A/N:

1. Hoo boy this one is a little longer. It didn't feel right splitting it into yet another chapter, so here we are with 36 pages.
2. I had immense fun with one part of this story I bet you can all pick it out the second you see it
3. HEY guess who made a whoopsie and assumed no one could get to the Shrine of Courage? Me. So. I've gone back and put an excuse in Wax and Wings and called it a day LOL

That night, Link had a simple solution for his problems.

The uniform was stuffy. The gloves stiff. He'd tear them off: tear away the blue and red of his tunic until there was nothing but a black undershirt left. Into the bushes they went- somewhere, he didn't know where. That was better; he felt cooler, the chilled air subduing some of the heat that remained buzzing beneath his skin.

Urbosa was complaining loudly- furiously. Maybe it was about his messy hair again, or maybe about the fact that he was snatching a mug from her hand and walking off with her precious wine.

He was never a drinker. Even being so resistant to poisons and other inebriating substances, a single cup of that woman's alcohol was enough to leave him collapsed in the middle of the forest: his back against a tree, the canopies spinning. Light and heavy at the same time, that's how his head felt. Something off center. Everything was off center.

Admittedly, the mug was big. Felt big. He tapped it against his forehead, holding it against his face.

Might've been as big as his head? That was interesting. How big was his head, exactly? He should have it measured, later. Purah would be good for the job. No, maybe Robbie.

...Urbosa's hair was bigger than his head, he'd bet.

It'd been an hour- maybe three or twelve. A day? No, no, it couldn't have been long. His throat was still burning, after all. That drink was the most foul thing he'd ever tasted: worse than the frog Zelda bribed him into licking.

Disgusted, Link flung the empty mug somewhere into the forest. He had no particular target; he expected it to smack into a tree or two, but that wasn't the case. It sounded like a person who took the brunt of it: squawking in pain. Leaves rustled and branches snapped. Did they fall over?

Cursing.

Revali?

Cackling.

Urbosa, without a doubt.

He blinked and two figures were standing over him.

"There he is," a Gerudo crowed. "Found you."

"What is your problem?!" A bird was shouting at him, irate. There might've been a welt forming on his head where the mug had hit him. A smug grin crept onto Link's face, and he could have sworn Revali's feathers stood on end in all his anger. Like a hissing cat.

"My, you're a lightweight, aren't you?" Even in the darkness Urbosa's amusement was clear as day. Link's grin twisted into a scowl. "Are you even conscious, boy?"

The woman's hand waved in front of his face. He swatted at it and missed.

Their figures were looming. He hated it. He stumbled to his feet, a hand against bark, and another on his forehead. Urbosa's own hands were on her hips now, still peering down her nose at him with an arched eyebrow. She was enjoying the show far too much for his taste.

A lip curled; he just wasn't tall enough, was he? The tree. Link was considering climbing the tree. She wouldn't be able to stare down at him like that if he was higher, right? That was a good plan. His best plan yet.

He was tugged back down by his hair the second he grabbed a branch.

"Ah, ah! Don't you try to run," his newly appointed Gerudo chaperone very quickly nipped that scheme in the bud.

Revali waved Link's discarded tankard in his face before he could even begin to complain.

"I have half a mind to throw this back at you," his warning didn't match the derisive look on his face.

Waving a dismissive wing, the Rito shifted into some sort of puffed up pose. Annoying. The undercurrent of laughter in his voice made Link want to choke him again.

"But, Hylia, this is just so pitiful! The Hero of Hyrule, so drunk he can't even see straight? I'll have to jot this down for the records... Oh! Where's the princess? I bet she'd love to see-"

As it turned out, rage did wonders for his accuracy. His hand shot out in a blur, yanking Revali towards him by his scarf so he could snarl:

"You spit one more word, you overgrown vulture,and I'll grindyour beakoff with Robbie's bladesaw."

The venom in his tone surprised even him and, apparently, Revali. His hostage stammered, saying something, but it was lost on Link when his stomach churned violently. The movement was too much too fast: he suddenly felt nauseous.

He'd never heard Revali screech so loud.

No doubt the smell would never come out of his scarf.

The sky rolled. Link was on his back, maybe, the sound of a wailing Rito ringing in his ears. Everything felt upside down.

"Quit screaming, already-"

"...is silk!"

"...dramatic-"

Daylight. An even worse taste in his mouth.

Link sat up, sheets under the palm of his hand, and glanced around him. He was in his room: curtains were fluttering as light poured in through the windows. Someone was sitting in a chair by the door. He blinked away the haze of bright colors and red hair and easily identified the trespasser as Urbosa herself.

"...Hi," was his best, cautious greeting.

The woman smirked and cooed as if she was speaking to a sleepy toddler, "Good morning! Sleep well?"

His response was blunt and unamused, "I have a headache."

"You're young, you'll shake it off soon enough," Urbosa scoffed, unconcerned as she rose to her feet.

The noise that came out of him was a groan: frustrated, exasperated, and revolted all at once. There was water by his bedside, and he downed it, hoping to wash the taste of alcohol and bile out of his mouth. It didn't work very well.

When he set the glass down, Link watched Urbosa inspect her nails. He couldn't understand what was so fascinating about them.

"Would you like to know what kind of drunk you are?" the woman offered kindly, breezily.

"No."

Gracious as ever, she enlightened him anyway.

"Emotional. Talkative." She paused, exaggerating her final words, "Weepy, too."

"Weepy?"

"Very."

His head was in his hands.

"Revali-"

"Don't you worry, he was gone by the time you started sobbing in my lap. He needed to wash off all that dinner of yours, you see."

This was humiliating.

"...Hylia."

Teeth were showing. She was grinning from ear to ear. Link swallowed, and forced out a vague question, "What… what exactly was I upset about?"

Both of her eyebrows raised. She finally nestled her hand into the crook of her crossed arms- blue nails no longer the target of inspection. He blanched. Everything. He told her everything, didn't he?

Link swung his legs off the edge of his mattress and blurted, "Did you tell anyone?!"

She waved a hand as if that was offensive.

"I'm not even surprised," she remarked.

"Which- Which part, exactly?"

Urbosa mulled that over. "Your relationship. I had a feeling the both of you got along too well." Some sort of chuckle came out of her, "Though, I admit I was fairly certain it was inevitable when you departed from my city… But marriage? I must say our king is a visionary."

Link had no desire to discuss any of it. "What do you want, Urbosa?"

"Your plan."

"My plan," he repeated, mocking. "I have no plan."

"Ah, yes. I had a suspicion you didn't when you decided drinking yourself silly was the best course of action," her tone was also mocking.

He rolled his eyes, already tired of it. "What do you think I should've done? Make a decision overnight?"

"You say that as if you haven't come to a decision already," Urbosa pursed her lips, incredulous.

"...Right," he muttered. He'd known his answer the moment Rhoam presented it to him, and there was no doubt he explained that to her in detail. "Then what are you asking?"

She pushed off the door, taking several steps forward to glare down at him. Her words were slow, deliberate, and threatening. It made him lean away, if only by an inch. "I am asking… When and how you plan to tell her."

"I don't want to tell her," his reply was immediate, hollow.

"You'll have to eventually."

"Not yet."

"When?"

"After Lanayru."

"Why?"

"It's too important to her."

"Aren't you, as well?"

"That's why."

Her finger was tapping against her arm, contemplative. "...You're telling me you plan on letting her know mere days before you're permanently separated?"

Link was standing now, baffled. "What else am I supposed to do?"

"She won't have time to come to terms..." Urbosa countered, slinking towards his window. She stared out as she continued, harsh, "You must tell her soon if you have any respect for her."

Soon? How could he?

Mipha. Mipha's words came back to him. 'One hurtful truth.' A bleeding heart.

Link smothered those thoughts, rebuking, "She needs to be focused."

"Don't deflect, boy."

"I'm serious, this is too important for her to be distracted."

"How can she not when you're behaving like this?"

His head was pounding. That itching feeling was returning, like scabs over a burn. "Urbosa, it's too early for this."

In more ways than one, really.

Link sat back down on his bed: elbows on his knees. Something was crawling up his back; it was her eyes. He could feel her staring at him, evaluating and picking him apart.

He fully expected Urbosa to argue further, yet the woman backed down. "...It is a difficult situation."

Perhaps she was sympathetic to his blatant inability to do anything more than flounder, but he wouldn't grace that astute observation with a response. A sigh of her own could be heard before Link mumbled a question:

"Is she ok?"

Shoving her. Walking away. There was nothing but shame washing over him. He needed to apologize. Though, he wasn't sure how when the thought of even looking at her made him squirm with apprehension.

"I'm not sure... As far as I know, she spent the night outdoors with Daruk and Mipha. Talking, I'd say."

"You stayed here?" Link frowned, perplexed as he glanced over his shoulder. "With me?"

Pauldrons lifted and fell with a shrug. "I'm sure she would have sent me away if I tried to leave you alone. She saw us drag you back in, after all."

Guilt raked through him. Whatever sound escaped him was probably nothing short of distraught as he fell back onto the bed, hands over his eyes. Silence passed. Five, ten, twenty, forty seconds before Urbosa uttered a command:

"Get out."

Link's hands raised so he could stare at her, confusion evident in the knit of his brow. An uncharacteristic word escaped him. "...Pardon?"

Urbosa turned to face him, her stance wide. She almost looked angry. "You'll wallow in here all day unless someone throws you out. You will have free reign until noon when our king departs. The remaining guests have all departed, as well."

She rounded the bed, hands on her hips. Earrings swayed when she bent over to grab his arm and pull him unwillingly to his feet. Link stumbled as the woman went on, "Wander around, break something if you must. I will not allow you back in this abbey until nightfall, is that clear?"

"I can't-"

His sword was thrown onto the mattress.

"You're better than this," Urbosa stated.

Link stared at her- marvelling at the sheer confidence in her face. The faith.

"Go," the woman insisted one final time, "now."

His mouth hung at Impa's command.

"Go... where?"

"Wherever you must," she provided rather candidly. Impa stood after patting his cheek a little roughly. They were still flushed from his breakdown. Still damp. "Find the rest of that memory. There are places you have yet to visit, no?"

He shook his head, rubbing a gloved hand over his eyes, trying to erase the evidence of it all. "I've… gone everywhere in the Slate."

"Even Lanayru?"

"...Even Lanayru."

He expected her to fall into a disappointed silence to match his own, yet she tapped a fist into the flat of her palm, hard. "Then go again."

The lanterns were in his sights. He wouldn't look at Impa, or share in her conviction. "I don't want to remember."

"Link."

"They're about to die," he murmured, unblinking as his gaze remained fixated on those flickering candles. There was a dull pain in his chest, the needles finally growing blunt. He was keenly aware of it, counting down the seconds, praying they'd go away for once. "It already hurts enough."

She didn't have a response for that.

"I haven't had time to mourn like the rest of you," Link defended. "It's only been three years since I woke up. I didn't have a century."

"Do you think Zelda has had time?"

Slowly, he looked up at her. "...That's cruel, Impa."

"She mourns," the woman paid no mind to his words, "through you. With you."

He would ask why it couldn't wait until after.

Blood moons would come and go, erasing all of their efforts. Thousands, it had to be: the monsters and the Guardians he'd cut to pieces. It made him furious each and every month to stand in the ruins of Castle Town, watching machinery spiral out of those colossal towers- crawling like devils out of a fissure in the Earth.

Zelda's power was dwindling; that princess could hardly spare a shred of it to reach out to him, to speak, or to explain herself. Instead, he would receive nothing but orders from an array of unfamiliar voices invading his head- marionetting him.

Conquer them all: shrines, memories, towers, and Beasts.

Three years and counting and only two of those were crossed off his list.

Impa merely shook her head. She didn't know, of course. Only Zelda knew the reasons why. He'd come to understand the princess' lifelong frustration all too well: what with not being able to pry an answer out of a Goddess.

The woman padded over to her hat, groaning as she bent to pick it up. "Come now," she chortled as the thing plopped back onto her head, "you've always been the curious type. What is our princess hiding, hm?"

He pouted at that, refusing to fall for it.

"Regardless of the way things ended for you two, she is far from cruel herself. Something is there, I am certain of it." Impa argued further, trying a different angle. "...You have faith in her, do you not? You would have sprinted off to that castle long ago if you didn't."

His teeth grit together, stubborn as he glared down at the Slate.

One more.

It was a pleading sigh: a sough like wind through a tunnel. However, something knowing was in it. Something devious. Impish.

Link stared at the rafters, wonderstruck at the sound of her voice. It'd been mute for six months- drowned out by the monster thrashing, fighting against her iron grip.

"...One more?"

Please, Link.

Impa was watching him as she climbed back onto her cushions, intrigued by that muttering of his.

"She said… one more memory," he provided in a distant tone.

Silence. And then:

"That settles it then."

It did. He was, after all, weak to her requests even after a century.

Link held the woman's expectant stare for several seconds before breaking away, fingers wrapping around his scabbard before he got to his feet and strode off- slinging that blade onto his back. The door slid open. Its frame ground against floorboards as cold air enveloped him. Briefly, however, he looked back.

"Thank…" his voice trailed off.

Impa was already snoring.

Link couldn't help the weak laugh that escaped him, and when he closed that door, it was as quietly as he could. It was a shame she'd never met the Deku Tree, he thought; the two of them would get along swimmingly, he was sure.

He had his Slate out already, flicking through the map when a voice called out to him.

"M-Master Link!"

Paya was standing near the Goddess statue. A hand was over her mouth, as if she hadn't intended to say anything at all. The Slate lowered, and soon Link was trotting down the stairs. She was looking every which way, of course, clearly regretting those impulsive words.

He came to a stop in front of her, hands on hips, and waited for the young woman to speak.

"I- are you leaving?" she managed. "Already?"

"Impa kicked me out," he stated.

Worry overpowered her shyness and she took a step forward, adjusting her basket at her elbow. "Did you argue? Please, I can talk to her-"

A hand waved, but it was good natured. Link smiled, trying to calm her. "We just talked."

"Your face- it's swollen! Did she smack you? Hylia, she can get so strict sometimes-"

He cleared his throat, shaking his head rapidly. "It's cold- Paya, it's fine."

"Oh… I'm sorry," she wilted, embarrassed by all her fussing. Goddess, he wasn't sure how to handle her.

Link observed her. The deep frown, the worry that never seemed to leave her. He was going to tell her there was nothing to apologize for, yet another thought occurred to him. "You're like your grandma, you know?"

She blinked, her eyes as wide as the one on her forehead.

"You go about it differently, but you're both born mediators."

Paya's gaze flicked to the grass, a little dazed by that claim of his. A finger was grazing over her mouth in consideration, "...You think..?"

Maybe he was in a daze, as well, thinking too hard. "You're like Zelda, too."

That shocked her. Paya's gaze snapped back to him, utterly bewildered.

He looked away, huffing. A cuckoo was strutting by, and gave him a rather offensive look before flapping off in a panic. Cado could stand to make his fence a little higher, honestly.

"You spoil everyone... I wonder if she raised you the same way, or maybe Impa just rubs off on people. Even Purah, a little," he scratched at his head, tossing the subject aside. "It doesn't matter. I should get going- thanks again for the soup."

"W-Wait!" she squeaked, and started frantically rummaging around in her basket. "Here! You'll need dinner, too!"

She held out a box, her face redder than her makeup. The scent told him it was something spicy; for the cold. He gave her a withered, amused look.

'You're proving my point,' it said.

Her mouth twisted into a frown, and she shook the box, yapping, "This is me being strict! Take it!"

Link snatched it away, and it dissolved into blue: preserved in his Slate. "Tyrants, all of you," he snipped.

That earned a grin, and seconds later he was gone, leaving Kakariko in peace.

Weeks, it took. Searching, wandering, standing in one place, tapping his foot: praying something would occur to him. A flash, a feeling. Anything. At one point, he was on the Plateau, arms spread out as he laid beneath the remnants of Urbosa's crumbling gazebo. Lazily, he was stuffing roasted truffles in his mouth, glaring at the birds circling overhead.

He felt like he was wasting his time.

But a deal was a deal, wasn't it?

Outskirts Stable was where he discovered his first lead. He'd been buying arrows from Beedle when a piece of gossip caught his attention. Toffa, the resident elder, was speaking with one of the stable girls about a strange horse- which, of course, piqued his interest. Link quickly handed a gold rupee to Beedle- along with an insect to finally get him off his back (the merchant could smell them on him somehow, he was sure) and crept up on Toffa.

It was unintentional, but the action gave him quite the scare, and Link was momentarily frightened that he'd sent the old man to the afterlife before he could interrogate him. A walking stick was waved threateningly. And, after a brief scolding for his sneaky behavior, the old man was soon inspecting him.

"You're good with horses?" he inquired, deliberative.

Link very simply gestured to a horse standing by the trees. Black, orange. Large enough to carry even Daruk. The animal stomped on a log: splintering it in half with ease.

"There's no one better," he deadpanned, completely and utterly serious.

Needless to say, he was very quickly given the location of this mysterious horse. A gold mane, he recited, pure white. Elusive. The way he babbled on about it was almost as if he regarded it as a unicorn: something sacred. Link couldn't fault him; he felt the same way, hearing about it.

He exchanged his horse for one that was faster and galloped off without a wasted second.

He'd been to that park before, gazing out at a rising sun, eyes flicking between the picture on his Slate and that crack of light on the horizon. Nothing had come to him back then.

Try again, Impa had encouraged. Something would show, she claimed.

Instinct might have been what told him there was truth to that statement of hers. There was a tension in him: an urgency. The sun was setting. He needed to get there soon- otherwise, he'd miss it.

Whatever it was, he couldn't miss it.

Luckily, the distance was no more than a ten minute ride. Grass was torn as his mount skidded to a halt, and he stumbled off- his attention locked onto a horse, rearing up, encased in stone. He could already feel that memory unraveling in his mind when he ran up that hill; a sense of conviction, something tipping on its axis.

Link's breath was uneven when he finally reached that cobblestone. The horse was there, hooves clopping against brick: it's nose pointed at the horizon as wind rose from the valley below. The shifting of his feet, dirt scraping, was all it took for that animal's neck to bend toward him.

It evaluated him for a heartbeat- his own in his ears- and loftily trudged to the side as if it was simply moving out of his way.

It was blinding: the flame-like colors blanketing Hyrule. Link's eyes squeezed shut as a wince escaped him, and he recoiled from it- from the images flittering behind his eyes.

"Right…of course," he spoke to himself, breath shuddering, and a hand over his eyes. "What else could I have done?"

The pain was subsiding. Mipha's hand sat pressed against his forehead, his mind fuzzy. Whatever she was doing numbed the effects of last night's debauchery. His shoulders slumped, tired when she stepped back from him.

"How's that?" she probed. "Is that better?"

"It's a relief," he sighed. "I couldn't see straight."

"Last night you couldn't either," she teased.

"...How much did you see?" he wilted even further, practically whimpering.

The girl smiled, "I only saw from a distance. Revali was… well he was rather distraught over the state of his Champion's garb as Urbosa shooed you into the abbey. He begged Zelda desperately to help him clean it."

He must have looked embarrassed again, because Mipha patted the side of his face, comforting. "Now, now, everyone has their nights. And from what I can gather, it sounds like something terrible enough happened to justify the state of you."

Link would ask her what she knew, which turned out to be surprisingly little. Zelda refused to give details to either her or Daruk. The princess spared twenty words to convey that he was far from the right mind and not a single more.

The Goron noted to them that the king may have had a hand in it, and it was something which plunged their Hylian princess into a lingering, grim silence for the remainder of that night.

Zelda was smart and frustratingly intuitive when it came to him; he had no doubt she was already onto a thing or two. It was a fact which prompted Urbosa's argument to replay itself in her mind. Waiting until after Lanayru was already impossible, wasn't it? Needless to say, he was at a complete loss.

"I'll be here," Mipha offered quietly. He nodded despite knowing the last person he would speak with regarding that matter was her.

It may only serve to pain her, and the girl's feelings aside, Link already knew what she would tell him to do:

The same thing he was already doing. Cutting it all off.

He did as Urbosa commanded by wandering every which way. Abbey to abbey, chucking sticks into forests, and collapsing onto stone benches. It was still three hours before noon when he sat in that massive hallway: staring up at the vivid imagery of the glass above.

(A cherub. It had an impish grin on its face, golden curls, and wide eyes. If anyone fit the description of a cherub with a knife, it was Zelda- the girl always hiding a one in her boot, her bag, or her sleeve with a different excuse for each one.)

Link was sitting in the same building he'd wounded Reed's pride in. The silence was irritating; he actually wished it'd been filled with music again. The thought made his eyes twitch. He hated to admit he enjoyed that bard's music so much.

Though, he couldn't help it, could he? It held fond memories to him.

That may have been the catalyst of it all. The Wetland Stables: the place where he ruined everything. Akkala, too. Death Mountain. He thought about them all, wondering which was the final nail in the coffin, which was the shovel he used to dig his own grave.

Link didn't regret it, greedy as he was, yet that didn't make it any easier, did it?

For him, at least.

Trying to imagine Zelda's reaction to it would prove to be surprisingly difficult. Unlike him, the girl was more inclined to logic and reason than anything else, finding rationality even in something as irrational as emotion. No doubt she went into it all knowing the same: that there would be an end.

It was entirely possible Zelda would frown, shrug her shoulders, perhaps thank him for his time, and return to tinkering with slate.

In his desperate search for just about any excuse, that was a theory in which he would choose to cling to. Link would comfort himself: convincing himself that, at the very least, it wouldn't hurt her as much as it did him.

It'd seemed more plausible to him than anything else in all his doubt. He hadn't a clue what she saw in him to begin with; and it was a question he'd asked himself nearly everyday since Akkala- since Death Mountain, even.

Loving him?

It was flat out nonsense for more reasons than just the medicine.

Noon came all too slowly, but the blessing accompanying it made the wait plenty worth it.

King Rhoam was finally departing, after all.

It appeared he wasn't the only one eager to be rid of that oppressive man. The Gerudo walking next to him practically had a skip in her step as they traipsed along the path leading to that Plateau's ramp.

Daruk ambled to Link's right, and Mipha to Urbosa's left. Revali had barreled past overhead: likely wanting to goade about being the most punctual.

"The princess isn't with him," Daruk pointed out as he watched the Rito pass overhead. A finger scratched at his temple, and he glanced around the trees as if he expected Zelda to be slinking somewhere nearby.

Urbosa provided an answer, sounding a little grouchy, "Her Highness said her goodbyes already. His Majesty insisted she remain in the temple to pray alongside our lovely nuns."

(The sarcasm in those last few words were palpable. The nuns on the Plateau were nothing if not pestering and derogatory. Link was fairly certain he'd still had scars from all the beatings he received from their rulers: smacking his hand for using a fork incorrectly, or throwing some religious text at him for mumbling a curse at them. Anabelle was a saint compared to those women.

How Zelda stood to live with them for seven years was beyond him. To his amusement, he would bet that all it took was a month of Purah's terrible influence to erase any progress they made in forging her into a proper princess over the years.)

Upon arriving, he noted that Revali's scarf was missing. Link stayed quiet despite the vicious glare directed at him. One look at Revali's face told him that so much as maintaining more than a second of challenging eye contact would result in arrows being shot at him.

Maybe if it was a normal day, he'd have the energy to fight. He merely kept his eyes trained on the cobblestone, hands behind his back, and expression hollow. Out of the corner of his eye, Revali's shoulders relaxed, and he turned his attention elsewhere.

The sight of Link must have been as pitiful as last night. Even that firestarter couldn't see any kindling in him.

Four minutes later, Rhoam's procession came marching from the guest houses. Twenty three men, he'd count. Nobles, guards, and servants included.

The king would not address Link personally. It seemed he felt no inclination to pressure him further, ignoring his empty stare. Whatever words he spoke, whatever goodbyes or praises were uttered, he didn't retain any of them. He was a statue, and was fairly certain those around him couldn't even see him breathing.

It was hard to, after all. Unaware of anything other than the weight in his lungs, he almost didn't realize that Rhoam was already walking off: his attendants in tow. Link joined his peers in bowing low, and his head did not rise until a voice addressed him.

It was his father: lingering on the edge of the ramp as he lagged behind that group of knights, staring up at him. The man's gaze had a draw to it, and so Link drifted towards him as his fellow Champions retreated to their individual corners of the Plateau.

Daruk to his mountains, Revali to his spires, Urbosa to her gardens, and Mipha to her shrine.

"Hey, kid," his father spoke as Link came to a halt before him. His voice was gentler than he'd ever heard it, and the sound of it nearly startled him. It couldn't have belonged to the man who'd raised him: cursing and cackling like a witch.

His father was searching his face, maybe trying to find whatever was buried beneath its glassy exterior. He'd never gotten used to it, no doubt- unable to adapt to his son's blank stare the same way Link had never adjusted to the gaze of Hyrule's populace.

The man would swallow and speak again.

"How are you doing?"

"Fine."

That response was completely unbelievable. His father's mouth pressed into a flat line, something knitting his brow together. Quietly, he began again:

"...I know it's a lot, getting promoted and all that... But, listen-" he faltered, unsure of himself. His armor scraped when he reached up to rub the back of his neck, sighing through his nose. "This might seem out of nowhere, but I want you to know I'm here, yeah? I've been… absent for a long time. I know it's not right and- if it ever gets to you, just... come home for a bit."

Don't hesitate to kick him awake, he'd say. He'd be there to talk.

Link's jaw tensed. He could feel heat rising again. He was straining to hold something down, something too much for him. But even his father, often dense as he was, could see it.

"You're too headstrong, you know that?" his words were almost despairing, regretful. "...Too much like me, holding it all in. Doubting yourself."

Shaking his head, he reached up, placing a hand on his son's face- somewhere between his jaw and neck- taking in the way Link's mouth was twisting. "But I'm always surprised by you. You always rise up to it. Make good of it."

Better than you know, he'd whisper.

Taking a deep breath, he forced out the core of his words, "What I'm trying to say is I'm proud of you, and I want things to be better between us... I mean it. I do."

Somehow, he didn't feel embarrassed when the dam broke. His eyes were shut tightly, a hand over his father's as he tried desperately to wipe away those tears- trying to see his father's face clearly.

"You- you can go," he managed, choking on the words- voice pitching and uneven. "I'll be ok."

"I know," the man chuckled. The fondness there only hurt more. "I'll see you at home, Link."

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it."

His hand slipped away, and Link watched him go: his retreating frame a blur amidst it all. The back of his hand would remain against his mouth- trembling at the effort it took to keep all his bawling quiet.

One hundred years later, Link knew that was the last time he would ever see his father.

His place on the Great Plateau were the forests. He sat on the pillar he'd tipped over with Robbie's bladesaw, hand trailing across some moss growing alongside it. Somehow, his father's words calmed him, and for the first time since he woke up that morning, his mind was finally quiet.

It wouldn't last for long, he was sure, but Link would savor it as best he could.

The air smelled of honeysuckle as wind swept through that maze of trees. Birds sang. Light danced across the grass with every sway of the canopies above.

Finally, he thought, some peace and quiet.

However, it didn't last long- because he found himself leaning back to stare up at a Goron loitering behind him not five minutes later.

"Hey, little guy," Daruk saluted: a dumb gesture he'd picked up from Link after their first meeting in Death Mountain.

"...Hi," it was becoming his staple greeting.

"I'd hate to bother you when you're doing all this thinking, but I have to ask for some help here."

A blink. "With?"

Daruk opened his mouth, but was interrupted by Revali stalking out from behind his massive frame.

"Her Highness has gone and vanished again."

Despite knowing exactly what it had to do with him, he asked, "What does that have to do with me?"

A wing cut through the air as he sneered, "Daruk says you can sniff her out like a bloodhound."

"You can't find her from the air?"

"I've scoured the abbeys. She's nowhere, and Urbosa says she isn't in any of the commissaries. We're out of options."

Link sat forward, putting his chin in his hand, "She probably ran off to mess with her Slate. Just yell about fruitcake for a bit and she'll show up eventually."

There was nothing but silence from the two behind him. Though, it would eventually be broken with a command from Revali to Daruk.

"Do it."

Half a second later, Link was crushed in Daruk's grip as he snatched him up from his pillar. He squirmed, cursing at the two of them as he fought against that Goron's absurdly strong grip.

"You're seriously manhandling me?!" he snapped. "Put me down, Daruk!"

"Come on, little guy, all you have to do is help us find her," even the Goron sounded tired of all his drama. "Those nuns have been ragging us really bad about getting her back in for prayers."

Goddess, he should have seen it coming. Of course that girl would leap out a window the second her father stepped foot off the Plateau. He could see it now: Zelda pitching a rock through stained glass above and skittering up the wall like a lizard.

He regretted teaching her how to climb.

It wasn't terribly long before Link relented and it was deemed safe to release him from Daruk's clutches. They'd gestured to Mipha as she stood on the cliff extending from her shrine- to which she shrugged and shook her head. He led them to more slate: the pedestal he'd excavated. Mysteriously, she wasn't there either.

The River of The Dead. The log cabins to the North- abbeys, hallways, gardens, libraries.

Nothing. Not even the print of her boots to be found.

He was starting to get worried.

Link was pacing the edge of a lake, thinking hard as the other four watched on. No guards saw where she went, supposedly distracted by that classic falling pot trick of hers. Amateurs, all of them. He'd be sure to gripe at them later- maybe test their reflexes with one of those nun's rulers.

"I don't think he has any ideas," Daruk commented as Link punted a rock into the lake.

Urbosa shifted on her feet, exasperated. "Revali, why don't you search the air again?"

"Have you forgotten I was already up there for the last ten minutes?" he argued.

"Can you think of a better method?" the woman countered, gesturing flippantly.

They started to bicker. Mipha tried and failed to calm them as Daruk merely rubbed a hand on the back of his head. Link opened his mouth to make another suggestion- maybe the forests again- but the words died in his throat.

A chill swept over him.

Daruk bent over, inspecting Link's open mouth and wide-eyed horror.

"Is everything-"

He was already gone: bolting into the treeline as the other Champions called after him. He cut through the Forest of Spirits, sliding beneath fallen logs, vaulting over rocks, and tearing away vines with his sword. Link didn't know where he was heading, or more specifically, how he knew where to run. South. To the edge of the cliff sides.

Regardless, he was sprinting into an open field before he knew it.

He almost didn't see her amidst the flames: her hair rising with the wind as she stood perched upon a large boulder. It was tall grass that burned around her, smoke billowing into the air as she covered her mouth- stumbling away from the frantic reaches of monsters trying to forge their way through that sea of fire. Blackened limbs reached up, clawing at stone, and she was screaming.

Moblins, Bokoblins: too many pouring out from the narrow pass further up the hill. Link didn't know how to get to her as he skidded to a halt at the edge of the blazing field. Though, he wouldn't have to think on it.

A dark figure rushed past him. It was Revali bringing wind powerful enough to douse most of the flames, including the ones flaring across the monsters. Mipha dove from Revali's back, her spear impaling a Moblin as she fell, and Link was soon joining the fray.

Urbosa's lightning flashed, thunder clapping. Daruk barreled over a line of monsters. He could see them cascade into the air, only to be sent plummeting back to the Earth by a flurry of arrows.

Fifty, he counted: more coming.

It was clear even Hyrule's holy ground had fallen victim to the surge of violent creatures spreading across the country.

All of their opponents were unusually strong: tinged white, gold, and black- something which was exceptionally strange for the Plateau. The monsters there were supposed to be weak and timid, far from the Moblins before him who could shake off fire as if it was a mild inconvenience. They couldn't, however, shake off the searing blade Link was ramming into their chests.

He'd twist the sword and rake it through bone and flesh alike until they were in uneven pieces. In a move that made even Urbosa stop and stare, he rammed his boot into the skull of a tripped Moblin, crushing it with his heel before cracking the pommel of his sword across another's face hard enough that its neck snapped in two.

Sometimes he felt like they forgot his limbs were just as lethal of a weapon as his sword. Grim as it was, it was an effective reminder of why Rhoam labeled him the most dangerous Champion time and time again.

Regardless, all five of them together resulted in the battle being little more than child's play; a minute was all it took before Link yanked his sword out of the final Bokoblin's sternum.

Meeting her gaze, Link marched towards her through plumes of violet mist. Mipha was already there, guiding Zelda off her island of safety.

It was a tall boulder, just higher than a Moblin's reach. He didn't regret teaching her how to climb. The Zora princess was tending to her arm when he stopped in front of them.

Zelda was staring at him, looking calmer under Mipha's touch.

"What were you doing here?" he questioned. A rush of wind. Revali was behind him.

"I- I saw a cave," she pointed further up the hill into the cliffs. "...I dropped my lantern when they came."

"I told you Bokoblins like caves," Link reminded her- at a loss. He wiped at the damp substance clinging to his tunic. A glance at his hand told him it was blood slowly dissolving into purple wisps.

"You said you cleared the Plateau of monsters!" she defended. Mipha was glancing between the two of them, wary of their rising tones. The ground shook, Daruk was behind the Zora girl.

Urbosa's red hair was at the edge of his vision when he spoke again. "We cleared the forest, not the entire Plateau."

"You didn't specify that," Zelda insisted.

"You're right," he agreed, sheathing his sword. Although, his frustration didn't fade. "But I didn't expect you to run off this far without a guard! Even if the monsters are cleared, what about Yiga? You couldn't have gotten Urbosa? Any of us?"

The princess narrowed her eyes, pulling her arm from Mipha's grasp. "I would have gotten caught by the abbey guards if I tried to find any of you!"

His eyes rolled. "We both know you're better at sneaking around than that."

It almost looked like she wanted to snarl at him- at the truth in his words.

"You're right! I wanted to be alone," she admitted. "I couldn't stand to be in that temple another moment! Nuns telling me I'm a failure, that I'm not devoted enough. Unworthy."

Like a band snapping, she'd fled.

Link couldn't tell if the heat was coming from her or the flames still pulsing behind her.

"I hate this place, Link," Zelda went on, uncaring of her audience. "I'd rather spend hours running from Bokoblins than sit on my knees trying to pray when all I can think about is whether or not I did something wrong!"

He wanted to slap himself. Of course she'd think it was her fault.

He'd left her on that hill with nothing but her thoughts, hadn't he? Those doubts that so often festered in her mind, only made stronger by the errant disapproval of chantryfolk looming overhead. Zelda must have felt the same as he did under her father's glare: being forced to the ground each day, having more than just Hylia's stare pressing against the back of her neck.

There was a lingering pause before he gathered himself and spoke calmly, "You didn't do anything wrong."

Her nose scrunched; her disbelief was blatant. Link ran a hand through his hair, done with it all.

"I'm sorry for making you think that," he apologized, hoping the sincerity in it would be enough to convince her.

The princess' own anger faded, and her eyes flicked to the smouldering grass at her feet. She was letting him get away with it again, wasn't she? He didn't like that.

"...Princess," Mipha prodded kindly. "We won't make you return to the temple. Would you like to return to the gardens?"

Zelda's eyes closed, a deep frown on her face. It looked like the one from the tourney: too many things being bottled up at once. He didn't like that, either.

Bitterly, she smirked and muttered, "I'd like to leave this Plateau."

"Ok."

Link blurted a response before anyone else could. All eyes locked onto him. Oddly, that didn't deter him. "...I can take you."

Not much seemed to be running through her mind when she also blurted, "Ok."

Revali was the one to start asking questions regarding that plan of theirs. "We are leaving tomorrow, Your Highness."

The girl looked over at him, also undeterred. "We can come back tomorrow morning."

Despite how passive her tone was, no one saw room for argument in it.

"...I… suppose that works," Mipha mumbled.

There was a collective nod and reluctant agreement between them all- shrugs and tipping heads. They looked baffled to him, at their wit's end when it came to trying to keep up with the train of thought belonging to the two Hylians before them.

Though, if anything, they should be leaping at the opportunity to be rid of their gloomy presence for an entire night.

Urbosa crossed her arms, watching Link with a knowing, somber expression, and all he could do was glance away as dread weighed heavy on his shoulders. The woman was right; it had to be done soon.

This would be the last time he indulged Zelda.

"You know, the abbey guards are far too easy," Zelda was walking ahead of him, her nose buried in her Slate. "You all at the castle provided a real challenge, you know. Especially you. Goddess knows I never managed to give you the slip for more than two minutes."

She glanced back at them as they walked along the dirt path leading to the Outskirt Stables. The colosseum was passing by: the roar of a distant crowd echoing from that grand building. It was nostalgic, the sound of it.

"I saw you keeping tallies and decided I'd cause as much trouble for you as possible," the girl informed him all too proudly. It'd become a game for her, too, apparently. She'd kept score in her own diary: two pages to match his.

Zelda attached the Slate to her belt and walked backwards, a hand on her horse's neck to guide her.

"You were so angry whenever you caught up to me! It was worth it though, you always looked like this," she pouted and puffed out her cheeks. The girl pointed to the ridiculous look on her face, jeering, "I thought you resembled a toad, trying so hard not to yell at me."

"You're terrible," Link deadpanned. She laughed at that.

They had little aim for where they wandered.

In the beginning, Zelda had searched for answers. He'd merely asked for time. A little longer, he said, and they'd talk. He'd let her know what it was that left him so addled and stumbling around as if Urbosa's drink was still in his system.

Patient as ever, she'd nodded and indulged him as well.

An hour later, a dog was licking her face. Link stood over the two of them, ignoring her cries for help as the animal slobbered all over her. As much as she protested and kicked her legs, she was smiling, giggling as she scratched at its ears. Though he did eventually lure that dog away with the promise of an apple or two.

Upon standing, she shook out her hair like she was a dog herself, and he complained loudly when the action sent gravel flying at him.

A stick was in his hand. It dragged along the grass as he and their new furry companion followed Zelda through a nearby cluster of trees. There was a large rock that piqued his interest: a common place for lizards to hide, after all. He meandered up to it, taking his eyes off of the princess for a moment or two.

The Korok that exploded in his face made him fall back onto his hands. Although, its mischievous laughter and ardent congratulations were cut short the second it glanced behind him.

"Uh oh," it yapped.

Link's head swiveled. Zelda was sticking poisonous berries in her mouth. A gasp of horror escaping him.

"They're not poisonous!" she was arguing as he smacked them out of her red-stained fingers- the color already smeared on her mouth.

He begged to differ, having seen one of his academy's classmates bent over a bucket for six days straight. The girl was still munching away even as he demanded she spit them out.

"I ate these very often growing up," she recalled. "Perhaps I built a resistance to it?"

"That's…" stupid, is what he wanted to say. But a few things were clicking in his mind.

Zelda squinted at him, shying away. "..What is it? Why are you looking at me like that?"

In a twist of events, he was the one to pace circles around her, ruminating with crossed arms and a tapping finger. She swallowed even though there were no berries left in her mouth.

Stopping, he noted, "You've poisoned yourself with elixirs before."

"...Indeed?"

"But you walked it off."

It should have left her bedridden for two days or more, he specified. And yet, he'd watched her retch loudly into a bush and dust off her clothes as if nothing happened. At the time, he'd thought it was her embarrassment she was desperate to walk off more than anything else.

"You heal quick, too."

The princess was catching on to his line of questioning, a hand shooting to her chin. "...A little like you, yes?"

Link's own nose scrunched.

"You're weird, you know that?" he gestured to himself, flabbergasted. "I can almost never sneak up on you, either. You always know where I am."

He was certain it was the Sheikah in him that left his pride wounded. He could catch just about anyone unaware, and yet Zelda was able to sniff him out from the very beginning- even when he knew he didn't smell like a Hinox (a claim of hers which was completely unfounded).

"You can, too. You found me in that field, yes?"

They were humming in unison, perplexed by it all.

"I don't know how, honestly," she leaned in, eyes glinting. "But I have an idea. Shall we play hide and seek?"

"No."

She pointed to the bush. "Berry testing, then?"

"We're going back to the stable," he shot down both of her attempts. The girl protested again, but had no choice but to chase after him when Link stole her Slate- their furry companion trotting after.

It was while waiting for water to boil in a cooking pot that Zelda inquired about the Lost Woods.

"The Great Spirit, what is he like?"

Link thought it over, squinting at the bubbling water. "Blunt. Hard to faze."

"Well that sounds like the average elder."

"Yeah. He snores like an old man, too," he elaborated. "But I think he does it on purpose so people will leave his forest a little quicker… He might be the cranky type now that I think about it."

A grin was on her face with a hint of perplexity, "He really does sound like an old man."

Link waved a ladle around. "He's patient, though. He might've been the only old person near that school not to yell at me."

"I can only imagine you as a child," she joked, putting an exaggerated hand on her forehead.

"You wouldn't believe it. Anabelle always showed up whenever I tried something dumb. By the end of it I was paranoid she could read my mind."

The name made Zelda's eyebrow raise. "You mention her quite a lot."

"She was the first person who taught me manners," Link sighed as if it was a fond memory. "I'll never forget that old woman."

"You make it sound like she was your first love," she snickered, shaking a bottle of seasoning into the pot. Goron Spice, courtesy of Daruk.

"My first fear more like it," he corrected as he threw in a few vegetables.

Another snicker. A smile from him.

It took some time, but their conversations had returned to normal- he'd returned to normal. Link watched her from the other side of that pot: watching the heat distort her features in the afternoon light. Would they be able to talk like this, he wondered? After it all.

Of course not, he admonished himself. Rhoam was anything if not thorough; letters wouldn't even be allowed.

Without realizing it, his gaze had drifted downwards to the ash and dirt, resentful of his own decisions. Zelda was already putting away their tools: that early dinner of theirs over with. The movements of her arms slowed. They became sluggish, weak, and eventually they stopped altogether.

It caught his attention, and he looked up again, resurfacing from all his pondering. The girl was picking him apart, wordless.

"Link," she tried, hesitant. A worried smile was there. A head cocked, and a finger pointed to the North. "Have you been to the park up there?"

A head shake.

Zelda stood, her voice a little more assured as she requested, "Come with me, will you? I have a sneaking suspicion you'll like it."

There was no reason he could dredge up to refuse. Thus, he tossed the remaining scraps of their dinner to the dog curled at his feet and followed after.

The sun was setting. Somehow, the day had passed far quicker in her presence; all her rambling did well to keep him from being trapped in his own head, and Link wasn't sure if he was grateful for it or not.

He was afraid of the night, after all. Of twilight, now.

Urbosa had asked about a plan. When and how, she'd interrogated. The former he knew, yet the latter? It escaped him. His mind would reject any attempt he made at planning something like that out. He couldn't predict her reaction- couldn't predict what stupid things would come out of his mouth the moment he started talking.

He'd wing it, was the conclusion he came to. It was all he could do.

Bits of foliage drifted. Tufts of dirt, carried along by a warm breeze. A noise buzzed in the open air: the sound of cicadas reverberating from somewhere deep within a passing forest. That sound would chase after them as they climbed yet another steep hill.

There was a mountain to their left: it was tall enough to cast a vast shadow over the fields below- their own path just out of reach.

"Your advice was quite helpful- thank you," Zelda was glancing his way in an almost impish manner. "This little one and I are getting along quite well now."

(The animal's head was low, its stride lazy. He remembered watching the way she and that horse used to argue. It'd been trained by the Horse Master himself, and yet Zelda couldn't keep her own mount from disobeying her at every given turn: stopping to eat grass as she waved her hands madly- trying to return the two of them to the road.

It'd been funny, really, and the girl was only more irate whenever she'd see him and his own horse staring at them from further up the path, his flat stare entirely unimpressed.)

"At first, I wasn't sure if I should outfit him with all of the royal gear. I thought maybe he should have to earn it first." Flickering golds. Violet emblems, Link thought it suited the animal, and, apparently, Zelda did, too. "But it works! He wears it like a true natural."

It felt pointed when she looked at him again, fast enough for her hair to sway behind her back.

"I'm trying to be a bit more empathetic," a head cocked, her meaning playful yet layered. "...Benefit of the doubt, you know?"

Zelda was strict in her own way. Things should be earned. Medals, promotions, skills, and even holy powers were all things that one should have to work to obtain. It was her own personal lie, one which he'd torn apart by his mere existence: the ghastly picture of Hylia's sacred blade in the hands of someone who hadn't worked a day in their life for it.

'I expect too much from everyone around me,' she'd murmured next to nightshades.

Be worthy, she'd told herself for so many years. Bear it. Be more. Be worthy. Be better. Be dedicated.

But now, she was a little kinder to herself and to the world around her. Though it would be easy for anyone, especially her father, to look at it all and say Link had turned her nothing more than lazy.

A terrible influence, that's what he'd always been. Good, he'd affirmed to himself. Zelda was happier that way.

"There it is!"

A horse rearing up: legs kicking against the glare of firelight on the horizon.

Link raised his eyebrow at Zelda and she only giggled.

"I knew you'd love it," she quipped, and hastened the pace of her mount.

The wind grew harsher when their feet met stone. Zelda walked against it, her hair blowing back from her shoulders as she took in the full expanse of land before her. Link found his eyes trailing across mossy pillars- including the blue-green of the statue behind them. He suspected it was aged copper: the metal dented in odd places here and there.

Zelda stared at the land below. He walked several paces, intending to join her at the memorial's edge, but stopped. Best not to approach, he thought. Best to maintain distance. He'd only wind up burned again.

"See that mountain?" her voice, diffident. Daunted. "That's Mt. Lanayru."

Even she could pick it out amidst all the sharp edges of Hyrule's hills and mountains. It was tall; he suspected it reached as high as Vah Medoh, and he could only imagine the chill it would bring.

Sitting on Vah Naboris alone had left him speechless with a sense of wonder, and despite all the trepidation that came with it, part of Link felt drawn to the opportunity to climb those unforgiving slopes. The biting cold. Broken steps. It held a peculiar charm to him: ruins and ancient stone. Overgrowth or the complete lack thereof. Whatever was left untouched for centuries.

He'd never been able to place where it came from- the urge to put his hands on things that were best left alone.

He couldn't have been alone in that, because it sounded like Zelda was marveling at it herself, trying to imagine setting foot past whatever gate the Keepers had locked that spring behind.

"Lanayru's decree is very specific," she provided, knowing full well he was still plenty ignorant of the laws surrounding that hallowed mountain. "It says: 'No one is allowed, under the age of seventeen… For only the wise are permitted a place upon the mountain'."

He almost laughed at that. He'd be rejected at the gates.

Zelda's head was swaying, off center as she continued to mull over her own experiences at the springs. Her shoulders were loose and then stiff, her voice determined and then unsure- meek at best. She was fighting against her own doubt.

'-neither awoke anything inside me.'

Frustration there. Growing. She smothered it.

"But maybe up there… Perhaps the Spring of Wisdom, the final of the three, will be the one."

He doubted the girl was even speaking to him anymore, but Link knew her better than to assume she had confidence in such a thing, she must have known that, based on her confession.

"To be honest, I have no real reason to think that will be the case," her hands rose, providing her own comfort, "but there's always the chance that the next moment will change everything."

She'd run out of other avenues long ago; she'd run out of theories, of experiments, and places to visit. Prayer wouldn't help her, Mipha had claimed- and while Link thought he'd understood what she meant, something told him there was more to those words of hers than he realized.

It sounded to him as though Zelda was trying to muster real blind faith in it all: for the first time, she was slowly drawing her foot over the edge of a precipice.

Did it scare her that much? Admitting she hadn't a clue to the truth of any of it?

"Tomorrow… is my seventeenth birthday," When the girl turned, her doleful expression told him he'd been correct in guessing that fear of hers. "So then I shall go…"

Yet, something was there, something breathing to life in her.

"And make my way up the mountain."

Her eyes narrowed, holding his stare. It felt challenging.

"This... is my last chance," Zelda reiterated. "I need a clear mind. So, I ask of you that you be candid with me, Link."

She marched several steps forward, ignoring any discomfort that may have flashed across his face.

"You said I did nothing wrong, yes?"

"You didn't," he confirmed. "I didn't mean to push you. I'm sorry."

He could see the events of last night replaying in her mind- he could see her analyzing every piece of it. A hand reached up, experimental, and he flinched.

Zelda's hand remained lifted, but extended no farther. Her expression fell: eyes lidded. "...It's me then, is it? Not something I did."

"It's not-"

"Have you grown tired of me?"

"Zelda," his tone was harsh and emotional, cutting off that line of questioning. He wouldn't allow it: her trying to assume that she was the root of it, the problem. The thing that was wrong. Because in the end, it was him.

His eyes shut. Tight. He dug out the words, providing an explanation that was far simpler than he'd convinced himself it was.

"Your father gave me an ultimatum." Link's gaze was torn away, to the railings glinting in the sunlight. There was a breath quick and sharp before he finished, "If I don't become king, he'll separate us. Permanently."

"When?" she whispered.

"After Lanayru."

Her hand dropped. Zelda stepped back once, twice, and stared at the earth.

"...I see," her tone was as hollow as it'd been when he first looked down on her in the sanctum. It made his skin crawl. "It was bound to happen eventually."

Link waited. He waited for her to ask what he was going to do, and yet- the girl didn't. Instead, she took in a deep, ragged breath, and spoke lightly:

"I hoped we had a little more time, but I suppose these things can't be helped!" the Slate was in her hands now, but she wasn't looking at it. Her fingers were stiff, every part of her locked in place. Only her chest moved, breathing, and her mouth- blathering on, "I'm sorry, this put you in an awkward position, didn't it? I imagine you couldn't tell me last night because you were afraid of how I'd react? Worry not, I completely understand!"

She already knew his choice. It wasn't a relief, not having to explain himself, and all the conflict in him was only made worse when he couldn't identify whether all her talking was to cover up the awkwardness of it, or if she was as pained by it as he was.

He wanted her to care.

He didn't want her to care.

Zelda gave him no opportunity to respond before her gaze flicked away: back and forth, continuing on with jumbled words, "I should thank you, actually! You've been a great help to me... For some reason, things were always a little easier with you around. And- you know, the only reason I was able to speak out in that sanctum was because you were there. And on Naboris- somehow I believed what you said, that I wasn't a coward-"

Her voice cracked.

She paused, sucking in yet another breath. A smile was on her face, her gaze rolling from the sky to the ground again. "Oh! I just thought of something," a giggle escaped her, but it sounded frantic, pitching. "When I'm twenty, I will inherit partial control of the church! With me being married, I'll have a lot more power, too! You've dealt with a lot, so the least I can do is make sure they're not so strict with you anymore-"

"Zelda... stop." His tone was careful, benign- almost pitying. Impulsively, Link stepped forward, his hand reaching out to her shoulder, but Zelda flinched away, too.

An arm shot up, covering her mouth and nose as her breathing quickened. She looked away, eyes wide, watery, and her forehead knit together as she strained to keep her composure.

"-Fine, it's fine," she ground out. It was a fruitless attempt at keeping face. "Don't worry about me."

It was hurting her. The realization was nightmarish.

Rapid blinking. The Slate pressed against her chest- the girl cradling it so tightly he wouldn't have been surprised if the thing snapped in half.

What was the way this was supposed to go, he wondered?

Was this the point in which he should nod and step back? Thank her for her understanding?

That didn't feel as correct as he'd imagined in the beginning. It didn't feel right.

There were words in his head- unusual thoughts forming. He was marveling at a few of the things she'd said and the truth to them. Off center, everything felt off center, but the more he thought about it, the more things seemed to realign themselves; the more sense his utter lack of panic was beginning to make.

"It was easier," he started mumbling on his own. His voice drew Zelda's attention, her confusion evident even with half her face hidden away behind her forearm. "I could talk in the sanctum because you were there, too… And this sword, I wasn't nearly as scared coming forward with it because I talked to you, you know," he laughed, wonderstruck. "Even if it was only for ten minutes- two years of hiding and I was able to just walk away from it after listening to you ramble."

Her arm was lowering. Whatever emotion was rising in her was settling: replaced by what was clearly bafflement.

It was so much easier, wasn't it?

Link swallowed. He recalled the last twelve hours. Miserable was what he was. The month he spent away from her in Zora's Domain was miserable, too. The feeling was strong- strong enough that he had a hard time believing it'd ever go away.

Three years of misery, only to watch her get married? Rhoam would probably make him the ring bearer, given his twisted sense of humor.

Goddess, no. He couldn't.

There was a memory he was suddenly fixating on: the day they'd spent out in the fields, just North of the castle by that old tree. It was before she'd started taking pictures, or found that nasty amphibian.

They'd sat beneath rustling leaves, their backs leaning against each other and his sword discarded in the tall grass. Zelda merely swiped away at her device as usual- trying to find her way around its locked features.

She was humming something soft. A lullaby, maybe. Whatever it was, it made him sleepier than it did her. Link hadn't been sure how much time passed as he laid there, his head tilted against the back of her shoulder: his eyes closed. Listening. Breathing with an empty mind.

He hadn't felt that calm for days, weeks even. In fact, he couldn't recall a single person he'd ever felt so comfortable with.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" she'd murmured gently, teasingly as she reached over her shoulder. Fingers ran through his hair. He'd been disappointed when they slipped away.

Something was grumbled, earning laughter equally as quiet as her question.

That would never happen again, would it? Link wondered if he could live without those moments of respite. Zelda, gone. Him alone in the woods: alone as he trudged through valleys of violet mist and mangled corpses.

Could he live with that?

All the Goddesses, no, he thought again.

"Maybe it doesn't have to be like this," Link finally said.

His father said he always rose above it all, made good of it. Urbosa told him he was better than this. Akkala: Link himself had thought he wanted to be capable of more.

It didn't have to be like this. He didn't want it to be.

Zelda didn't like that. Both hands were on her Slate again as she shook her head rapidly. "No. No, listen to me- that'd be throwing your life away."

"What do you want?" he questioned, adamant.

"What-" she recoiled, her mouth trembling. "This isn't about me. This is about what you-"

Link would cut her off, swiping his hand. "Fine, let's pretend this is just about me. I still want to know."

"I can't," she insisted, rubbing at her eyes. "There's no other option. You'd be throwing your life away!"

"I don't think so," he shifted his weight to his other foot. Nervous. Swallowing again.

She couldn't fathom that. Zelda actually stamped her foot, her voice fraughtful as she demanded, "How?"

The answer was simple, really.

"Because I love you."

The princess had no response for that. She stared, lips parted. Link watched the Slate slide from between her fingers- and Zelda only snapped out of whatever trance she was in when she fumbled to catch it.

She didn't straighten after catching it. Hair was spilling over her shoulders, her eyes searching the ground as if she thought she could find an answer there. Frazzled was what she was, words only escaping her in near incoherent fragments.

"It's- it's not, you'll just-"

"Do you think I'd be bad at the job?" he laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck.

A head shake.

"...Do you not feel-"

"No, no, that's not it," she sniffed, and dropped the Slate entirely in favor of covering her eyes. It clattered against the stone as she spouted, "I just can't believe it. I- I don't know what you see in me."

"Zelda," the sigh that tumbled through him was sympathetic and disbelieving at the same time. He approached, finally, and slipped an arm around her waist: the other sifting beneath the hair at the back of her head.

No heat. No burning limbs. Relief flooded through him.

"Don't be stupid," he muttered, chiding. "If anyone should be saying that, it's me."

"Are you sure?" A question. Another doubt.

Link's mouth pulled into a grin. Her touch was warm this time, pleasant, and he relished in it. "Why do you think I let you get away with so much?"

He couldn't figure out whether it was a laugh or some sort of sob that came out of her. He pulled away, looking over her. Tears there. Shaking. There was little chance she could even see him clearly. It was all his fault; he tried to fix it as best he could, brushing aside strands of hair that had somehow flipped over her braid and into her face.

Was that a leaf in her hair, too? How long had it been there?

"...Would you be alright with it?" he asked, anxious again as he tossed away the leaf. Link suspected his voice was more timid than it'd been his entire life. Goddess, it was embarrassing. This was all embarrassing. "Um… marrying me?"

This was the worst proposal in history, he was positive.

Apparently, she decided the appropriate response was to tackle him.

Thank you, she'd repeat again and again. For not leaving her, she'd say. She couldn't live with it either, he understood: a future spent alone in empty hallways, stuck in greenlit caves with nothing but the echo of her own voice to keep her company.

He stood in that spot, laughing with relief.

"Was this it?" he asked the open air, eyes landing on the horse munching away at grass encroaching over cobblestone.

He'd found the strength not to run; for the first time in his life, he'd stayed, weathered the storm despite all his fears.

You've never been a coward.

Those were the words that rang in his head, making his breathing hitch. His eyes burn.

Link found himself laying on the stone. Twilight was fading into black. Stars flickering along the Eastern skies. His hands hovered over his face- the hood of his tunic bunched up behind his head as he watched the dark clouds passing above through parted fingers.

You told me we would bear the weight of Hyrule together.

"We still do," he replied, his tone just as wistful as hers.

...Yes.

It was inevitable that he would regain some of his memories along the way. She'd wanted to show him the truth of it- to show him that he truly was better than he believed. He thought it was pride radiating in his chest: a kind of unfamiliar excitement. It occurred to him that leaving the tourney was the last time he'd ever felt that way. Satisfied and content with his choices. Hopeful. He hadn't run. He hadn't abandoned her. He hadn't.

"I'll keep going," he assured her, breath fogging in the night air- words hoarse.

I will, too.

Time was on his side, only because Zelda was, as well.

He sat up, looking at the horse still eyeing him from a distance. A swishing tail. Pointed ears. Link grabbed his Slate, and a carrot appeared in his hand: a flash of blue which drew that animal's full attention.

There was a smirk on his face.

"Let's make a deal, yeah?"