So yeah this is happening.
I'm expecting to do 4 or 5 chapters, maybe more, maybe less. We'll see.
The Legend of Zelda: Skyward Sword and all its characters and settings belong to Nintendo and not me.
The doors opened slowly, scraping against the edge of the stone floor as light flooded into the Sealed Temple. Impa and Groose whirled around with startled exclamations, but Zelda's eyes had already been fixed on the entrance.
She hated it. Hated waiting; hated not being able to do anything; hated not being able to protect Link.
A boy stumbled into the temple, and her breath caught in her throat. Link was covered in blood—some red, his own blood, some black, the blood of the demon army he had cut his way through. His green tunic was in shreds, and he leaned heavily on his right leg, the left raised slightly off the ground. Still, there was relief and triumph on his face, even though he looked like he could barely manage to lift the Master Sword in his shaking hands.
Link's eyes met hers first, and there was something hurt in his dark blue irises that went beyond his physical wounds. Something exhausted and scarred that came from growing up too fast.
(It was all her fault, wasn't it?
The Goddess in her mind flinched at the question. Zelda's Link was just like Hylia's Link, though thousands of years apart and in different scenarios.
Only Hylia's Link had died, left behind as the earth became the sky and the humans were saved, dragging Demise down with him. Hylia had held his cold body in her arms and died with him, until they had both come alive again in mortal bodies.
When it came down to it, it was all her fault.)
She got to him before Impa or Groose could even take a step forward, and he reached for her like a child reaching to his mother. They sank to the cold stone floor together, because Link was bleeding everywhere and Zelda had just had her soul ripped halfway from her body and their legs couldn't hold them up any longer.
It had been so long.
They were both different people now, but at the end of things he was still her Link and she was still his Zelda, and they had grown up together. Even though the past year was an open wound inside both of them, his body was warm and familiar against hers and his voice was still the same as he murmured her name over and over like a prayer.
Link pressed his face into her shoulder, and his arms were tight around her. He was trembling badly, and she felt his blood seep from his clothing to hers. He let out one tiny sob—a quiet one for her ears only, but still the kind of sob that tore her apart on the inside.
And then he was Hylia's Chosen Hero again, selfless and courageous as he greeted Groose's ridiculous teasing and Impa's solemn praises. He transformed and put on a mask of the boy he used to be, the boy Zelda had missed so desperately. Only she could tell how different he was now compared to how he had been a year ago.
Zelda knew him too well to believe that he was just all right, after all Hylia—after all she had put him through.
She led him to the corner of the temple where the seed of the Fruit of Life grew and sat him down on the stool that stood against the wall, turning away to gather all of medical supplies Impa kept there in case one of them got hurt.
(One of them always seemed to be getting hurt.)
"Zelda—" Link started in a hoarse, cracking voice, and she could feel all the unsaid words lingering in the silence between them, building up to form an almost unbearable weight.
"Hush," she said softly, gently, carefully. "I need to get those wounds treated, all right? Now take off your shirt."
She heard him exhale slowly, his breath wheezing in his lungs as he let the air out. Then there was the rustle of cloth and the chink of chainmail, and by the time she had the bucket filled with water from the temple's fountain his tunic was gone, revealing the wounds of a war veteran.
A sickly yellow-purple-black bruise flowered across Link's right side, and two of the ribs on his right side jutted out at wrong angles. His arms were decorated with varying degrees of burns, scrapes and scars. Ghiriham's attack had shredded the lower part of his pants and part of his boot, too, along with a good bit of skin. A gash glistened red towards the left part of his midsection.
Their eyes met, and he—Goddess, he looked so broken.
"Doesn't look so good, does it?" Link said and attempted a smile. It only made the guilt worse.
Zelda pressed her lips together and dipped a rag in her bucket of water, the liquid cool and soothing on her hands, and pressed the cloth to the wound on Link's stomach, feeling his muscles tense as a strained groan passed through his gritted teeth.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. There were tears in her eyes, but she didn't let them fall. Zelda was so tired of being weak.
She had too many things to be sorry for.
*cough cough* please review *cough cough*