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— EPILOGUE —
In the days that followed, and with every dream that came to her, Zelda reclaimed the final missing pieces of her past—and her identity.
Few people knew the truth of her quiet, personal journey. For weeks she had confronted her amnesia in private, avoiding the court and limiting her time with the High Council. Waves of gossip circled the castle in her absence, and the banquet had done little to stifle the more troublesome rumors.
It was no secret that the royal couple had occupied separate chambers since her accident, and Zelda was eager to silence the concerned whispers that had followed ever since. She wasted no time ensuring that Link's belongings were returned to her chamber—restoring its original status as their chamber.
No longer did she hide from her subjects. Rather, she resumed her regular time in the Audience Chamber, often with Link at her side. The lords and ladies were glad to observe a familiar warmth between the royal couple—and a renewed air of confidence from their queen.
No longer did Council meetings intimidate her. In fact, Zelda drew great satisfaction in the stunned looks of her advisors when she spoke her mind—a drastic shift from the quiet observation she had practiced for weeks. It was an exhilarating change for her, especially when she felt Link's pride surge through the bond.
.
Each night Zelda witnessed the events of her past, weaving new rows in a tapestry of joy and pain. The dreams often shook her awake, upsetting her enough to rouse Link as well. Some nights she found sleep again in his arms; other times they would lie awake and reminisce until their eyelids grew heavy. Some nights they felt no need to talk, eager to deplete their energy through more intimate means.
Each day Zelda devoted some time to prayer and solitude, allowing herself to contemplate each recovered memory. She revisited the pictograph album, slowly paging through it until she failed to recognize an image. Other times she would reach for her journal, recording her dreams while they remained fresh in her mind.
She wrote of the immeasurable joy she found in her marriage, even despite the political tension surrounding it. As newlyweds, she and Link had been too joyful, too grateful to bother with apprehension or worry. By some miracle they had achieved their deepest desire—to share a life without secrecy or shame—and nothing could spoil their happiness.
That was, until her father passed away.
Zelda's relationship with her father had already begun to improve since he ended her engagement to Ashton. Still, years of neglect had left her struggling to trust him. A large part of her remained skeptical, waiting for his affection to fade or his patience to expire.
So when he summoned Zelda to address the rumors surrounding her and Link, she was seized with preemptive anger and fear. With a set jaw she marched to his study, summoning the courage to fight anyone who dared to stand between her and Link.
But her father never planned to challenge her. Not only did he accept her choice to marry Link, he cleared a path for their courtship, their betrothal, and ultimately their marriage. He plotted every stage with extreme care, determined to protect them both from political turmoil. All the while a long and irreversible illness had tightened its hold on him, which he endured in secret as long as he could.
Zelda never imagined she would mourn her father so deeply once she recovered those memories. She regretted the bitterness she had harbored toward him since the accident, but she also cherished a newfound joy in remembering those final years of his life. It seemed his suffering had humbled him, softening his heart until the cold, distant man she knew had all but disappeared.
Feeling sad and restless in the wake of these revelations, Zelda had taken her son to visit his grandfather's grave. There she described his kindness to Shayne, and together they placed a fresh bouquet before the polished headstone.
"You spared me a life of misery," she whispered so that Shayne would not hear. "And you accepted Link, embracing him like your own. For that I will always love you."
.
Darker days had followed her father's passing. Zelda reflected on that difficult time in her journal, recalling how, as Hyrule mourned their lost king, quiet plans for her coronation began. Saddened to see her so burdened, Link had sought to assume the throne beside her, if only to share the weight of her crown.
For weeks Zelda had begged the gods to see it done, desperate to avoid a political imbalance in her already complicated marriage. In the end, Link was denied the Rite of Kingship, and she was crowned alone.
She struggled in the weeks that followed, plagued with fear and doubt—not in her ability to rule, but her inability to prevent a growing strain on her marriage. Frustration left her coiled like a snake, raring to snap at the naysayers Link chose to ignore.
The pressure only worsened as months passed with no sign of an heir. When hope did emerge it was dashed soon after, once in the anguish of a miscarriage. Whispers of a cursed union had circled the court, deepening her shame.
On those mornings, when she woke with the weight of such painful memories, Zelda held her son especially close, aching to know the entirety of his young life, to remember as only a mother could.
At night she often lay in Link's arms while he slept, pondering the dreams she had yet to experience. Her idle hands sought the scar on his chest, her mind caught between yearning and foreboding. That anticipation lingered while she slept, seeking the truth behind his scar. Eventually those memories came to her in a single night, revealing months of hardship and turmoil.
It started with a letter from Ashton, and a meeting which, by design, soon escalated into war. A single battle was fought, ending in Hyrule's defeat, which led to the Vandelian Invasion and sparked an underground resistance. Along the way Zelda felt Link's spirit leave her, shattering the bond before another miscarriage consumed the last of her strength.
Her grief might have destroyed her, but somehow she clawed her way out of despair, shuttering the pain to focus on her sole ambition—gathering allies to eradicate whatever evil Ashton had used to seize her throne.
Tumultuous though they were, her dreams did come with some relief, even moments of joy. Link had eventually returned to her, having escaped death and imprisonment. Their bond had been disrupted by a dark, unknown force, and he bore that terrible scar from his torment, but he was very much alive.
Circumstance soon forced them apart, and Link remained in the shadows while Zelda faced Ashton's increasingly reckless behavior, keeping him blind to resistance operations. Within weeks, however, she was forced to abandon those efforts and flee the castle, all to protect her unborn child—Shayne.
She found refuge with Link and the resistance, but it was during this time that she discovered the truth about his scar—and the terrible curse that weakened his body and poisoned his mind. Watching him suffer from his affliction, terrified that he might succumb to its hold… It was the worst struggle she had ever known.
She did not wake until that piece of her past had been fully recovered. Only after their enemy had been vanquished and peace had settled back into Hyrule did Zelda open her eyes.
She woke to a dark and quiet bedroom, blinking through her tears as she drew several uneven breaths. Then slowly she sat up, willing herself to recall how many years had passed since those days she so vividly remembered. The grief overwhelmed her anyway, pouring out in sobs she could not suppress.
Only moments passed before she felt Link's arms around her, holding her in wordless comfort. She clung to him, releasing all the sorrow, all the joy and sheer amazement that somehow, by some miracle, they had overcome the impossible. When the darkness passed and the dust had settled, she and Link remained with minimal scars—and the promise of their long awaited child.
The storm had passed; the skies had cleared. In the last of her dreams, Zelda remembered the joy of Shayne's arrival and the happy years that followed. With these memories she reclaimed the last piece of her identity, amazed by the love she felt for Shayne and the powerful sense of purpose he had given her.
Like a sword forged in fire, Zelda emerged from her trials with a renewed sense of certainty. The gap in her mind had closed; the weight lifted from her heart. She felt strong and secure, even peaceful.
She felt complete.
xXx
The queen's celebratory gala began on a warm midsummer evening, when a cool breeze swept through the immaculate castle grounds, carrying the scents of rose and safflina.
For weeks the servants had worked long hours—pressing drapes and banners, scrubbing floors, and polishing decor. Every candle was replaced, every lantern replenished, and fresh flowers bloomed within every hall and chamber. The guests arrived in their most impressive attire, eager to investigate the rumors surrounding Queen Zelda's incident.
The gala lasted for hours, filled with near endless feasting, dancing, and socializing. The queen participated in cheerful spirits, unfazed by the guests' countless eyes on her. She appeared the same beautiful, gracious host they remembered—kind but assertive, calm but engaged.
None saw any tension between her and the king, and most dismissed those rumors as sheer fabrication. The royal couple remained close throughout the night, both partaking in a number of dances. Their happiness was evident to all who observed them, much to the delight of many—and the disappointment of some.
Then finally, in the late hours of the night, the gala reached a satisfying end, succeeding where the previous banquet had failed. One by one the tired guests retired to their rooms, and their hosts breathed a sigh of relief.
At long last, all was well.
.
Zelda stood on the balcony outside the ballroom, glad for a moment of peace after hours of entertaining guests. Only the servants remained, having emerged from the shadows to clear the tables and polish the floors. The sun had long vanished beyond the horizon, and torches lit the castle grounds all the way to Castletown.
Gazing out toward the town's lit homes and establishments, Zelda found herself unable to enjoy the peaceful, comforting view. With a pang of guilt she recalled the last time she stood on that balcony all those weeks ago, having fled the banquet in a moment of panic. How childish she had been, filling her head with paranoid thoughts and trivial frustrations.
And then, when Link had tried to encourage her…
"There you are."
Zelda blinked, then turned to give Link a weak smile, aware of his concern as he leaned on the rail beside her.
"I think I could sense your gloom from the other side of Hyrule," he teased. "What's brought this on now, after things went so well tonight?"
She gave a halfhearted shrug. "I was thinking about the last time we stood here. How awful I was to you."
He gave her a gentle, knowing look. "You were no such thing. You had a lot to deal with that night, and you did the best you could. I wasn't any better."
"I was childish. And so cold to you."
Link sighed and drew closer, caressing her arm. "Don't think on it. I have plenty to feel guilty about too. Everything worked out in the end because you chose to be selfless."
"We both did," she said gently.
"You took real steps to fix things. I ran away and sulked, remember?"
Zelda gave a short laugh. "Only because I drove you away."
"You lost consciousness. That was my doing."
"I asked for it."
Link sighed and shifted closer, moving his hand to caress her back. Zelda focused on his emotions, aware of the guilt that lingered in his mind.
I wish I'd handled it better, his quiet voice sounded in her head. Sometimes I feel like an ill-behaved child who somehow escaped his punishment.
Zelda glanced up toward the starry sky, a wry smile on her lips.
I know the feeling… but it's only valid when I experience it. You are perfect and deserving of all blessings.
Link laughed at this, but his mirth quickly faded. Gently he drew her closer, pressing a kiss to her hair.
I would have loved you no matter what… even if the dreams never came…
Zelda reached for his cheek, soothing him with a kiss.
I know, darling. You don't need to explain.
He nuzzled her face in thanks, pausing when he felt the cold tip of her nose. Quickly he removed his jacket and placed it about her shoulders before embracing her from behind. Zelda leaned into his warmth with a sigh, glad to feel his guilt had mostly retreated.
"I wish I knew what happened in the Chamber that night," she murmured, her eyes resting on the Temple of Time's silhouette. "The miracle that started my dreams…"
Link hummed his agreement.
"You said you felt me lose consciousness," Zelda recalled. "Do you remember anything unusual about it?"
"Only that it was sudden. It didn't feel like sleep."
"That must have frightened you," she murmured, caressing his arms. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be. It was a good thing, for once."
"True…"
She sighed, wanting to lighten the mood. "Well, at least we know where to start if I should bump my head again."
"Don't say that, even in jest," he scolded, tightening his hold on her. "Also, you are forbidden to travel henceforth."
Zelda gave a short laugh. "Oh, am I now?"
"Not by carriage. Or horseback. On foot maybe, if enough guards are present."
She shook her head, then turned to slip her arms up around his neck. "Counter proposal: perhaps we try to avoid perilous roads in poor weather…?"
"Agreed. And I propose we use the ocarina if we're ever caught in a storm again. Protocol be damned."
Zelda's smile faded. "I suppose I can't argue that one… I hate to imagine the horror I put you through that night."
"Don't you start again," he soothed. "I've done far worse to you. And we found our way through it—or you did, I should say. Din knows your stubbornness never left you."
She shook her head, her blue eyes holding his. "It pushed me in the wrong direction for a while."
"But it saved us in the end. As it has before." Link swept a lock of hair behind her ear, letting his fingers graze her cheek.
"I owe a great deal to that stubbornness," he added softly.
Zelda smiled, meeting him in a tender kiss before nestling her head on his shoulder. Together they shared a long, peaceful embrace, wrapped in the warmth of their bond, grounded in the unshakable strength of their love.
.
— THE END —
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AN: Whew, I gotta say, as challenging and (sometimes) aggravating as it was to finish this story, I am so happy that it's DONE! It was supposed to be some short little experiment, only to end up something quite different. Also, I've never enjoyed writing short stories, so maybe I'm just incapable of restraining myself. ^^;
Frustrations aside, I still think this was a good project for me. It forced me to consider new ideas while exploring the thoughts and feelings of two different characters. Definitely a learning experience!
One reason this story took so long is because I made the mistake of plunging into the writing before I had the story outlined in detail. (Also, the original outline was scrapped for something more complicated, so that also slowed me down…) Every time I hit a wall I spent way too much time trying to figure it out. Add writer's block and life in general to the mix, and I end up with very inconsistent, very infrequent updates, which I know frustrates readers.
Thus I solemnly vow: if I ever write a new story, I will not begin posting until the first draft is entirely written. That way I will be editing, not writing, between updates, and that should significantly reduce the wait between them. At this time I'm not planning any new stories, since I need to finish the Fortitude revision, but I wanted to assure people that I will take steps to be more consistent. Hopefully I haven't lost too many readers in the process. D:
As always, thank you, thank you so much for your wonderful support and amazing patience. I hope this was a satisfying conclusion, and I would love to read your thoughts. :)