zelda. It was something logical and made things simpler for both of them ; she understood it well and even got used to it. Till the end of his battles, his mind had carefully refuted any fact suggesting that his childhood friend had been an incomplete part of a sum, along with all the evidence of her differences. True, sometimes she wondered how he really felt about her—the whole present her and all of her deeds—and it was frightening terrifying.

Yet, her Hero's incarnation wasn't slow—maybe distracted sometimes, and late when she didn't wake him on time—but he was also well-lettered and practical. Things rarely escaped his notice; it just wasn't in his character. But whatever his feelings truly were, he did a very good job passing them off as love.

These were the ways of his incarnation…of Zelda's Link.

She couldn't help but smile a little, both softened and impatient—a strange mix she knew she would get familiar to.

He had barely dared to hold her even to save their lives. …Well, she could not honestly say that of her husband anymore.

But even then it didn't count…he had been…

Well, it did count okay. Maybe her trials—or the Triforce—had changed him. She had yet to be convinced of that, through.

She curled her lips and grazed at the lower with her teeth.

She wouldn't mind at all if he convinced her of that—but she was getting astray.

She knew better than to hope foolishly. She knew the physical memory of each incarnation were unique, lost through the death of the body. Would she have to continuously remind it to some parts of her human shell now? That was a rule that has always been out of her reach. And it didn't matter anymore now than it had before.

It didn't matter. Because even if she couldn't probe as far into spiritual designs as she used to, even from her mortal's spiritual perceptions, the strength of his soul was still a shinning beacon that secretly awed her...and that made her wonder if the goddesses had crafted it for her just as she had crafted her body for him.

Her husband's arm constricted around her as he brought her back against him.

Half-awake, then? It didn't matter, she didn't feel like hiding her self from him anymore. Would this incarnation dare to touch her in that way if he knew how much she remembered? She didn't want to know yet. They had something ; something nice. That was enough.

Besides, how could she properly maintain her gait when her body found this much comfort in his embrace?

Grinning, she snuggled back into his chest, closing her eyes.

Maybe she could cope up with being someone's doll for decades -what was the average length of two mortal lives?- if that someone were the Hero. It seemed reasonable, didn't it? She felt his heartbeat quicken against her back.

Knowing that he had wielded the whole Triforce was somewhat...awing. After all, they were so well concealed in his small, lithe figure ; the edge of his dormant wrath, the steel of his will, the infinity of his spirit... Yet, these considerations didn't matter, because she was already honor bound to the boy for the rest of so short a life. But when she had done this to herself, romance had a very different definition. Back then—eons ago, she could never fathom why the context of that choice would matter so much.

She relaxed minutely and focused on being live. Promised to die, yet more alive than ever. Each sensation keen and clear like a note that seemed only fit (begged) to arrange in a tune, ever similar and even different, that she longed to sing to oblivion. She sighed when he burrowed her further into his chest.

Ah she had already taken so much from his soul and spirit...yet she wasn't sure she could get herself to stop anymore.

Perhaps it wasn't retribution, after all, she thought as she slowly slid his fingers into her mouth and nibbled at them. Perhaps it was a fair trade. Maybe it was right to entrust other things to him than duty.

He rose to nuzzle an exposed part of her neck and chuckled sleepily.

She relaxed some more in his touch. His rising breaths gently tickling her skin though the thin collar of her night grown. His golden locks calling to her fingers before she knew it.

She could feel the burnt of his smile against her skin when he heaved a contented sigh.

And then, she felt his lips move against her.

For the first time, he whispered her name.

.

Her heart stilled

.

.

.

A/N: The balance I see in the half-conscious power-games these two nurture is one of the reasons I like zelink so much. On one hand, given his renowned Courage, his potential for power and being sometime able to withstand the whole Trifoce, I doubt that Link ever felt forced to follow Zelda's command. And on the other hand, I don't think Zelda considers it as a game. I don't think she ever meant to trick the Hero with empty smiles. But both the Avatar of Wisdom —used to plan very far ahead, always confident that she can deal with the consequences of the feelings she encourages— and the Princess —used to be in charge— in her, feel too overwhelmed when the revelation of their own duty as Queen or lesser Goddess catch up on them. So they easily let the weight of it come in the way of their unvoiced promises. It doesn't mean that they doesn't care, that they won't try to make it up for him. Also most Zelda are really bad at tying loose ends. And planning. And admitting their own feelings.

These are the points I would like to explore in The Mask Memory. Because IMB the "Fierce Deity" of Termina was only the physical embodiment of Link's wildest feelings. Not just the bad ones, mind you, but all the hopes and desires he would normally sacrifice to please others, and of course, Zelda. He may also be the spirit of an older corrupted hero of legend from Skyloft or before. A 'Link' gone rogue after donning the Mask of Majora. Zelda or Hylia at that point, may then have played The Song of Healing on him as either salvation or punishment.

What remains, though, is that a hero endowing that mask can still fully govern himself. But self-confidence in his power severs him from the need to seek approval from others.

Thus freed from the direction of the Avatar of Wisdom, the hero set his own boundaries and once he has decided of a course of action, he doesn't stop to question it. His means are wild, though not forcibly chaotic. He let himself probe, request, maybe demand things for himself. And, heh, that's not a luxury when it comes to be so intimately tied to Hylia's lineage.

In most future fanfiction I may write about Link/The Fierce Deity that is.

Thank you for reading my rant. I'd welcome other opinions if you feel like discussing. Just remember to [log in] so I can answer you if you feel inclined to it.