POV Zelda
His warm embrace envelops me, making me feel at home. His breath on my neck comforts me, and his heart beating against my back brings me peace. A smile plays on my lips: his presence is what I desire most and the only thing I need.
My heart skips a beat and contracts painfully.
The room is colder.
The weight of consciousness slowly crushes me, and I try, in vain, to hold onto the torpor. The struggle is futile. My throat tightens, and my hand instinctively gropes the mattress behind me, searching for him. Just as it has done daily for almost 10 years.
Not almost. Exactly 10 years.
My stomach twists as I realize that today marks a decade since Link left.
Correction: since the goddesses took him from me.
Unable to avoid it, I recall that fateful day. Even after so many years, the memory still destroys me, tearing me apart from the inside out.
It was just an ordinary day. The kingdom had been at peace for years since Ganondorf's fall. Everything was going well; all the reconstructions had been completed long ago. Each year, more and more immigrants from distant lands settled in Hyrule. The economy prospered, the population grew, and social and technological development was in full swing.
Day by day, I felt more comfortable as queen. I had a great team helping me, but I fulfilled all my duties with distinction. I rarely made any decision that resulted in any kind of harm or negative consequence for the kingdom or my subjects.
Our little family was doing well. Lance was about to turn 8 years old. He was an extremely active and intelligent child, seeming to have inherited all his father's energy and his mother's curiosity.
We never managed to have more children, despite trying. This worried me a bit — without conceiving a girl, the lineage of Zeldas would end with me. A strong indication that by destroying Ganondorf so many years ago, we had indeed managed to break Demise's curse.
It was just an ordinary day. I was woken by his kisses in the morning, just like every other day. He hugged me tighter than usual — I immediately doubted his intentions. I almost gave in to his invitation. But it would be a busy day, and I had numerous meetings scheduled early on. So I playfully slipped out of his arms and turned just to plant a kiss on his forehead before getting up.
He stopped me from leaving, and though he didn't push further — given my rush — he took me in a long and intense kiss. It wasn't uncommon. Whenever he had the chance, he showed his affection. He never forgave himself for leaving Hyrule during that period, so many years ago. He proved his devotion to me — to us — at every possible opportunity.
"Later," I said, smiling, lost in his blue eyes.
He nodded and smiled back, his gaze intense — as if he were memorizing every part of me, to never forget.
It was just an ordinary day. Lance was desperate to learn how to be like his father. He had heard the countless stories of the days of struggle, adventures, monsters and victories. And, although he had received this title from many others in the past, none of them ever carried as much weight as being considered a Hero by his own son.
His devotion to me was immeasurable. To Lance, it was infinite.
Despite being the king of Hyrule, to him, it was just a title. He never showed interest in royal duties and did the bare minimum for the role. He lived not to serve the kingdom but to serve me and his son.
Lance had been training in the fundamentals of combat with the royal army instructors. He was eager to show his father what he had learned in his lessons. He wanted to fight against him, his greatest inspiration.
It had been a long time since Link had last held a sword.
But the sparkle in Lance's eyes disarmed any objection he might have had. He would do anything to see him smile.
It was just an ordinary day. I was in a small meeting with Purah and Tauro, about whatever trivial matter we were developing at the time. The teacup in my hands trembled when one of the staff burst into the small room without knocking first.
Before I could say anything, the news was spat out desperately by the young man with frightened eyes.
"He's dead, Queen Zelda. The king is dead."
A low hiss, a soft crack, the cup shattered on the floor.
The hot liquid spilled in the fall burned my skin. But I felt nothing, nothing, nothing but incredulity. It was a mistake, it had to be. Link was barely 35 years old — well… 135 if we counted the coma period.
A fatality, impossible to predict.
Anticlimactic, even, after so many years of risking his own life.
A collapse. A heart attack. Call it what you will, the result is the same: without notice, his heart stopped beating.
No one could explain what happened. Perhaps the coma period cost more than presumed? Losing and regaining vitality so many times weakened the fragile muscle? Many theories formed, no answers were reached.
I didn't care. Answers wouldn't bring him back.
No daughter. The curse broken. There would be no new incarnations.
Shortly after his death, desperate, I traveled to Koholint Island. I searched for the Dream Shrine, where he had encountered the ancient Links who had died many millennia ago.
I found the Temple. I lay down on its bed. I accessed the white room he had described.
Empty.
The final confirmation. The curse had indeed been broken.
I wouldn't find him again. Not in this life, nor in any subsequent one.
An entire existence ahead… alone.
Ten years have passed. It still hurts like the first day.
There will be celebrations in his memory today.
I won't survive it.
Desperate for the relief of unconsciousness, I close my eyes again. It's still dark — the staff won't disturb me yet. The torpor begins to invade me, and I know I'll soon be graced with a few more hours of forgetfulness.
However, on the threshold of wakefulness, my heart shatters once more at the sound of his voice — so clear, so distinct, as if his lips were whispering secrets in my ear again:
"Zelda, my love. It's time to return."
I open my eyes, panicked, searching for the origin of the voice. It's useless: it vanishes as suddenly as it appeared, leaving behind only the bitter taste of longing.
It was more than I could bear. The sobs shake my body violently, my collapsed heart preventing me from breathing properly.
Have you ever felt a love so great, so immense that it merges with your soul? That becomes part of who you are. That propels you forward. That makes you certain that, no matter what happens, life is worth living simply because of the existence of that love?
Have you ever lost a love so great, so immense that it takes a part of you away? That steals your essence and leaves behind only the shell?
What was the point of it all?
All the battles, all the farewells, all the reunions.
What was the point of it all?
As my sobs wane, the light of day gently filters through the bedroom windows. I calm down slowly, waiting for the apathy that has guided me through the last decade.
It, however… doesn't come. Not completely. Not pure and clean, as it has always presented itself since my grief turned from hysterical to cold.
Dazed, I realize that a small emotion threatens to play deep within my being, tickling my heart.
Hope.
His voice stirred my innermost self, digging deep into the grave where I had buried myself inside, rescuing a breeze of life.
"Where are you?" I ask the empty room, but receive no answer.
Perhaps I am crazy. Perhaps years of pain and dissociation have finally led my mind to give in to insanity.
It doesn't matter. I cling to this tiny spark of hope with every fiber of my being, and it gives me the strength to get out of bed and get dressed.
For the first time in a decade, my curious and questioning side threatens to awaken. I shake it, for its help will be essential on this journey.
Perhaps I am crazy.
But I won't rest until I find out.