A/N: Back to TP Link…
It was my one opportunity. I see it as he staggers back and falls, unable to keep his feet. I don't think—I just leap onto him with a yell, burying the Master Sword into its rightful place in his black heart.
Sound seems to die as he lets out a terrible scream, his mouth wide open.
I glance behind me as I freeze in my plunge and Zelda is there atop Epona, soft pity in her expression. She seems to release my final blow with her eyes, and I obediently jump back, my hands slipping off of the blade I was meant to wield.
After an eternal minute, his scream stops, and remarkably, my foe staggers to his feet, hatred in every line of his face.
"Do not think this ends here…"
My sword is still lodged in his old, glowing wound, and yet he manages to deliver one last threat. I don't move, wondering if I could withdraw it from his chest, if I dare. I feel the Princess Zelda close behind me, at my side out of nowhere. And with the three of us only feet apart, the smoking air crackles with a little more.
At the end of everything, we will always know…just enough to wonder if this power is all that we feel it is.
Of course, it doesn't end here. His threat is just a truth that we all three understand: it will never end. Here, or anywhere else.
His ragged breath fills the space between us and I wonder how many times this man has fallen to his knees before me. Have I fallen to my knees before him? Has he ever killed me too? The relief that flows through me at the moment makes me think that he might have. I weep for the world that falls hopeless into this man's dark purpose.
Zelda's hand falls on my forearm, the same way it did when she prayed to the Light Spirits, offering me calm. My mind had never felt so clear as when she asked that I lend her the last of my power. There hadn't been a choice. When I took her hand, I knew the way. And if I could fight for her, I could find a way to overcome the loss of my companion. My friend. Midna…
"The history of light and shadow will be written in blood!"
"He writes upon all of our history with blood," Zelda says, so only I can hear it. And only I would have ever understood. Her voice is unnaturally serene and almost dismissive. She has already regained her composure, knowing full well that we have won this time. She will make a good Queen. My hands are still burning, and I itch to take back my sword. As if sensing my thoughts, her warm fingers press against my arm briefly. I take a breath and the Triforce alights on the Shadow King's hand.
"Link…" Zelda sees it too. I wearily prepare myself for the possibility of a new battle. What would the Triforce of Power offer him this time?
But no… I blink and Ganondorf lets out a final groan of defeat, the whites of his eyes disturbing in his dark face. The glow of the goddesses' symbol sputters out and when his spirit dies on this earth, we both feel the loss.
His head lolls against his chest and I take a tentative step forward. I can hear the wind whistle as he breathes no more. Zelda bows her own head and I hear her mutter something like a prayer…is she thanking the goddesses or commending the soul of Din's chosen?
"He's dead," I say. My sword hisses as I slide it out of his heart, flipping it back into its sheath in one quick motion. Perhaps if I laid my sword down, it would all truly be over. I turn to Zelda, who is watching Ganondorf's still-standing corpse.
"He is dead." This time, went unspoken. Her bright and beautiful eyes focus on me and my heart quickens. "Thank you, Link…"
"Chosen Hero…" I mutter it for her, wanting to make light of our formalities, wanting to claim what I am. My hand goes to my heart and this time, I am the one bowing. "It will always be my pleasure…to serve you." And I mean that. I mean it more than I can say.
Her gloved fingers brush briefly against my cheek as she bids me to straighten. "Thank you," she whispers.
I remind myself that I don't know this woman, whose sentences I could utter before she speaks them. But I want to know her. And I've lost a friend.
And then I see an unnatural light on the horizon.