Legend of Zelda Headcanons and Theories

He drew the Master Sword from its scabbard and positioned it in front of him. The blade itself sung in distress, an alarm bell firing in his head. She is not to be trusted, Fi warned.

Link nodded, slow steps bringing him towards the figure. The look-a-like stood motionless by the apple tree in front of the house, its gaze angled up like the fruit upon it was something curious to behold. 

“What do you want?” he spat when crunching leaves under his boots didn’t draw its attention. Its head tilted towards him almost mechanically.

“I don’t know,” it said in a borrowed voice. “I am drawn here.”

He might vomit. Its face, the way it spoke. Fake. Uncanny. It made his stomach churn, threw bile into his throat, and burned his esophagus. He gritted his teeth to shoved it all down like the reality he was forced to accept three and a half months ago.

“You aren’t welcomed here. How do you still even exist?”

Eyes that he refused to stare at long enough to describe, flicker with something human-like.

“I think I’ve been abandoned.” It blinked. “Have you, as well?”

Jaw clenched and knuckles whitened, he lowered his sword but wrapped his fingers around its throat, slamming its body against the trunk. It remained expressionless, neither flinching nor surprised, just observing.

“The nerve of you,” he growled. What did it know of abandonment? This creature of malice, created to deceive. 

Emerald irises. Wide. Beseeching. “Is your rage at me? Or the one whom I resemble?”

His grip tightened, fingers indenting into flesh. “How could I possibly hate her? She sacrificed herself so that I could survive. So that Hyrule could survive.”

“That sounds—” Her brows furrowed, the only crack in her otherwise blank expression. “—inconsiderate.” Then, with her tilted to the side, examining like she just had an epiphany, “After all, you are now alone.”

He threw her to the ground. It required little effort, her body practically weightless. Abnormal. Not like Zelda’s. Not like Zelda.

She pushed off the ground, unhurt and nonreactive. The grass and leaves tangled in her golden hair, short just like the last time he saw her deep underneath the castle. 

“I am now, too, alone,” she said, a hint of wonder in her tone. “What does it mean to be alone? Where do I go?”

He did not sense any lingering malice. She did not fight back—possibly couldn’t. He couldn’t let her wander around as someone she was not.

He sheathed his sword.

“Not here.” He refused to have her tarnish the memory of his Zelda in their home; would never allow her to taint the sanctuary they had built. “I have another place you can go.” Another house meant for two, maybe even a family, once upon a time. He had intended to sell it.

She slowly moved to her feet. He made no move to help her.

“You are truly kind, Hero.”