Cracks start to appear in Zelda's veneer of composure only moments after she follows Link away from the battle site. Now that she's no longer buoyed on a fierce-flowing current of adrenaline and terror, the world seems to close in around her. The swaying, jolting movement of the horse is disorienting, never mind that mere moments earlier she'd spurred this same mount at breakneck speed across Hyrule field. The wide open sky above scours her down to raw nerves, even though for a hundred years she desired nothing so much as to see it again with her own eyes. Her awareness feels limited, shrunk right down to this one body and no longer free to roam wherever she casts it.
Link, riding slightly ahead, keeps turning to look at her. She smiles, and nods; swallows down her uncertainty and the inexplicable bitter taste in her mouth. Wait. She hasn't brushed her teeth in a century. It hadn't seemed relevant at the time, but now all she can think about is speaking to the new generation of heroes with stale breath. Her clothes are still caked in putrid sludge. She must stink, surely. She can't tell.
She steels herself through the joyful reunions - it truly is a joy to see Purah again, looking suspiciously un-aged - and smiles politely as she's introduced to the new set of Champions.
"It's a shame Vaba Urbosa isn't here," Riju says, all wide eyed innocence so wrong on Urbosa's bone structure. "When I spoke to her spirit, it was clear as the night sky that she missed you."
Everyone wants to discuss the battle; what it was like for Zelda inside the Castle, what will happen now that Hyrule is truly free from Ganon's malevolence for the first time in living memory. Zelda opens her mouth, to pull out reassuring platitudes as she'd done for Link, but speech has abandoned her; there's just a void, where once words had sprung up inside her like water. She clenches a hand in front of her, the back of it pale once more. The Triforce has abandoned her too.
Link, who has been standing just out of eye line beside her, steps forward. He flicks his eyes to her, looking - to Zelda's practiced eye - concerned. To an outside observer, he would appear coolly professional, and she aches to see him wrapped in that shell once more. She aches to touch him, the evidence of her own eyes that he is here and whole and fine not sufficient to quell the need within her.
"It's been a long day," he says to the group. "A long century, for some of us. We'll reconvene in Kakariko, three days from now. Then we can discuss whatever you like."
"An excellent suggestion," agrees Kass. "We will have much to discuss, and it will be better to do so once we've had time to rest, celebrate and gather our thoughts."
Gratitude pours off Zelda in waves. Link steps in, offering his hand and the slate. She takes both, and the cold-water rush of teleportation washes over her skin.
"Where are we?"
Zelda takes in the neat, colorful town spread below their vantage point on the cliff side. A windmill turns lazily in the breeze; it's hard to believe this is the same country as the blight-ravaged, churned-mud wasteland they'd just left behind.
"Hateno," Link replies. "I have a house here."
Zelda blinks. "A house?"
He shrugs, a wry smile on his face. "It was going cheap."
She follows him along the cliff side path, over a bridge to a small patch of flat land on the hillside. A small but cosy-looking cottage sits in the middle of the plot. The garden is overgrown, and the vegetable patch bare. Inside, Link sets a fire going then disappears to fill a kettle with fresh water to boil.
Zelda looks round, trying to see any trace of Link on the place. She's seen glimpses of his journey since he awoke; snapshots of danger, combat, fear. He was so often alone. She didn't see him buy this house. How long has he owned it? Does he intend to retire here, now his duty is over? It's an unpleasant jolt, to consider the future after a century spent suspended, in a single endless moment. The faint stirring of air currents over her skin feels like time slipping away from her; the present being swept constantly away in a relentless and unsettling rush.
The mug of tea placed in front of her startles her. She hadn't even noticed Link come back in. She picks it up and blows on it, to cover her reaction.
"I'll need to go into town to pick up a few supplies," Link says, watching her face closely. "Will you be alright here for an hour or so?"
Zelda nods, though the question sends a spike of panic through her. "I'll be fine."
Link hesitates. "I'll draw you a bath first."
She forces a smile onto her face. "Are you saying I stink?"
"I'm not not saying you stink." His eyes light with mischief.
The retort is on her tongue: you'd speak to your Princess that way? She stops dead before the words can leave her. She isn't a Princess. Her father's tenure as regent ended the same day the world did, and she somehow didn't go with it. Technically, she should be a Queen.
"...Would a bath be alright?" Link's brief playfulness is gone, and she chastises herself for ruining the moment with her nonsense thoughts. It's a moot point anyway; how can one be Queen of a Kingdom that no longer exists?
The hot water is a revelation. Zelda sinks into it while it's still scalding, feeling the heat seep into the marrow of her bones. She scrubs the dirt from her skin until it hurts, and then a little more to be sure. Then she closes her eyes, resting her head against the wooden edge and enjoying the warmth. It had been cold in the depths of the castle, though like everything else, she'd been aware of it only from a distance. She hadn't truly felt cold until afterwards, shivering in her prayer dress and trying not to show it in front of everyone. The memory sends fresh shivers through her.
Trying to think about something else doesn't shift the feeling. Goosebumps raise the hairs of her forearms, and she sits up, confused. The water is tepid. How long has she been in here? Her mind runs in circles as she gets out and towels herself off. Has time always passed in this manner, gone in fits and bursts as soon as her attention wavers? Surely it can't have. How can she have functioned, if every reminder of its passage always produced this lurching, off-balance feeling.
Dry once more, she picks up the clothes left folded carefully on a wooden chair nearby. It's nothing fancy: just a plain set of breeches and tunic. The tunic is too wide across the chest, and slips down off one shoulder no matter how she tugs it back up. The trousers she has to cinch in with string, but at least the legs are a good length. Her prayer dress sits in a filthy pile on the floor. She steps past it without picking it up, and leaves her golden bracelets and armbands on the windowsill too.
In the main room, the fire still burns steadily. Link has yet to return. Propped up against another chair, with the blue Champion's Tunic draped over the back, is the Master Sword. She does a double-take at the sight. He would never have left it lying around like this before; she'd secretly been convinced he even slept with the thing held close. The sword seems to hum at the edge of her awareness, just as it did that fateful day in the Ash Swamps. Her fingers reach out to brush against it almost of their own volition. The tentative touch is met with an instant swirl of feeling: sorrow, satisfaction, sympathy. She pulls her fingers back, and holds them to her chest.
The door opens behind her with a scuffle of boots, and Link makes his way inside. His eyes scan over her, as if checking that she hasn't somehow come to any harm while bathing. He'd clearly washed before leaving, and is now dressed much as she is, in plain but serviceable gear. Do the people here know who he is? She doesn't blame him, if not. The mad idea of just never telling anyone who she is - of disappearing into obscurity - flashes through her. She chases it away just as quickly. What marketable skills does she even have, for a start. But she also can't quite let go of the feeling of responsibility she has towards this country, diminished though it may be.
"I got enough to last us the three days," Link says, scraping his boots clean on the mat. "So we don't need to go down into the town, if you don't want."
Zelda doesn't want that. It's good, that he's thinking of such things.
"Want to help me prepare the stew?"
Her knife work leaned more towards dissection of floral specimens, prior to the Calamity, but... how hard can it be to slice up a few endura carrots? And it will help to keep her mind occupied.
"Of course."
They speak only of things of little consequence that night as they eat. How keen-witted Riju is; what Hateno is like. Link's eyes rarely leave her, but he doesn't push her to open up. She appreciates the effort. It still feels as though she's been plucked out of her life and now doesn't fit back into the hole properly. It's strange to be with this familiar-yet-different version of him. His mannerisms are all the same, but his reactions differ just enough to keep throwing her off. When she yawns, he offers her the bed in the loft.
"I'll not displace you from your own bed," she tells him, reaching for that old assured, haughty tone. "It's large enough for us both, I should think."
She expects him to fight her about it, and he surprises her by just shrugging.
"Alright."
Zelda lurches awake and upright with a gasp, desperately trying to suck air into her lungs through the thick miasma. The room presses in on her. She feels rather than sees the walls in the pitch darkness. Hot, acrid breath curls around her. Deep noises like laughter rumble through her chest.
"Zelda."
She flails, trying to bat away the creeping tendrils. They grasp her wrists and frustrated tears burst out of her.
"Wake up, Zelda."
The voice reaches her as if through water. It's calm; reassuring. Home. The pressure on her wrists releases.
"You're in Hateno. You're safe, you're free. We won."
Link is crouched in front of her. The Sheikah slate lights his features in soft blue.
"Are you with me?" His voice is still so soft.
"Yes. Yes, I - a nightmare, I think."
"That's not surprising," he tells her, an understanding sort of expression on his face.
He leans over to the bedside table, and presses a cup of lukewarm water into her trembling hands. It's stale, when she takes a sip. It's still the second best thing she's ever tasted, after the stew last night.
"Do you want to talk about it?" He's still so close; she could touch him, if she reached out.
"No," she says. "Yes. I don't know."
Link settles back against the headboard next to her. "I had nightmares for weeks, when I woke up," he tells her. "I didn't realise they were real, at first. But my body remembered what my mind forgot. They felt just like dying, all over again."
A brief pang of guilt sparks through her. Link would never have known how it felt, had she unlocked her power sooner. Close on its heels is a muted rage. Why is he putting this on her now?
"They're more bearable now. Faded. I'm sure yours will be less intense with time too."
Zelda closes her eyes briefly, her nascent anger gone as soon as it came. "The nightmares are the most understandable part, really."
Link makes a soft noise, acknowledgement and question all in one, but she's bone tired again suddenly.
"I don't think I could explain, right now."
She rests her head on his shoulder, and he wriggles to make it more comfortable for her.
"Sit with me for a bit?" she asks.
The weight of his head rests against the top of hers, and he threads his fingers through hers. His calm breathing coaxes her own to slowness.
"Whatever you need."
She wakes with a crick in her neck, numbness in her legs, and a faint sense of shame at the events of last night. Link is snoring softly on her shoulder; he's drooled a little on her borrowed tunic. He stirs when she moves, rubbing at bleary eyes.
"Ugh. What time is it?"
Zelda flexes her magic automatically, before she can even think to worry that it will be gone for good this time. Her connection to Hyrule still responds, but sluggishly. Before, with little effort she could reach out to feel the rain on its verdant hills, or immerse herself in the creeping growth of its forests; the rushing of its rivers. But the little trickle of knowledge is still enough for her purposes.
"It's still a while before dawn." A yawn racks through her as she says it.
He heaves himself to his feet, and reaches down to help her up too. "Well, I don't know about you but I don't have anywhere to be tomorrow. Do you think you could get any more rest tonight?"
"I think so," she nods.
He holds back the cover, letting her shuffle over to the other side before climbing in after her. Last night he'd laid carefully next to her; the very image of propriety. This time, he scoots up behind her and wraps one arm around her.
"Is this alright?" His voice is little more than a mumble, already drifting back towards slumber. His breath tickles the hair at the back of her neck.
She wriggles deeper into the warm embrace of his arms, breathing in the scent of clean linen and hay. "This is perfect."
"Are we going to talk about this?"
Link looks up from his toast and marmalade, a lightly baffled expression on his face.
"Talk about what?"
"About wha - this!"
He gazes placidly at her. "Zelda, there are... at least three fairly major things I'm expecting we'll need to talk about at some point today or tomorrow. Without any context, 'this' could be any of them. You're going to need to help me out here."
She deflates slightly. "Oh. Well, yes, that's actually a good point. There is a great deal to discuss. More important things, certainly."
She busies herself pouring tea. The silence stretches. Link takes another bite of toast, watching her.
"You said you didn't think you could explain what was worse than the nightmares, last night. Do you want to try start with that?"
The familiar pulse of panic is a little easier to push back down in the daylight. She shakes her head. Link puts the toast down, bringing all of his considerable focus onto her.
"It's alright, if it's hard to find words. Trust me, I understand."
She snorts, remembering his virtually silent presence in all manner of situations, before. Encouraged, he keeps talking.
"But, if you're just afraid to say whatever is weighing on your mind, don't be. It's just me here. You don't need to be anything while you're with me - not a Queen, or a stateswoman or a goddess or the saviour of Hyrule." An amused smirk tugs at his lips. "I've seen you eat dirt, I'm not fooled."
That pulls a genuine laugh from her, the sound shocking in the quiet of the cottage. "I was tasting it for reasons of scientific enquiry - "
His smile reaches his eyes now, and the tight feeling in her chest loosens.
"What I mean," he continues, "is there's probably nothing you could say or do that would change my opinion of you at this point. We've been through some insane things together; we've seen each other at our best and worst. All I want now is to see you happy, whatever form that takes."
"You mean that," she says, not really a question; more an audible realisation.
"I do. I meant what I said on Hyrule field. If you want to tell everyone to go fuck themselves and be a goat farmer instead, goddess help me I will buy some goats and hope Epona doesn't mind sharing the stable. If you want to rebuild Hyrule Castle, I'll bring a shovel." A thoughtful look crosses his face. "Though you might want to get Bolson to do the actual planning."
"What if I don't know what I want?" Her voice is barely audible, but in the stillness it carries. She picks slightly at the tablecloth.
"Then I'll be here while you work that out."
Tell him how you feel, urges the voice in Zelda's brain which always sounds a little like Purah.
There are much more important things than your feelings, retorts the voice which sounds like her father.
He had his memories wiped, points out the voice which sounds only like herself. This one has more to say. How can you dump this on him, without knowing if he even remembers what you almost had by the end? And: what if trying for more just ruins what you already have?
"When you say you'll be here," she tries, tentatively, pushing all this aside, "in what capacity were you imagining?"
"In whatever capacity you need me," is his instant, heartfelt response. Which is gratifying, but also unhelpful. She tries a different tack.
"Last night..."
He raises an eyebrow slightly.
"...was that just comfort, for my nightmare?"
She's sure her ear-tips must be bright red. Link is polite enough to let it go unremarked. He shifts in his seat, facing her more directly, their knees almost touching. Then he reaches his hand over the table, palm up. After a brief hesitation she takes it, and he curls his fingers around hers. He holds eye contact, and as much as she might want to shy away, she can't; she's captivated by the clear blue of his eyes.
"No. That wasn't all it was."
"You -" she trails off, unsure how to finish that thought.
"I don't want to push anything if you're not ready, but if the day ever comes that you are... My feelings haven't changed."
"Nor mine," she whispers. "I wasn't sure you remembered."
He reaches out to tuck a stray lock of hair back behind her ear, brushing the pads of his finger-tips against her cheek.
"I do now. But even before I got any my memories back, my heart knew. Everything that stood between us before is gone. I want this, and I think - I hope - you do too."
She closes the last of the distance between them, wrapping herself in his embrace. Her cheek brushes against his, so close the flutter of his eyelashes tickles her skin. If she looked up, turned her head just a little... As she turns, he does too. Their lips brush. Her soft gasp of surprise ghosts over his skin. His hand comes up to cup her jaw, fingers tracing gently over her skin. His mouth moves gently against her own, the slight chap of his lips tugging at hers.
The kiss is brief, and chaste, but Zelda's heart threatens to break free of her chest all the same. From the hitch to his breath, he feels the same. She rests her forehead against his to ground herself for a moment before pulling away. There's a hint of flush to his cheeks, his pupils just a touch wider than usual.
"We really should talk about this," Link murmurs.
"Yes," she agrees. All she wants is to sink into the soft warmth of his embrace; to hide away here from the weight and expectations of the world, and take delight in something delicate and new. She takes a deep, cleansing breath instead. "But not yet."
He raises an eyebrow in question.
"We're due in Kakariko tomorrow," Zelda explains. "This new... understanding between us is important to me, but it's unlikely to be important for the conversations we must have with Impa and the other races. As much as it pains me to say this, we should ready ourselves for those."
He exhales, the slight tension dissipated. "That makes sense, though I wish you weren't right. But... we have time, now. It will keep."
Hopefully he doesn't notice the slight twitch she makes at the words. He's right - they do have time. For the first time, it stretches out ahead of them unbounded, free of the weight of prophecy. Eventually, she's sure, its passage will feel normal again.
"Do you know what you want to push for?" Link asks her. He's leaned back into his chair, putting his professional face back on.
Zelda meets his eyes, and takes a moment to imagine all manner of futures unspooling from this moment, his steady presence a common thread through all of them.
"Not yet. But I think we can work it out, together."