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aegon-targaryen · 6 months ago

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Ghosts That We Knew

Zelink Week Day 2: Fading | TP Zelink | read on AO3) | @zelinkcommunity

Link dreamed of a golden wolf.

He bounded through a forest of mist, weaving through the towering trees that stood guard over this ancient place. Link’s paws kicked up leaves as he raced to catch up. Snatches of sound caught his attention from time to time—music, voices, a child’s giggle—but he kept to his course.

Yet the bright coat of his quarry disappeared from view, and when he slowed to a halt, he found himself in a clearing he would recognize anywhere. A sword waited at its center. He was padding forward to answer its call when the golden wolf emerged from the fog, his single eye glowing with crimson sorrow.

Turn back, he said with all the terrible gravity of time. Go and do not falter, my child.

Link sat up sharply, grasping his surroundings with the speed of someone shaped by deadly times: Ordon, safety, a sword within reach, Zelda in his bed.

Zelda in his bed. A foolish grin tugged at his lips. They’d spent plenty of nights together in the castle, but something about having her here was so enthralling. She was stirring now, rolling over to face him, and he tried to wipe the stupid look off his face.

“Link?” she mumbled sleepily. “Did you have a nightmare?”

“Just a weird dream,” he assured her, laying back down under the dark oaken ceiling of his treehouse. Dawn and the journey back to Castle Town were still a few hours away. As always, a part of him longed to stay, but at least he would take with him the memory of Zelda dancing under the harvest festival lanterns, of Ordon welcoming her the same way they’d welcomed Link when he was only a lost little boy.

“I had one too,” Zelda said. “The scribe’s meeting minutes transformed into a Chu that terrorized my Council.”

He laughed. “You would dream about meeting minutes.”

“Now tell me about yours. It’s only fair.”

Go and do not falter, my child. Those words had been with Link when he dealt Ganondorf the ending blow, the final mercy, just like he’d been taught. “Well…did I ever tell you about the Hero’s Shade?”

“I don’t believe so.”

“He was a spirit, I guess. Sometimes a wolf, sometimes a skeleton in armor. He brought me into some…other realm and taught me some of his techniques.”

“The Hero’s Shade,” Zelda mused. “He called himself that?”

Link frowned, trying to remember. “I’m not sure. But it felt right to me.”

She was quiet for some time, though he could practically hear the gears of her mind turning. Eventually she reached through the darkness to touch his cheek and said, “Can you go back to sleep? Or shall we take a walk?”

Wide awake now, he followed her outside, where the harvest moon bathed the sleeping village in its silver glow. Other than the crickets singing in the tall grass, Ordon was quiet in a way Castle Town never was. Link loved his tiny room above Telma’s bar and his work in the Resistance; he’d even grown to love Hyrule Castle, because Zelda was there. But coming home was always like drawing his first breath after days underwater.

They passed by their sleeping horses and continued on to the Light Spirit’s spring. This place always felt different at night, cast in a strange glow unlike either the sun’s heat or the moon’s gleam. Zelda’s boots sank into the white sand as she wandered along the water’s edge.

“I know you don’t like to be called Hero,” she said quietly. “But—you are aware there was one before you?”

“Yeah.” Link had worn his tunic, carried his weapons, walked in his footsteps. “I figured the Shade had something to do with him.”

“He lived hundreds of years ago, but perhaps some part of him…lingered, as ghosts sometimes do.”

He’d seen plenty of ghosts as a wolf, but only one had spoken to him. Without asking a single question, the Shade understood who Link was and what he needed to learn. He’d understood the enemy, too. “He faced Ganondorf, didn’t he? Before the Sages sent him to the Twilight Realm?”

“Yes. The hero’s story is largely forgotten across Hyrule, but he was close with an ancestor of mine. She kept a journal, if you’d like to know more.”

Link couldn’t help but remember the curse Ganondorf had uttered with his last breath: The history of light and shadow will be written in blood. There had been so much weight to those words, a sense of that history reaching back further than Link could conceive, a sense that it would continue long past his lifetime.

The full force of it felt suddenly awful here in this spring, where fate had come roaring out of the forest to claim him last year, where he’d returned as a wolf and killed his first shadow beast in the same spot where Ilia used to bathe Epona. His predecessor had been hurt in the same way. All that sorrow had been evident in his rusted armor, his heavy sword, his single crimson eye.

Yet he hadn’t been alone. Link looked at Zelda and remembered hearing her name in passing as a child, thinking to himself: I know her. Remembered meeting her eyes in that tower, feeling like the sun had broken through stifling twilight to clear away any doubt: I know her.

“There was another you,” he breathed. “And there was another me.”

Her brow creased thoughtfully, such a familiar expression that his heart twisted in his chest. “I hadn’t thought about it that way, but…yes.”

“It happened before. Will it happen again?”

Zelda drew closer, glowing like magic in the spring’s unearthly light, her dark hair spilling loose over her white nightgown. She touched the scar on Link’s cheek and said softly, “Not for a long time, I hope. But if it does, we will face it together.”

After breakfast came the hardest part of home: saying goodbye. While Uli stuffed Link’s saddlebags with as many snacks as possible, Beth tried to convince Zelda to bring her back to the castle and make her a princess. Rusl lost the battle with his wriggling toddler and handed her to Link, who was happy to bounce her up and down on his hip until she settled.

“She likes you more than me,” Rusl grumbled.

“Hey,” Link said, tapping the Triforce on the back of his left hand. “I already had this when you found me in Faron, right?”

Rusl raised his eyebrows. “Yes. Are you wondering about your birth parents?”

“It’s all right if you are,” Uli said, pausing her struggle with the saddlebags. “I only wish we were able to find you some answers.”

Link was wondering more about the wheels of time, the Goddesses who spun them, and an ancient ghost who called him my child. “No,” he answered, ruffling his little sister’s hair before he handed her back to Rusl. “You gave me everything I needed.”

Uli inspected his face with a smile, then turned to hug Zelda, who accepted the embrace with her slow smile—the kind that bloomed so uncertainly across her face, as though she was afraid someone would come and take it away. But she held onto it this time, beaming at Link over Uli’s shoulder, and the sight made him happy enough to lessen the pain of leaving.

Tucked away in a forgotten corner of Hyrule Castle was a graveyard accessible only to those who knew its secrets—at least, that was what Zelda said as she waved the illusory entrance away. It felt like stepping into a different realm blanketed by silence and thick grey mist, where there had just been sunlight and clear skies on the other side of the wall.

Since the Twilight, the crooked headstones had been straightened and the rubble cleared away. The thought of her coming here alone to weave her magic through her family’s resting place made Link proud and sad in equal measure.

“I’ve…actually been here,” he admitted sheepishly. “I was looking for a key to get me inside the castle, so…I burrowed under the wall. Sorry.”

Zelda’s mouth twitched. “Don’t be. My mother, at least, would have found that amusing.”

She halted under an enormous oak tree, its branches reaching far enough to brush the courtyard’s stone walls. Link still remembered the words inscribed on the tombstone, because they’d itched at the back of his mind on his first visit: The cursed swordsman sleeps beneath the sacred tree.

“He’s buried here?”

“I don’t believe so,” Zelda replied, pulling a weathered book from the pocket of her cloak and flipping through until she found a certain page and handed it over. “This is what my ancestor wrote.”

All they found were broken pieces of his armor, the journal said. People keep telling me he could have survived. But I am old enough to prefer hard truths over false hope. He’s gone. I know it in my soul.

Tears sprang to Link’s eyes. “Where did he die, then?”

Far away, said a voice that creaked like the branches of the old oak, and they turned to find the golden wolf behind them, his image blurring and reforming into the spectral skeleton who had trained Link. Too far.

“It’s you,” Zelda breathed.

The Shade’s gaze snagged on her face as she drew closer, and he went still, his sword hanging loosely from his ruined fingers. His translucent form pulsed in and out of being with every breath. Princess, he said in a faint whisper.

Zelda had been queen for some time now, but she just smiled at him sadly. “Have you been here all this time?”

His red eye shifted to Link. I returned when the beast did. It should never have fallen on anyone else.

“No, that’s…” Link’s throat was tightening. When Zelda touched his arm, he swallowed hard and continued. “It wasn’t anyone’s fault. You made me strong enough to win.”

And now you have won. Stay the course. Leave the sword where it lies. Do not falter as I did.

“I—I never do, thanks to you.”

Stay with her, the Shade insisted. Treasure her. Be there long enough to say goodbye.

Zelda raised her head suddenly, digging around in her cloak pocket. Link only caught a brief glimpse of what she produced—a painted miniature of a golden-haired woman—before the Shade choked out a sound that was undoubtedly, devastatingly human.

“She treasured you too,” Zelda promised. “She felt you go, and knew it wasn’t your fault. She…she wrote…” Her free hand brushed Link’s, tilting the journal towards her so she could read aloud. “I buried those pieces of armor in a garden we both loved. The cursed swordsman and all the weight he carried will rest here. But the rest of him is free. I can feel him in the earth, in the wind’s song, in the beat of my heart.”

“She was right,” Link realized. “You’re what he left behind. But the beast is dead, and we’re—we’re going to be okay. You can rest now. Is that why you’re here? Because you’re ready to rest?”

The Shade stared at him in wordless disbelief.

Zelda wiped her eyes and kept reading. “Neither of us were strangers to regret—how could it be otherwise with the lives we’ve led? But we had so much sweetness, too. It was worth the sorrow. I hope he remembered that at the end.”

I did, the Shade whispered. Of course I did.

“She would want you to find peace,” Zelda told him gently.

She…she would. Yes. I believe it’s time.

His form was blurring around the edges. Link blinked hard, finally allowing his tears to fall, and searched himself for the right words to give the spirit of his predecessor, who had fought so hard and lost so much, who had returned to help him take down their common enemy.

In the end, all he could say was, “Thank you.”

The Shade looked down at the portrait, then at Link and Zelda, huddled together in the graveyard with tears in their eyes. Write a happier story, he told them as he faded slowly into the mist, replaced by a golden wolf that bounded towards freedom.

Wind gusted through the courtyard, so sudden and so strong that Link wrapped his arms around Zelda to keep them both anchored to the earth. When he raised his head, the tears had dried on his cheeks, and the Hero’s Shade was gone.

Zelda brought the portrait closer, turning it around to study the golden-haired woman. Though the only crown she wore was a simple circlet of rubies, there was something in her proud shoulders that made it clear she was a queen. Her forehead was creased with worry lines, but her smile was bright, and her eyes…

Link took Zelda’s face in his scarred hands, meeting her gaze: the color of an early morning sky, after the dawn dwindles and a new day begins. No wonder he’d known her so instantly, so naturally. And that was before he understood what it was like to love her, to be graced with the trust she found so hard to bestow, to unravel the parts of himself only she could understand.

Maybe she was thinking the same thing, for she pressed a soft kiss to the scar on his cheek.

“I wouldn’t choose anything else,” Link breathed when he finally found his voice. “I—no matter what happened before, or what happens next…”

“I wouldn’t either.” Zelda held the portrait close to her heart, and though her eyes were her ancestor’s, that small, precious smile he’d first fallen in love with was all her own. “She was right. It was worth the sorrow.”

#my writing #zelink week 2024 #loz #tp #the legend of zelda #twilight princess #tp zelink #zelink fanfiction #loz fanfiction #oot zelink

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