#post-calamity

The Princess by nature, is very gentle. She’s soft and patient at heart, but was placed under such strenuous situations all through her youth that caused her to often snap or lash out. But not now. Currently she is silent, stone-cold and confused. She was in shock. And Link could tell.

“Here.” He pulls out a baked apple from his pack, handing it to her. He has to get her attention twice before she finally takes it, their hands brushing for a moment. Her awareness returns to her gaze then, her bright-green eyes meeting his.

“I-I’m so sorry.” She sighs, her voice weak. “I’m just… so tired.” Link tries not to show his distress, but she notices his demeanor change as well. “How much further?” She says, rubbing her eyes sleepily.

“Probably another hour and a half. It’s just through those mountains.” He points.

“Dueling peaks. I remember.” She nods. “I remember everything.”

“Everything?” He asks as he starts to dig around a pack on the rear end of Epona, searching for his rito attire. It was starting to get dark, and she hadn’t stopped shaking since they left Castle Town almost three hours ago.

Zelda nods once.

Her silence speaks volumes.

He yanks out his snowquill armor, finally. “Do you remember anything from the last hundred years?” She doesn’t answer right away, she instead takes a smaller than small bite out of the apple. “Zel? Can I put this on you? You’re still shivering.” He asks, looking at her blank, traumatized stare. “It’s from the Rito, it’s soft as a cloud and will keep you warm for the rest of the way.”

“The Rito.” She sighs. “Revali…”

Link realizes that she hasn’t had any time to process what she just went through. She had spent the last one hundred years deeply focused, probably in a trance-like state. He places a hand on her cheek. “Look at me.” His voice is gentle and welcoming, not forcing her at all. She looks at him, their eyes locking. “Breathe with me.”

They take two deep, heavy breaths. They sync their inhales, exhaling together.

“It’s over. It’s all over, okay?” He reassures her. “It’s not coming back. It’s just us now, alright?”

She swallows, still emotionless. “You’ve changed.” She says.

“So have you.” Link smiles in an attempt to comfort her. “Can I put this shirt on you?” He asks again. She answers faster than she usually had, nodding twice this time. Link bunches up the excess fabric before pulling the head-opening over her hair. He then guides each one of her hands through the arm-holes. Link takes a moment to adjust the garb around her torso until it was probably positioned around her shaking body. She immediately sighs in relief.

“You talk more.” She mumbles, looking at him as he gently wraps his fingers around her long, golden hair and softly pulls it out of the shirt, knowing how much it irritates him when his hair is loose underneath a shirt.

He smiles again, “I do. Some people say I don’t shut up.” He tries to lighten the mood.

“Like who?”

“Impa.” He sighs.

Zelda’s eyes light up with that name. “Impa?”

He hums and nods. “We can go visit her when you’re feeling stronger, okay?”

“Okay…” Zelda looked down into her lap, the skirt of her goddess dress was barely white anymore. “I am going to get stronger, right?” She asks, her voice tender and broken.

Link’s heart sinks. Not because he’s worried she won’t, but rather because he feels responsible for putting her in this state.

“Of course.” He reassures. He believed it. He wanted to believe it.

“I’m… just so tired.” She repeats herself.

“I know, come on, let's get you a bed.” He then picks her up bridal style from the ground. They had stopped in the first place to get that rito armor for her. She rests her head against his chest as he lifts her onto Epona. She smells like burnt oil and exhaustion. He probably isn’t smelling any better.

They wouldn’t get to Hateno until noon at the earliest tomorrow, and traveling wasn’t doing anything for her recovery. He gets on Epona behind her, letting her weak body rest against his chest as they make their way to Dueling Peaks Stable. The road is quiet, so much quieter than it ever has been. The pair of lizalfos always swimming in the river aren’t there, and even the crickets suppress their chirps.

It’s post-apocalyptic. Literally. Link isn’t sure how to feel.

She throws up a few hundred feet from the stable. She gags and lurches over the side of the horse, somehow managing to keep it off of anyone. Not much comes out, she hasn’t eaten in over a century, but Link frowns when he realizes the apple probably triggered it. He silently curses himself out for causing her any form of distress. She dry heaves violently, and Link tries to hold her shoulder in an attempt to comfort her. When she finishes, she holds her breath.

She can’t decide if she feels like she lost a bit of dignity or not. She holds back the tears that well in her eyes. Link breathes in to say something, but she raises her hand in protest. She would rather they act like it never happened. Neither of them say anything from there on, they just keep riding the final minute of the journey.

Everyone at the stable was asleep except for an attendant… who was also treading precariously between consciousness and a deep rest behind the counter.

“Excuse me?” Link asks to wake him up, hopping off of Epona after making sure Zelda would still be comfortable in his absence. She would never admit she wasn’t.

The man stirs awake with a jolt. He yawns, slightly startled, “So sorry, young man.” Link wouldn’t necessarily call himself young. He smirks softly.

“I’d like to board this horse till the morning, and we’d like one soft bed, please.” Link nods before setting down the required rupees. The man squints his eyes, taking the money in hand.

“Ah! It’s you! Link, was it?” He asks when Link turns his back to help Zelda down from the horse. “Jeez, you haven’t passed through here in at least six months! We were holding onto that old mare for you!” He gestures to their stables where a small gray spotted horse sleeps. Link’s first horse since he woke up from his century-long slumber. He only rode her in the beginning, when he was doing chores between Hateno, Kakariko and one time a longer trip to Zora’s Domain. But she’s old and weak, which is why she was easy to catch when Link was still regaining his strength. He stopped taking her out when he found Epona in the western part of Central Hyrule.

“Yeah… you guys can let her free.” He says as he sets Zelda down on the ground. She holds her cold hands together.

“Well uhh.. we tried. You see, after four months at a stable we let go of any forgotten pony’s, but she kept coming back.” He chuckled, his voice exhibiting a distinctive nasality.

“Here,” Link hands him a red rupee, not wanting to discuss an old horse any longer when he literally has the closest thing to a God in this world resting her head on his back. “Keep her for another month, I’ll come take care of her then. Okay?” Link asks. “Can I get that bed now?” Not impolite or forceful, he never was. He’s assertive but has a comforting cadence to his tone. For being such a talented swordsman, guard and easily the most deadly hylian in the entire kingdom, he was never rude or condescending. He was welcoming, and little kids often looked up at him with intimidation when they first met him, but it didn’t ever take long until they were chasing him with tree-branches while he fled and begged for mercy, letting them take him down with ease. The kids at the stables loved him, knew him by name, and would play as him in their silly pretend games.

The stable-man replies, “Of course! But you only asked for one bed, it’s not big enough to fit both of you.”

“I know, it’s for her not me.” Link then starts to guide her into the stable, where it’s much warmer and safer. Just because it’s quiet doesn’t mean it's safe. Hyrule is a dangerous place by nature, especially if you’re two century-old Gods being hunted for sport with the faces of children.

“You won’t sleep?” Zelda asks quietly behind him.

He doesn’t directly answer, and instead guides her to the bed. She’s weary, and he’s terrified of her not waking up. He wouldn’t be able to sleep even if he wanted to. He helps the Princess sit in the bed, and kneels before her to untie her sandals. When he touches the leather, he immediately gets transported into another memory.

It rips through him, just like the memories he had images of. Suddenly, he’s kneeling in the same position, but instead he was outside of the spring of courage. He looks up to see the clear sky, it’s sunset, and then his eyes meet Zeldas. Her face is rosy, and her eyes don’t have the blank stare they possess in the current time. He looks down at his fingers, tying the straps around her ankle.

“Really, you don’t have to do that.” She hums. He doesn’t respond. He never did back then. He finishes wrapping the leather around itself and then stands up. His face is emotionless. She looks at him, they’re about the same height. “I won’t be long this time.” She says. “I’m not expecting much anyways.” She sighs and then walks past him, but before she can get very far, he gently grabs onto her arm, holding her back. He doesn’t say anything but she can read his expression. He’s trying to tell her to have faith this time, just one more time.

Surely the Goddess would commune with her.

She shakes her head, and wades into the warm waters of the spring. Link turns to watch her, how her hair cascaded down her back, how her hands balled into fists. She turns around to look at him, their eyes meet. She smiles.

He comes back as fast as the scene played in his memory. He blinks a few times, and looks up at her. She doesn’t look any different, very little—if any—time seemed to pass. He doesn’t usually experience memories with someone, he wonders if she realized anything happened. Link didn’t even consider the fact he would keep receiving memories after the fact. His stomach turns, he feels like he’s lived two completely different lives and is forced to remember things from one that he doesn’t even relate to anymore. He doesn’t feel like the same person, the boy he was a hundred years ago is a complete stranger to him.

Link much preferred this life.

And that scares Zelda.

“I just remembered something.” He says. Zelda hums in response, a light-hearted noise that implies an inquiry. He elaborates, “I used to tie your sandals for you at the springs, didn’t I?” He asks.

Zelda smiles for the first time since they defeated Ganon. It’s a small pull of her lips, not showing any teeth but her eyes finally light back up. After she had asked if he remembered her on the field, she collapsed, not even aware of her own exhaustion until that moment. He ran to her aid, and ever since then she felt woozy, it only got worse the further from the castle they got.

“You did, yes.” She says. “I never asked you to, but since I was in the dress, you insisted.” She sighs. Link grunts in response. “It was very chivalrous.” Zelda adds.

They look at each other for a minute. Not saying anything. It was late, and two beds down there was a set of kid brothers sleeping. Link remembered them from their last visit. One of them wanted nothing to do with him, trying to act mature and ‘cool’. Link eventually won him over, though. They don’t speak out of fear of waking anyone. Zelda’s smile slowly fades away, and Link swallows thickly. They will never be the same.

He pulls her sandals off, her feet are filthy with century-old mud. He silently smiles about that. The closest thing to a Goddess in the entire world has dirty feet. How human of her.

Then, after pulling down the heavy rito-down blanket so she can slide in, he helps Zelda swing her legs into the bed. He pulls the blanket up to her neck, she lays on her side facing him. Her hands find their way up to her face, resting her cheek against them. Link pulls a short stool over to the bed, sitting on it and looking at her, bending at the waist.

“You’re not going to leave me, are you?” She asks in a timid, sleepy voice.

Link’s heart just about breaks when she asks. “Never.” He shakes his head. He takes his gloved hand and tucks a piece of her loose hair behind her pointed-ears. He lets his fingers linger a little bit longer than they should. “I will never ever leave you again.”

“Promise?” She asks, her eyes heavy with exhaustion.

“Promise.” He whispers, “Just as long as you promise to never leave me, okay?” He asks, ignoring the lump in this throat.

“Promise.” She says, taking her pinky finger and sticking it out for him. He wraps his finger with hers, which is far daintier and softer than he's ever been. She is a Princess, after all.

“Wake up in the morning, okay?” He whispers.

“Mhm.” She hums as her eyes slowly close. He tries to disconnect their pinky fingers, but she holds onto his. He leaves his hand in that position, letting her hold it until she falls fast asleep.

Link doesn’t move his hand until he’s certain it won’t wake her up from her much needed rest. He looks at her gentle, soft face. No one even understands what she just went through, no one ever will. He’s worried sick that she won’t make it through the night, and he keeps leaning his head down to listen to her breathing, or places a few fingers against her forehead to check her temperature.

He does his best to stay vigilant the entire night, not once even looking away from her. But just before the sun rises, his body suddenly catches up with his mind. He also just had the most demanding battle of his life. His muscles started to ache, and he developed a headache. He was just a boy, after all. More than anything, his sword arm was weak, and fire-hot pain shot up and down through it. He probably overused it fightin the calamity.

He keeps telling himself that he’s fine. He has to be fine, for Zelda. His arm isn’t that bad, what really hurts was his heart. Usually he’d just down a fairy tonic and maybe go to the hot springs if he was in the area but this pain was different. A twisting and contracting ache in his chest pulled and tugged on his lungs and pulse. It’s the same pain he felt when he remembered Mipha, and more specifically, the pain he felt when he dreamed about his family before the resurrection.

The dream that gave him the memories of a little sister with blonde hair like his collecting fireflies in her pockets. Her laugh echoing, the call of an older man, the image of a royal guards sword leaned up against the dinner table. The touch of his father’s hand as he rubs Link’s back to sleep.

Link’s first sword.

He wakes up like a fire, standing up and almost toppling over. He didn’t even realize he had fallen asleep. He could hear the soft tune of the penny whistle playing the standard stable theme, and the two little brothers played tag outside. He curses and looks down at Zelda.

Her bed is empty, and his heart completely stops. He starts breathing hard and heavy, his entire nervous system feels as though it’s pulled into stasis. How could he make such a foolish mistake? He swings his sword over his back, strapping his shield to his leathers and turns around in a wild-hunt to see the Princess sitting at the round stable table, drinking out of a mug and speaking gently with an older man.

Link takes a breath of relief, and approaches the two.

“Good Morning.” She smiles up at him. Her voice sounded much better, and her eyes finally had life back into them, but she still wasn’t herself. Her skin still looked sickly, her face hollowed out and eyes droopy. Any progress is good progress, Link decides then and there.

“I… didn’t mean to fall asleep.” Link sighs. “I’m so sorry. When did you wake up?”

“Oh not long ago, maybe twenty minutes? I didn’t want to disturb you-”

“You should have.” He interrupts her and her words get swallowed out of surprise. Link realizes that he snapped at her a little, and immediately becomes apologetic. “I’m sorry, again. I just…”

“You’re worried about me. I understand.” She takes his hand, her bones frail. In many ways, she physically looked worse today than last night. But at least she could hold a conversation. He nods. Zelda notices the tension, and changes the subject, “This kind gentleman was telling me about when you saved the stable from a horde of lizalfos about a year ago.”

Link looks over at the man, Giahzo. “Oh that was nothing, it was just two green lizalfos and a blue one who wandered too close to the stable.” Link hums. Their hands were still held together by Zelda.

“Don’t be so modest!” The old man chuckled, “Without you, it would have been a disaster! The number of monsters means nothing, especially when you don’t know how to fight!”

“That’s very kind of you.” Link smiles and then realizes he and Zeldas hands, he’s the one to pull it away. “What are you drinking?”

“I’m not sure…” Zelda begins and Link immediately snatches the mug from her hand. “Hey!”

“You can’t just drink something mysterious.” Link scolds.

“Oh it’s just a bit of Hateno Milk.” The man assures. Link looks at him, then Zelda, and then into the mug to see the creamy liquid. He brings it to his nose and smells it, and then takes a sip of it. Sure enough, it was just milk.

“I’m sorry, Giahzo.” He apologizes and places the mug back down. “I’m just on high alert.”

“Do not apologize to me, apologize to this lovely young lady you’ve graced us with.” The elderly man smiles with a chuckle, his eyes wrinkling up with his age. Zelda smiles, blushing a little, “Tell me, dear, where are you from? We don’t get many new faces at this stable these days.”

Zelda looks at him, her eyes sad. A hundred years ago every person in Hyrule knew her face. She looks at Link, unsure how to answer.

“She’s from the Outskirts stable.” Link covers for her. “Her family used to reside in Central Hyrule before the Calamity.”

“Yes.” Zelda immediately chirps, “We’re headed to Hateno for…”

“A honeymoon!?” Giahzo smiles brightly. Both Link and Zelda freeze in their tracks, and Link hopes he doesn’t look as embarrassed as he feels. “Hateno is a great Honeymoon destination! Although I’ve heard Lureline is even more splendid!” He clasps his hands together.

“Research.” Zelda clarifies, “so sorry to disappoint.” She chuckles politely, making a conscious effort not to look at Link. “I’m researching… population dynamics in Hyrule.” She makes something up that sounds completely believable.

“Of course.” Link then says, “I’m just escorting her there, we are total strangers.”

That breaks Zelda’s heart.

She knows he’s just trying to be extra careful, pushing her anonymity as much as possible. And in a way, it wasn’t a total lie. But it cut her like a knife.

“I see…” Giahzo doesn’t seem convinced. “Well, if you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to stop by. Hopefully the monsters will start to die down.” He smiles and stands up, moving outside.

Zelda is still afraid to look at Link, and he’s a little bit shaken up by the entire interaction. He knows the Yiga are still out there, he knows that there are people who will try to take advantage of her for power or money. He has no reason to suspect anything from the old man, but he can’t help himself from being deliberate. He senses her tension and walks back to the bed to gather their things.

“You should have woken me up.” Link says as he picks up a satchel full of food and readjusts his gloves.

“I’m sorry.” Her voice was timid and tired. He turns around to see her, her green eyes looking up at him apologetically. “I didn’t know it would worry you so.” He approaches her.

“Of course it worries me.” He sighs. “I spent three years trying to get you out of that castle, I’m not gonna lose you on the first night.” He holds his hand out for her to trade, helping her up. She must not have rested as well as he thought, because as soon as she gets on her feet, she almost topples right over him. He catches her, holding her up before she collapses. “Woah there.” He mutters. “You alright?”

She nods, “Let’s just get to that house you told me about.”

—

She thought of that first night they'd spoken when she first heard his soft, boyish voice, telling her there was no need to apologize. Of course, she'd apologized anyway.

Or their second conversation, where she complimented his cooking, watched his eyes light up, drew him out with questions about his recipes, and listened with rapt attention as he showed her a part of himself that seemed as precious and rare as a dragon scale.

After that icebreaker, each conversation got more personal. He dropped his guard with her. He bore his soul to the only person who could understand having the weight of the world on your shoulders.

And the next thing Zelda knew, in the very final days before The Calamity, she had her first taste of happiness.

She'd held Link in her arms. His big eyes had been fixed on her as she stroked his hair and he gradually sunk from her shoulder to her lap. He'd fought sleep, staring up at her as his eyelids slowly fell shut. The feeling of his soft, silky hair between her fingers and his weight against her, the steady rise and fall of deep breaths as he slept. The delicious ache in her chest had been so overwhelming that Zelda could feel it still, throughout her years of fighting.

She had to hold him in her arms again, and not like the last time. She needed him safe and happy. She needed to regain that sense that she was giving him peace. And so the years were long, but her hope was as bright as the light she was embodying.

When Ganon was gone, and she stood in Hyrule Field, those hundred years felt like nothing but a bad dream, already fading from her memory as she returned to the waking world.

She smiled, amused with herself, not quite convinced she was really here, and her Link was standing before her. She'd had 100 years to think of what she'd say to him first. And yet, with his eyes upon her, Zelda was at a loss for words.

Link looked tired. He was ruffled from battle, but he didn't look to be wounded beyond a few shallow cuts, bruises, and scrapes. His eyes were tired, too; she couldn't read them.

"May I ask..." She took a step towards him. "Do you really remember me?"

He closed the distance and clinched and unclinched his fists as he held her gaze. "You're all I remember."

Curious eyes led feet across the Akkala span, led strong planks to be laid across the gaps in the bridge leading to the citadel’s mouth, spurred a search for a way in, and brought Hudson to its gates, Greyson in tow to shift debris far quicker than a Hylian could.

Each day saw more feet, hands, and movement, and as autumn’s cool, crisp days began to threaten frost at night, a light shone blue high in the tallest tower, strands of luminescence coalescing to a shimmer of limbs and torsos.  Four shapes drifted down on gliders, landing at the edge of the tattered battlements looking over the sea.  They moved, two men and two women, two blond and two white-haired, scouring the ground, one sending flashes of light into the distance as she aimed the slate at features previously hidden by malice, surfaces laid bare in the aftermath of Ganon’s defeat.

The smaller of the two men approached the gap surrounding the bright pillar, stepping on upward-sloping stones.

“Link…” the woman said, lowering the slate to watch him instead.

“Uh-huh,” he responded, leaning to peer beyond the point of absent mortar.

“You ought to be careful,” she said.

A lopsided smile appeared on his face.  “I’m always careful.”

The woman raised an eyebrow, though it went unseen by Link.  Their white-haired counterparts circled the perimeter, pencils and notebooks in hand, a second glowing device on the other woman’s hip as she chattered.  The sound seemed swallowed by the hollow near their feet.

“You are not always careful,” the woman finally said.

“I have my glider,” Link responded, inching even closer to the edge, finally able to peer directly downward, his smile fading so completely it may as well have never existed.

“…What is it?” she asked with a small frown, her eyes on his profile, slate lowered, clutched at hip-height.

“Sorry, Zelda,” he said, quieter than usual.  “It’s… some hole.”

Zelda blinked.  “You don’t remember the citadel?”

Link’s head snapped up, turning to face her.  “No.  Not at all.  Not- not the inside.  I’ve been all over the outside of this mountain.”

She studied his eyes, a lengthy consideration playing on the muscles of her face.  “You were within it twice with me.  We stayed here on route to the Spring of Power.”

His face pinched, concentrating.  Zelda waited to see that far-off distant look—the surprise of suppressed memory bursting through some dam within him—ready to move in an instant, to grasp him should be become unsteady near that deadly edge.

She did not wait a century to return to Link’s arms only to have him taken from her by senseless chance.

The look did not arrive.

One corner of Link’s mouth twitched to the side, a near-grimace, and he shook his head.  “I don’t remember any of it.”

Zelda managed a tremulous smile.  It didn’t quite reach her eyes.  “Perhaps that’s for the best.”

He huffed a laugh.  “Was someone here a jerk to me?  Or-“ a bit of a fire lit in those startling eyes of his- “was someone a jerk to you?  Or- oh Goddess.  Was it the food?”

“The food?”

“Yeah, was the food bad?”

This time the smile became a grin of such force her eyes closed for a moment.  “Link- you’re not serious.”

“I’m always serious, too.  Serious…” he took one step away from the crumbling edge. “…And careful.”  He picked his way toward her, true to his supposed personality traits for the moment, and slid an arm around her waist, his forehead to hers.  “See?”

She rapped his chest with the Slate playfully.  “What I see now contradicts what I observed mere minutes ago.”

“Nah.”  He kissed her cheek—soft—pausing at her too-rapid pulse.  “…What-“

“HEY LOVEBIRDS!  SNAPPITY SNAP!”  The machine-click of Purah’s hand-built proto-Slate caught the two of them unprepared.

Zelda rolled her eyes as Link sniggered.  “Purah!”

“Ha-ha!  That’s what you get.  I warned you—we’re here to survey the place, not make hanky-panky.”

Link flashed his eyebrows at Zelda.  “Hankity-pankity,” he said.

Zelda sighed.  “Link… have I told you your plays on words have taken a turn for the worse?”

“You have.”  His smile turned distinctly mischievous.  “I’ve made up for it in other ways, haven’t I?”  The hand at her waist shifted down a few finger-widths, his nose brushing hers.

Another click.  “SNAP!”

Link sighed this time, craning his neck up to breathe his frustration to the sky.  “Yeah!  Yeah, we get it, thanks, Purah.”

“You’re welcome!  Symin, open that sample pouch, maybe there’s some malice left clinging somewhere.”

Zelda knew there wouldn’t be.  It had dissipated along with its master; yet a good scientist like Purah would check regardless.

Link moved to inspect the watchtower, unimpeded by pools of malice for the first time, but stopped at its entrance, turning once more toward her. “Zelda… you saw what I saw, right?”

“What do you mean?”

“When I was traveling.  You said you… ‘watched my journey.  Every step.’”

A beat passed as Zelda swiped at the Slate’s screen with apparent efficiency.  “Yes.  I did.”

He nodded, his fist rising to press just beneath his nose as he considered the gaping maw in the citadel’s roof once more.  “So, you know that was full of malice.  Right?”

She kept her face carefully still.

“Completely full.  That whole shaft.  There’s… nothing down there to support it.  It had to be full for me to see it up here.”

“…Yes,” Zelda said.  “It was full of malice.”

Link’s head kept bobbing as he turned from the innocuous sign of a horror he’d been blind to at its peak.  Zelda followed him, continuing to image the wreckage, hoping that would be the worst realization to come of this.

___¤__¤__¤__¤___

The consensus between the leaders of Hyrule’s scattered peoples became that Akkala Citadel’s clean-up and reconstruction was of paramount importance.  With the Calamity banished, Hyrule would appear a promising target for conquest, and the Citadel had once been a formidable deterrent to any army which would dare to land on the northeastern shores.

Link had noticed the dark circles beneath Zelda’s eyes.  The monarchy’s fall hadn’t dulled her sense of duty or righteousness.  She would work endlessly for her people with no thought for her own well-being if Link wasn’t there to pull her aside.  He’d warp them from Rito Village to that pleasant hillside near the Maritta Exchange ruins to rest on soft grass and watch Dinraal’s flaring passage from the east, and as the weather turned too cold they retreated more often to Hateno, Link’s house always waiting in welcome.  He’d build up a fire and make a hot meal while she read in a plush seat made especially for her.  He had plans to rent a seaside hut in Lurelin when winter hit full stride.  He’d keep her warm and safe and make sure she rested.  If Hyrule was hers to bear even with no crown, no castle, he would make sure that burden didn’t bury her.  She knew far more about running a kingdom than he did, but none of the old infrastructure remained in place; they kept climbing toward something but it would never be the Hyrule they’d known before.  Any glory to come would be of its people’s making, not of their memories’.

To be fair… Link didn’t really know the Hyrule from before—not like Zelda did.  He remembered snatches, most of it her: her sunshine hair flowing through his hands, her sweet whispers, her lips desperate on his, so much longing, and too much lost time in frustration and silence.

Even his own house remained elusive.  He’d remember a long plait of brown-river-stone and Hateno-rice-stalk colored hair as a young sister giggled, chasing frogs and fireflies beneath the apple tree, and he kept seeing the image of a woman he knew to be his mother standing at the hearth, retrieving fresh-baked bread from the hollowed stone to the fire’s side.  He could hear her voice, but he didn’t know her name.

He’d asked Zelda, once, if she knew.  She’d held his hands tight, sorry to say she didn’t.

All of this made her approach to the citadel strange.

Really strange.

“There’s no need for you to attend, Link.  I’m sure Bolson construction has the physical activities well in hand.”

“…But you’re going,” he said, a folded shirt in one hand and a jar of homemade wildberry jam in the other.

“Yes,” she said.  “I must mediate and keep an eye on Bolson and his obscenely over-inflated pricing.  That doesn’t mean you must go.”

“W- why wouldn’t I go?”

“Why should you?”

“That’s not an answer.”                      

“That’s not a question.”

“That- what?!” he thought for a moment. “You’re trying to confuse me.”

She smirked a little.  “I would never.”

She regretted it (sort of) as he hooked her over his shoulder and tossed her to the bed.

They finished packing a lot later than they’d intended.

Zelda made a few more attempts to assure Link she’d be fine alone, to the point at which he asked if she needed a few days away from him.

“No!  No, of course not.  Why should you think so?”

“It’s okay if you do.  I’d understand.” He smirked.  “Too many puns?”

She hooked an arm through his.  “Not at all.”

“Uh-huh.  So why don’t you want me to go?”

“It’s just…” her eyelids shut.  When they opened, her other hand cupped his cheek.  She studied his eyes, a worried crease appearing low on her forehead.

Link shook his head.  “What is it?”

She sighed.  “I don’t want to see you hurt.”

“I’ll be careful,” he reminded her with a confused half-smile.  “I… did survive Calamity Ganon.  I have no intention to get taken out by falling rocks.”

“…I know,” she said.  “… Very well, I shall say no more of it.  Just… please… do be careful.  And please listen to me.”

“I always listen to you.”

This time, she smacked him right in the stomach.  “You insist on saying such things, and they’re never true.”

He snorted as she raised the Sheikah Slate, tapping the icon for Akkala Tower.

___¤__¤__¤__¤___

Greyson had cleared the rubble and Bolson Construction’s Hateno crew had moved in, installing structural support beams and scaffolding to maximize safety as they cleared more debris from within.

The level of destruction within the tower belied its steadfast exterior.

The canons at the clifftop battery across the parade ground had taken out the bridge, tried to slow the approach of the guardians, tried to keep them out.  It seemed they’d caused the rubble at the entrances, too, forcing the guardians to either ascend the tower or punch through the walls of the citadel itself.  It appeared as though they’d chosen the former—the facade remained predominantly whole.  Yet the abundance of guardian parts which Purah and her team had already removed from the entrance hall demonstrated how thoroughly they had penetrated the citadel’s innards.

Link and Zelda passed beneath the arch of the citadel’s portcullis and stared, mute.

The entrance hall bore signs of its former grandeur: thick columns flanked by statues of soldiers which had once stood more than twice Link’s height, only one unbroken, a sword still in its hands, point-down, and a great shield emblazoned with the royal family’s crest, fallen, among banners so decayed as to be unrecognizable except having once been cloth: frayed nets of fabric ready to crumble to dust at the slightest touch.  Greyson had just lifted a heavy, jagged stone, the remnant of some sweeping ceiling architecture, and as he did the sound of scraping metal drew their eyes to the floor beneath it.

Armor.

Crushed.

Helmets.  Gauntlets.  Chain-mail and cuirasses.  Rust and tatter, and more cloth nets.

Everywhere in the room and down the halls to the left and right—scattered pieces, tiny glints, rust protruding from cracks and peeking through inanimate rot.  Link took ten steps toward the nearest column, crouching, rising again with a thin chain dangling from his fingers.

“What is it?” Zelda asked, the whispered quiet of a funeral.

“It’s… a bracelet,” Link said.  He turned it over in his hand.  It bore charms: a pair of wings, as though of the Goddess.  He swallowed, glancing around the chamber.  “No bones,” he said.

She shook her head.  No.  There were none.

“You’re… here to count the dead, too, aren’t you?” Link asked.

Zelda nodded, but not quick enough.  Link saw her hesitation.

His eyes widened.  “You knew them,” he said.

She clasped her hands before her, eyes on a series of tiny, scattered metal rings not far from her.    “Not all of them,” she said.

“But more than most... than almost anyone.  There might be some Zora…”  He turned to face her, crossing the distance between them, the bracelet in his fist near the bottom of his ribcage.

Zelda shook her head, certain what he wished to ask her.  “I… do not know who wore that bracelet,” she said, her voice soft.

Link’s hand tightened around it.  “It… doesn’t seem like something a soldier would’ve been wearing.”

Zelda shook her head.  “Probably not.”

Link’s other hand raised slowly to rest on her shoulder.  He thumbed her collarbone.  “How many people… I mean, it must’ve been like Hyrule Castle.  Cooks, launderers, maids, pages… families.  Right?  With all those open-air spaces, there must’ve been gardeners.”

“Yes,” Zelda said.  “All sorts made their lives here.  Some worked here with leaves to see home.”

“…And they all died,” Link said.

“Perhaps,” she responded softly.

“Is this why you wanted me to stay?  All this… death?  Zelda…” he shook his head, his hand moving to caress her cheek instead.  He ducked down, forcing her to meet his eyes.  They brimmed over with concern.

She had to steel herself against any change in her own expression, though it clutched at her heart.

“Zelda, I’ve… seen death.  I’ve seen so much of it.  I feel even more.  I know I lost… almost everyone I knew.  This place right here is… it’s- another unacceptable tomb.  We can’t leave what’s left of these people here.  We have to show them respect.  I wouldn’t want to sit by and ignore their passing.”

She wrapped her hand around the back of his, unsure whether reassuring him or herself.  “I know, Link.  It’s why I’m here.  These were my people.”  And I failed them.

The words hung unspoken, fully felt by each of them.  A moment later, Zelda’s arms had encircled Link’s neck with a desperate tightness, his likewise about her waist.

He knew.  “It is not your fault, Zelda.”

She disagreed, but to argue the point had proven fruitless—and a large part of her felt glad to have lost.  She’d have lost every argument to Link, given in on every point, if it meant she could still see his eyes, enraptured, turned to ebony on hers as he stoked the fires of their ecstasy between them.

Greyson returned and left with a massive stone statue’s torso, the sword in its grip still intact.  A group of builders passed beneath the entryway, the jovial ease in their speech diminished along with their footsteps.  They gave Link and Zelda a wide berth, moving down the left-hand hallway with many a cleared throat and a sniff.  Symin emerged from the hall to the right, his face brightening for a moment on seeing them—then he made a hasty retreat with pursed lips.  Others came and went, shifting rubble in wheelbarrows, bearing sketches and pads full of notes, carrying lumber to construct supports within the structure.

No one disturbed their silent embrace.

“I should begin,” Zelda whispered.

“Not if you need some time,” Link said.

“I don’t.  Do you?”

“No, Zelda.  If I remembered them, then maybe—but I don’t.”

Zelda kept her breathing as even as she could, refusing to let a catch in her rhythm betray her.

She would not wish to see Link hurt.

“Well, then,” she said, pulling away.  “I shall begin with the bracelet.”  She crossed toward the column where Link had picked it up, scanning the floor.  She removed the Slate from her hip and activated the camera, changing the focus and angle, sweeping the lens over the area.  Link watched over her shoulder, waiting for the telltale beeps and boxes to appear on the screen; they didn’t.

She saved an image of the floor anyway.  Her expectant look at Link made one side of his mouth pull back, and he opened his hand, holding the bracelet in his outstretched palm.  She snapped a picture, watching the screen for a long moment, then, visually tracing the shape of the chain hugging his creases.

He waited for her as he always did.

Zelda re-holstered the Slate in favor of her pencil and notebook.

“Hey… let me,” Link said.

She laughed a little.  “Your handwriting is terrible.”

“It’s not that bad,” he said with a halfhearted smile.  “But I can handle the Slate.”

She blinked.  “Right.  Yes… here.  Thank you, Link.”

His smile became much crinklier.  “You’re welcome, Princess.”

 “Why so formal, Sir Knight?” she asked with a double-take.

“Just to remind you how special you are.”

“One needn’t be formal to be special.”

“Yeahhh.  But you’re smiling, aren’t you?”

Indeed she was.

She didn’t smile again until well after nightfall.

Entrance Hall 1 bracelet – chain / charms (2 wings) – (bronze) 12 metal rings 24 35 57 bootlace anchors 71 89 106 (Link offered use of pouch – store and count when task complete). 587 18 belt buckles – 23 31 1 curved metal strip, sha belt fastening pin – 19 21 1 ring – large / ruby set in gold 17 soldiers’ helmets + 13 helmet fragments 87 chain mail fragments 3 chain mail shirts 3 cuirasses 9 soldiers’ greaves 8 soldiers’ pauldrons 11 soldiers’ gauntlets 18 swords broadswords (various 14 soldier’s broadswords, 3 knight’s broadswords, 1 royal broadsword) 13 shields (11 knight’s shields, 2 soldier’s shields) 3 soldier’s claymores - 2 knight’s claymores - 4 knight’s halberds 1 knight’s bow – 1 2 soldier’s bows 53 large metal splinters (remains of weapons / shields / other?) 1 ring – serpentine / silver / lavender quartz chips [Captain Thale’s wife – ‘Myrella’ I think]. Hundreds to thousands of small, flat metal fragments (armor/shield remains?  Other?). 18 chain fragments – bracelets / necklaces? 49 rupees [values vary], 30 of which in northwest corner. (Remains of cloth – much essentially unspun – breaks to dust easily when lifted – uncountable). 8 Wedding bands – gold [2 engraved: Bruun and Deena – Jayd and Povelle] 3 Wedding bands – silver [1 with cross-hatch pattern] 5 Wedding bands – bronze [1 engraved: Arra and Linne] 2 Wedding bands – tin [1 with etched joined hearts] 1 Wedding band – platinum [small / thin – General Relaigh’s wife – Briette] 8 promise bands – each unique – metal only (silver, platinum), silver/diamond, silver/diamond-chip, gold/diamond, gold/three diamonds, rose gold/diamond-chip.  (Rose gold ring - stewardess’ assistant, Jien.   The head stewardess was, as I recall, unmarried - Huryai.  I’d seen her wear buckled dresses.  Some buckles found are quite small as they were on those garments). 2 lockets (1 tin, 1 bronze) – contents dust.  (I recall a maid wearing a locket). 7 earrings (2 nickel, 1 gold, 4 bronze) 9 necklaces (1 bronze/charms, 1 bronze/opal, 1 silver/alexandrite, 1 silver/moonstone, 1 gold/fire agate, 1 tin/charms, 1 silver/charms and sodalite, 1 tin/white quartz, 1 bronze/turquoise [small]). (I do not recall these necklaces in particular).

Northwest Hall Soldiers’ helmets – 12 (helmet fragments – 7) Chain mail shirts – 4  (chain mail fragments – 23) Soldiers’ cuirasses - 2 Soldier’s greaves – 10 Soldier’s pauldrons – 7 Soldier’s gauntlets – 8 (Flat metal fragments – hundreds) Soldier’s broadswords – 7 Knights’ broadswords – 5 Royal broadswords – 3 Soldier’s claymores – 1 Knights’ claymores – 2 Knights’ halberds - 3 Knights’ bows – 1 Soldier’s bows – Knight’s shields – 4 Soldier’s shields - (Splintered metal fragments – 89) 6 ring-bracelets (gold) 9 earrings (2 gold/ruby, 2 gold/amber, 5 gold helix rings) 2 scimitars (1 standard Gerudo, 1 moonlight design) 1 Gerudo spear 2 belts – brass  (17 brass fragments – likely belt pieces) 3 brass chokers 3 brass chestplates 6 bracers – brass 3 Gerudo shields (2 standard, one ‘radiant’ design) Rupees – 93 3 Wedding bands – gold  [1 with etched leaflike pattern] 1 Wedding band – silver 1 chain – bronze – heavy (necklace) – medallion – House Torin’s family crest, Akkalan nobility (I believe the medallion had been gifted to the eldest son upon turning 18 years of age, approximately a year prior to the Calamity). 11 bootlace anchors (Less evidence of cloth remains than in entrance hall).

Guards’ Chamber (off Northwest Hall) Soldiers’ helmets – 31 (helmet fragments – 55) Chain mail shirts – 22  (chain mail fragments – 108) Soldier’s cuirasses – 18 Soldier’s greaves – 56 Soldier’s pauldrons – 51 Soldier’s gauntlets – 49 (Flat metal fragments – hundreds to thousands) Soldier’s broadswords – 34 Knights’ broadswords – 11 Royal broadswords – 7 Soldier’s claymores – 2 Knights’ claymores – 5 Knights’ halberds - 6 Knights’ bows – 4 Knight’s shields – 6 Soldier’s bows –  Royal bow - 1 Soldier’s shields – Royal halberds - 5 (Splintered metal fragments – thousands – Saiku and Shigoh counting / possible reconstruction?) Royal Guard’s Claymore Royal Guard’s Shield Full plate armor remains (not standard issue – darker metal – large 3-point-star-shaped hole in chestplate – backplate partially melted – presence of the Royal Guard’s Claymore and Shield suggest remains of General Relaigh, also house Torin – cannot determine what crest may have decorated it). Rupees – 229 6 Wedding bands – gold [2 engraved: Aurin and Mirrah - Eylin and Olinia] 8 Wedding bands – silver [1 engraved: Louessa and Pellan – 1 with cross-hatch pattern – 1 with ribbed edges] 2 Wedding bands – tin 3 Wedding bands – bronze [1 engraved: Arra and Linne] 1 Wedding band – steel 1 Wedding band – platinum – large (again suggests General Relaigh) 1 ring – three cut amber settings, Gerudo script – defensive magic (suggests wealth on behalf of wearer – identity unknown – not near the general’s remains). 1 ring – sealed bone, ancient Hylian script – offensive magic (again suggests wealth – identity unknown). (Less evidence of cloth remains than in entrance hall).

(I recall rings – other than wedding bands – on several captains’ hands.  Captain Werrush had a reputation for charging headlong into battle, and perhaps fits the mold for the bone ring, though I cannot be sure it belonged to her.  The ring’s size is large for most women, but she towered over me.  It could have been hers.  Captain Baran wore multiple rings and came from a wealthy family heavily invested in Ordorac Quarry.  I could see him bearing the amber ward).

Estimate a minimum of 150 soldiers of varying

“Hey,” Link said.

Zelda startled.  “Y-yes?”

“That’s… enough for today.”

She swallowed, holding her book a bit further from her face to counteract the blur, but Link folded it gently shut around her fingers.

“It’s late.  You need to eat and sleep.”

Her eyes, unoccupied by her notebook, returned to the rubble at their feet.

“No, no no no no,” he said, taking the book from her entirely, then the pencil, putting them in his Korok pouch.  “No more.  We’re going to the camp.  We’ll eat some food, and then we’ll crash.  We can stay in our tent right here if you like, but if you’d rather sleep in a bed I’ll warp us back to Hateno.  We can always return at the tower-top tomorrow morning.”

She allowed him to lead her down the L-shaped hallway and out the great citadel’s arch, talk and laughter from the camp on the plateau to their right a welcome interruption to her exhausted thoughts.

She accepted a bowl of hearty beef and vegetable stew and a cup of steaming hot liquid which turned out to be a tea brewed with cinnamon and orange rind.  She savored it, sipping it slowly, allowing its steam to open her sinuses with each deep inhale.  Link brought over a small boule of bread.  He tore it in half and they shared it, using it to scoop up every last drop of the savory liquid in their bowls.  It wasn’t quite as good as it would have been had Link made it, but the fact of needing neither to cook nor attend to most of the cleanup mattered a good deal (and Monari, while not Link, had a flair for filling and flavorful cooking).

“Ahh, you two could use more.  Neither of you has enough meat on your bones,” Monari said, ladling another portion into each of their bowls without asking.

Zelda blinked. “I-“

“No buts,” the older woman interrupted, though her smile remained kind.  “You’re about to blow away on the next winter wind, and I’m too old to do anything about it at that point.  More tea?”

(That smile of Zelda’s appeared—a small one, half-hearted, but there, and Link’s nose brushed her hair in the next moment).  “…Yes.  Thank you.  The tea is lovely.”

“Bark and orange skin.  Makes a damn fine chocolate truffle, too.  I’ll make you some.”

“O- oh, you needn’t-“

“Did I say I needed to?  Chocolate’ll weigh you down, not me.” Monari gave a bit of a cackle.  “Ahhh, you could use it though.”  She added more tea to Zelda’s cup.  “You too, skinny,” she said, pouring some in the empty cup Link had already set aside.

“I’m not that skinny.”

“You can lift a rock ten times heavier than you, I’ll grant you that, but you’re- still- skinny.”

Link smiled sheepishly as the old woman wandered toward the next group to heckle them instead.

They ate and drank their second helping in thoughtful quiet, brushing each other’s knees, thighs, shoulders, and elbows.  Zelda couldn’t finish her stew.  She stared into the crackling fire while Link made up the difference.

“…Ought I to have made my best guess at specifying alloys of the jewelry?” Zelda asked.

Link stopped mid-chew with one cheek stuffed to roundness.  He turned to study her features.

“Hardened gold is impure,” she continued.  “I wouldn’t wish to misrepresent these people.  A low-ranking soldier and their spouse would have been unlikely to carry high-karat gold on their ring-fingers.”

Link swallowed, an uncomfortably large-sounding gulp.

Zelda twirled her wooden teacup in her fingers. “Beyond those engravings… I ought to- to make my best effort to understand whose deaths I have accounted for.  The armor will be of little assistance as knights and soldiers wore essentially identical mail.”  She shook her head, one hand raking through her shortened hair.  “The Sheikah won’t mind if I inspect the jewelry again.  Perhaps Purah- no, she’s occupied with guardian remains.  Sudaishi and Kincama have packed and labeled each already, though perhaps they’d made note of the alloys with that remarkable device Robbie constructed-“

“Zel,” Link said, voice soft as deep thicket moss.

She stopped just as softly, trailing off, but it didn’t last.  “I may have misidentified some stones as well.  I’m certainly no expert.”

“I bet you got it right,” Link said, pulling her against him, his arm across her shoulders, his bowl set between his feet.

“I still don’t know whose they were,” she said, the words gravid in her mouth, “for the most part.”

They spent the night in Link’s bed at home, Zelda’s back pressed to Link’s chest, his arms secure around her.

It wasn’t until the following morning, as they emerged atop Akkala tower in a threaded burst of blue light, that Link reminded Zelda of the instance she feared.

“The gap’s right below us.  They did the roof already, right?”

Zelda nodded.  “A Sheikah team.  I shall still inspect the items for anything I can identify.”

“Anything in particular you’re looking for?” Link asked.  “I can keep an eye out.”

Zelda’s breath paused.

She didn’t dare look at him.

“Not in particular,” she said.

She made a show of unfolding her glider, but his still feet had pointed toward her, his total lack of effort to prepare for the flight down signaling suspicion.

He didn’t call her on it.

They glided beside the tower to pass through the shattered roof and land on the 3rd floor walkway of the cylindrical atrium—it provided an easier approach to the war room, thanks to a blockage on the stairs leading up from the living quarters.  Greyson would have that cleared soon, though not yet.

Zelda concentrated on her breathing, noting its pace when calm, vowing readiness.  She’d been surprised to find General Relaigh’s remains unaccompanied by the source of her dread.  Surely the citadel’s leadership had convened in the war room as the guardians approached.  She had to remain steadfast—watchful.

The scraped floor bore witness to the guardians’ entry here—so did marks upon the high walls.  They’d entered as Link and Zelda just had—through the roof—punched their claws into stone to skitter down the walls, to rip the barricade at the door.  Something had been thrust through the guardrail, leaving a four-foot breach to the doorway’s left.  The automatons’ clawmarks stood stark, having scraped the polished stone floor to white porosity; those alone would have revealed their presence a century past, but one look inside the adjoining hallway made the scene unavoidable in imagining.

Guardian upon guardian littered the hallway—stalkers, scouts, so many they would need to climb over them to reach the war room itself.

“Holy shit,” Link murmured. “Look at the ceiling.”

Long gouges ran the length of the hall, some punching deep.  “More guardians,” Zelda said.

“…Yeah.”

The scene in the war room staggered them.

The chamber dwarfed even the entrance hall.  Before the Calamity, it had boasted a great table nestled in a depression flanked by steps on all sides, high-backed chairs upholstered with rich velvet, massive bookshelves full of references one might need should central Hyrule fall, leaving Akkala to stand in its place, and two tall, narrow windows beside the seat at the far wall where the general would preside.

Only the windows could be seen.

All else had been overtaken by the fallen.  Mechanized bodies and empty suits of armor lay so thick no amount of floor could be seen.  The bookcases had fallen, disintegrated to dust, perhaps, beneath the malice which had permeated this place.

Zelda’s trachea contracted just above her stomach.

They ended up warping back up the tower to glide down and speak with Bolson and Purah instead.

It took days: days and an army’s worth of people gliding down into the atrium, installing rope ladders, lowering lumber in to begin a new layer of supports in this part of the citadel, and meeting Greyson’s efforts in the stairwell beyond the war room to allow free movement between the two; only after that could the work of shifting and accounting begin.

Zelda managed—she thought—to conceal her anxiety beneath a veneer of grim efficiency, while Link treated the entire matter with somber defiance of his typical mischief.  The war room and halls which led from it stood so laden with metal remains they decided to divide the space into gridded squares, each team assigned one at a time to identify items.  All non-standard remains were to be brought to Zelda’s attention, and for that reason she and Link had taken the room’s center as their assigned space.

“Master Link?” a Sheikah asked, approaching with a palm held out.  “Do you recognize this?”

Zelda dropped a gauntlet-fragment in the appropriate crate and sped to put herself between them, but too late.

“Nope, but I’m not the one to ask, anyway,” Link said.  “Zelda might know.”

“Indeed, I am,” Zelda said with a puff of breath which drew Link’s brows together and his head back.  “There is no call to request Sir Link’s assistance in this matter.  All personal affects for identification should be brought to me, not to him.  Is that clear?”

The silence which followed found Zelda’s eyes widening, as theirs already had at her.

“Yes, Princess,” the Sheikah said, holding a thick, brass chain in her palm out for inspection—a sturdy bracelet.

Zelda sighed, attempting to breathe normally.  “…I do recall-“ Zelda’s already wide eyes flew wider and she swallowed convulsively.  “A- soldier… being admonished by his superior for wearing such a thing on duty.”

“This doesn’t seem as bad as that medallion,” Link pointed out.

“Perhaps not,” Zelda said.  “Rank may have played a role there… though I suppose I could see how a chain rattling around within or around a bracer might be more detrimental than beneath a breastplate.”

“I think I’d’ve let the guy keep it,” Link said, “and let him learn his own lesson if it got caught on something or screwed up his grip.”

Zelda’s mouth twitched.  “Evidently that was not this commander’s style.”

The following days saw a plethora of personal effects marched beneath Zelda’s nose: jewelry, cases, and objects which would have been used within the room, likely not belonging to any particular person.  The third letter-opener brought to Zelda’s attention found her eyes rolling, though she closed her lids to disguise it.

“You need a break?” Link asked.

“I shall persevere,” she said, flashing a smile.

The room slowly emptied as did the living quarters downstairs, more and more gouged stone visible, the work dragging through to the following week, and as the final layer of debris became evident, Zelda’s average heart rate decreased.

___¤__¤__¤__¤___

Link had finally opened that jar of wildberry jam in the wake of the war room standing empty.  They’d finished around noon, and everyone seemed to decide at once a celebratory lunch was the most appropriate course of action.

They’d gathered all at once on the plateau, the citadel’s great spiraling stairway looming behind them.

“Spiffy jam,” Purah said, taking a bite with her mouth wide enough to avoid making her cheeks sticky.

“Thanks,” Link said as he inhaled his second chunk of bread (buttered and jammed).

“It’s good to be done,” Shigoh said, her short white hair unkempt and sporadically glittering with the stone dust which also coated their shins—they’d stirred it often from the floor. 

“We’re not done yet,” Link said.  “The whole southwest wing on the first floor is still left.”

“You won’t find much there,” Symin said, wiping a stray drop of jam from his beard with some difficulty.  “We carted out all the guardian remains, but there wasn’t much else in the dining hall.”

Link huffed.  “What stopped the guardians then?!”

Symin cocked his head, shaking it as he chewed.  “A few knights, it seems.”

“… A few?!”

“Sounds weird, Linky, but it’s true.  There were only a few suits of armor in there.  We left ‘em for you, Princess.”

“…Wow.”

Zelda’s last bite of bread had lodged itself halfway between her mouth and her stomach.  She could breathe, but completing the swallow proved difficult.  She took her canteen, drinking metered sips of water, slowly coaxing the offending material downward.  She re-screwed the cap with supreme outward calm, returning it to her side, and turning to Symin with a casual smile.  “I’m finished.  I may as well look now.  Link, you needn’t come—this shall be brief and you’ve just prepared another slice.”

“Huh?” Link said as Symin rose.

“Certainly, Princess,” said Symin, stretching a bit.

Link looked at Symin, then back at Zelda, and then at Purah who had gone oddly pale.

“What-?” Link shook his head, rising, stuffing his entire slice of bread into his mouth at once and wiping his hands on his pants.  He swallowed faster than he’d any right to.  “I’m good.  I’ll go.”

Zelda’s heart sank.  She’d little choice.  He would know should she resist.

She followed Symin in the silence of her once-meditations at the springs, though no amount of prayer on her part had ever altered anything.

Link strode uncharacteristically quiet at her side, as well.

“We’re still pulling the guardians out from around the tower,” said Symin.  “The dining hall’s clear, though, and I’ll tell you what a chore that was.  The war room was bigger, but they were piled so thick in here we had to cut parts off to start getting them out.  The parts are on the grass near the second battery.” He sniffed, raising his glasses off the bridge of his nose and resettling them. “It’s clear they bottle-necked the guardians twice, once on the way into the hall and once on the way out.  I ah- don’t know how many got past them, but there wasn’t much space to get around the ones we found at the last door.”

Symin reached the door opening onto the dining hall and held his hands out as though encircling something.  “Right here—one of those big stalkers sat in the middle with two more on either side and some scouts on top.  The floor was loaded with them—and then another pile like it at the door to the atrium.”

Link blew air out his nose. “Smart.  Use them as shields.”

“Yes… they still… well…”  Symin lifted his hands before bringing them together in something that might have been regret, or reverence, or both.  “You can… can see for yourself.”  He all but crushed his lower lip against his teeth.

Zelda could not speak.

In the hallway, just before the dining hall itself, lay a royal claymore, beside it the mangled remains of a suit of armor.

“Holy shit,” Link breathed, crouching beside it.

Zelda could not move.

“This is… it’s melted,” Link said, lifting a piece of what had once been a cuirass.  It fell easily from the seam attaching it to the back, brittle from the abuse it had seen in the battle and a century spent in the enigmatic effects of malice.  He turned it over in his hand.

The imprint of stitching made itself easily visible where it would have faced its wearer – the thin criss-cross of threadlines and patches suddenly smoothed yet disfigured in form and color—pocked with bubbles and blackened patches appearing nearly as seafoam.

Symin made a sound deep in his throat, a fist over his mouth.

Link also appeared grim.

Zelda imagined it had to do with the heat of the guardians’ lasers, though she’d not seen this precise effect first-hand.  She could easily understand the heat had softened, nearly liquefied the metal to join it with the fibers of a shirt beneath it-

-and then it struck that she’d never seen what occurred when liquid steel met skin.

Bile rose in her throat.

Link replaced the metal in the embrace of its backplate, face stony.

Quiet breaths passed, the slow ebb and flow of waves.  Zelda opened her notebook, beginning her dutiful notations.

Dining Hall 1 Royal Claymore 1 cuirass (melted – indistinguishable) 2 pauldrons (melted) 2 gauntlets (full – 1 melted) 2 greaves (1 melted) 1 helmet (non-standard – heavy)

(This is a suit of full plate armor – all pieces appear present – many melted).

It seemed suddenly useless to list each component part.  The floor appeared relatively barren but for these.  Zelda supposed the knight’s shield had already been spent before he fell.  Of course it had—thus the state of his armor, inundated with blazing heat.

Link stood, asking Symin if he needed air.  Symin shook his head.

Zelda’s racing heart gave a hopeful leap.

Link took a step toward the large hall and stopped, peering down.

He crouched and retrieved something from a crack in the stone, turning it over in his fingers.

Zelda took two steps toward him.  “Let me-“

Link flinched, gasping.

“Link- no, no- Link?!” she cried, her hand outstretched, but too late.  That look had already arrived: a far-off distance—the surprise of suppressed memory bursting to the present.

___¤__¤__¤__¤___

The knight strode, his gait swift despite his heavy armor, his cape conformed to the turbulent wind, blinding Link as he caught up to grasp an armored bicep.

“Father-“

“Enough!” the knight spat, spinning to face Link, not quite meeting his eyes, teeth grinding so hard the muscles in his cheeks pulsed outward.  “You are not my son.”

“How can you say that?!” Link asked, reeling, blindsided—so bewildered his blood had abandoned his face to cocoon his chilling core. “After… all this-“

“This?” The knight asked, eyeing the glaring blue of the pommel above Link’s shoulder.  “This is why.”

Link’s face bunched.  He floundered, images of sparring with a younger version of the man before him—smiling, with stripped oak branches—rendered in bright watercolors on his eyelids, squeezed shut.  “I don’t understand.”  Link counted three breaths. Dry wind whipped moisture from his eyes as he fastened them on his father once more.  “Aren’t you… proud I pulled the sword?”

His father barked a laugh, an instantaneous incredulity too complete to be feigned.  “Proud?”  He shook his head and kept shaking it, a quiver at his mouth fascinating Link for a moment, for he’d never once seen his father weep.  He’d heard it only once, as a small child.  He hadn’t seen his face.

The knight removed his arm from Link’s loosened grasp with a measured deliberation marking some shuttered emotion.  “I cannot be proud of a son I don’t have.”

“Wh- what?”

“I thought I did,” his father said, chin working, “but I- don’t.  You’re some-“ he looked Link up and down- “ancient spirit, reborn.  What did you do?  Did you… crawl into my son’s unborn body?  Devour him to make room for yourself?”

Link had no breath.

“SIR LYLE!” a voice called from the high watchtower.  “A SIGNAL FIRE!  THE MOUTH OF SHADOW PASS!”

“WORD TO THE GUARD CHAMBER!” Link’s father yelled.

“YES, SIR LYLE!” yelled a young soldier at the rooftop entry before disappearing below, metal rattling against his gauntlet.

Link’s father moved to follow him.

“Wait- wait-“ Link said.

“I attend my duty,” he responded, disappearing into the top floor of the atrium.

Link stood, dumbfounded, numb to the brutal wind battering his face and hair, the core of him gaping hollow, his blood’s heat spent.

___¤__¤__¤__¤___

Link stared at the ring in his palm, the inscription engraved on its inner surface boring through whatever barriers the Shrine of Resurrection had erected within his mind.

Lyle and Junilla ~ Til in Hylia’s arms we meet

He kept hearing these sounds.  What were they?

“Link?”

Zelda’s voice.

Zelda’s hands on his shoulders.  One arm across his back.

“Link- Link.”

Gasps.

He kept hearing gasps.

His vision kept jumping in time with them.

He fisted that ring tight.

“Link…”

“Master Link, do you… need help?”

Link shook his head, bringing his fist to his mouth, his eyes shut against images he could never again erase.

“I’m so sorry.  I’m…” Zelda rubbed his bicep as though warming him.  He could feel her intensity on his face even without his sight.  “I take it… you recalled something.”

He nodded.

“…Everything?”

“No,” he said, raspy, “but… uhm…” he swallowed twice- “enough to know why you tried to leave me behind.”

She embraced him then in silence.  He welcomed it, returned it with a pressure like those first moments after she sealed the Calamity, like the first time they made love—but he released her sooner.

“I have to see,” he said.

She pulled back, squinting at him as though she didn’t understand, but she freed him from her arms all the same.

Link walked the path of his father’s final moments—from the hallway he died in to the other doorway he’d barricaded.  Remains of a few other knights lay within reach of it, even more within the dining room itself, but not nearly as many as the other rooms—yet they’d filled this one with the husks of their enemies.

The bottom floor of the cylindrical atrium still lay half-thick with guardian remains.  A few Sheikah teams stood working to remove one, speaking matter-of-factly with each other.  The entire shaft, all the way up, showed signs of the automotons’ clawed feet working their way down.

The War Room had been barricaded from the outside.  Now Link knew who’d done it.

His father, committing himself and his team to the shaft, defending the passage down into the great citadel’s heart.

Had he been on the roof, too, when the guardians overtook it, skywatchers swarming overhead?  That’s where he’d been in the one solid memory Link now had of him.

That, and a memory within a memory: sparring with stripped oak branches, his father smiling at him.

___¤__¤__¤__¤___

Winter arrived, plummeting on Akkala in the form of an unforgiving deluge of hailstones hammering the base of the citadel’s atrium with a roaring din—then snow blanketing it.  The work of accounting for the fallen had finished, scaffolding and reinforcements running through the entire structure as restoration began.  In light of Zelda’s slight frame and the cold, Link had begun to coax her toward a few weeks in Lurelin with its gentler cool season.

He wouldn’t mind leaving the citadel behind, either.  He had a hard time keeping his smiles from fading fast in its shadow, and he didn’t want Zelda to keep giving him those worried looks.  Even when they returned to Hateno, he’d end up standing in their little house tracing cracks in the stucco or pacing in a particular patch of grass on the little shelf of land holding the house, trying to find more stick-spars, more smiles somewhere. He needed a change of scenery, and soon; they both did.

Deliveries of fresh stone from Ordoroc Quarry had begun to arrive.  Once they’d repaired the roof and assured the flues clear, they could keep the inside warm and the indoor restoration could continue through the winter.

One delivery included a person straggling behind it, dressed in battered Hylian soldiers’ gear.  Link recognized him immediately.

“Hi, Nell,” Link said.

Nell stared up at the citadel in awe.  “Wow.”  Then he seemed to hear Link.  “Wow.  Hi, guy from the bridge.”

“Heh,” Link laughed.  “You came back.”

“Yeah,” Nell said.  “Once I found out it was safe again, I had to.”

“You wanted to pray here, didn’t you?”

Nell nodded.  “For my fallen family.  My grandma used to tell me about it, that I had family who died here.  I did at Fort Hateno, too, but I could get there to pray easily.  Here… not so much.”  He craned his neck up.

Link followed his gaze to the top of the Sheikah tower.  “It turns out… I had family here, too.”

“Yeah,” Nell said.  “A lot of us did.  My grandma made sure to tell us how lucky we were, and to thank our ancestors every day for what they did for us, so we could live.  Now that I’m here, I can finally do that for my great-grandfather.”  Nell walked toward the entrance, pulling the pack off his back and setting it on the ground just in front of it.  He looked around.  “If I put something here, it won’t be in the way, will it?” 

“I don’t think so,” Link said.

Nell nodded.  He opened the pack and pulled a stone from it, setting it a few feet to the right of the archway.  Once he leaned back, Link could see it was an offering statue, so much like the ones the little Koroks enjoyed hiding in, but smaller—small enough that Nell could carry it and not tire too much on his journey.  He took three apples from his bag and placed them in its basin.

Link half-expected a tree spirit to appear.  Maybe one would later—maybe one would make another little statue to rest beside this one and wait to surprise someone.

Nell pulled something from a leather drawstring bag at his waist, knelt on the grass, and bowed his head in prayer.

Link watched him breathe steadily, his sandy blond hair whipping in a sudden lash of wind.  Then he came up beside him and knelt, joining him.

A good while passed.

“Are you thanking your family, too?” Nell asked softly.

Link swallowed, his head bowing almost til his chin touched his chest.  “Not exactly.  I’m… asking questions.”

“I do that too, sometimes.  I wonder why I’m not more like them.  I’m fine traveling on my own, but to enlist in an army… to fight all those guardians…” he shook his head.  “I can’t even imagine it.  I turned tail when I saw those skywatchers here.”

“You were right to,” Link said.

“Maybe.  I don’t think my great-grandfather would be very happy to find out he died just so I could wander into his grave and join him.”

Link huffed.

“Or my great-uncle, for that matter,” Nell said.

“Is he the one who died at Fort Hateno?”

“Yeah.  My grandma was sadder about him, I think.  He was her brother.  I guess they were pretty close.”

The wind whipped at them again, Link’s hair flying almost straight upward.  Nell grabbed at his own instinctually with an irritated grunt followed by a gasp as his hands chased something small and shining.  It spun in the air a few times before he caught it.

“…Saved it.”

Link peered at Nell’s hands, curious.  “Was that a ring?”

Nell nodded.  “Yeah.  My great-grandmother’s wedding ring.  I was going to leave it here for my great-grandfather, but it’s hard to just let it go.  It’s kind of why I brought the extra apples.  I figured I’d make an offering, then camp… and see if I could manage it the next day.  I can’t help worrying someone will pick it up, though, even though you’re really not supposed to take offerings.  The spirits are supposed to keep them.”

Link tried not to give Nell the hard look he had coming.  Nell really didn’t deserve it… most people couldn’t see the Koroks to know what little menaces they were.  What would they even do with a wedding ring?

Instead, Link looked at Nell’s hand.

Then he froze.

“…You okay?” Nell asked.

Link just stared, reading the part of the inscription he could see over and over again.

nd Junilla ~ Til in Hylia’s

He read it again.

And again.

And again and again.

“Seriously, what is it?”  Nell shifted to partially face Link.

“You- this is your great-grandmother’s ring?”

“Yeah.”

Link stared at the ring, then at Nell.  He took in his sandy hair, his skin color, eye color… barely different from his own.  Then he reached into his Korok pouch, removed his father’s ring, and held it out in his own palm.

Nell’s shock now mirrored Link’s own.

“Holy shit, we’re related?!” Nell yelled.

It hit Link, then, as he used one of Link’s own favored expressions, one he suddenly knew his mother had told him off for when he said it in front of his little sister.

Something about Nell’s nose, sort of bird-beak like, on the face of a scampering little girl with a long plait of straw-brown hair, as she turned to make a face at him for no particular reason.

“What was she like?” Link blurted out, hands shaking.

“Huh?”

“Your- your grandmother.  What was she like?”

___¤__¤__¤__¤___

 Zelda felt Link smile against the back of her neck as they pressed warm to each other in an airy bed in Lurelin—a truly phenomenal idea on Link’s part, one she hadn’t appreciated properly until her body recognized how cold it had been for so long.

She smiled, too, reaching back to thread her fingers through his soft hair.  “Did you remember something?”

“Mm-hm,” he hummed half into her hair and half against her neck with a pressed kiss.

“What?”

“My mom hated the word ‘orange.’”

Zelda barked a laugh, her dozy state giving way in the face of such absurdity. “Why should she hate ‘orange’?”

“It’s my fault,” Link said.  “I showed my sister you could say ‘orange’ instead of ‘aren’t’ and it would be funny.”

Zelda gave him a look he couldn’t quite see in the dark.  “That is not funny.”

Link laughed with nasal absurdity.  “It so is.”

Zelda pulled her other hand from beneath the pillow to whack his bicep half-heartedly.

“Pff.  My mom agreed with you.  She thought it was awful.  My sister loved it though.”  Link dissolved into a fit of silent belly-laughter.  Zelda found it infectious, laughing along with him and turning in bed to face him.

“I’m glad,” she said, “that you’ve started to remember so much.  I’m sorry I tried to keep some things from you.”

He caught her hand in his and kissed its back, stopping to pay attention to each divot between her knuckles.  “I understand why you did, but…”  He shook his head.  “It’s worth it.  Especially now that I know… I know I have family.  They didn’t all die then.  It did all… mean something, what happened to us, even if it’s been too long for us to see their faces again.”  He smirked.  “And hey, I’m a great-uncle AND an uncle, and a great-great-uncle, too!”

“Indeed you are,” Zelda said, her hands becoming restless at Link’s collarbone.  She raised her eyes to his, moonlit sky reflected in them, so soft.  “What…” she swallowed, her fingertips tapping a sweeping rhythm along his clavicle.  “What would you think of perhaps… being a father, too?”

Link’s next breath drew deep.  The moonlit sky in him widened as his hand found her waist, traveling along it to her hip.  “Are you ready for that?”

“With you, my love?  Yes.  I’ve always been ready.”

Link was talking to someone, someone hidden from her view via the cliffside.

“Having Zelda in my house is just…a lot,” Link continued. “I’m not sure how much longer I can bear it. She’s so…”

Link sighed.

“Well, you know,” he said, apparently not needing to explain. Zelda, on the other hand, felt her heart shatter, her chest burn, and her lungs constrict all at once. What was she so?

“You’ll have to confront her eventually,” a voice said that she didn’t recognize. A friend of Links?

“I know it’s just, her being the princess and all…it makes it complicated.”

Zelda’s eyebrows knitted. Something about her was bothering Link and he didn’t have the gall to tell her? Because she was once royalty? He promised that he wouldn’t let that get in the way, that he would respect that she no longer wanted to be treated like a princess. What other promises were false? He promised to be by her side. He promised to support her. He promised to take care of her. Were those all lies?

If he didn’t want her in his house, he should have said so. This spineless avoidance was frustrating.

Zelda stepped forward to listen further, and a twig snapped. She cringed and froze at the same time.

“What was that?” Link said, looking behind him. Zelda quickly avoided his gaze by hiding behind the tree.

“Probably just a mouse,” the voice said. Zelda still couldn’t place it. It was someone she’d never met.

“It could be Yiga,” Link said. Zelda heard the rustle of fabric. He had stood up. She panicked. She couldn’t get in the house fast enough to pretend she was sleeping the whole time, and so her instincts told her to flee across the bridge.

Fast.

She too, was bare-footed, but she didn’t care. She just ran, through Hateno and not looking back. She veered off the path so she wouldn’t be seen on the road and she ran North through Ginner Woods. No destination. No plan. Just away. Link didn’t want her around and why would he? Even a hundred years ago, people only spent time with her out of obligation. Why would now be any different?

“Link, calm down,” Kass said to the hyperventilating swordsman.

“They took her, Kass,” Link said, absolutely panicked. “Right under my nose, they just…”

Link ran his fingers through his hair as he stopped for a second to think, his eyes scattered before they returned, determined. He rushed upstairs and grabbed his boots and sword.

“What are you doing?” Kass asked.

“I’m going to the desert on horseback,” Link said. “Warping with the Sheikah slate is too risky, I might warp right past her. I have to try to catch her before they–”

Link didn’t want to finish that sentence, pulling on his boots and tightening the leather strap around his chest that held his sword. He stood up.

“Mind doing some flying?” Link said as him and Kass walked outside. “Scan the immediate area just in case?”

“Of course,” Kass agreed with a nod.

“If you find her, get her back home safe,” Link insisted.

“You have my word,” Kass said with a nod, before flying away.

Link hurried to the stall on the side of the house, untying his chocolate-brown house and barely using the stirrup to leap on top.

“Hiyah!” he exclaimed with a whip of the reins, dashing across the bridge so fast that the night air was cold as it sliced his cheeks. 

The Yiga took pathways, but Link knew where to cut corners to catch up, he was formulating it all in his head when he heard a scream.

He stopped so abruptly that the horse whinnied, the creature’s forelegs rearing up. Link tensed all his muscles just to hold on.

“Come on,” Link said, guiding his steed into the forest with a soothing hand. “Sorry, Molasses. This way.”

“Hiyah!” Link said, charging into Ginner Woods and then heading North to where he heard the scream.

He spotted her sitting by the shores of Nirvata Lake, with nothing but her nightclothes. She must have been cold, but there were far more pressing matters. Link jumped off his horse and almost stumbled regaining his bearings on the ground. He ran to Zelda.

“I don’t want to talk to you,” Zelda said, her arms crossing and her legs bending in front of her. She looked pointedly in front of her.

“Where’s the Yiga?” Link asked, still panting and seemingly ignoring her admittance.

“What Yiga?” Zelda inquired.

“The Yiga that–” Link looked confused. He finally registered what she said. “What?”

“Just go away, Link,” she said sharply, still not looking at him.

“Z-Zelda I…” Link said as he knelt closer. “Did I do something? If I did, I’m sorry.”

She didn’t respond. Link scanned her and let out a slight gasp when harsh bruising peeked out from the hem of her nightgown. His eyes widened.

“Okay I know you hate me right now but you have to let me look at your leg,” he insisted quickly.

“It’s fine,” Zelda said dismissively and briskly. “Don’t worry about it.”

Link eyed her a bit before lightly poking it. There was a cry in her throat before she looked over and exclaimed,

“OW?!”

“It hurts that bad?”

“Yes, it does,” Zelda said, snarky. “What’s it to you?”

“Wow, okay,” Link stated. “Umm…” He breathed for more words. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Oh I don’t know, something about me being unbearable.”

Link sighed, opening and closing his eyes.

“You were listening.”

“Mhm,” Zelda said with an unamused smile.

Link dared to take her hands, and he leaned forward as if he were about to say something truly meaningful.

“I didn’t say that you were unbearable, I said that living with you was unbearable.”

Zelda blinked a couple times before Link realized how little that helps.

“Wait, no,” Link said. “That sounds really bad. Please just let me explain. This is not how I wanted you to find out.”

“Find out what?” Zelda asked. Link tightened his grip, and he took a deep breath.

“It’s getting to be unbearable living with you because I’m in love with you,” Link confessed. “Everyday the sun dawns and I can’t tell you that you are brighter. Everyday you smile and I’m too scared to kiss you on the lips that create that smile. Everyday my heart yearns and I really want…goddesses I want to tell you.”

Zelda’s expression had softened, and she was searching his eyes.

“Why didn’t you?” She asked. Link shrugged.

“You were once the princess,” he said. “I was once your knight attendant. I couldn’t help but…doubt you would feel the same.”

“So,” Zelda started, speaking slowly, as if absorbing it all. “When you started to say I was so something, you were going to say–”

“Pretty,” Link finished, blushing. “I was going to say pretty. I’ve gushed about you so much to poor Kass that I figured I would spare him this time.”

“Kass?” Zelda questioned.

“Oh right,” Link explained. “A Rito. He comes by every once in a while to chat. He’s a good friend. I was confiding in him about all this but I never meant to suggest I didn’t want you around. It’s…quite the opposite, really.”

Link braved a small smile, yet it was genuine. Her eyes sparkled in the moonlight. It was easy to smile around her.

Zelda blushed and deflected her gaze, smiling before only her eyes looked up.

“Now can I please look at your leg?” Link asked

Zelda nodded. They both winced as she lifted the hem of her nightgown to her knee. The bruise was purple and bled across her shin.

“I was trying to climb the cliff,” Zelda said. “I slipped and fell about halfway up. It’s broken, isn’t it?”

Link hesitated at first. He felt Zelda’s eyes on him. He nodded, before looking up to meet her gaze.

“The best healers are in Zora’s Domain,” Link said. “But the Sheikah in Kakariko aren’t pushovers either. I’ll take you wherever you want to go, just say the word.”

“I want to go home,” Zelda said. Link’s smile grew.

He picked her up bridal style and could tell by the cries in her throat that she was in a lot more pain than she was putting on.

Link’s horse followed diligently with a gentle trot as Link carried Zelda back to the Hateno house. Zelda’s arms looped loosely around Link’s neck until he stood in front of the bed in the loft to lay her upon it.

“Wait,” she said. Link felt her hands gently insist he stay put, her fingers entangling themselves in his blonde hair.

It was slow, uncertain at first as they stared into each other’s eyes, yet soon their lips met. Link closed his eyes, relishing the sensation in his heart. Zelda expressed nothing short of love in the way she breathed with him.

When they released, Link put her down upon the bed, took her hand, and knelt by her side.

“I’ll flag Kass down,” Link said. “Get him to grab a healer from the Domain. You deserve the best.”

“Link…” she voiced. “The pain…”

Link shook his head.

“I wish I had something for you,” he said with regret. “You’ll have to wait.”

He brought his other hand to cover hers.

“Be strong, Zelda,” he said. “I promised I would take care of you, and that’s just what I’m gonna do.”

She nodded, fully believing him.

“Go,” she said. “I’ll be okay.”