sonder
n. the realization that each random passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your own
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Had Zelda known they only had three days, she might have been a little braver in acting on her romantic feelings for Link. But she had no way of knowing their time was so short, and with the foul aftertaste Mido left in her mouth, she was savoring the ever-growing openness and authenticity of her friendship with Link.
During the day, she, Link, and Makar chatted about all sorts of things, and Zelda wrapped each piece of information passed between them as if it were an invaluable family heirloom, mentally tucking it away for safekeeping.
Makar and Link had a lot in common, surprisingly. The Koroks liked to dance and sing for recreation. Makar would play a violin-like instrument with his friend Hestu, who played the maracas. Link talked about his childhood friend from Akkala, Saria, who played a little clay instrument called an ocarina. She tried to teach him how to play, but he said it made him feel light-headed. Makar also talked about playing hide and seek virtually all day everyday with the rest of the Koroks. Link beamed and contributed how he, Aryll, Saria and the other Akkalan kids played hide and seek all the time, too. He used to be the best hider until he taught Aryll to stop calling out her location.
But the biggest point of camaraderie was, simply, their love of trees. The boys were aghast to hear that the princess did not climb or eat straight from their branches—although not for a lack of trying. She was strictly forbidden.
In order to remedy this, they appointed Zelda as their designated tree climber when meal time came around, gathering whatever fruits or nuts the branches offered. Link laughed at her when she fretted on the limb of a perfectly sturdy oak, so she pelted him with acorns. Later Zelda watched in awe as Link—assuring the blade was clean—used the sword he'd gotten from Kakariko to fillet a fish and chop apples and onions. He hummed simple, three-note melodies to himself while whatever ingredients he chose seared, simmered or sizzled over the fire, and Zelda's own heart sizzled and swelled with infatuation.
At night, after Makar had drifted off to sleep, Zelda grew a little more daring in her queries.
"Alright, I exposed my big secrets last night, now tonight's your turn," she jested.
"Okay," Link chuckled. "Ask away, Your Highness, I'll answer anything."
She let her eyes rove over his warm, open face for a moment before asking, "How many girls have you courted?"
"Two."
"Two?"
His teeth gleamed in a firelit grin, though his eyebrows threaded inward. "You seem surprised. I'm not annoying all the time."
"No, I'm surprised it's so few."
"So few?" he scoffed. "I didn't realize there was a quota I hadta meet."
Zelda giggled. It made her giddy to be granted permission to flip through the pages of Link and remain unthreatened by the chapters that had long since ended. "Let me guess... Midna?"
There was a long pause. "Okay, two and a half."
Zelda's guffaw was part shock and part humor. "Wait, Midna's only a half?"
"We were like thirteen and thought because we got along so well it meant we were supposed to court, but we quickly realized that was dumb and we were better as friends."
Zelda accepted the information with a thoughtful hm. "Then... Saria?"
"Nope."
"Really?" That was surprising; he'd spoken fondly of her all afternoon.
"Really. She was my best friend in Akkala—besides Aryll, of course, who'd kill me for saying anything otherwise, but yeah. Saria was my only friend when we came to Castle Town, and I'd avoid the barracks by spending time with her instead. Rumor went around the training yard that we were together till her family moved to Lurelin a month after the fire. We tried writing letters at first, but it didn't last very long. I have no idea what she's up to now."
Zelda nodded again, watching the mingling shadow and firelight play across his features.
"You actually had it right with the names you got from Mido in Kakariko."
"How'd you—?" she nearly asked, but Link wasn't naïve. He'd probably put two and two together right there at the Ring Ruins when she asked about them. "Malon and Ilia?"
"Mhm. Ilia was the former knight commander's daughter. She stopped by the training yard on occasion and we clicked. We courted for a bit behind the commander's back, but when he eventually found out, it wasn't a big deal at all. After a few months we started to grow apart and ended it on good terms. I think Ilia missed the thrill of sneaking around. 'Cause, y'know, making out at the back of the weapons' shed was peak scandal at fifteen years old," he chuckled. "When I graduated from ground combat a year later, it turned out I sucked on horseback. So I met with Malon at Lon Lon Ranch for extra riding lessons. The more time I spent at the ranch, the more we hit it off. Then after two years, I called off the courtship."
Two whole years. "May I ask why?"
The knight shrugged. "She found someone more interesting than me. Taller, too."
Someone more interesting than Link? The thought was utter absurdity. The best books had never commanded Zelda's attention so wholly, consumed every spare thought in her head. He was the most captivating story she'd ever read, and she'd only just begun. Even if she read cover-to-cover a thousand times over, she'd merely begin again.
When she thought about expressing that to him, the words turned to snowflakes on her tongue and melted in the heat. The grass by her feet flickered in the firelight. "Did you love any of them?"
"Damn, we're asking the big questions tonight," he laughed, running a hand through messy caramel bangs. A long exhale followed. Then, "...Yes. I think I loved them all in whatever way I knew love meant at the time."
"Would you have courted Paya if we stayed in Kakariko?"
"What?" he laughed again, a bit awkwardly this time. "I dunno. She's fun and all, but we were only there for a half a day. Maybe if I got to know her better. Who knows."
Would you have courted me if circumstances were different? she almost asked. But instead she verbalized a different question. "Why did you tell me to forget what you said at the Spring of Wisdom?"
He paled slightly, hesitating. "It was out of line," he answered tightly. When Zelda let the silence linger, he clarified, "I should have been keeping you safe. I could have caught you from falling back in the water if I wasn't so distracted by my own... motives, I guess."
Motives? "What do you m—?"
"Skreeeeee!"
A terrible sound pierced the night air. Link shot to his feet and found his bow in one fluid motion, stringing it quickly before scouting the trees overhead. Zelda scrabbled to Makar—still sleeping—and crouched above him like a shield.
The shrill sound came again, and both princess and knight caught the same movement above the branches, but the autumn foliage was too thick for Link to line up a clear shot.
When it screeched louder a third time, Makar stirred beneath her. "Are you and Mr. Hero talking again? Don't Hylians ever sleep?"
Since he was awake anyway, she scooped him up in her arms, too busy scouting for the monster's shadow to answer. Instead, she heard a sharp twisting of wind.
"Aerocuda!" Link shouted. "Get down!"
The wind crescendoed into a terrible whistle and Zelda held Makar tighter, eyes squeezing shut as she braced for something.
But nothing came. Link was poised like a bowstring, ready to fire, but the sound faded with a whoosh. When they did finally hear the terrible noise again, it was over distant trees. That wasn't enough for Link or Zelda to loosen up, however. Jeweled eyes stayed glued to the skies as they discussed moving their camp, but it was ultimately determined that it wouldn't promise them any more safety.
A proper night's rest was paramount for covering good ground the next morning, but with adrenaline pumping through her veins, Zelda had trouble falling asleep. Though slumber eventually reclaimed Makar, every time she cracked an eye, Zelda saw that—like her—Link was not sleeping. He was sitting up, hooded eyes shifting about slowly.
"You should rest, Link," the princess commented quietly.
The knight shook his head. "Bad things happen when I let my guard down." Something in the heaviness of his shoulders suggested he wasn't just referring to tonight, or even the Spring of Wisdom.
"How about I take a turn watching, then?" she offered, knowing he wouldn't relax without someone remaining vigilant. "You need to get some sleep."
"I'm not tired," he replied.
She tried a different tactic. Lightheartedly, she ribbed, "You won't be much use come tomorrow if you can barely keep your eyes open."
"Needing to sleep and being able to sleep are completely different. You should rest, Princess, there's no point in both of us being sleep deprived."
"Needing to sleep and being able to sleep are completely different," she reflected immediately.
A chuff of air. "Fair enough."
She inched closer to him, just a bit. Still lying down, she gazed up into his heavy face with the same reverent awe she afforded astronomy. Blue irises were bright in the near full moon light. Twinkling, prominent and guiding like lucidae—the brightest stars in a constellation. Shining resolutely above the straight nose that reoriented wayward travelers back to the lips. She always came back to the lips. If she put hers against his, would she ignite like a supernova?
"Is there something on my face?" His chin remained up, but beneath a furrowed brow, Link's eyes stretched downward.
"Ah— No," Zelda spluttered, heart beating fast with a different kind of adrenaline. "I'm merely... worried about you, is all," she supplied, convincing herself of the words as they came out. Although she didn't actually need convincing on that front. "I wish you would try to get some sleep."
His whole body frowned upon hearing how she fretted over him. "Fine... I'll try. But,"—he looked directly at her—"only if you try too, Your Highness."
She accepted his terms with a nod, lying back down first. He followed suit and settled beside her, another inch missing between them, though they faced away from each other.
"Um, one more thing, Link..."
"Yeah?"
"Will you please call me Zelda from now on?"
A pause. Then, finally, "I'll try... Zelda."
Beneath the quiet moon, neither of them were privy to the pink that stained the other's face.
In the morning, Link and Zelda both kept an eye on their surroundings, though no more aerocuda or other monsters presented themselves. With Makar awake, they talked all day about more trivial topics.
Link, to his credit, had stopped saying "Your Highness" and "Princess"... but he wasn't much using "Zelda" either. He just didn't use her name at all.
"How about you?" he'd say, indicating her invitation to share with a rotation of his torso.
Zelda dismissed his avoidance of saying her name and smiled at the question. Her favorite dessert? She had an atrocious sweet tooth, and she prefaced her answer with, "Okay, don't call me hackneyed—"
"—Couldn't've if I wanted to—" Link threw in.
"—But I actually love fruitcake." She loved caramel apples too, of course, but it was moreso the circumstances surrounding them that made them special. Fruitcake on the other hand... Zelda loved fruitcake all the time, any time.
"Fruitcake, huh? I'll make you one for your birthday, then."
Green irises widened. "You will? Really?"
"Mhm. Promise."
Strangely, the corner of her mouth began an up and down tug-of-war. "I'd like that." Her birthday—at the transition of spring and summer. Zelda hoped they'd live to see it. It was just one Calamity away, after all.
They stumbled upon another bokoblin camp after lunch, but Link made quick work of them before anything could come of it. As nightfall approached, so did a cluster of storm clouds. Fortunately, plumes of smoke rose from a distant stable. Not only could Link rest without worrying about their safety, but Zelda could actually sleep in her first bed since leaving the castle—
They were far enough from Central Hyrule that they didn't think there'd be a problem with clingy citizens either, though Zelda draped her blanket over her head and wrapped it around her shoulders just in case.
The pseudo-cloak made a decent cover when Hylia first decided that Her flowers were looking a little thirsty and started pouring from Her great watering can. But by the time the trio reached the stable, they were thoroughly soaked.
The stable was more grandiose than the usual large tent with scattered beds. Though the front was structured the same—albeit out of wood—it fanned backwards to include four or five modest rooms like a proper inn.
"We have three," Link told the stable owner after stepping up to the counter. His brow squinched when he flicked his gaze to Zelda. "But I suppose Makar could be in either of our rooms," he reckoned.
The owner raised an unimpressed eyebrow. "Three?"
"Yeah, this little guy here is our third." Link gestured to the Korok standing on his boots, who was too busy keeping his balance there to introduce himself.
The owner leveled an exasperated glare at Link. "Very funny. Do you actually have a third joining you?"
Caramel brows twitched in confusion, and he picked up Makar. "I know he looks like a piece of wood, but he is alive, so, I think it's only fair we pay for his lodging..."
The owner groaned and rubbed his eyes in large circles. "Are you quite finished, sir?"
"Can't you see him?" Zelda joined in, nonplussed by his unamused expression.
"Okay, fine." The owner's palms came down on the counter with an edge of irascibility. "Party of three, whatever. A group left just before the rain so as soon as those rooms are cleaned I'll call you back over. Until then, why don't you three occupy yourselves on the porch there?" He left the counter before they could discuss further.
The trio sat on the steps by the large opening to the outside and watched the rain come down at an angle.
"Makar, why can't the stable owner see you?" Zelda asked, seated beside Link, who was trying to wring out some rainwater from the bottom of his tunic.
"Some people don't have the right kind of heart," the Korok answered simply. "Anyways, I don't really like being indoors. I'll come back in the morning. Bye Mr. Hero! Bye The Princess!"
Poof!
"Hear that?" Link said. "Your kind heart gives you powers, Your Highness." Then he flinched, remedying a bit apologetically, "Er, Zelda."
Despite the bubbles in her tummy from hearing her name, Zelda shook her head. "I don't have one of those," she murmured. "If the Koroks think so, it's only through my proximity to you, Link."
For a while they simply listened to the rain. Zelda, craving touch, wished Link would put his arm around her. How would he react if she leaned into him? She watched through the corner of her eye as he continued to twist what moisture he could out from his clothes. For a seasoned fighter, the planes of face were unbelievably smooth and youthful. She wondered what his cheek felt like in her hand, against her own cheek—
Clop clop, clop clop, clop clop!
A single horse bearing two riders came into view. Even through the screen of rain, Zelda's heart nearly stopped at the sight of orange hair—
But the rider was not Mido. He was older and heavier set, with a ginger goatee and a little girl on his lap. They galloped up to the stable in a frenzy of laughter, shrieking jubilantly at the particularly cold drops of rain. "We're almost there, Mila!" the man cried in merriment.
He brought the horse right up to an open stall and dismounted, helping the young girl down with a sweeping flourish. She had long, blonde, middle-parted hair like Zelda's that fanned out behind her as she spun. The father set her down, towering over her like a lighthouse, and she leapt back into his light. Despite their haggard clothes, the girl beamed like a princess.
Zelda's heart lurched with a painful throb. They were just like her and Papa—
Trembling fingers covered her breath as the father and daughter walked past Zelda and up to the counter. "We're hoping for reprieve from the rain tonight—"
"Lucky you," the owner said very unenthusiastically. "We have one room left. It's being cleaned now."
"D'you hear that?" the girl exclaimed as she turned to her father. "We got the last room, Papa!"
That one word twisted Zelda's heart like a faucet handle. Wordlessly, the water began to flow.
Link fretted when he saw her tears. "What's wrong?" He'd followed her gaze to the visitors at the counter, the uncanny parallel. Oh. They both watched the young girl squeeze her Papa's leg, who in turn stroked her hair lovingly. Link placed his hand on the ground between him and Zelda to bring her attention back. "Do... you want to talk about your dad?"
"No," Zelda choked. "I don't. But... I know that I should."
"Well... you probably should eventually," he amended with a frown, "but you don't hafta be ready just yet. It's okay to process on your own first, if you need."
"I don't even know why I'm upset. I abhorred my father. I don't owe him any more of my tears." She swiped angrily at the ones that overflowed. "Do you know what he said to me before sending me to the Spring of Wisdom? 'Don't come back until you are equipped to end this.'"
The words struck Link like a backhand to the face and his eyes turned glassy; like they'd shatter if struck again. Zelda flashed hot and cold at the notion that Father's words could hurt Link as much as they hurt her. Maybe that's why she didn't like sharing her feelings; it was merely a conduit for which she passed her pain onto someone else. Link was the last person she'd wish that upon, so she consciously softened her voice when she explained, "Papa changed when Mama died. In every fiber of my being that loathes the man he became, I still find myself missing the version of him I can never get back."
Link's fragile gaze flickered. "It's okay to miss him."
She heard the words but didn't let them habituate.
Because missing meant hurting.
"What would you say to him right now, if he was here?"
She sniffled, wiping her nose with her already wet sleeves. "I don't know," she muttered. What point was there in talking to the dead?
But Link's gentleness tarried, and the question persisted.
"I'd say..." she began bitterly before trailing off with another sniffle. "I'd say... he was a deplorable, despotic, coward. The virtues he purveyed as a ruler were incongruous with the clandestine degradation I suffered as his daughter. I wish I could say that I've forgiven him for it all. That, posthumously, his debasement actually fortified my purpose—in some sick, twisted way. But the truth is, I am worse because of him."
Link may not have understood the semantics of her soliloquy, but anyone could recognize animosity with which the words broke forth. She was not ignorant to the quick hand that swept once at his own eye while his face was turned. But she'd uncorked the bottle of her generational trauma and wouldn't stop till it'd been emptied.
For some reason, their last conversation flashed behind closed eyes. The argument in his study. You are the heir to a throne of nothing.
She heaved a detoxifying breath. "I may never fully understand the choices he made or the ambitions behind them. Yet I hope... that when Father stands face to face with Hylia... that She is more adept than myself in acknowledging the better effects of his legacy."
Nothing but failure.
Burnt parchment refracted in the raindrops, warm smoke rising with the mist that hovered over the patches of grass.
It's in your destiny to prove them wrong.
Like morning break, realization dawned, and her fists closed around the luster. Prove them wrong, she heard again. Those were the final words Father said to her. In some sick, twisted way, they fortified her purpose after all. Somewhere deep, determination stirred.
Prove them wrong, Zelda.
"Oi, party of three," the owner called after some time, "your room is ready."
The duo rose and went to the counter, where the jaded man handed Link a key. Link held out his other hand. "And the other key?"
"Only one key per room," the man drawled, scribbling something down into his record book.
"Right, but we need two rooms."
"Then you should've asked for two."
"You thought a party of three was gonna share one r—?" Link stopped himself, though his mouth twitched irritably. "Fine, then, can we please get a second room?"
"Nope. Sorry. That man and his daughter got the last one." The quill stilled and he leveled a vain glare from under his eyebrows. "I think you three will fit just fine in one room."
Zelda stepped beside the agitated knight before he could argue as the owner went back to his dismissive scribbling. "It's fine Link, we've never had any privacy beside the campfire anyway. The only difference tonight is that we each get a bed—"
"Only one bed per room," the man stated without looking up.
It was then blue and green met through a sneaking onslaught of red.
"I'll take the floor," Link said immediately after they'd entered the small room. They stood there dumbly staring at the bed that would cozily accommodate two. On it were two simple sets of nightwear for the weary travelers to get out of their wet clothes.
"No, Link, you haven't had a full night's rest since before Kakariko, you take the bed—"
"I'm actually thinking of taking Oakin's advice and trying a tree—"
"Oh please, you'd slip from the branches and hit your head."
"Then I'll be in my favorite spot—the ground."
Zelda rolled her eyes.
"I'm actually allergic to beds," he added. "I'd be upset if you put me in one."
She snorted and grabbed the nightwear. The linen fabric was starchy and rough, but at least it was dry. To change, Link took the corner left of the door, and Zelda took its opposite. With their conversation at a standstill, the sound of Link sloughing off wet layers was brutally loud, and Zelda's mind assembled the images effortlessly. First was the sodden shuff of the blanket being shed from his shoulders. Next came the unmistakable sound of undone buckles as boots and belts fell to the floor. Zelda could envision it perfectly, and it made her... uncomfortable. She realized with a jolt that she was just standing there. This was Link. What was she suddenly anxious for?
As she herself set about undressing, their clothes hissed and whispered in a fictitious language, mawkish dares to make the other player turn. She prayed Link wasn't the shameless type.
Shhff, his tunic taunted.
Hshh, her overshirt teased in reply.
They tempted back and forth like a pendulum till Zelda lost track of what timbre belonged to which article of clothing.
"Are you still getting dressed?" she asked into the corner, befuddled by the perseverating susurrus of clothes.
"I just need my shirt," he answered. "But you're fine."
She rotated slowly as Link's hips vanished beneath white linen pants. His bare back was smooth as his face, but decorated with ancient lines like a cheese board in a sommelier's kitchen. Zelda's low-sitting anxiety was overshadowed by an intense and chaste wonder. Did his skin feel as smooth as it looked, or did the many scars it hosted create a rougher texture?
"May I..." She hesitated, unsure if she should be indulging the curiosity, no matter how innocent. "Hug you?"
"What?" Link's confused chuckle bounced right off the wall. "Of course you can. Just let me—"
"No," she interrupted as he reached for his linen top, "I mean before you put your shirt on."
He paused and crossed his arms, and it did something incredible to his shoulder blades. "Before I put my shirt on?" he repeated, smile carrying on his puzzled tone.
She breathed through the swirl of emotions in the pit of her stomach, uncomfortable yet curious and trusting. Covered only by her own linen pants and brassiere, Zelda said, "Yes. Nothing more than a hug. That's... all I think I'm ready for. Is that alright?"
He uncrossed his arms, open and unreserved. "Whatever's alright with you is alright with me."
A nervous swallow. "Then you may turn too, if you'd like."
At the invitation, Link rotated slowly. His gaze was only below her face for a second before calmly blinking up to the eyeline, but the pink of his ears betrayed his own frazzled nerves. "You're, uh"—he gestured—"missing your shirt."
The dry humor lessened her unease, but her face still heated. "I want to know... what it feels like to press the plains of my skin against someone else's." Zelda swallowed again, not because of the underlying lasciviousness of this whole moment, but because it felt pathetic to ask for a simple intimacy most people happen upon naturally. But something about Link made her feel safe enough to request it, despite the absurdity of requesting it at all.
He spread his arms wide as bird wings, but his smile was wider. "C'mere then. My plains are your plains."
With a little huff of laughter, she closed the distance between them and folded herself up in his arms, raptured by the rain-damp warmth of his belly meeting hers. How could a warrior's skin, covered in a plethora of scarred ridges, be so silky? Her poor heart pounded so ferociously it nearly leapt out of her chest. But even if it did, his heart would've leapt over and satisfied the void. Because it would click into place like a puzzle piece, continuing to beat as if it'd been hers all along. His embrace felt like finding her other half—an entire half she didn't know she was missing until she was holding it like a breath. One she'd have to let go of eventually.
"What's the verdict?" he asked, voice terrifyingly close to her ear. "Lizalfos, right?"
"I beg your pardon?"
He chuckled, the sound warm and ticklish. "You once told me I had lizalfos skin."
"I did not! Really?" Zelda gasped. "When?"
"You were high on fairy magic."
His mirth didn't transmit. "Gods, Link— I'm so sorry for how I've talked to you—"
"Don't be. It was kinda funny—"
"Not just in the cave—" She faltered, recalling just how long her arrogance governed her. She was so wrought with guilt over it she couldn't even assemble the full apology, but Link held her through the damning pause. Some time later, he gave her a dismissive squeeze. I forgive you— Let's go to sleep— It's time to let go, now— it could have meant any or all of those things.
Arms unwound slowly, and with a single step back, Zelda's heart wept with a painfully visceral emptiness. She almost buried herself back in Link's embrace to make it stop.
This is what longing was supposed to feel like.
━━▲━━
Zelda had a restless night, thinking with every fitful twist that the bed had been wasted on her. The mattress was springy, not soft, but it was veritably gentler than the ground they'd slept on for weeks now. Although, as she watched Link's chest rise and fall peacefully in the beam of morning light, she couldn't help thinking the gap illuminated beside him on the area rug looked extraordinarily comfy—
Outside they were met by the blinding sun and Makar, eager to get going. They'd asked the owner for a horse or two, but he not-so-regretfully informed them that there were none available.
So they scrounged up a few rations, bartered with another patron for a cooking knife, and carried on by foot. Much like the days before, they talked about pointless things and stopped only for whatever quick meal they needed in order to refuel.
It had been several days since the Spring of Wisdom, but it felt like they'd been heading north for eons. "Makar..." Zelda cautiously asked, "are you sure we're headed the right way?"
"Yes!" Normally so jovial, the answer edged on impatience.
Zelda shrank a little. "How long before we get there? Do you think maybe your friend has already gotten the help he needs?"
"No!"
The answer made Zelda uneasy. What kind of threat persisted for days? Maybe it was something trivial, like a kite stuck in the tree's branches that the Koroks couldn't untangle themselves. Or maybe it was something daunting, beyond mortal help—
Somewhere inside the castle, Ganondorf was probably laughing at her—
That night, after goodnights and the closing of eyes, Zelda's stomach burbled. Link launched to his feet, stoked the fire, and said he'd make her something. Zelda tried to stop him, insisting she was fine. I'm truly not hungry, she'd said. Borborygmi is normal part of digestion—
That's not a real word, he'd insisted, plowing ahead with food prep.
Zelda surrendered with a chuff and watched silently as her knight rocked the small knife to slice vegetables into scarily precise pieces. Then, setting them above the flames, he stoked the fire again. A bead of sweat formed on his brow and he swiped it away. The movement swooshed caramel sidebangs, and the little earrings he wore glistened in the firelight.
"Why did you decide to pierce your ears?" Zelda asked out of nowhere.
Fingers reached up to toy with the cobalt rings. "These? Aryll really wanted to get hers pierced, but she was scared, so I went first to show her it wasn't that bad."
The ground beneath her swayed with sweetness. "That's very kind of you."
"I guess." Cerulean studied her, flitting from toe to tresses. "Y'know, when she was really little, she used to pretend she was you. She'd make me follow her around and be her knight."
Zelda's heart fluttered like a trapped butterfly, tangled in a web spun from fate's thread. "You're kidding!"
"Nope. Except she said you'd be way cooler if you wore a pink suit of armor that shot bomb flowers out of hidden elbow cannons. Sometimes she played the bodyguard better than I did."
Zelda laughed like the campfire, warm and delighted. "I'd love to meet her someday. She sounds effervescent."
The flames ducked, like a wince. A sad smile pulled at boyish lips. "She was."
The words sharpened into a frostblade and skewered Zelda between the ribs. Like an avalanche, clarity fell into place. The stories he'd been telling were always set in the distant past. How hadn't she realized—that the was's and were's weren't just a result of stories gone by, but a present state of tragedy. She'd suspected something had happened to his mom, but not Link's baby sister—
"Oh my Gods. Link, I— I am so sorry—"
"Don't be," he waved the looming dread away, "she'd be pissed if we got all sappy over her. She was a little spitfire, that kid."
The brave mask Link was putting on might fool others, but Zelda was too attuned to his demeanor now, and she saw right through it. The hurt was fresh as the day it happened, bubbling dangerously beneath the surface.
"You know..." Zelda murmured, coming to sit beside him. "On our way to Kakariko, you told me about her overcoming her phobia of birds... and I think without me even realizing it, it gave me the strength to tackle my own fears. I think that your sister's courage was my catalyst for amelioration."
Cerulean, watery like the Lurelin sea, snapped to her. She felt the moisture building in her own eyes as Link said, "She'd be proud of you." His voice wavered with more emotion than Zelda had braced for, and her heart reached out for him as Link pressed the heel of his palms against his eyes. When his hands fell away, his voice was quieter, but resolute. "I'm proud of you too, Zelda."
She swallowed the lump forming in her throat, trying to read all the emotions hidden within the glossy, cerulean surface. "She'd be proud of you, Link."
He slapped his hands back over his eyes and tilted his whole head back. "Aghh, sto-opp!" he laughed shakily. "I said we're not gonna get all sappy over her!"
Zelda leaned into him, whispering the same words he'd offered her at the stable. "It's okay to miss her."
He curled back inward on himself, as if he'd needed the permission to do so, and Zelda felt his shoulders quiver. "I miss them all so much," he choked.
A crack splintered through Zelda's soul. Them all. It answered the one question she'd been too scared to ask, all this time, even now. She brought her arms up around him, knowing deep down that she needed the hug just as much as he did.
"I've spent all this time trying to convince myself it wasn't my fault..." he lamented. "But I haven't. I still think about what I coulda done differently—"
Zelda's heart splintered. She tried to keep her voice steady, to stay strong for him. "Do you want to talk about it?"
In response, he painted a memory as vivid and heinous as if it were her own.
Tiny fingers. Hurried countdown. Peeking through the gaps.
"Ready or not, here I come!"
Hiding anywhere—
In leaves, in snow, in flower petals.
Little wiggles. A burst of mirth. "Here I am!"
Silly girl. No wonder you're always caught first.
But it's easy to hide like big brother.
Keep silent. No matter how much seekers beg—
Flexible joints, tiny frame, voice mute.
Crawl spaces, wooden trunks.
Creativity augments with the years, the lengthening limbs.
On Aspen summits, spread betwixt rafters like a spider.
Games lasting hours. Seekers assembling search parties.
This is her craft. She's an illusionist.
Summer day. Parched gardens. Brother's turn;
Three... Two... One...
Across the village, a careless candle. Dry thatched roofs. Conducive winds.
Childhood memories are but fuel in the banefire.
Smoke is warning her, but she can't see it.
His voice is tearing, but she can't hear it.
You're her big brother damn it—
Save her. Do something. Anything.
Where's Mom?
Downwind, homeward. Doorway illuminating in a blazing portal.
Dad shoves him back, entering in his stead. His turn to seek.
Hiding anywhere—
In flames, in ashes, in flower petals.
Maybe they made it out, they made it out, they made it out—
Three burnt corpses disagree.
The horrific images scorched Zelda's vision.
In the light of the full moon, it was easy to recognize the growing levity of Link's posture as he wove the memory. The swelling stoicism scared her. The princess knew firsthand— How it felt safer to construct a shield of numbness than embrace the sorrow. But she couldn't offer words that would mitigate the hurt; there were none.
No amount of apologies made it okay. No amount of good days made it fair.
So she sat beside him and offered her closeness. She offered solidarity. Commiseration.
She wanted to offer more, but nothing felt justified.
Before the crackling campfire, she wanted to squeeze the grief from his hands. Sharing the roasted vegetables, she wanted to kiss away the pained crease of his brows. Against their grassy mattress, she wanted to brush the loss out of his hair.
As they laid there, she finally mustered the resolve to just reach for his hand. But she stopped when suddenly his fingers turned crimson. His arm, too; and his face. His hair, his clothes, the grass, the entire world. Together, horrified, they saw.
The three days were up, and the moon was bleeding.
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Happy Leap Day, everybody!
I hope you enjoyed the bonding :) If anything resonated with you, I'd love to hear your comments!
And thanks to whitehawk on Ao3 for helping me edit this chapter :)