It is long after their breaths have calmed down, the river's water soothing their throat, when she looks at him again and she let her gaze slide to the enthralling fierce face on his hip.
"This is an amazing mask you carry here," she murmurs with open fascination.
This time, the weariness, their intimacy and maybe the milk work together to dull his vigilance as he let words flow, his voice barely above the river's echo. In one hour, though the violence of the ordeal is almost lost to his memory, he spills everything about his days in Termina.
When she looks so moved and angered at the Skull Kid, it is too late to chide himself for his carelessness. When he tries to defend the imp, he definitely does not expect her to cry - he is so shocked he has to double check to be sure the trails on her cheeks are made of tears. He feels clumsy and foolish for saying so much, and the poetry of the Queen's solemn profile won't let him think clearly.
"I should have been there," she rasps.
"I'm glad you weren't," he murmurs a little appalled before setting back into a blunt, easy going tone. "Had you been, I would have ended far too worried to do anything."
And in the next couple minute, as Zelda finishes her list of reasons why she would not only have been totally safe, but also able to help - even if a little, he can't stop grinning, comfortable in the prideful, almost masculine voice of his Sheikah companion.
But then his eyes slide up and his smile cools down. High over them, birds lazily soar across the empty skies, already returning to their nests...their silent flight slowly tying a knot in Link's guts.
.
It is at his last words that she hears it. The weakness in his voice, to well hidded behind confidence and strength. That's how she can tell that despite of his claims, the topic still hurts. Outrage and worry are slow to subsiding from her heart while she wonders how it could have felt to live Termina.
She looks at him as he glances up to the darkening sky, and for a moment, she only sees the adult in him. She feels a ridiculous yearning to make him feel welcome, to show him how she cares. She is not sure if it is for him or for her own peace anymore. She stops thinking. She wishes...
She had sent him back to another era, dooming the land and herself to cope with a timeline without him. There is no way back from this kind of decision.
It does not mean she cannot still plan one or two things for the other world, through.
The next thing he knows, she grabs the long tattered cloth he keeps around his shoulder and makes a bundle with it before he can react. She barely thinks about trying to erase his memories correctly this time, but she never had the right to mess with something so personal in the first place.
"This," she murmurs as she presses the fabric between two glowing blue hands, "This will even things in your era. As soon as it touches her skin..." But he still looks at it confused so she moves to close her hands around of his: "It will help her remember."
His breath quickens and his blue gaze becomes wistful as he seems to wallow in the idea. She feels her heart on the tip of her tongue.
"I am sorry."
He scrutinizes her expression for a while then stands up and it is his turn to lift a hand to her face now, and carefully, he smooths out the dark circles under her eyes with a thumb.
He steps up, invading her personal space without a second thought, as if to soothe a child. Is it how he acts with her in his era? Well, she refuses him to bear the role of an adult for her comfort. He offers a strong smile but she withdraws, turns away and sighs, discontent with herself, with the unfairness of it all. When she finds his eyes again, they hold each other's gaze without a word.
.
He takes in her appearance, the last memory he wants to keep from a future that is not his. His eyes slowly drift toward her lips and his breath hitches when she sets a hand on his shoulder, drawing him in. He thinks he feels her other hand rummaging through his purse, but any thoughts desert his mind the next second as the whole world freezes beneath one sensation.
It takes him awhile to realize what is happening when she has already pulled away, leaving only the ghost of a chaste kiss.
Once again, she looks serious and collected, but he has been used to Sheik. Now, it is easy to read the nervousness hanging between her creased brows and the forced rhythm of her calm breath. His grin broadens.
He hesitates, but her face is still close and he can barely think when he connect their foreheads, then their lips again, with a passion that takes them both aback.
Sheik yelps, but having her against his lips is something he can appreciate now. Especially after he pursued the Sheikah's shadow from temple to temple, only to grasp threads of her voice and way too much Deku smoke-
She does not reciprocate, yet she still does not draw away... and he discovers a few things about her lips, flustered by the intimacy, and way too comfortable in her faint lavender smell. So he slides his arms up her shoulders, locks wrists behind her neck. Her moan is short, plain; he forgets about his body. He doesn't need to be a man for her; Sheik doesn't look the type to want one anyway. Only one fact remains clear in his mind. Zelda is the only person that would ever understand what he has become. No one, he reminds himself, will be able to fulfill him like she can. But the long known fact is turning into a lavender scented urgency- He can help rebuild this country, he can be useful here!- In less than an hour he will go back to a world where he is a monster, a misfit at best. So he clings to the instant, to the reality of lavender and the name of Sheik. Slowly yet fiercely, he gives his farewell to the future that isn't his.
She pulls away, a little disheveled, a little shocked, and he can only stare at the rays of the setting sun on her tanned skin as he glimpses a rare expression of vulnerability on her face. It's strange how her beauty seems to be more wondrous the more she is unattainable. The feeling of loss and frustration is familiar, so redundant that it is as if some higher power drew some amusement of their situation...and his Triforce is of little use against the prospect of never seeing her again.
Despair seize him and he feels a crushing panic tearing his heart, he considers, gropes for other routes, he thinks about showing her his Deity transformation...and blushes at the ridiculous idea.
He wants to stay; he wants to love her; he wants his other body back. He wants to resent her for driving him away, locking him in a purposeless world. He wants to die right now by her side...
His mind is already lost.
She open and closes her mouth a few times before she speaks "It cannot-" but when his fingers graze her lips in a silent plea, slowly, she realizes and blushes. No words can fit at this point of their story.
He... He swears he is not trembling - much - when he takes his hand away. He manages to build the shadow of a smile before a sigh breaks out, and feeling his throat constrict, he stutters something about Epona waiting for him in the woods.
The hand sliding away from his shoulder seems to slow time down with the gesture. Her face is a veil of sadness and distance when she nods solemnly - because she is the Queen and because she is Zelda and she will not let him worry about two Hyrules.
.
They are in front of the portal. Somewhere near, two rather confused Eponas nudge each other in curiosity.
He forces out a dry chuckle, silently readying to depart for good. She stands aside, hidden behind the mask of a Queen, but her eyes remain a mirror of the tearing grief and wild loneliness filling him. She acts strong and sure and yet just her usual and he is filled with warming pride.
Before he turns to go, he sees her kneel out of the corner of his eye and he looks away, doing his best to delay their final obligation to time.
"You have to promise me, Link." He faces her again. "You will give it to her."
"I understand."
She warns him with a shake of her head. "Your promise."
He tries to cover a sigh behind his kindest smile. "I promise, Zelda." He calls for the horse and she is on her feet again the last time he turns to see her, and he has to lift up his eyes again.
He waves...and passes through.
(A weak flicker of hope lingers in the back of his mind. What if she fails to close the portal? Perhaps she will need him to protect it...)
.
He was in his era this time.
It was not much of a surprise to see that the portal has disappeared. Zelda's magic had always been strong and dexterous. Only air and the faraway plains were left to be seen beyond tree trunks. He walked on, trying to quell useless feelings.
He was surprised to feel relief at the sight of the clear present sky as a breathed in his new Hyrule's air. Along the minutes and the hours, he played for a long time with the magic-imbued fabric at his neck.
Handing the cloak to her to find his Lady back was something he daydreamed about a couple times, but no more than as a volatile wish.
Sadness felt like another older mantle that gave him some comfort in its familiarity. He let it drape around him, but the memory of the Hyrule he left for the second time was not ridden with bitterness anymore. This time, he has been able to say goodbye, and he felt immensely grateful to the Goddesses - and Zelda - for it.
He brushed Epona's mane one last time and gently send her on her way to the ranch. For a moment sadness threatened to overwhelm him but he prevailed more easily.
As the pony trotted away, his heart swelled with nostalgia, then pride at the memory of the woman that time always managed to seclude from him. But his renewed will lessened the burning affection and stifled its urgency.
.
One morning, eventually, he built a fire and dropped the cloth in. At the time, he stood so close that he could taste the ashes in the back of his throat.
What he knew for sure, was that he could not decide to rip her mind of innocence and tear her childhood apart, not simply because he could not have his. Selfishness had a limit, he decided. He would never throw regrets and sadness in the eyes of the Princess.
More days passed and he thought about far away travels, deadly perils and lost causes. He would not bring Epona this time. Navi's name...raised fond memories, some yearning...but the fairy was no goal for him anymore. No turning back. He would destroy the path right behind his steps if needed; he would make sure not to find his way again.
But...maybe he did not have to bring regret along.
He did not know whether that makes him more courageous or more cowardly, but he wanted- he needed to confront her, because somehow he owned it to her... Just one last time. Before really disappearing.
It sounded reasonable... ...did it not? The spirits from Termina stood silent in his head, but he could feel the Fierce One observing as his feet set to walk on their own.