Enjoyer Of Tri Force Heroes and Twilight Princess

The past five years I've participated in the whumptober challenge! I did half of 2021's for lu, and in 2022 and 2023 I did all 31 days for lu! You can find the list for 2021 here, the ones for 2022 here, the 2023 ones here, the ones for 2024 here and the ones for 2025 here (or find them all on my ao3 (see above), as well as some ao3-only bonus scenes!).

Kitty Wind, which is exactly what it sounds like. Wind touches Twilight's crystal, and finds himself as... a cat. A tiny, fluffy, adorable little cat. Needless to say, he isn't thrilled. You can find it under #kitty wind or read the fic on ao3!

LU Star Wars AU is also exactly what it sounds like, it's just a star wars au with the lu boys (and other zelda characters yaaaay). Not a lot yet, but three chapters are out so far (on tumblr and ao3).

A Royal Castletown Wedding is basically just me borrowing the my little pony wedding episode and turning into a goofy lu fic. Nearly finished!

Accidental Domestication, silly stories about the chain and wolves and them being Disney princesses, basically.

Scales and Gills, a collection of Mermaid Legend fics.

The Twilight Turns (true form au), which is a fic in which Midna returns to her true form much sooner than in canon. She and Link's relationship changes a good bit because of this. On ao3.

Pup is only two fics for now, but I have more planned for this idea! Dark Link goes back in time, and after the chain when they're too small to defend themselves. Unfortunately for Dink, he doesn't bet on them having protectors in the form of their predecessors.

Many Courses of Love which is a series of loz fics exploring the different Links and how they're loved (mainly zelink, but a few other ships, as well as familial love too :)

Up in Arms, a hyrule warriors fic in which Link loses an arm in the fight against the Dark Links.

Botw Dark Link AU, an AU I don't talk about much, but post-botw the Yiga decide to make a Dark Link in order to defeat Link himself once and for all. They, of course, screw it up.

Downfall IAU is just the incredibles AU only angstier. Much, much angstier. Here's the big ol' masterlist.

The construct glances over like she’s heard her thoughts, and Zelda manages to send her a smile past the sting of loss in her heart. Mineru had asked to speak with them all up here, and while Zelda was happy to oblige, she can’t help but feel strange walking among ruins of places she spent time in when they were new.

It’s all just so... odd. The disconnect between her and the passage of time. She feels like she lost Sonia only months ago, when it’s actually been too many years for her to fathom. Hyrule below has been broken and rebuilt, in ways she doesn’t recognize, and while the buildings here look like she remembers, they also don’t, not at all— they’re weathered and worn, many of them destroyed or missing crucial pieces, except for a few like the Temple of Time that are almost exactly how she remembers them. The flora and fauna up here have shifted too, changed from millennia in the skies. The grass and leaves are gold, and strange birds walk and fly past, keeping their distance from the visitors to this land.

But worst of all, technically... she’s lived through every single one of the years that have weathered this place.

A shiver runs down Zelda’s spine, and suddenly she feels sick. It’s only been three days since she came back, one of which she and Link spent most of sleeping. She knows she’s going to need time to adjust, and she hates how similar this feels to how things were after the Calamity, but a part of her is also stubbornly convinced she can get past this.

She doesn’t really remember all of that time anyway. And she’s already lived through an out-of-body kind of experience once, so recovery after this one should be simple, yes?

(Yet, she also feels a bit like one of the Sheikah Slate’s remote bombs. Just waiting for someone to press the wrong button, and without any warning... boom.)

A giggle reaches her ears, and Zelda turns as a girl with golden hair bolts for a pond coated in lily pads, half-crawling, half tripping on unsteady steps. Link jogs after and scoops her up before she reaches it, and Sunny laughs, nestling her head on his shoulder.

Warmth rushes through her, and Zelda wishes she had the Purah pad in order to take a picture of the sight. The whole thing is still kind of surreal— Link with his arm whole and healed, only feet away from her after so long unsure if she’d ever see him again, unsure if he was even alive, and in his arms... their baby.

Zelda’s arms tighten around her middle. She and Link haven’t... talked a lot about it, about everything that happened. They haven’t had time to. Link had been injured and exhausted from his fight with Ganondorf, and Zelda had been weary in her own way, more overwhelmed than anything. Link had managed a short summary of events that she’d missed, one that had felt oddly threadbare, but he’d at least explained the nickname he’d given their daughter before knowing who she was.

Sundelion. Sunny.

He’d admitted it wasn’t the most creative, and that he’d briefly tried to think of a different one after learning the truth, but Zelda had reassured him it was fine. It hadn’t been on the list of names she’d scribbled down at one point, and they’d briefly discussed the possibility of giving Sundelion another name that was less of just a nickname, but it wasn’t an issue for now.

And besides, Zelda likes it. Sundelions remind her of Sonia.

Sunny rolls over in Link’s arms then, her hair flying as she flips upside down. Link grunts as he catches her, but despite the pain in his eyes, he’s smiling, and Sunny shakes her head and makes a happy little noise.

Zelda watches, and as the sun glints off her daughter’s hair, she suddenly feels like she’s going to throw up.

Her baby. Their baby.

The world tilts a bit, and Zelda’s legs wobble. She hasn’t been able to stop looking at Sunny since they’ve returned, even though the swamp of emotions that follow are overwhelming, every single time. Even knowing the truth, even with the brief, halting explanation Link had given her, her mind won’t quite wrap around it.

She’d given birth as a dragon. Her child had survived the stone.

Which makes the scientific part of Zelda’s mind whirl, theories and questions spinning, pure fascination at the girl in front of her, at the fact that she’s a toddler, the dress she wears, the strange shine in her hair, the flecks of scales she sees on her skin... but the part of her that’s a mother wants to wail, at the fact that she doesn’t remember anything of her child’s birth, that she never knew her as a newborn, as a baby, that she doesn’t remember the countless years they’ve technically spent together.

Zelda’s lip wobbles, but she’s cried so much since returning that her eyes remain dry. She takes a deep breath and forcibly pushes away the weight of it, but Link must notice her state, for he pauses.

They meet eyes, and he gently sets Sunny down, handing their daughter some food to keep her occupied, and then walks over. He takes Zelda’s hand in his own, callouses brushing her palm, and gives her a gentle, exhausted, look.

Are you okay? his eyes ask, something desperate in their haggard blue.

Zelda nods, stuffing down the remaining ache, and Link tightens his hold on her hand. That’s another thing she needs to address, how exhausted he looks, in more ways than just physical. His story had had holes in it, ones Zelda was too distracted to ask about, but knows she needs to bring up. Link looks like a shadow of himself, more so than one fight would leave him. The tight bandages that peek from under his shirt make it all the more obvious he’s thinner than he should be, and something haunted lurks deep in his blue eyes.

But Zelda can’t spend time uncovering what’s wrong with her husband right now. She desperately wants to, and she will, she’s promised herself she will, but it’s on a list of problems that grows longer with every hour that passes, and she’s forced to prioritize.

So instead of asking him the same, she selfishly lets him hold her hand, and sets her head against his.

She knows he’s not okay. Now just isn’t the time to ask about it.

Link’s arm reaches around her shoulders, and Zelda forces herself not to lean against him too hard, remembering how he’d fainted less than an hour into their return to Lookout Landing. The worst of his injuries have eased up since, despite the lingering shadow of gloom, but he’s hardly in top shape.

What did he go through?

“You’re thinking hard,” he says finally, and Zelda forces herself to smooth her face from the scrunch it was in. “Anything important?”

“Just dwelling on how things have changed here. I barely recognize it,” she admits quietly, and his arm tightens a bit.

He doesn’t speak for a moment. “This could wait,” he says softly, and Zelda wishes she could agree.

“Mineru said she needed to speak to us all, she invited us up here for something important. And besides, getting everyone up here was troublesome, I’d hate to have to make poor Yunobo make the trip more than once,” she says with a small smile. The poor Goron had been nervous from the start, and has stayed away from the edges of the island, his shoulders hunched.

Link nods, a look Zelda can’t quite read on his face. He doesn’t verbally reply, and turns his head back to where Sunny is nibbling on a handful of wildberries and poking at some plants sprouting from between ancient bricks. Zelda follows his gaze, and they watch silently as Sundelion finds a large beetle, her eyes going wide.

Link chuckles as she entirely forgets her berries in favor of the bug, and the sound warms Zelda, familiar and sweet. She wraps herself in it, letting it soothe the part of herself that’s still ragged and aching, and meshes her fingers with Link’s.

She’s missed him. So much.

Sundelion watches the bug as it lands on a flower, the tail that pokes out from the bottom of her dress twitching slightly. She reaches out to try and catch it, but the beetle lifts off into the sky, too high for Sunny to reach.

A look crosses her face, one that seems more longing than disappointed, but then she turns her head, seeming to feel her parents’ eyes on her. She blinks, then stands and scampers over with a berry-stained smile, bug and fruit both forgotten. Zelda winces as Sunny almost trips— she’s really beyond the age where walking should be an issue, but Zelda guesses an existence of mostly flying threw her off a bit.

What other developmental things did she miss out on? she wonders with a worried squeeze of her heart, Sunny wobbling as she steps. What else did my decision do?

She watches their baby as she reaches them (she’s not a baby, she reminds herself, she’s a child, at least three, Zelda’s stomach hurts again—), and her eyes meet Zelda’s, the main blue just a little greener than Link’s. She blinks slowly, and Zelda gives her a smile.

Sunny tilts her head, then smiles back, nearly tripping as she speeds her steps. Zelda releases Link and catches her before she face-plants, and Sunny giggles.

“Hello darling,” Zelda greets, and Sunny grabs onto her, nuzzling her head against Zelda’s hand. “I saw you found a beetle! Do you know what kind it was?”

Sunny answers by attempting to crawl up into Zelda’s arms, and Zelda can’t help her laugh as she picks her up, her daughter nestling contentedly against her. Link puts his arm around Zelda again, and the three of them stand there a moment, Sunny resting her small tail at Zelda’s wrist.

“That was an energetic rhino beetle you saw,” Zelda explains after a minute, and Sunny looks up at her. “They're rare, and can be used in elixirs to help with energy. You father once ate one straight-up, though. I think he gave poor Beedle a heart attack.”

Link shrugs, unbothered. “I didn’t know he was there. And I wanted to see if it was crunchy.”

“Not as crunchy as the rocks, I’m sure.”

“Hey, I have no memory of that.”

“Excuses excuses,” Zelda tsks, setting her head against his with a smile. “I know you remember the frog, though.”

Link makes an exaggerated grimace. “Yes, I do.”

Sunny watches them tease, head turning back and forth, then hums, and smushes her hand against Link’s mouth.

“Aa,” she adds.

“Exfwactly,” Link says with a wise nod, and Zelda manages another laugh.

Sunny grins at their reactions and makes another unintelligible sound, and Zelda’s smile fades just a little.

There’s another quirk they’ve found of their daughter— Sundelion hasn’t spoken a single word since their return. Zelda has tried to coax words from her, and she and Link have both tried to see if she’ll repeat words, or even just particular sounds, but she hasn’t spoken at all. It’s not too worrying, really, especially with Link as her father, but still. A part of Zelda wonders.

And frets.

Sunny makes a soft noise then, and presses her head against Zelda’s neck, her soft hair tickling her skin. Someone calls Link’s name, and he reluctantly lets go of Zelda, giving her a peck on the cheek, and Sunny a gentle scratch on the head.

Zelda squeezes Sunny as he makes his way to where Purah is standing, and lets her worries and anxieties seep away as she holds her daughter.

After agonizing over whether she was dooming her baby or not, holding her soothes something deep inside of Zelda. Sunny is safe in her arms, a bundle of warmth and light.

Zelda exhales. They’re both okay. They’re both themselves. Even if things are different, even if they’re both changed, even if Sunny kept a few more draconic features than Zelda herself did, and hasn’t quite adjusted to not being a dragon anymore, they’re both Hylian. And they’re both home. They’re back with Link.

She never dared to dream that the ending to this could be so happy.

“Rauru, Sonia...” Zelda whispers as she looks out at the sky again, grief and gratitude swirling in her heart. She rests her head atop Sunny’s. “How can I ever thank you enough?”

She gets no reply of course, and Sunny starts sucking on her thumb, faintly blue nails curled up. A random memory of Zelda’s surfaces then, one of a caretaker telling her it was bad for her teeth to suck at her fingers, but Zelda doesn’t have the heart to make her daughter stop. So she merely smooths her hair, and looks at the sages in the distance. They’ve gathered more closely together, and Riju turns, and walks over to where Zelda stands.

“Mineru has asked us to accompany her into the temple,” she says once she’s reached Zelda. “We’re ready to go in whenever you are.”

Zelda nods. “Thank you, Riju. We’ll be right over.”

Riju nods in turn, then smiles over at Sunny. “Hello little vehvi, are you enjoying the skies? It’s quite the view from up here.”

Sunny keeps sucking her thumb, but she smiles at Riju past it, her tail swaying a little. Riju seems to be the sage Sunny is the most at ease with— though Yunobo makes her laugh, and she loves watching Tulin fly. Sidon she seems a little cowed by, though Link is working on that, and she’s also a bit leery of Purah... but honestly that’s just common sense.

Riju chuckles when Sunny doesn’t reply. “Quiet like your father, I see.”

She goes quiet for a moment, and a more solemn expression lands on her face.

“It still amazes me, everything that happened,” she says softly. “Seeing you and Sunny alive is a shock, but also a joy, Zelda. I don’t think I’ll ever truly understand what happened, but... I’m so glad you’re okay.”

Her voice holds a tremor of emotion, and Zelda briefly rests her hand on her shoulder. “Being back with you all is a joy as well. I... thank you for helping Link, and Hyrule, in my absence.”

Absence. That’s a nice, clean way of putting it. Also something of a lie, since technically she was here the entire time.

Riju seems to regain her composure, and she nods, her smile returning. “Of course, Zelda. It’s our home too. And Link is a dear friend, we all owe him so much. He... felt your absence the most.”

Her smile fades just a little, but it quickly bounces back.

“We’ll have to catch up sometime on what you’ve missed. But for now, I believe our group is leaving without us,” she says as Link waves over at them.

“Ah, so they are,” Zelda says with a shake of her head. “Well, we can catch up. Are you ready, Sundelion?”

Sunny blinks at her, still sucking her thumb, and Zelda nuzzles her nose against hers when she doesn’t reply in any way. Does she even understand?

“All right. Let’s go on in, then,” she says, and she and Riju start to make their way over to where Link and the other sages stand, ready to go inside the Temple of Time.

Sunny just watches, still sucking her thumb.

(...)

Everyone trails their way through the ancient temple, Mineru assisting them when the building proves difficult to traverse in certain places. Sunny seems fascinated by the entire thing, and when it’s safe to do so, Zelda lets her scamper around, running her hands along the patterned walls, climbing on stones and stepping in sand.

Finally they make it back outside, and after carefully following a thin path, they stand at the weathered dais where the Master Sword traveled through time, and also where Zelda swallowed her stone so long ago.

She never thought she’d stand here again, and when she remarks as much, Mineru hums.

“You have Sonia and Rauru to thank for that, I believe,” she says, glancing at Link. “It’s only a theory... but from what you both have told me, in order to bring you back, they must have channeled their abilities through you, Link.”

He nods, and Zelda smiles at him.

Mineru is right, she thinks. She also thinks there’s more though, and she has her own theories about that— and the faintest glint of memory, of light streaming around and out of her, of cradling a bundle of warmth in her arms.

She glances back at Mineru to ask if she knows more, but the words die in her throat. The Zonai’s ghostly form looks suddenly frayed at the edges, her face holding an apologetic expression as she meets Zelda’s eyes. And it becomes clear.

Mineru brought them here to say goodbye.

Zelda’s heart falls down into her stomach as it becomes obvious this is a farewell, her mouth drying out. Mineru gives her a gentle look, one that shows she’s aware of what she’s thinking.

“I apologize, Zelda. I’ve already been here much longer than is natural, even with the powers of my stone,” she says, looking up at the sky. “My spirit longs to rest.”

“I... Mineru...” Zelda stammers, unable to think of a convincing argument. Mineru looks back at her, and faintly smiles.

“Do not worry. You have overcome the burden my era left to you. You have proven yourself, and you no longer need me. I know I can move on— join Rauru and the others— and the world will be safe,” she says with a relieved sigh that belays every single one of the years she spent waiting.

Unlike Zelda, she remembers living through them all.

“You’re my last connection to that era,” Zelda whispers, and Mineru looks over at where Sunny is sitting on Link’s feet, fiddling with his boots.

“Not the last one. And you have many good friends here, Zelda. I know you’ll get along just fine,” she says with a soft look at Sunny. “Look to the future of Hyrule, not just its past.”

She steps closer, and her ghostly hands hold Zelda’s, a cool sensation coming with the touch.

“My brother and Sonia have given you a great gift. Live your life. Protect your kingdom,” she encourages as the edges of her body further fade into pale flecks of blue.

Her words linger in the air, and the sages look at each other, then share nods, all stepping forward.

“You won’t have to do it alone,” Sidon says, and Zelda turns to look at them, Sidon, Tulin, Riju, Yunobo, Link standing in the center of their line.

The sages speak as one, promising to support her, and protect Hyrule, and Zelda feels a warmth fall upon her, even when their words stammer a bit, and they forget a piece of what they’d obviously planned to say. Tulin looks especially sheepish, and Zelda almost laughs as Link hides a smile and picks up Sunny, their daughter resting her head next to the hilt of the Master Sword on his back.

Her friends do finish their vow in the end, and Zelda can’t help remembering the sages of old doing the same. Except instead of a war looming over their heads, here there’s a long-fought-for peace. And a promise to help her maintain it.

Peace.

She likes the sound of that.

Zelda gives her friends a grateful nod, but the heavy feeling in her stomach reasserts itself when she turns back to Mineru, who’s smile has grown.

“Rauru and Sonia will be happy to hear of this,” she says with what Zelda thinks might be pride in her voice, and her body fades more.

“But Mineru...” Zelda’s throat tightens, and she steps forward as it to stop her. As if to hold on to the last link she has to dear Sonia, and Rauru too. She didn’t always agree with him, but his absence hurts, Sonia’s even worse, and without Mineru...

“I’ll let them know... just how much you care,” Mineru says in a fading voice.

Zelda swallows thickly, and despite her earlier thoughts of being unable to cry anymore, a tear slips down her cheek. Mineru is half gone now, the clouds behind her bright and obvious through her form, and she looks at the entire group, still smiling.

“Thank you all,” she says, and her eyes settle on Sunny as the lights overtake the Zonai.

And then Mineru is gone, drifting away in a soft flurry of blue.

Zelda watches the lights float away on the wind, and allows herself a few moments of heavy, crushing grief to crash over her, lowering her head and trying to bear through it. She spent months in the ancient past, and as relieved as she is to be home, she grew to care for so many of the people from back then. But now the last of her friends from that era are gone.

And have been, for a long, long time.

A mournful little hum catches her attention, and Zelda opens her eyes to see Sunny standing beside her, looking up at her with bright eyes.

Her berry-stained fingers reach up to take Zelda’s, and once she’s holding on, she gives them a squeeze, rubbing her head against Zelda’s hand.

The wave of pain slowly recedes, replaced by a more quiet grief, and Zelda squeezes Sunny’s hand in return. The losses will always hurt. And she will always regret not being able to spend more time with Sonia, and Mineru, and many others. But that era... it’s gone, swept away by the river of time. Mineru is right. She has to live for the future. And her friends have just promised to remain at her side through it.

She isn’t alone.

Zelda takes a deep breath, and looks up at the sky.

“King Rauru... Queen Sonia... Mineru... the ancient sages... they wished not only to save Hyrule from the Demon King, but for it to see eternal peace,” she says, pushing aside her sudden weariness. “I would dedicate myself to that goal.”

She steps forward and looks out at Hyrule spread below, unknowingly standing in the same spot where Link saw their daughter for the first time. Sunny peers below with her, and her tail gives an excited swish.

“A peaceful land. One where everyone can thrive. Now and for all time,” Zelda continues, feeling a little less heavy. She looks back at the sages and Link, still standing a respectful distance away, and smiles. “My friends. I know I am not alone in this goal. And I ask that you, with all of your strength... stand with me!”

They smile brightly in return and move to join her and Sunny, looking out over the wide land below. Many of the clouds have moved, and most of Hyrule is visible, verdant fields, snow-topped mountains, bright desert and proud Death Mountain as well.

Link comes up beside her, brushing their shoulders, and Zelda draws strength from the touch as she wipes her eyes, and looks with him across Hyrule.

She’ll remember the past, but look to the future. She’ll preserve peace as best she can, and protect Hyrule with the sages, and her family.

She exhales, and the sound is only a little shaky.

Hopefully, she can hold herself together enough to handle it.

(...)

Zelda and Link arrive at Hateno late that night, Sunny asleep in Link’s arms.

Upon returning to the hustle and bustle of Lookout Landing after being up in the sky, they’d been quickly reminded of everything that needed their attention, people starting to bother them with various questions and queries. Purah had shooed the crowd away, then taken one look at the two of them and told them she could handle things for a while.

Zelda had protested, but Purah had politely told her that “you and Link look like you’ve been through hell, and you basically have, so go home and sleep.”

In a way, Zelda was relieved to be ordered into it.

She knew if they stayed at the Landing then it wouldn’t be very restful, and the thought of sleeping here again wasn’t an enjoyable one. As nice as the beds were, there truly wasn’t any privacy, even in Purah’s lab where she’d graciously allowed them some space. They really couldn’t stay there any longer.

And ever since Zelda’s return, she and Link both have desperately wanted to go home.

Zelda rubs her eyes as Link talks briefly with the guard, assuring him there’s no trouble. They’ll head back to Lookout Landing soon, but Zelda desperately feels the need to just exist without being scrutinized, without hearing whispers of where she was all that time, murmurs of where Sunny came from. Link doesn’t verbalize it, but she knows he feels the same, and Purah essentially kicked them out.

So they’d made tracks for Hateno, leaving as soon as they could and barely stopping.

The guard (Zelda can’t remember his name, and feels briefly guilty about it) startles a bit and his eyes go wide when he sees Zelda and Sunny, but she and Link manage to convince him not to wake everybody up in order to welcome them. The time it took to get here was worth it, but all Zelda wants to do now is sleep, and when they finally separate from the guard, she and Link stumble tiredly down the side path, over the bridge, and back to their house.

The familiar sight appears before them, and Zelda’s steps abruptly stop. She stands in the yard and drinks in the sight, and another clot of homesickness is dislodged from her chest. Moonlight casts a soft glow on the roof and the yard, a lantern lit by the door that seems to welcome them in, and she nearly starts crying.

For goodness’ sake. I really did think I was done with that.

Link watches her in silence, a faint smile on his face, and Zelda blinks away the sting in her eyes and meshes her fingers with his.

“Did the Upheaval ruin anything?” she asks softly, strangely afraid to break the silence of crickets and starlight.

“It knocked some things over. But nothing important broke,” he assures, and as he looks at her, a small glint appears in his eyes. Before she can ask about it, he leans down and scoops her up into his arms bridal-style, shifting Sunny around in the same movement so he’s holding them both.

Zelda startles, and looks at him in alarm as he adjusts his hold.

“Link! I— what are you doing? You’re exhausted, you shouldn’t be carrying both of us,” Zelda frets. “It’s been a long day, and your shoulder—”

“I want to,” he replies, and the look in his eyes makes the rest of Zelda’s building arguments die.

He looks so relieved, his gaze soft and bright, the moon making his eyes nearly glow. There’s love and care and that same trembling, exhausted emotion she can’t identify that he’s had since she returned on his face, in a way that makes her realize he needs to do this. Zelda studies him a few seconds longer, then relaxes into his arms, and rests her head by his.

“All right. But set us down once we’re inside,” Zelda replies softly, and Link nods, then caries her and Sunny through the yard, past the sign by the door, and over the threshold.

Zelda relaxes the moment they’re inside, though she notes that she’s shaking a little too. Or is that Link?

Link sets her down and gently pries Sunny’s fingers from where they’d been clenched around the Master Sword’s hilt, then hands her Sunny before he gets them some light. Zelda cradles their daughter as she sits down, soaking in the sight of their house. Their home.

She knows home isn’t really a place, but being back here, in the chair she’s spent countless hours in while Link cooks and she writes lesson plans or whatever it is she’s working on...

She’s missed it. So much.

Sunny shifts in her sleep, nuzzling up to Zelda as her tail curls. Light plays off her scales, making her almost shimmer, and Zelda gently traces the small spikes on her tail. Different colors shine in the crystalline growth, predominantly blue, but green as well, and even the faintest shimmer of purple at times. Zelda’s reminded of how the aurora dances through the sky, ripples of light and color that she’s always loved, and she pauses.

“Link,” she says as he walks back and sits beside her, “...what do you think about Aurora as a name?”

He pauses, and Zelda rushes to clarify.

“Not to replace Sunny of course! She can have both. It was just an idea as a name that feels like less of a nickname. I know we briefly discussed that, and I thought perhaps when she’s older she might prefer something that’s not a plant name, but I—”

“I like it,” Link says softly, smiling. “Aurora Sundelion. Or, Sundelion Aurora?”

“It flows better the first way, I think. Aurora Sundelion... Hyrule-Satori,” Zelda can’t resist adding, bringing up an old argument of theirs, and Link raises an eyebrow.

“The royal family name gets precedence over mine. You said that’s how it went with your parents. It should be just Hyrule,” he points out as he sets his head on her shoulder.

“But I like yours,” Zelda says as she kisses his temple, and Link struggles for a moment to argue with that.

“Well, yeah, so do I, but hyphenating it makes them both sound ridiculous.”

“It doesn’t! It’s mere... merely...”

A horrendous yawn interrupts Zelda’s words, and Link turns to look at her, his face softening with warmth and worry equally.

“...merely a discussion for tomorrow,” Zelda says, admitting defeat for the moment as Link smiles. “Let’s go to bed.”

They change out of their traveling clothes and briefly freshen up, then all three of them collapse into the familiar sheets, Link and Zelda unanimously deciding they can figure out sleeping for Sunny long-term some other time. Sunny seems quite content with the arrangement, and settles herself by their legs with a noise like a purr, Zelda nestling into Link’s arms with a relieved sigh. She feels him relax beside her, and she stills, sighing.

The bed smells a little dusty, but also like home. Like Link beside her, like fresh grass and a cool breeze, with a remaining hint of the meaty rice they had for dinner.

I think my sense of smell is more advanced than it used to be, she thinks drowsily as she winds down, eyes flickering. I’ll have to test that.

Tomorrow.

And how wonderful it is to have a tomorrow to look forward to.

Zelda’s breath slows, peace falling over her. She’s nearly asleep, but she opens her eyes to look at her husband one more time, something she’s done every night since returning.

And to her surprise, sees that he’s blinking back tears.

The sleepy feeling immediately recedes, and Zelda stares at him worriedly, watching as a singular tear winds its way down his cheek. She gently reaches forward to brush it away, and Link doesn’t quite look at her.

Zelda inches closer, resting her head against his, and Link rolls to his side and holds tighter onto her. She hears him take a shaky breath in, and she runs a hand through his hair, listening to him try to hold himself together.

“I’m here,” she whispers.

“I know,” he croaks back. A shudder wracks his shoulders. “I know.”

He takes a deeper breath then, and Zelda rests her head on top of his, Link’s head resting by her collarbone. They lay like that in silence for a while, apart from Link’s unsteady breaths, and Zelda lightly strokes a hand over his head.

“I’m happy,” he whispers after a long while, voice raw. “I’m so happy, Zelda, I’m just...”

He trails off, but she lets him gather his thoughts, waiting for him to speak on his own terms. As much as she wants to beg him for answers, she knows she’ll get a more truthful one if she doesn’t push him.

A shiver runs through his shoulders, and Zelda waits, lightly running her thumb by his ear.

“...Overwhelmed,” Link says finally, voice small.

There’s a lot wrapped up in that that Zelda doesn’t feel equipped to unpack. She doesn’t even know where to begin. But she knows Link, and knows that just being honest works better than anything.

“I feel the same,” she replies in a whisper. “I mean... we’re parents, Link. I... that alone would be overwhelming for anyone. But there’s also everything... else.”

The yawning abyss of countless years spent as an unaware dragon opens at the edges of Zelda’s mind, and she only snaps out of it when Link’s breath brushes her skin. She swallows, and manages to fight past it for now.

“We have each other again,” she finally adds, and presses a shaky kiss to his head. “That gives me strength. I... hope it does for you too. We made it through the Calamity. We can make it through this.”

Link slightly raises his head so he can look her in the eye, his gaze still exhausted, his arms trembling where they’re wrapped around her.

And he answers by gently pressing his lips to hers.

Zelda relaxes into it, a familiar warmth sleeping through her from the contact. It’s a long kiss, slow and deep, but passionate all the same despite the unhurried way they take it. Every bit of time spent apart from each other is wrapped up in the gesture, and yet another knot inside Zelda unravels with the touch.

No matter what happens next, they have each other.

Sunny’s foot suddenly kicks against Link’s face, and they separate, a small laugh escaping them both. Somehow their daughter entirely turned herself around in her sleep, and her other foot is folded strangely beside Zelda’s neck.

Link smiles as Zelda gently moves Sunny’s leg away, and he sets his head back by hers, the two of them settling back into their embrace. He exhales, seeming much more at ease, and Zelda finds that she feels calmer as well, even with the weight of everything that happened recently on her mind.

“I love you,” Link whispers after a long time, and Zelda nuzzles closer, nearly asleep again.

“I love you too,” she murmurs.

He rests his forehead against hers, his bangs brushing her skin, and Zelda closes her eyes, listening. Link’s breath has evened out, barely a tremor left to it, and it mixes with the soft sound of crickets outside. Otherwise it’s quiet, apart from an occasional soft hum from Sunny, a light scrape of her tail.

And Zelda drifts off into a deep, dreamless sleep, mere moments after Link does, the both of them secure in each other’s arms, their daughter warm where she sleeps half on top, half between them.