Waking Up

. . . It ended far too soon. With grandiose fanfare and a great battle that the history books would weep to not record. Wild wasn’t used to that.

When he had defeated Ganon, the land had gone quiet. As if Mother Nature herself was holding her breath. The birds, the bugs, the entire ruins of the kingdom were quiet. He and Zelda had endured days of this stunned silence in their travel until they reached the Zora domain. Only then did was there any form of celebration. It turned out that people were afraid that the disappearance of the swirling darkness was a sign that it had escaped. They were all holding their breaths, waiting in tense silence to fight or die. They made sure word of their victory spread fast after that.

With this. There was no time to wait for a celebration. In truth, there was no real time for it. Once it was over; once the final blow was struck. That was it. And before they had time to even recover from their wounds, Hylia herself had appeared to whisk them all back home, back to their own time in history, with the promise none of it would be remembered. Well, they had all collectively said, fuck Hylia!

At least, that was the impression Wild had gotten when Time had declared there was no rush to go back just yet. No rush to forget. Wild knew; no rush to say goodbye.

Confined to their battlefield and meager rations; they rejoiced in their victory. Like giddy fools; they sang, told stories, joked and acted like the tiny cupcake he had managed to just barely whip up was as grand as a three tiered cake. Well, to Four, it very well could be once he shrunk down. He watched them. Tried very much not to commit each and every part of them to memory.

Tried not to remember Time’s easy going smile as he shed his armor and toasted milk instead of liquor. Looking so much younger than he was, a burden lifted away from his chest. His wedding ring catching in the glint of the firelight.

Tried not to remember the way Wind had grabbed the entire flask of noble pursuit, stood on a log; declaring he was a pirate with a cheeky grin and eyes the color of the sea. Before he chugged it down much to the horror of Twilight. Tried not to remember how hard he laughed seeing his mentor jump up to stop him only for Legend to yell crassly at him to stop his mothering a moment. Tried not to commit the hoarse note of Legend’s voice; dulled by drink and trying to rib Warriors into letting him take his polished sword for his horde.

Four was still finishing his cake, or rather swimming in it while Sky kept a protective watch to make sure he wasn’t accidentally squashed himself. The Master Sword, out of her sheath, by his side. Glowing brightly as he chatted with the minish sized Four. Hyrule, next to himself, looking over the compendium in his slate; the dark of his eyes practically glowing with the slate as he asked Wild question after question about every creature he had captured. Wild answered them all, tagging on stories of nearly falling off cliffs or hanging upside down from branches to capture every image. He tried not to remember those either.

In the morning, he’d have to deal with forgetting a lot more than just that night. He’d have to deal with forgetting another family. . . So it was, he was the last one to leave that day. A morning farewell dragged onto the afternoon, then the evening, then night. Until their dwindling supplies told them they could stay no longer. Even then, he stayed another day. Leaning against a tree stump, ignoring the swirling golden vortex behind him as he concentrated on the images in his slate. Pictures he had taken of all of them; all throughout their journey.

Candid shots, group shots, shots that Legend and Warrior would yell at him to delete. He smiled, thumbing over an image of them both running from the flower lady at Hila Rao Shrine; after they had thought presenting her with a bouquet of cut flowers would be a good idea.

They had both left at the same time. Some kind of solidarity struck between them to walk through their own portals together. Time had been first. No one could blame him for wanting to see Malon. Then the two of them. Then Sky, then Wind and Four. Hyrule had been the last to go; at least, the last he had seen to go. Twilight… left a little earlier than him.

Wild closed his eyes; trying not to recapture the memory of goodbye; “Goodbye Cub. Goodbye.”

He knew he’d have to leave eventually. Forget eventually. Still, he stayed another day; drinking the last of their water skins instead of food. Flicking through his slate like a toddler absorbed in a book. Relieving every memory in the album once; twice, then three more times over until he couldn’t ignore the grumbling of his stomach any longer. Or how sick he was getting of using stealth potions as hydration.

Hylia wouldn’t let him leave to forage. He didn’t even think there was anything around to forage; the scars of their battle had ravaged this land indeed. There was only one way to go. . He stood in front of the portal; gear packed, armor polished and hair tied up messily slung in a ponytail over his shoulder. Through the swirling golden rings; he could catch glimpse of the ruins of The Great Plateau. A nervous anticipation settled in the stiffness of his bones and the emptiness of his stomach.

It wasn’t that, he didn’t want to go home. No, there were people he wanted to see. People whom he missed and missed him in return; Zelda, Sidon, Impa, Purah..

It was his home. Is his home. He knew he couldn’t have gone adventuring with his past incarnations forever, but he hadn’t expected to enjoy it so much. Hadn’t expected to feel like… he belonged so securely to others; to family. With the others, he hadn’t been Link; failed hero given one more chance, he didn’t want, to redeem himself. Link; a dead man’s name from a hundred years ago. No, he was Wild.

Wild was his own. It was whoever he wanted to be, whoever he made himself to be. Wild had a family he hadn’t forgotten, Wild had a burden he didn’t have to bear all by himself. Wild was free and fun and loved to cook for others and.. Wild was just Wild.

But now, Wild would die too. Alongside those memories.

He ignored the tears trailing down his cheek. He had put it off long enough, delayed it too much. He was being selfish. His Hyrule needed him still; he couldn’t wallow away from it forever. Couldn’t make Zelda wait another hundred years. His bark of laughter surprised him, the pressure in his chest lightening a moment at the dumb joke. Seizing that moment of clarity he forced himself to step forward into the light. . . . Wild was the last to leave when it was over

He braced himself and prepared. Prepared to forget it all. Closing his eyes as he stepped into the golden swirling portal into the cool crisp air of his Hyrule.

Wild was the last one.

He didn’t forget.

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