This story is a songfic based off of the song "Die with a Smile" by Lady Gaga/Bruno Mars. Give it a listen if you have the chance!
Threads Pulled Taut
The first hell was the Calamity. A one-hundred-year war. Sealed fates. Death and resurrection.
The second hell was the Upheaval. An eternity of separation. Gloom and the Depths. Draconification.
The third hell was the Leviathan. Hellspawn born of the sea. Endless showers of lightning. A fierce battle which claimed two of the hero's fingers.
The fourth hell saw the world cast into eternal night. No sun. No stars. No flames. Only a golden girl who used her powers of light to scatter the darkness and the ancient devil who summoned it.
They stopped counting after the fifth hell.
It's been one thing after another for them. Tragedy after tragedy, and disaster after disaster. Destruction, blood, tears, and graves. Even when they manage to save the world from ruin and buy themselves a few years of peace, another apocalypse always lingers on the horizon. Their lives are defined solely by their abilities—sharp swords and powers of light. Forced to draw blood, over and over again without relent.
It makes for a cruel existence, but it's the only one they've ever known.
Link's eyes snap open to Hyrule's latest disaster. The sky is dark as pitch. The few stars that remain present are obscured by smoke and firelight. The world is exploding around him. Men are shouting. Monsters are shrieking. Fires are roaring. The crash of thunder strikes again and again and again.
Link can taste blood in his mouth, and it immediately snatches him away from whatever reverie he retreated to. It's tragic, but this will always be the most telling sign of where he is and what's going on. It rouses him like a trumpet heralding the end of days.
Hyrule is on the brink of destruction.
Again.
With a groan, he sits up and searches for his sword amidst the rubble. His two mechanical fingers jitter and whir, disobeying his command. He can only assume they've been damaged in the explosion that sent him flying into a building mere moments ago.
He wishes that was the least of his concerns.
He's gotten too old for this. Too tired. He can't possibly move like he used to and he's suffering for it. He's lost half an ear. His side is soaked in blood courtesy of a deadly gash. When he goes to stand, he suspects that he's missing a chunk of his foot. He can't bear to look down and confirm it though. He doesn't have time to consider his losses.
His three good fingers eventually curl around the hilt of his sword and he rescues it from a grave of ash. It gives him no pleasure though. The poor thing is cracked, chipped, and dull. It's taken on far more than it could reasonably hope to, and it has paid the price for it. At this point, it would probably be best to discard it. Perhaps return it to its grave where it can finally accept its eternal rest.
Link carries it anyway.
If he isn't dead yet, then neither is his blade.
His bones ache as he rises to his full height. His countless scars sear him something fierce. It's only natural. No man can face the end of the world as many times as he has and expect to walk away unscathed. It's a deadly profession, and it's already claimed everything except his life.
The hero glances over and spots a group of men fighting off demons or devils or monsters… He honestly can't tell anymore. His vision is blurry and after all these years, they've begun to blend together.
He's seen this before. Felt this before. It's a nostalgia that festers in his chest. When blood falls like rain and brimstone replaces the air in his lungs. He wonders if he can even recall what it's like to be at peace. It's been ages since he last encountered a sky that wasn't obsidian.
But despite his faulty vision, there is one thing he can see as clear as sunlight. It manifests before him, glistening in the night. A single golden thread.
In an instant, the world fades away. The pain. The chaos. None of it matters. His eyes, his heart, his entire being is focused solely on that wispy trail. He recognizes it by instinct. It's familiar. It's comforting. It's the only reason that any of these wars have been worth fighting for.
And so he follows it, as best he is able.
Movement is a terrible, torturous process. He's got one weak leg that is begging to retire, and one failing leg that can barely support his balance as it limps a step behind him. It scrapes along the dark earth, recklessly colliding with stones and splinters and leaving a river of crimson in its wake.
There's a good chance that he'll never walk straight again.
The revelation barely phases him. He's so used to damage at this point that he's grown complacent. His body has already been stripped of so much autonomy—what's a little more?
Besides, his airy thoughts remind him, he needs to follow that thread. A golden line of light, pulling taut against his chest. Wherever it goes. Follow it, follow it, follow it…
It leads him to a beautifully ugly scene. A lady of light courageously shines against the forces of dark. She pushes back against their weapons. Their magic. Their flames and gloom and shadows. There's a handful of mages assisting her, made up of Sheikah and Gerudo, but they're all dropping like flies. Spears, arrows, and fireballs are claiming their lives faster than they can realize it. Some turn to ash before their final breath escapes their lips.
Link's heart breaks for them. It cracks and creaks and groans. He's so sick of death. Of watching the innocent bleed and suffer. They don't deserve this. Nobody deserves this.
But what is there to be done? The other side is strong, and the only one who can stand up to them is a broken, rustic man who can barely stay level. The most he can do is mourn them with what little breath he has left.
How amusing. How ironic. The image of a man with one foot in the grave, mourning his fallen comrades.
But the thread pulls him forward again, inching him towards the girl of gold, and he instantly knows what his purpose in coming here is. He can see it, like a vision playing out before his eyes. A Lizalfos, sneaking around the outskirts of the battle. Slithering in and out of shadows. Waiting for the moment when Zelda overwhelms her enemies so it can strike her down from behind.
It's never going to happen.
For her sake, Link's broken legs move faster than a horse's hooves. Sword drawn. Eyes focused. Blood pumping. He tangles with the reptile, dodging, weaving, slicing. Such a tenacious little wretch. He succeeds in snuffing out its life, but not before it cleaves its boomerang into his wrist.
A worthwhile trade, he supposes…
The sword falls to the earth as liquid iron pours out of the wound. The only thing he can feel is agony—white, hot, and screeching. He's lost his grip completely. Not even his good fingers are heeding his instructions.
Never again will he wield a sword.
In return, his wife has been spared a gruesome end. With an exhaustive shriek, Zelda zaps her remaining foes. Those that don't plummet into soulless slumber flee for the sanctuary of nearby shadows. Once she is certain that she has chased them off, she turns to face her savior.
Link stumbles as he takes her in.
The once fair and beautiful princess is thin. Bony. Gaunt. Her eyes are sunken. Her hair is bleached. Her skin wrinkles in the worst ways, revealing decades of worry lines. By her brow. By her lips. Beneath her eyes.
Those very same eyes which soften at the sight of him.
"Link," she rasps in her quiet, humble voice. She pulls her hands to her chest as she steps closer. It doesn't take long for her expression to shift from somber to horrified. "Oh, Link… Your ear. Your arm. Your side…"
Her hand hovers tentatively between them, and Link accepts it without hesitation. He caresses her palm gently, as if her touch is a priceless treasure which he is so unworthy of.
"Are you okay?" he whispers.
They say that the eyes are the window to the soul, and he can see that hers have just shattered out of sympathy. She steps closer, placing her weak, skeletal fingers on his arm. "I'm fine," she insists. "I'm always fine. But you…"
"I'm still alive," he whispers before pressing a kiss to her knuckles.
Her eyes soften for him once more. Perhaps they would shed tears, if she hadn't already exhausted her waterworks throughout the decades of endless tribulation.
For as long as Link can remember, he's tried his best to keep her safe, healthy, and—Goddess willing—in one piece. But she's suffered regardless. Malnutrition. Illness. A miscarriage during the fourth hell. None of it could be helped. She has the power to save lives, but only by draining her own vitality.
Slowly but surely, she's been killing herself in order to survive.
Now she's little more than skin and bones. Aged and weathered. Her radiance is but a fraction of what it once was. And yet, when the end of the world falls into her lap, she continues to fight.
Because Hyrule needs her. And she will never turn her back on the people she loves.
But Link wonders…how much more can she be expected to give?
Explosions, screams, and rallying cries pull them out of their melancholy. The end of the world waits for no one. Arrows begin screeching past their heads.
Zelda lightly curses and goes to tug on his good hand. Ordinarily, she could handle the threat of a dozen archers with ease, but it's obvious at a glance that she lacks the strength. The excessive use of her powers has already bled her dry tonight.
"Come on, Link," she rasps. "We have to find cover."
The hero's heart nearly snaps in half on the spot. He wishes for nothing more than to obey her. To follow her. Stay with her, protect her, never leave her side!
But he doesn't move.
He's rooted in place.
"Zelda…"
She waits.
"I…can't feel my legs anymore."
As if his life is one heartless, cruel joke, Link starts to collapse on the spot. Zelda produces the most wretched sound he's ever heard as her breath catches in her throat.
"No!" she begs, trying her best to support him with her senescent frame. "No, please… Stay with me, Love. You can do this. I know you can. Just follow me to the nearest building—"
The nearest building—the only shelter available to them—explodes under the inferno of a Wizzrobe's spell. The wicked flames cast fresh light on the hero's wounds, and Zelda's resolve crumbles just as quickly as the structure behind them.
Link's a hardened warrior. He's survived many battles, suffered many wounds, and been endlessly stitched up over the years. But they both know that he won't be able to be put back together this time around.
Link's legs finally give out and Zelda collapses with him. Arrows are still whizzing overhead at a deadly velocity. Their allies are fighting back with everything they have, but any hope of victory is quickly waning. The angel of death has already claimed this battle as its tribute.
Zelda clings to him, appearing forlorn. Devastated. Shattered. Link grits his teeth and curses himself. He hates doing this to her. Failing her at such a pivotal moment, and in such a heartbreaking way too. He thinks himself a worthless, horrible human being. For who else could be so cruel as to die on her twice in one lifetime?
"I'm so sorry, Zelda," he breathes, the guilt evident in his voice. "I…don't think I'm going to survive this one."
She's silent. Still. Her eyes are bargaining, then calculating. In the end, she huffs the heaviest sigh he's ever heard.
A sigh of relief.
"Goddess be praised. You can finally be free."
Free.
Free.
She wants him to be free.
The word lingers in his bloody ear before plummeting straight to his heart, like a guillotine performing an execution. It's no longer his body that's failing him. His insides are unraveling too.
For decades, his wife has been plagued with guilt. With every disaster that befalls Hyrule, she directs the blame solely to herself. She's never said it aloud, but Zelda believes the Goddess to be punishing her. Perhaps for the sins of her ancestors. Perhaps it's a test of faith. Or perhaps Hylia just finds the endless torture of one meek girl so amusing.
And now Link is suffering by association.
Her fragile fingers cradle his bloodstained cheek. She's taking in the sorry sight of him. What little is left. "After everything you've endured, I'm the one who should be apologizing. This was never your burden to bear."
No.
No, no, no. She has it all wrong. Nobody forced him into this. He didn't fall apart for the sake of Hyrule. He didn't bathe in blood because the Goddess willed it. Doesn't she understand? He did it because she needed him. It's the only reason he has and it's reason enough.
It's always enough.
She will always be enough.
But as fate would have it, there's no time to convey this rebuttal. For there's a new volley of arrows and people are screaming and monsters are snickering and rivers of blood are flowing, flowing, flowing…
Zelda moves—faster than her scrawny frame would have you believe—to shield him. The smallest of whimpers passes through her lips as two arrows pierce her. Two arrows meant for him.
"Zelda," Link croaks. He doesn't even have the energy to scream her name as she stumbles and falls to her knees before him.
"They won't take anything more from you," she says, her voice adamant yet strained. "Not another drop of blood."
"Zelda…" As her chest heaves up and down—strained, labored—it's all he can think to say.
"I'll fix this," she says. "You…You just stay here, Love. Rest. Be at peace. And allow me to make everything right again."
His fingers find her hair. Such a soft sensation. It's not something he's used to experiencing on the battlefield.
"I can do this," she says.
"Don't," he replies.
Her breath grows heavier, and her demeanor turns frantic. "I have to do this. For Hyrule. For my people. As long as I draw breath."
"Love…"
"Link, I…I'm so sorry." Her eyes squeeze shut, and she pulls out a glowing stone.
A stone she intends to swallow.
With eyes enveloped in sadness, and a faltering smile, she turns to look at him. "This won't be farewell. I'm sure we'll meet again, Link. In another lifetime."
Link's life is little more than cinders at this point. And yet, somehow, a fire is swelling within him. His breath comes sharp and quick through his nostrils. He reaches out, finds that beautiful golden thread of hers, and pulls it taut.
No.
Not again.
He is not going to lose her again.
As soon as that dreadful stone reveals itself, Link takes his good hand and swallows Zelda's palm. He refuses to let her budge.
"Zelda," he whispers in a voice more tired than the kingdom they inhabit, "please, just let it go."
Link is missing half an ear. His legs are shot. He's losing blood by the pint, and his remaining breaths are surely numbered. But no physical injury can make him suffer more than the thought of losing her.
And Zelda knows this all too well.
"You've done enough," he continues quietly. "We both have. There's so little left for us to give, and at this point, I'm not about to offer it up."
His hand moves from her palm to her chest, and he gently pulls her into his embrace. A kiss lingers on her neck. "I'm not going anywhere without you, Zelda," he breathes into her skin. "I only want to be next to you. Even if the world is ending, I want to be right next to you."
The earth is still screeching its ungodly rage all around them. And yet, the sounds of fire, war, and death all fall silent as Zelda stares longingly at her Secret Stone.
Link can only guess what must be going through her head. Duty. Honor. The lives of innocents. The foe who has its hands clasped around her kingdom's throat. The Light Dragon who could help turn the tide…
And then surely there is Link. His sweet, pleading whispers in her ears. The endless memories. The brief glimpses of peace. The blood they spilled to grow a garden. Their children, their grandchildren—all smiling. The nightmares, always scattered by sunlight, for a time. Oh, what a life they have led.
"Zelda," Link whispers, one final time. "Stay with me."
She clenches her fist, obscuring the light of the stone.
She sits, and she sits.
Her hand quivers.
And then she hurls the stone into the nearest inferno.
Zelda twists around to face him, and he sees sunken eyes springing to life. Beautiful jade pools that are holding back tears. Her frail fingers rush forward to secure his cheeks, and she pulls him in close. Close enough to take his lips and breathe life into him.
She's kissing him. It's the end of the world, and she's kissing him.
It's more than gratitude. More than appreciation. More than trust or loyalty or some other meaningless virtue. It's love. Emotional, irrational, unconditional love. She smiles once more, and this time, a visible sense of warmth spreads to the rest of her.
"I'm with you," she promises, words steeped in sincerity. "Wherever you go, that's where I'll follow."
Link blinks lazily. His thoughts are scattered. He's lost so much blood, he can't even think straight. And yet he smiles all the same. Because his wife is here, in his arms, her heart beating in tandem with his own.
He's sacrificed so much in the years leading up to this wild, climatic night. But he hasn't lost her. And as far as he's concerned, nothing else matters.
Link leans forward and kisses her in return. Their lips melt together as the world crumbles around them. The sky is alight with fireworks. The explosions are their wedding bells. The corpses are their only witnesses.
Zelda takes a haggard breath, her head nuzzling—no, falling to his chest. She's losing strength by the second. Perhaps those arrows were more deadly than they believed. Or perhaps she's given up any thought of walking away from this battle without him.
Either way, she's here to stay.
"I guess it's foolish to wish that we had more time," she laments.
"We've never been promised tomorrow," he reminds her. "So let's just cherish this moment for all it's worth."
"It's worth everything to me," she assures him. "Even the world."
He nods and combs his finger through her bleached hair. He hopes his touch is enough to convey his comforting thoughts. That Hyrule will survive this latest disaster. Peace will reign even if they're not around. Who knows? Perhaps the calamities will cease altogether once the hero and princess have been wiped from the earth. Surely, the world would never end without its star catalysts.
The way she sinks into him confirms it. She understands as well as he does. It is time to let go.
"Any final words?" she whispers, sounding so, so exhausted.
"Nothing," he says resolutely. "I just want to hold you for a while…"
And he does. Locks her in a warm, loving embrace that will never loosen. Not even when a fresh arrow finds its way into her back. Or when white-hot shrapnel pierces his shoulder. It means nothing to them. It's just noise. A soft, faraway, meaningless noise.
He cradles her and she clings to him. It's a touch so tender and soothing that he can feel his nerves begin to settle. The pain becomes eclipsed by relief. He's losing blood, and yet he's never felt warmer. His breathing begins to slow. His heartbeat fades into stillness.
In the end, Link dies with a smile on his lips.
A moment passes before Zelda joins him.
Like a pair of doves fleeing a birdcage, their souls find freedom.
The spark that started this story was a short drabble I shared on Tumblr a while back. It was my first time ever writing for post-TOTK Zelink, and I came to the realization that they are the "we can never catch a break" Zelink. After all, they have to fight their way through not only one apocalyptic event, but another one just a few years later! Tough luck, huh?
Fast forward a few weeks and I'm driving home from work while thinking about Zelink (you know, as one does), and a certain song came on the radio singing about smiling at the end of the world. And in an instant my mind was like "TOTK Zelink tragedy! Endless calamities! They can never catch a break, even when they take their final breath!"
And now here we are…lol.
Whenever I write tragedies, I always try my best to portray the beauty of such a thing. It's not necessarily focused on mourning what's been lost, but rather appreciating everything that's come before. No matter how dark it gets, there's still hope. Tranquility. Gratitude. There's always so much to be thankful for. I hope that I was able to convey that through my writing, even a little bit.
Anyway, thanks for reading. Do me a favor and go tell someone that you love them :)
