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Link opened his eyes and breathed in the smell of Ordon.

The distant sound of the village Cuccoo heralding the dawn had brought him out of a deep dream. In another life, he would have dozed off until the sun was a little higher and the morning a little warmer before meandering out to the ranch.

But in his sleep he'd been running through a dark forest on four legs, not two. A golden wolf had led him to a sunlit field, glanced back with one crimson eye, and shimmered away from time. Link still had plenty of nightmares—this hadn't been one of them. Yet he had woken up knowing it was time to leave.

Nearly a month ago, Zelda had ridden through the gates of Castle Town with a trail of captured enemies behind her and a joyous welcome before her. Thanks to Auru and Telma spreading the word, Hyrule had been abuzz with stories of the queen outsmarting her would-be usurpers, breaking out of captivity, blazing like a golden sun before the charging Bear. Link kept that memory close: Zelda glowing as her people cheered and flowers at her horse's hooves, smiling back at them from ear to ear.

To Link's absolute relief, no one spoke of the Hero. If the guards at the Hartwell estate had guessed his identity, they'd kept it mercifully quiet. Castle Town still saw him as he was: a young swordsman who worked with the Resistance and, sometimes, the queen.

When Rusl decided that things were stable enough for him to go home—for good this time—Link had agreed to join him, because the longing for Ordon never went away, and because he owed the rest of his family better than he'd given them. Everyone had accepted his apologies with the easy, generous warmth that was stitched into the fabric of this place, making him wonder why he'd ever expected otherwise.

His weeks here had been full of blessings: teaching Colin and Beth to ride, cooking his favorite meals with Uli, sitting by the fire with Rusl. But it could never last. And as the sun rose into a sky the color of Midna's hair, Link caught a faint whiff of snow—another reason to go before Faron became impassable.

He packed, fed Epona her breakfast, and went down into the village. Soft light brushed across the purple roofs and freshly-tilled pumpkin patches. This time, he knocked on every door instead of leaving without a goodbye. Beth, hugging Link's waist with her skinny arms, ordered him to marry the queen and make her royalty. Fado swore to look after the goats. Mayor Bo and Talo and Malo's parents all asked after their children, and Link promised he would return soon with Ilia and the boys in tow.

Finally, he reached the house where he'd been raised. It smelled of the coffee Uli went through great lengths to get imported. Colin looked up from setting the table, where Rusl sat spoon-feeding baby Eva. They all took in Link's traveling garb in the silence that followed.

"Breakfast first?" Uli proposed.

Link nodded gratefully. As they ate, Colin watched him with a jarring wariness that spelled out all the damage Link had done by fleeing Ordon so suddenly and callously three months ago. The damage he was about to inflict all over again.

Rusl fired his steady green eyes at Link across a slice of buttered toast. "Tell me you're doing this because you want to," he said. "Not because you think you have to."

"I want to," Link answered firmly. In truth, he made this decision the day he'd followed Talo into a forest of monsters. He was only now starting to grasp its gravity, but he no longer doubted its rightness.

Colin's fork clattered against his plate. Eva started to fuss at the sound; her parents reached for her in unison, but Colin carried her outside without another word. Uli waved Link and Rusl back down and went after them.

In the silence that followed, Link looked down at his hands, scarred and calloused. It took him a while to mumble out, "Rusl. What you told me in Kakariko…I didn't get the chance to say that you've never failed me. You—found me when I was a kid. You gave me…" He gestured to the comfortable firelit house, the view of the village outside the window, Uli hugging her children on the porch—everything he loved too much for words.

"I'm not sure, Link," Rusl said quietly. "There's so much I didn't protect you from."

"I—I don't think you could have. It was meant for me."

"You two," Uli announced as she stepped back inside, "are branches of the same tree, blood or no. And I love you for it, but I wish you'd understand something." She raised her chin in a stubborn look that Colin had inherited from her. "You're just people. You don't have to carry the world; you only have to be alive in it. You don't owe anything to anyone."

"I don't know," Link said slowly. "I think…maybe we all owe each other what we're able to give. And I can give a lot."

"You're both right," Rusl put in. "It's just about balance."

Uli sighed in aggravated affection. "Fine. But, Link: please don't try to protect us from the truth again. I'm not blaming you. But we want you to come to us."

I wanted that too, Link thought. I just couldn't. Because surviving the Twilight had been like walking across a bed of hot coals—it hurt too much to stop until he reached the other side.

Thanks to Midna, he had made it through. He lacked the words now to describe her sharp-toothed grin, her indomitable will, how they'd changed and saved each other, how he would miss her for the rest of his life. But someday, he did want Uli and Rusl to know that he was standing here today because he hadn't been alone.

For now, he had this: Rusl ruffling his hair, and Uli stepping in to hold them both. It was like Link's earliest memory, of Rusl carrying him through the doorway and into her arms, of a feeling of safety so complete that it had seemed impossible for a long time. He'd never been sorry that he couldn't remember life before Ordon. This house, this village, these people—they had given him everything he needed.

Uli said, "I thought of you every day during the Twilight, sweetheart. Every hour. I know it wasn't enough, but—you're our boy, and we were with you. I hope you knew that."

"I did," Link said around the tightness in his throat. "And it was enough."

Leaving them behind to step into the cold morning hurt like hell, but at least this parting would never be permanent. Colin sat on the porch, bouncing Eva on his knee. Link knelt so they were eye-to-eye, realizing that someday the boy would grow tall enough to render this unnecessary, and he wouldn't be here to watch it happen.

"I have to say goodbye," he murmured apologetically.

"Why?" Colin asked, watching Eva grab fistfuls of his shirt. Before Link could speak, he said solemnly, "Please don't lie. You always lied to us in Kakariko, and we always knew."

"Oh." Link winced at the revelation—he'd wanted so badly for the children to feel safe, even as the world crumbled around them. "I'm sorry, Colin. You're old enough to know life's not like the stories. Like when you saved Beth…what were you thinking?"

Colin swallowed, finally raising his heard. "I wasn't really thinking. I was terrified. But…someone had to do something."

"Yeah," Link murmured. "That's how it was for me. Someone had to save Hyrule. So I did, but I was as scared as you were, and now…I'm not who I was before that. I'm not the Hero, either. But I'm still someone, and I can do something."

"I understand," Colin replied, blinking hard against tears. "When will you come back?"

"I don't know," Link answered honestly. It was all he could give. He wrapped his arms around both children and added, "But I promise I will. And until then, I'll miss you, little brother."

He kissed Eva's forehead, ruffled Colin's hair, and was gone.

Epona waited in the clearing, watching him with dark, gentle eyes. As they started down the path, he could feel her brimming with excitement. Unlike the last time they'd left Ordon, they were running towards something instead of just away.

Her strides grew long and joyful as they broke through the trees into the wide expanse of Hyrule Field. Thick clouds splayed across the boundless sky; everything smelled crisply of snow. The road carved a glowing ribbon through the crisp winter sunlight, winding to the center of the kingdom—to Zelda.

Often in these past weeks, Link had remembered her words about sparing her father in order to spare her own heart. The courage of that choice struck him over and over. In a world that tried so hard to shape her to its whims—to make her a pawn, a symbol, a villain—Zelda had drawn her boundaries and defended them with all her might.

He'd never made that kind of decision himself. He'd torn his heart to shreds. But something had changed since the day Elias asked for mercy and Link granted it, since the day Zelda had seen the blood on his hands and looked at him with only love in her eyes.

He was beginning to understand that all of it—killing the shadow beasts, killing Ganondorf and his servants, killing Elias—had been wrong, but it had also been right. Though Link would go to his grave wishing he could have saved those children, he had not caused their suffering, only ended it. And he was beginning to understand how little control he'd had all along, how callously he'd been used by forces so much bigger than him.

But Link didn't resent that. One look at the land breathing around him, one thought of its people, was all he needed to remember that ending those lives had saved so many more.

Of course, clear-eyed Midna had seen all this from the start. Link just hadn't been ready to listen. He had been cruel to himself instead, to his own body and his own heart, because in some ways that was easier—but not anymore. Link didn't want a different fate. He wanted to change the way he carried this one.

I understand now, he thought, watching his shadow pelt across the ground as Epona galloped along, wishing that Midna could hear him on the other side of the veil that separated them. Thank you. I love you. I'll see you later.

The open road spilled out before him. For all the darkness of Link's journey, there had been moments of brightness too, ones where he'd known his purpose so clearly. That first glimpse of Zelda's blue eyes. The kids laughing in his arms after he found them in Kakariko. Midna's small hands pressed against his shaking shoulders. The perfect weight of the Master Sword in his hand.

This, here and now, was such a moment. Link would be what he had always been: a protector of those who couldn't protect themselves. None of it would be painless. All of it would be worth it.

The sun shook free of a billowing cloud and touched upon Hyrule Castle as it came into view, turning the spires as gold as Zelda's crown. Link bent low over Epona's neck and let the wind carry them forward, like an arrow striking for home.

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Fire crackled in the hearth. Snowflakes drifted slowly towards the grey roofs of Castle Town. The laughter of children rang out across the ramparts below Zelda's window.

Her quill paused at the last sound. Writing to the families of the children who had gone missing during the Twilight was not easy, but the words were coming more naturally than she'd expected. Perhaps because she knew something of grief and injustice herself, even if she'd spent so long masking it. And she was grateful for the majesty of Hyrule's first snowfall of the season—it reminded her why she was here.

Auru came in quietly, his face wrinkled and familiar, to place a steaming cup on her desk. Zelda thought it was coffee until she smelled the sweetness. "Whenever it snowed during your lessons, I had to bribe you with hot cocoa to make you sit still," he said. "Remember?"

She did. But as she wrapped her hands around the warm porcelain, a different memory unfolded: her family in the castle library the night after the Half-Century Queen's funeral, finally free of the well-wishers and hangers-on. Zelda's parents had been leaning against each other, her mother cradling her new crown between her hands, her father fidgeting absently with his. Uncle Adric had lifted their spirits with a story while Aunt Elaine distributed hot cocoa with quiet, efficient kindness. Auru had sat with Zelda, showing her a book of her grandmother's favorite poetry.

It wasn't just a memory, but a feeling: the sadness of knowing that nothing would ever be the same again, coupled with the certainty that it would still be all right somehow, someday.

"Thank you," Zelda said, taking a sip and savoring the rich flavor, the warmth spreading through her.

Auru smiled. He did that a lot these days. She had trusted him to find Sparrow and keep the court calm, and he'd done just that. He'd also enlisted Telma's help in spreading word of Zelda's victory, encouraging the homecoming that still felt like a golden dream come to life.

"Oh, I ran into Sparrow," Auru said. "She and Ashei have an idea they'd like to run by you before the Resistance meets today. She's bouncing off the walls about it. Shall I send for them? I believe they took Melanie up top."

"Let's join them," Zelda decided. "I could use a break."

They walked through the castle together, familiar stone hallways winding out before them. Through the windows and glass doors they could see the children catching snowflakes on their tongues. Guards murmured to each other as Zelda passed. Weeks after her return, Castle Town still couldn't stop gossiping about what had happened at the Hartwell estate.

She took no joy in the victory itself, nor in the deaths of Captain Elias and some of his allies. She didn't much care what sentence Lord Hartwell received, but she would encourage leniency for the surviving deserters—like Saki, who kept requesting new storybooks to read to her fellow prisoners, and perhaps even Rai, who paced restlessly in his cell and barely spoke.

But Zelda had come home to a court that felt different. Hyrule was alive, electric; a kingdom ready to seize its second chance, just like its queen.

Four months ago, the castle had been so wrecked that she'd needed magic to reach the upper levels. Her people had swept away that damage like a bad dream, and Auru huffed and puffed his way up the new stairs until they reached the highest point in the castle.

Cold flakes brushed Zelda's face. Below, the town was a tiny world of smoking chimneys; beyond, white hills stretched out under a grey sky. Up here, nearly every trace of the old throne room was gone. Snow covered the clean slate of it, unbroken except for the trail of footprints leading towards the only remnant: three stone Goddesses embracing the shining Triforce.

Ganondorf had imprisoned Zelda's soulless body in the empty space between those golden triangles. He'd also decapitated the Goddesses in some childish fit of rage. If he'd been standing here today, he would only see the cracks and the ruin—and his hatred wouldn't be entirely misplaced. But in the end, Zelda owed the world she loved to the Goddesses, and her place in it to the Triforce.

So instead of carting them away like so much rubble, she'd had them repaired. And now the three stone sisters stood watch as Melanie flung snow at her mother and Ashei poured the stuff down Ilia's collar, getting a face full of it in return. Zelda stood at Auru's side, watching them: the little girl, unvarnished by the world, and the three women who had all fought their private wars and come out laughing.

"Lady Queen!" Sparrow exclaimed, throwing up her hands to stop Melanie's onslaught. Ilia dragged Ashei up beside her and started a sheepish apology.

"No need," Zelda said. "You're using this place exactly the way I'd like. Auru tells me you have an idea?"

"Yes," Sparrow said breathlessly, brushing snow from her hair. "Well…with my husband in prison, everything belongs to me now. The estate, the business, the horses…" she shrugged. "I grew up in a house with a dirt floor. Past looking after my family, I've got no use for it. But the Resistance does."

"You've restored the Hyrulean guard, Lady Queen," Auru added. "You don't need the Resistance to pick up their slack anymore. What you do need are eyes and ears beyond Castle Town."

"We want to be out there in the countryside," Ashei continued. "Helping the outlying villages that your guards can't reach, keeping the road safe, researching Shad's mysteries. We need space for our new volunteers—that's what Sparrow is offering us. We'd have a base. We'd have horses."

"That's where I come in," Ilia chimed in. "I'm no fighter, but I can manage horses. Supplies too, and communication with Telma and whoever else decides to stay in Castle Town."

"That is," Sparrow said nervously, "if you think it's a good idea, Lady Queen."

Zelda watched snow blanket her kingdom: the town's bustling streets, the Zora River weaving towards the glittering lake, Death Mountain and its red canyons, the deep southern forest where Link was. She did need eyes and ears out there. Captain Elias and his scouting unit had been the best of Hyrule, before Zant turned them into something else. Zelda realized now that she hadn't replaced them because she feared sending anyone else to a similar fate.

She looked at each face in turn. Auru, her lifelong guide. Sparrow, who had perhaps been her friend all along, despite the distance Zelda's caution had created between them. Ilia, bright-eyed with the chance to make a difference; the usually cynical Ashei looking just as excited.

"It's a wonderful idea," Zelda declared. "You shall have my full support."

Ilia squealed and threw herself into Ashei's arms. Sparrow smiled, put a hand on Melanie's curly head, and said quietly, "We're staying here."

Zelda was surprised by her relief, cool and gentle as snow. "Are you sure?"

"I do love that estate," Sparrow admitted. "We'll spend some time there, I'm sure, but Castle Town was always home. I want Melanie to know her family. I want her to know you."

At her side, the child gazed up at them, her curious green eyes folded under dark brows. Sister, Zelda thought for the first time; only the Goddesses knew how long it would take her to say it aloud. "I would like that," she managed.

"And," Sparrow added with a grin, "I can't wait to get my hands on this garden!"

"I'll fetch you seeds from Ordon!" Ilia offered. "There's nothing better than our pumpkins."

The bell tower sounded the hour, reminding everyone that Telma and Shad would be arriving for the Resistance's planning session. Sparrow hoisted Melanie up and followed Ashei and Ilia to the stairs. Melanie waved over her shoulder; Zelda waved back.

"The child," Auru said quietly. "Is she…"

"My father's."

"I see." He rubbed a weary hand over his whiskers and sighed. "Little bird…I'm sorry I wasn't here."

Zelda saw her fourteen-year-old self alone atop the ramparts, watching his silhouette fade into the horizon. To that girl, and to him, she spoke the truth: "Exile was not your choice, or your fault. You tried to help, and that…is more than most did."

Auru sighed as though setting down a great weight. "Thank you. I'm here now, for as long as you'll have me. Ah—have you heard your new title?" Zelda shook her head, bracing herself as he went on. "Telma says it's spreading all over Hyrule. It comes from the story of how you put yourself between the Bear and your guards, how bright your magic shone. They're calling you the Sunheart Queen."

Zelda's breath left her in a long, wordless cloud.

"You look just like your mother when you smile," Auru observed, his eyes sparkling. "I'll see you at the meeting."

She lingered for a while, cradling his words like a fragile flower between her hands, letting the soft snowflakes kiss her skin. Standing here at the top of the world without the throne room boxing her in still felt impossibly strange. She'd seen so much here—her family's funerals, her father's idea of justice, his laughter at the end. And then the Twilight.

But was time to let those memories rest. Zelda lived for the future now.

When she turned for the stairs, there he was: his cheeks flushed with cold, his tawny hair dusted with white, his boots moving soundlessly across the snow. He wore that grin of his, sweet and real and wide enough to tug at the scar tissue on his cheek.

"Link," she greeted, smiling back; she couldn't help herself.

"Zelda," he said, and it was the miracle again: her name in his voice, her body in his arms, his hand cradling the back of her head. "How are you?"

"I'm well." She pulled back to see his face. "Are you?"

He nodded, surveying the empty space around them. "It looks so clean. I haven't been up here since…"

They shared the memory. Link, harrowed and grieving, pointing an arrow at her heart because he thought the whole world was his enemy. Zelda, hiding behind stone walls that were already crumbling exhaustedly to dust. How far they'd come since then.

She saw that he still wore the leather cord around his neck. After returning from the Hartwell estate, Link had asked if she wanted to destroy his shadow crystal as she had the Bear's, given the risk of it falling into the wrong hands. But Zelda had left the choice with Link—she wasn't worried about his ability to protect Midna's last gift.

"Did you decide?" she wondered.

"I think…I want to keep it?" Link said self-consciously. "In case we need it. And…I kind of liked being a wolf sometimes. Plus…you can bring me back to myself, right?"

"Yes," Zelda promised. "You know where to find me."

He smiled at that, squeezing her hands. "I heard you're planting a garden up here."

"Oh," she said, feeling heat warm her cheeks for some reason. "The Council has been after me to rebuild the throne room for months, but…the Twilight changed everything and everyone. We cannot go backwards. I want my people to treasure the gift you gave us. I want them to have a place of peace, where children can play, where rank and status are irrelevant. I want travelers to look at Hyrule Castle from afar and see it crowned with green growing things, not just pillars of stone."

He was listening intently, his face glowing with pride. Knowing she was someone who could make Link proud gave Zelda the strength of mountains—enough strength for what was coming next.

"Ilia said we could grow pumpkins." Her voice was steady, but she had to look down at her boots, dark against the pure snow. "I thought you might like that. That is…if you'll be here, come spring."

"Spring," Link repeated wistfully. He tilted her chin up gently, waiting for her to look at him before he continued, "Yes, Zelda. I want to be here, whenever I can be. I don't want to say goodbye."

"No," she agreed, smiling. "I prefer 'see you later.'"

Link chuckled, leaning his forehead against hers. When the rough gentleness of his scarred hand came up to cradle her cheek, Zelda closed her eyes, tipping her face up to welcome the kiss.

The world fell away, soft as snow, and they held the moment between them for a long time.

She opened her eyes into his fierce blue gaze, a reflection of the sky around them—and she knew that some things were eternal, even if she couldn't see the shape of the future. Link was a thing of wide-open wilderness. He would come and he would go, but the coming was a promise greater than the going could ever diminish, and the lessons they had taught one another would last forever.

And Zelda would stay. Not just out of duty, but because she wanted to be here tomorrow morning, when the sun rose over the perfect pale land and the guards changed shifts in snowy silence and the kitchen grew warm with the smell of baking bread. She wanted to be here come spring, to plant her garden and watch it fill the world with splendor. She wanted to see her kingdom grow just the same, to bind its wounds and defend it from the inevitable threats to come.

She and Link descended the ramparts in easy silence, hand in hand. One story below, her mother's favorite solar glowed with gentle firelight. On the other side of the glass door, Shad, Ashei, and Telma had their heads bent over a table, tracing the Resistance's future across a map. Sparrow and Ilia handed out hot tea, laughing about something. Auru entertained Melanie with a game of peekaboo, and when the child scrunched up her nose and giggled, she looked like her mother—and, perhaps, like the better parts of her father.

Zelda, murmured the memory of a beloved voice, your words are kind, and your heart is true. If all in Hyrule are like you…maybe you'll do all right.

We will, she thought. I promise we will.

"You ready?" Link asked. A hint of golden sunset pierced through the snowy clouds to illuminate his face, scars and all, as he held the door open and looked back at her.

Zelda followed him into the warm room.

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A/N: Thank you for reading, favoriting, and commenting! I hope you liked the ending, and happy less-than-one-week-left-until-TOTK!