prompt: aftermath
disclaimer: Zelda isn't mine.
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"You don't have to stay, you know," Zelda tells him one day. They are standing on the ramparts of what is left of Hyrule Castle, watching the castle servants hand out blankets and bowls of soup to the long line of people gathered in the courtyard. Hyrule is a mess in the wake of Zant's—and Ganondorf's—reign, and the streets are lined with the hungry and the sick and the desperate.
Link eyes her pale green dress, her shoulders hunched against the cold, her light brown hair whipping around her face in the wind, and says nothing. His hand is resting on the hilt of the sword hanging from his belt.
"I don't mean to say that I don't want you here," Zelda rushes to say, as if realizing the implications of her words. "Your help in repairing the city is appreciated. But you…you did not have a choice in the role you played in this war."
"Neither did you, Your Majesty," he points out quietly. It's strange, this familiarity he feels with her; like something he remembers from a dream. They have both been so busy in the two days since returning from the desert that they've seen little each other. Despite saving the world together, Link barely knows her, and they share nothing—Zelda is the new queen of a broken nation; he is a goat herder, a wolf, a hero, and no one at all. Yet there is a connection between them all the same.
"It is not the same," she replies steadily, her hands coming up to rest upon the parapet. "This—" she sweeps out a hand to indicate the ruined castle, the soldiers, the starving people lining up in hopes of the barest hint of comfort, "is my life and my duty as queen. I want you to know I don't put any responsibility on you. You owe Hyrule nothing, Hero. If you want to leave, you are free to do so."
They are both quiet as she waits for a response Link doesn't have. The thought of Ordon brings up a conflicted mess of emotions he cannot even begin to untangle. But they'll be waiting for him; he knows that.
Zelda takes a breath. "Midna would—"
The name snaps a violent chord inside him, like the way two blades clang together when they meet. "I'll leave for Ordon at dawn, Your Majesty," Link interrupts, his voice clipped and carefully controlled. "If Hyrule needs me, you know where to find me."
He doesn't look back as his feet lead him to the staircase, or stop to consider the effect his words will have on Zelda. And she doesn't call after him.
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Ordon is not the same.
The people welcome him back with open arms, but the war changed each and every one of them, no matter how much they try to hide it. Link is changed more than any of them, and they know it. He sees Midna in every shadow, hears her in the giggles of the children, feels her presence at his back when he knows it is gone. Even in his dreams she is there, along with the monsters and the lava and the other things that make him scream himself awake.
He tells himself he understands why she left. Duty. The word makes Link think of Zelda, and of his abrupt words to her on the rooftop. He regrets that. He regrets a great many things.
The months pass in the dull grey of the same routine over and over. Link keeps the sword strapped to his hip, and doesn't play with the children or go fishing with Fado anymore. Sometimes, his eyes catch on the Triforce marked into the back of his hand, but then he looks away. He listens to the forest wolves howling in the dark of night, and feels his blood thrum with a half-forgotten, bestial song.
Ilia is the one who finally joins him at the edge of the Light Spirit's spring one day as he washes his clothes. She sits down beside him, bare feet dangling in the water, just like when they were children. It reminds Link that this place was his whole future once—help take care of the kids, learn swordplay from Rusl, take over the farm when Fado no longer wanted it, marry Ilia. They're grown up now, though, and Ilia is kind and warm and generous, but they never loved each other. Again, Link thinks of the princess, and of the fierce look in her eyes.
"Nothing ended the way I thought it would," Ilia says without hesitation—that was her. "Sometimes, I feel like nothing ended at all."
She's right, and Link wants to thank her just for that, but all he says is, "Yeah."
That makes her chuckle. "You're a part of Ordon, Link, and you always will be. But you should be where you want to be. Where you're happy."
"Ilia, I…thank you."
She shakes her head. "You're welcome," she teases, giving him a friendly shove on the shoulder. "Just make me one promise. You broke the last one, so you owe me. Don't forget where you came from."
Link smiles. "That's not a promise I could ever break."
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By the time he returns to the capital, the queen has a real throne room again, with marble floors and massive pillars and an intricate throne under the flag bearing the royal crest. Link strides in when the guards open the doors for him, his gait appearing more confident than he feels.
Zelda regards him with a composed expression that betrays little, though he sees her lips twitch slightly as though she wants to smile. That gives him hope.
"You've returned," she observes, her hands folded in her lap, her back straight. She is as lovely and as dangerous as she was on the day he left.
"I'm sorry," Link says.
Zelda just shakes her head and rises from the throne, her eyes flickering to the guards at the back of the room, then back to Link. She steps closer to him. "Midna," she begins, and this time, he doesn't flinch. "never wanted to hurt you. Or me, or anyone, really. That's why she did what she did."
"I know. I was just angry…and I ran. It was cowardly."
"Hero," Zelda murmurs, and though Link normally hates that title and everything it stands for, it sounds better on her lips. "You are no coward. I may not know you very well, but I know that. And I would like to know more."
Link just smiles at that. "I'd like that too, Your Majesty."
"Call me Zelda," she says, and reaches for his hand.
It is the start of something beautiful.
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