I Live to Serve

Chapter #1: Couldn't You See Me?

It seemed as though once a certain capacity of pain was endured, the body numbed itself to feeling altogether. It had to be some kind of defense brought about by Hylia herself; a blessing, a reparation for his devotion to the task given to him. If not for that grace, he surely would have collapsed the moment Ganon's great magenta mass fizzled out into the setting sun. Every muscle, which had previously burned with strain, now seemed to drift off with the remains of the battle. His body held less weight than the air around him. Link couldn't feel a thing.

"I've been keeping watch over you all this time," his eyes had neglected to meet the sweeping golden figure. He knew that it was Zelda- he was amazed that it was Zelda, but his mind had hardly the sensibility to focus on her. All of his thoughts, which had seemed to only think of Ganon for the last painful year, now wilted, even as the world around him demanded his common sense. for once, though, he couldn't comply. He so badly just wanted to drift off into the wind with the fragments of the monster he had just slain. Surely that was selfish?

"I've witnessed your struggles to return to us as well as your trials in battle. I always thought- no, I always believed that- that you would find a way to beat Ganon." Her eyes were criminally green... staring him down with all of the strength and glory of Hylia herself. It struck Link suddenly: comparing her to a goddess seemed silly; she was a goddess, a celestial being, one that he ought to be grateful to be in the presence of. Ought. But instead, sensation rushed through his body once again much too quickly. His knees ached with the weight of the world. It could have been the intensity of the battle, but more likely, it was her gaze. The gaze that he had to force himself to hold. That's what she wanted, what she deserved- a hero able to conquer Ganon and hold eye contact with princesses alike. But he was so exhausted, and neither Zelda nor Hylia nor his own willpower alike would be able to hold him upright much longer.

But he had to. And he wanted to, truly.

"I never lost faith in you over these many years. Thank you, link, the hero of Hyrule." The feeling once again left his body, like some kind of cruel taunt from the heavens. Teasing him with numbness- physically, anyways.

'The Hero of Hyrule'. That type of title demanded a crown, a celebration, a palace up on a hill. It held such weight. But even with Zelda, the princess, his princess bestowing it down upon him... he felt nothing. He yearned for her gratitude, but when faced with it, he wanted only to plunge into another battle- to sink his sword into some terrible beast. To feel sweat pour down his face, to feel every fiber of every muscle burn, to feel the familiar agony of enemy fire. He longed for that misery, now. At least then, muscle memory and adrenaline would guide him through the motions. Be it dummies in a courtyard or a stone talus, the familiarity of the movements and sensations would be enough to guide him. Years of training made arrow wounds feel like an embrace. Homely, that's what it was: secure. But there wasn't anything secure about standing across from the princess of Hyrule as she drowned him in brief, yet glowering praise. Never had Link been instructed on how to feel, or what to say in this situation. So he let silence, his most reliable instinct, carry him through.

"May I ask...do you really remember me?"

Feeling returned to him once more, but this time without the mercy of any amount of graduality. Her eyes became daggers that threatened to kill whatever consciousness he had left. They were full of warmth and an innocent sort of plea; but, that very warmth threatened to burn him and that innocence filled his lungs like salt water.

He wanted to say yes. of course he did, and it wouldn't necessarily be a lie. He remembered Zelda. He remembered her curled up against Urbosa like a tired child, he remembered her sinking beneath the glare of her father, he remembered her latching onto him while the rain chilled their bones. But he didn't remember her, did he? Not like she wanted him to. Not like he wanted to. He couldn't remember what she smelled like, or what she liked to eat. He couldn't remember their conversations, if they had any at all. He remembered every bit of her, as a civilian might, but he didn't know her as he ought to.