Enjoyer Of Tri Force Heroes and Twilight Princess

His strength grows, and soon enough he can climb out the emergency shelter under his own strength again. Once he can do that, every day he goes through a routine with his sword that he doesn’t remember learning, but Zelda always said pre-shrine him used to do all the time. He jumps off the roof of the Landing to be sure he can use his paraglider, practices thrusts and shielding and aiming his bow. He works back up to regular movement, stretching muscles that weakened while he was busy being injured and wrestling against gloom, getting sunshine and nutrients back in his body.

And soon enough he gets himself back in shape— or, back to how he was, anyway.

The Gloom isn’t gone of course, not by any means. It’s still in him, still aches and throbs, still makes him more tired and weak than he was before the Upheaval. But the latest flare-up has faded, and his body is about back to where it was before he knew the truth about Zelda.

And Purah and Impa finally agree that he’s okay to leave Lookout Landing, and get back to his quest.

The morning dawns, clear and a little chilly. The sages already left several days ago, needed back at their homes, so it’s only Purah and Impa who give Link a longer goodbye, Purah checking the pad once more before handing it back to him, and making sure he’s got a bag full of food, Impa reminding him that if he ever needs anything to just ask.

“And if you ever feel like the gloom is getting to be too much again, come see me,” Purah says, firmly gripping his upper arms. “I’ll figure something out. No more of this collapsing in random fields stuff, okay?”

Link gives her a small smile at that, and nods as she releases him, and tells him to be safe. Impa steps closer then, and looks up at him thoughtfully.

“Travel well, Link. I’ll continue in my efforts to find a way to restore Zelda, and your daughter,” Impa promises, taking his hand in her weathered one. “Nothing has come up yet, but I have hope there must be a way. I’ll be in the Forgotten Temple. If I find anything, I’ll be sure to let you know.”

Link thanks her, but she doesn’t immediately let go, giving him a more stern look.

“And Link... remember to let yourself rest,” she reminds. “Things are dire, but not so much so that you have to hurt yourself. Be careful. For Zelda.”

Link nods. “I’ll... I’ll do my best.”

For Zelda.

And he finally leaves the fort, mounting his horse as all the other residents bid him a hearty goodbye.

The day is bright and warm as he trots out into the field, his horse eager to get moving. He glances at his map to try and decide where to go first, and notices Purah left a few markers on it where it was rumored there might be shrines. A smile pulls at his lip at the sight of the note she left stuck to the back of the Purah pad— an explanation of the markers she left, as well as a reminder that if she ever finds him collapsed out in the wild again, she’ll tie him down until he’s better.

Typical Purah.

The closest marker on his map isn’t too far from where he is now, and once Link folds up the note with a fond shake of his head, he spurs his horse and takes off.

His tense shoulders lower as a fresh breeze whisks past, and he breathes the clear air in, and out. There’s still an urgency and sense of vengeance that’s pushing him, that makes a fire burn in his gut, but it’s less of a frantic feeling than it was before. Especially since now that it’s not just him looking for shrines.

Before they left, he told the sages more of what he’d been doing, and Tulin quickly spoke up with an idea— he said he’d ask the other Rito to keep an eye out for shrines, and then he could pass the information on to Link. The others rushed to chime in that they’d watch and ask those they knew to watch for the structures as well, and Link found himself softly smiling at their support.

It made him feel a lot less alone.

And with that support, finding shrines is much less of a burden than it was before. Days of travel and searching speed by, Link flitting from place to place. It’s not like before— he’s not moving around in a blind haze, grinding himself into the dirt without stopping. The help with his search and also the support he’s received in regards to Zelda helps push him forward when the grief hits hard, especially when he sees the Light Dragon float serenely by in the sky. The outlet they provide and the encouragement he gets that he really doesn’t feel like he deserves is... good. Really good.

Telling them everything about Zelda and Sundelion did help, strange as it seems. He’d figured that adding that burden to others would just make it worse, but sharing it, letting the pain of it out, being around people who may not fully understand but are there to support him?

It helps. It cracks some of that awful grief inside of him, makes the weight just a little less crushing.

It’s still terrible, of course. It still catches him off-guard. It still grips him with a terrible intensity, twists his insides until he feels like he’s going to be destroyed, but at least he isn’t alone in it. Largely because the sages won’t let him be alone in it.

Which does get annoying at times, but Link knows they mean well.

Before he’d left, Sidon had insisted that Link visit Zora’s Domain at least once a week so they’d be certain he’s okay, though Link had managed to talk him down to two weeks instead. And while shrine hunting, Link finds himself visiting Sidon the most out of all the sages, often just listening to his friend talk, or sitting with him in quiet grief. Sidon doesn’t fully understand everything, but he gets it better than most. He still remembers the Calamity, after all.

Those visits are good for him, even painful as they are sometimes. There’s a day when Link visits and just stays in Mipha’s Court for a few hours, Sidon quiet beside him, and they sit together in their grief, both old and new.

But the sages actually aren’t the ones Link visits the most while he’s searching for shrines.

After leaving Lookout Landing, one of the first things he does is go to Zelda, and apologize. He came close to ruining her entire plan, making her sacrifice worthless, and he spends a long time sitting with her and talking, while Sundelion flies nearby and watches.

Zelda may not understand, but telling her about it all is relieving. And it doesn’t take very long after that for him to go from avoiding Zelda to visiting her near constantly. He’d missed her while he was sick, he’s realized, even if sitting atop the Light Dragon is hardly the same as talking with Zelda as she’s supposed to be. It’s comforting, though, and familiar in a strange way. In fact, after most long days spent looking for shrines, he launches up to wherever she is, and rests with her.

He’s heeding Impa’s words, at least somewhat. She’d implored him to be more careful, to let himself rest, and so that’s what he does. He’s heeding something Sidon said too— he’d said that visiting Mipha’s statue was always a great comfort to him, and Link feels that visiting the Light Dragon is similar for himself.

Visiting her and their baby is still... hard. And hurts, too. Badly. But Link’s found that avoiding them actually makes it worse somehow. It may hurt to sit on Zelda’s head and tell her about the latest shrines he’s found and what else he’s been doing lately, and knowing she isn’t listening or understanding him a bit, but pretending his family just isn’t there at all? No. That’s worse.

Through sickness and health, through good times and bad. That’s what he’d promised her when they’d gotten married.

And just because she’s lost herself, it doesn’t mean that promise is void.

Plus it turns out that an excellent way to look for shrines is from above since they have the large spiral of green light, which makes riding around on Zelda not just a personal pastime, but a helpful one. He knows she doesn’t mind if he lands on her (so long as he leaves the Master Sword alone), and he finds himself spending any time he can spare sitting on her head, watching the land below go by, gently running fingers through her fur.

Up on Zelda is the only place he feels truly comfortable anymore, and he spends most nights up there, even if it’s out of his way. In between shrines he stays with her and their baby as much as possible, and sometimes spends nearly the whole day with them if he’s feeling especially sick with grief. Zelda never seems to notice him much, but her head does still when he lands on it, and she sometimes makes a low humming sound when he gently scratches by her horns, or pets along her ear.

Sundelion acts similarly, though she’s small enough that she can get closer to Link, and prefers to sit on or near him. She often acts more playful too, nipping at Zelda’s ears, rolling around in her mane, nosing at Link’s bag.

It makes him wonder how aware she is of things, what of herself she lost when Zelda swallowed the stone. She herself didn’t swallow it, so was the change as complete? Is it possible there’s something there?

Or is he just fooling himself?

Those are unpleasant thoughts to dwell on though, and he’s too busy to focus on it right now, so he tries not to. Instead he just notes whatever behaviors she’s exhibiting in the journal he still carries with him, and tries to parse out what personality is there, if anything.

Mostly, Sundelion is similar to Zelda. Distant, but interested in him in an odd way, like he’s a particularly weird bug. A bit snugglier than Zelda too, but that might just be a baby thing. She likes to sniff him, sometimes nip at his hair and clothes, and enjoys flying beside her mother while doing extra twists in the air. One day Link pulls out the stuffed sand seal Riju had left him to show her, and Sundelion stares at it in confusion for several minutes, before cautiously sniffing it, then batting it around in delight, rolling around and nibbling at it.

Less funny is how she gets defensive if Link goes too close to the Master Sword now. Which would be funny if it weren’t so painful— her fur sticks up and her long tail lashes a bit if he even looks at the blade too long, and though the sight warms him in a way, it hurts too.

He wishes he could get the sword out without paining Zelda.

But that can wait until he’s strengthened himself more, and he knows he’s not there just yet. So he keeps looking, tromping across distant corners of Hyrule, fighting through snow and heat and monsters all just to get more lights of blessing.

The sages and the rest of Hyrule help greatly with his quest, and it’s wonderful to have support and information from them all. Travelers aware of his goal stop him on the road and tell him what they’ve heard. Stable owners catch his attention and pass info along when he stops by. Link visits Death Mountain one day, and Yunobo has four different rumors to tell him about, three of which actually end up leading to shrines. He gets so many rumors he barely knows what to do with them all, and his search speeds up quite a bit.

More and more glowing dots spread across his map. The gloom in his veins shrinks more with every light that enters his chest, and he knows it’s going to be time to try to pull the sword again soon. Very soon.

Even if Sundelion gets mad at him.

He’s taking a break right now though, worn from a hard batch of shrines. His latest spree was effective, several shrines located within a course of a few hours. All were on the difficult side and one was right beside a monster camp, so despite the restoration at the end of each trial, he’s worn out. So he’s resting his sore limbs by lying on Zelda’s soft head, looking at the stars, and dozing despite the chill of Hebra.

Their baby is sitting with her head resting on his leg at the moment, one of her favorite things to do. Link strokes her head while he mindlessly tells her about his favorite horse, her temperament and skill, and how easy it is to braid flowers into a mane so long as you know what you’re doing. Sundelion’s eyes are somewhat facing him as he speaks, and if he pretends hard enough, he can imagine that she’s really listening to him, and is taking in what he’s saying.

But she’s not. She never is.

His voice fades, and he looks at her a moment before looking up at the stars again with a sigh. He’s always liked picking out constellations, though Zelda often corrects him with the proper names and shapes, compared to whatever he picks out in the stars. They still argue about whether a particular one is a flower, a bear, or an oddly-shaped frog.

Or they used to, anyway.

A shimmer of color dances across the sky then, and Link blinks the sting out of his eyes to better watch the aurora ripple around them. Up here it looks as if they’re nearly flying right through the waves of light, and the sight is gorgeous. He sits up a bit, making Sundelion squeak, and watches the colors dance above them, green and purple, blue and pink.

He just wishes Zelda could see it. They’d traveled in Hebra a few times after the Calamity, and she’d been beyond thrilled the time they’d managed to catch the aurora. She’d started telling him all of the popular theories of why they happened, and some of the less popular too, and he’d happily listened to her ramble, green and pink light dancing in her eyes.

Something softly nuzzles at him, and Link painfully sets the memory aside to see their baby scooting herself further up, digging her claws into his chest and tucking her nose by his neck.

“Hey,” he protests, but when he wiggles away, she makes a discontent noise, and worms back up to him. “Hm. You cold, Sundelion?”

She huffs air in his face, and Link faintly smiles, patting her head as he lays back down.

“It’s chilly, huh. It makes the stars brighter though, and the aurora is showing off tonight. I bet you like flying when it’s cold and clear like this... or if you don’t, I’m sure Zelda does. She loves the stars.”

Their baby only closes her eyes, and the light dragon hums below them, her next curve a bit gentler.

Link sighs, long and deep.

“Your mother is amazing, you know. Smarter than anyone I’ve ever met, but don’t tell Purah I said that. The Yiga impersonate her all the time, but they never get that right, and Ganondorf couldn’t either. Nobody measures up to her.” He chuckles, and doesn’t miss how hollow it sounds. “I hope you got her brains. Mine can’t compare in the slightest.”

A tightness constricts his throat, and he watches the stars, not saying anything as their baby rests on him, her eyes closed.

He brushes a hand over Zelda’s ear, and swallows.

“I miss you,” he whispers.

Zelda doesn’t acknowledge his words or his touch in the slightest. She merely continues on through the sky, just like she has for thousands of years.

But Link still gently strokes her ear, feeling her soft mane, trying to take comfort in how it almost feels like Zelda’s hair used to. The softness of it when he’d set his head against hers. The way it would tickle his cheek. How it reminds him of when he helped her cut it, and the look on her face as she’d admired it in the mirror.

“It’s almost time,” he continues as his heart gives a sharp pang with the memories. “I’m nearly strong enough. I think I only need a few more shrines, Zelda. Then I can get the sword, and take him down. I swear. And then... it’ll be over. And maybe Impa can find something to help you. Both of you.”

Sundelion lets out a soft coo, and Link gently smooths their baby’s mane as he watches the aurora dance past the stars, a numb feeling unrelated to the cold nipping at his skin.

Soon.

Soon he’ll pull the blade.

“And then I can do what you asked,” he whispers. “I’ll beat the Demon King.

His strength grows, and soon enough he can climb out the emergency shelter under his own strength again. Once he can do that, every day he goes through a routine with his sword that he doesn’t remember learning, but Zelda always said pre-shrine him used to do all the time. He jumps off the roof of the Landing to be sure he can use his paraglider, practices thrusts and shielding and aiming his bow. He works back up to regular movement, stretching muscles that weakened while he was busy being injured and wrestling against gloom, getting sunshine and nutrients back in his body.

And soon enough he gets himself back in shape— or, back to how he was, anyway.

The Gloom isn’t gone of course, not by any means. It’s still in him, still aches and throbs, still makes him more tired and weak than he was before the Upheaval. But the latest flare-up has faded, and his body is about back to where it was before he knew the truth about Zelda.

And Purah and Impa finally agree that he’s okay to leave Lookout Landing, and get back to his quest.

The morning dawns, clear and a little chilly. The sages already left several days ago, needed back at their homes, so it’s only Purah and Impa who give Link a longer goodbye, Purah checking the pad once more before handing it back to him, and making sure he’s got a bag full of food, Impa reminding him that if he ever needs anything to just ask.

“And if you ever feel like the gloom is getting to be too much again, come see me,” Purah says, firmly gripping his upper arms. “I’ll figure something out. No more of this collapsing in random fields stuff, okay?”

Link gives her a small smile at that, and nods as she releases him, and tells him to be safe. Impa steps closer then, and looks up at him thoughtfully.

“Travel well, Link. I’ll continue in my efforts to find a way to restore Zelda, and your daughter,” Impa promises, taking his hand in her weathered one. “Nothing has come up yet, but I have hope there must be a way. I’ll be in the Forgotten Temple. If I find anything, I’ll be sure to let you know.”

Link thanks her, but she doesn’t immediately let go, giving him a more stern look.

“And Link... remember to let yourself rest,” she reminds. “Things are dire, but not so much so that you have to hurt yourself. Be careful. For Zelda.”

Link nods. “I’ll... I’ll do my best.”

For Zelda.

And he finally leaves the fort, mounting his horse as all the other residents bid him a hearty goodbye.

The day is bright and warm as he trots out into the field, his horse eager to get moving. He glances at his map to try and decide where to go first, and notices Purah left a few markers on it where it was rumored there might be shrines. A smile pulls at his lip at the sight of the note she left stuck to the back of the Purah pad— an explanation of the markers she left, as well as a reminder that if she ever finds him collapsed out in the wild again, she’ll tie him down until he’s better.

Typical Purah.

The closest marker on his map isn’t too far from where he is now, and once Link folds up the note with a fond shake of his head, he spurs his horse and takes off.

His tense shoulders lower as a fresh breeze whisks past, and he breathes the clear air in, and out. There’s still an urgency and sense of vengeance that’s pushing him, that makes a fire burn in his gut, but it’s less of a frantic feeling than it was before. Especially since now that it’s not just him looking for shrines.

Before they left, he told the sages more of what he’d been doing, and Tulin quickly spoke up with an idea— he said he’d ask the other Rito to keep an eye out for shrines, and then he could pass the information on to Link. The others rushed to chime in that they’d watch and ask those they knew to watch for the structures as well, and Link found himself softly smiling at their support.

It made him feel a lot less alone.

And with that support, finding shrines is much less of a burden than it was before. Days of travel and searching speed by, Link flitting from place to place. It’s not like before— he’s not moving around in a blind haze, grinding himself into the dirt without stopping. The help with his search and also the support he’s received in regards to Zelda helps push him forward when the grief hits hard, especially when he sees the Light Dragon float serenely by in the sky. The outlet they provide and the encouragement he gets that he really doesn’t feel like he deserves is... good. Really good.

Telling them everything about Zelda and Sundelion did help, strange as it seems. He’d figured that adding that burden to others would just make it worse, but sharing it, letting the pain of it out, being around people who may not fully understand but are there to support him?

It helps. It cracks some of that awful grief inside of him, makes the weight just a little less crushing.

It’s still terrible, of course. It still catches him off-guard. It still grips him with a terrible intensity, twists his insides until he feels like he’s going to be destroyed, but at least he isn’t alone in it. Largely because the sages won’t let him be alone in it.

Which does get annoying at times, but Link knows they mean well.

Before he’d left, Sidon had insisted that Link visit Zora’s Domain at least once a week so they’d be certain he’s okay, though Link had managed to talk him down to two weeks instead. And while shrine hunting, Link finds himself visiting Sidon the most out of all the sages, often just listening to his friend talk, or sitting with him in quiet grief. Sidon doesn’t fully understand everything, but he gets it better than most. He still remembers the Calamity, after all.

Those visits are good for him, even painful as they are sometimes. There’s a day when Link visits and just stays in Mipha’s Court for a few hours, Sidon quiet beside him, and they sit together in their grief, both old and new.

But the sages actually aren’t the ones Link visits the most while he’s searching for shrines.

After leaving Lookout Landing, one of the first things he does is go to Zelda, and apologize. He came close to ruining her entire plan, making her sacrifice worthless, and he spends a long time sitting with her and talking, while Sundelion flies nearby and watches.

Zelda may not understand, but telling her about it all is relieving. And it doesn’t take very long after that for him to go from avoiding Zelda to visiting her near constantly. He’d missed her while he was sick, he’s realized, even if sitting atop the Light Dragon is hardly the same as talking with Zelda as she’s supposed to be. It’s comforting, though, and familiar in a strange way. In fact, after most long days spent looking for shrines, he launches up to wherever she is, and rests with her.

He’s heeding Impa’s words, at least somewhat. She’d implored him to be more careful, to let himself rest, and so that’s what he does. He’s heeding something Sidon said too— he’d said that visiting Mipha’s statue was always a great comfort to him, and Link feels that visiting the Light Dragon is similar for himself.

Visiting her and their baby is still... hard. And hurts, too. Badly. But Link’s found that avoiding them actually makes it worse somehow. It may hurt to sit on Zelda’s head and tell her about the latest shrines he’s found and what else he’s been doing lately, and knowing she isn’t listening or understanding him a bit, but pretending his family just isn’t there at all? No. That’s worse.

Through sickness and health, through good times and bad. That’s what he’d promised her when they’d gotten married.

And just because she’s lost herself, it doesn’t mean that promise is void.

Plus it turns out that an excellent way to look for shrines is from above since they have the large spiral of green light, which makes riding around on Zelda not just a personal pastime, but a helpful one. He knows she doesn’t mind if he lands on her (so long as he leaves the Master Sword alone), and he finds himself spending any time he can spare sitting on her head, watching the land below go by, gently running fingers through her fur.

Up on Zelda is the only place he feels truly comfortable anymore, and he spends most nights up there, even if it’s out of his way. In between shrines he stays with her and their baby as much as possible, and sometimes spends nearly the whole day with them if he’s feeling especially sick with grief. Zelda never seems to notice him much, but her head does still when he lands on it, and she sometimes makes a low humming sound when he gently scratches by her horns, or pets along her ear.

Sundelion acts similarly, though she’s small enough that she can get closer to Link, and prefers to sit on or near him. She often acts more playful too, nipping at Zelda’s ears, rolling around in her mane, nosing at Link’s bag.

It makes him wonder how aware she is of things, what of herself she lost when Zelda swallowed the stone. She herself didn’t swallow it, so was the change as complete? Is it possible there’s something there?

Or is he just fooling himself?

Those are unpleasant thoughts to dwell on though, and he’s too busy to focus on it right now, so he tries not to. Instead he just notes whatever behaviors she’s exhibiting in the journal he still carries with him, and tries to parse out what personality is there, if anything.

Mostly, Sundelion is similar to Zelda. Distant, but interested in him in an odd way, like he’s a particularly weird bug. A bit snugglier than Zelda too, but that might just be a baby thing. She likes to sniff him, sometimes nip at his hair and clothes, and enjoys flying beside her mother while doing extra twists in the air. One day Link pulls out the stuffed sand seal Riju had left him to show her, and Sundelion stares at it in confusion for several minutes, before cautiously sniffing it, then batting it around in delight, rolling around and nibbling at it.

Less funny is how she gets defensive if Link goes too close to the Master Sword now. Which would be funny if it weren’t so painful— her fur sticks up and her long tail lashes a bit if he even looks at the blade too long, and though the sight warms him in a way, it hurts too.

He wishes he could get the sword out without paining Zelda.

But that can wait until he’s strengthened himself more, and he knows he’s not there just yet. So he keeps looking, tromping across distant corners of Hyrule, fighting through snow and heat and monsters all just to get more lights of blessing.

The sages and the rest of Hyrule help greatly with his quest, and it’s wonderful to have support and information from them all. Travelers aware of his goal stop him on the road and tell him what they’ve heard. Stable owners catch his attention and pass info along when he stops by. Link visits Death Mountain one day, and Yunobo has four different rumors to tell him about, three of which actually end up leading to shrines. He gets so many rumors he barely knows what to do with them all, and his search speeds up quite a bit.

More and more glowing dots spread across his map. The gloom in his veins shrinks more with every light that enters his chest, and he knows it’s going to be time to try to pull the sword again soon. Very soon.

Even if Sundelion gets mad at him.

He’s taking a break right now though, worn from a hard batch of shrines. His latest spree was effective, several shrines located within a course of a few hours. All were on the difficult side and one was right beside a monster camp, so despite the restoration at the end of each trial, he’s worn out. So he’s resting his sore limbs by lying on Zelda’s soft head, looking at the stars, and dozing despite the chill of Hebra.

Their baby is sitting with her head resting on his leg at the moment, one of her favorite things to do. Link strokes her head while he mindlessly tells her about his favorite horse, her temperament and skill, and how easy it is to braid flowers into a mane so long as you know what you’re doing. Sundelion’s eyes are somewhat facing him as he speaks, and if he pretends hard enough, he can imagine that she’s really listening to him, and is taking in what he’s saying.

But she’s not. She never is.

His voice fades, and he looks at her a moment before looking up at the stars again with a sigh. He’s always liked picking out constellations, though Zelda often corrects him with the proper names and shapes, compared to whatever he picks out in the stars. They still argue about whether a particular one is a flower, a bear, or an oddly-shaped frog.

Or they used to, anyway.

A shimmer of color dances across the sky then, and Link blinks the sting out of his eyes to better watch the aurora ripple around them. Up here it looks as if they’re nearly flying right through the waves of light, and the sight is gorgeous. He sits up a bit, making Sundelion squeak, and watches the colors dance above them, green and purple, blue and pink.

He just wishes Zelda could see it. They’d traveled in Hebra a few times after the Calamity, and she’d been beyond thrilled the time they’d managed to catch the aurora. She’d started telling him all of the popular theories of why they happened, and some of the less popular too, and he’d happily listened to her ramble, green and pink light dancing in her eyes.

Something softly nuzzles at him, and Link painfully sets the memory aside to see their baby scooting herself further up, digging her claws into his chest and tucking her nose by his neck.

“Hey,” he protests, but when he wiggles away, she makes a discontent noise, and worms back up to him. “Hm. You cold, Sundelion?”

She huffs air in his face, and Link faintly smiles, patting her head as he lays back down.

“It’s chilly, huh. It makes the stars brighter though, and the aurora is showing off tonight. I bet you like flying when it’s cold and clear like this... or if you don’t, I’m sure Zelda does. She loves the stars.”

Their baby only closes her eyes, and the light dragon hums below them, her next curve a bit gentler.

Link sighs, long and deep.

“Your mother is amazing, you know. Smarter than anyone I’ve ever met, but don’t tell Purah I said that. The Yiga impersonate her all the time, but they never get that right, and Ganondorf couldn’t either. Nobody measures up to her.” He chuckles, and doesn’t miss how hollow it sounds. “I hope you got her brains. Mine can’t compare in the slightest.”

A tightness constricts his throat, and he watches the stars, not saying anything as their baby rests on him, her eyes closed.

He brushes a hand over Zelda’s ear, and swallows.

“I miss you,” he whispers.

Zelda doesn’t acknowledge his words or his touch in the slightest. She merely continues on through the sky, just like she has for thousands of years.

But Link still gently strokes her ear, feeling her soft mane, trying to take comfort in how it almost feels like Zelda’s hair used to. The softness of it when he’d set his head against hers. The way it would tickle his cheek. How it reminds him of when he helped her cut it, and the look on her face as she’d admired it in the mirror.

“It’s almost time,” he continues as his heart gives a sharp pang with the memories. “I’m nearly strong enough. I think I only need a few more shrines, Zelda. Then I can get the sword, and take him down. I swear. And then... it’ll be over. And maybe Impa can find something to help you. Both of you.”

Sundelion lets out a soft coo, and Link gently smooths their baby’s mane as he watches the aurora dance past the stars, a numb feeling unrelated to the cold nipping at his skin.

Soon.

Soon he’ll pull the blade.

“And then I can do what you asked,” he whispers. “I’ll beat the Demon King.