There was Impa, except it couldn’t be Impa, because they were born in the same year. Even in her sorry state, Zelda still stood, young and stupid. Where this woman was wrinkled where Zelda was smooth, stable where she was volatile, put together when she was so broken.
This was Impa, aged 100 years since the last time they saw each other. Zelda felt her breath quicken until she was gasping for breath, blood pounding in her ears. Zelda couldn’t avoid it anymore. Her friends were dead or dying, she had no family to speak of and absolutely no clue how to cope with so much all at once.
So she didn’t. She turned and fled.
She stumbled back down the stairs, letting gravity pull her closer to the ground. Link’s voice was coming from somewhere behind her, but it was muffled and incoherent. She hauled herself up onto Epona and kicked, letting her run wherever she wished so long as it took her away. Maybe she could run for just a bit longer, hide away for just a few moments more. As expected from a hero’s steed, Epona ran fast and sure despite the waves of fear Zelda was drowning in. They sped through the Pillars of Levia, the walls of stone closing in on her with every passing second. Before she could scream they were out into the open air, thundering across a crumbling stone bridge and turning around into a field. Zelda pulled at Epona’s reins, finding a thread of calm to cling to amid the chaos. Epona slowed to a stop, her lungs heaving under Zelda.
She slid down, her knees buckling and hitting the grass. She shut her eyes, clasping her hands to her chest, taking one breath in after the other. She focused on the sun shining down, the grass ticking her legs. The wind pulled at the strands of her hair, and she could hear water lapping against a shore. Epona had wondered, and Zelda could feel the small vibrations the hooves made when they brushed against the ground.
It was peaceful. Calm enough to offset the panic rattling around in her ribcage. Her hands loosened their death grip on each other, coming to rest on the ground. One hand began gliding through the strands of grass, the other sinking into cool water. After listing every small, pleasant feeling she could find she felt safe enough to raise her head and open her eyes.
Right into the empty gaze of a decayed guardian.
Zelda scrambled back, the hard won peace she’d gathered shattering as she registered exactly where she was.
This is where Link died in her arms.
Before she could scream, her vision swam and drained away, leaving Zelda unconscious on the ground.
The winds at the top of Mount Lanayru were harsh and biting and cold. One would think that even such a relentless chill would fade from awareness after enough time passed, a mere ambience forgotten in the face of her greatest failure. Still, the snow cutting against her skin was all she could think about as she emerged from the spring, listless now that the last thread of hope had snapped. Zelda stepped over one of twelve Great Flameblades that were scattered throughout the water half an hour before Link deemed it survivable, the sun directly overhead. Zelda woke at midnight, the very moment her birthday began so they could be at the spring when the sun rose. That way, she could pray for a few hours before they had to go back down the mountain.
All the elixirs in the world couldn’t keep her alive if she was soaked through when night fell.
Link’s hand curled around her forearms, guiding her out of the water. A cloak was wrapped around her shoulders as he led her to the tent where Zelda changed into her prayer dress. He sat her down on a stool he’d brought so he could bring over a bucket of steaming water.
They had developed something of a routine over the last year. A protocol to follow after Zelda left the sacred springs empty handed. Link would kneel before her, as he did now, take the sandals from her feet, and rub the strain of the day away. He insisted he was worried for her well being, and she did stop falling ill as a matter of course after prayer. The springs didn’t seem so desolate after that, and Zelda had grown to look forward to the evenings after. It was the only time she felt content, with her cherished knight going above and beyond to care for her. He didn’t need to go so far for her, but he did so without prompt or complaint, which made her feel wanted, important even. Link set her feet into the blessedly warm water so he could massage her shoulders, and Zelda sighed, though she couldn’t bring herself to smile. This was her final hope, and she had failed.
Hyrule was doomed, and she will be responsible for its ruin.
The first thing Zelda felt was the gentle back and forth of Link’s stride as she curled up in his arms. The sun was still shining in her eyes, so she probably wasn’t unconscious for very long. Zelda began to catalogue sensations again. Epona was walking along behind her head, to Link’s right side. His breath came and went above her hair and his chest rose and fell under her left arm. Zelda didn’t feel calm enough to open her eyes again until the cacophony of the stable surrounded her. She squirmed a bit, and Link set her down, though he kept his arms around her to make sure she could stand on her own. Even when they started walking to the stable, her arm stayed looped around his.
“Well, nice to see you again, stranger!” the stable owner called from his counter, “Mind telling us what had you running around.”
Zelda tilted her head. She couldn’t gather the energy to phrase her question, but the confused hum must have been answer enough, because the man continued.
“He came sprinting round the bend this afternoon. That was something else, let me tell you. I’ve never seen someone who can whistle and run at the same time.”
Zelda turned to Link, waiting for him to deny such an absurd accusation. Even if such a thing were possible, why?
Link shrugged, “It helps me run faster.”
. . .
Okay.
Zelda shuffled along Link as he led her into the stable, sitting her down on the bed, where she sat staring at her bloody feet. Running in sandals a century ago had taken its toll, rubbing several raw, angry lines that never had a chance to heal. Link returned to her, kneeling and setting down a tray of bandages and cloth.
“You don’t have to do that,” she insisted, but he paid her no mind, rubbing the dirt from the soles of her feet as gently as possible. Zelda felt her eyes water. Somehow, this echo of tenderness from so long ago, this shadow of affection from the man before her was enough to crack at the thin veneer of composure she managed to scrape up. Watching him carefully, dutifully wrap her feet in bandages despite having no memory of his vows to her made her feel secure enough to let a few tears leak out. Then, once he was finished, he held her leg to his chin, pressing a kiss to the inside of her ankle. A gesture of pure habit. Link’s head jerked back, face red and confused. Of course he was confused, it was too much to hope that he still loved her. Even now.
She started sobbing, shaking from head to toe, and that seemed more important to him. Link rose to sit next to her, bringing her close.
“It’s okay,” he insisted, running a hand down her back, “I promise.”
Zelda shook her head. “I’m sorry.” He shouldn’t have to deal with this. Link had no memory to his name, yet she still had the audacity to lean on him.
She didn’t think it was possible to be so selfish. Or so tired after doing nothing all day. Nonetheless, Zelda felt her body slacken against his embrace, her eyes slipped closed once again, and she fell to sleep, surrounded by darkness once again.
In case any of you were wondering what Link did with the rest of the Lynel after sending the jaw to Zelda. It’s a belated engagement gift, but he thought sending a team of tailors all the way to Hyrule Castle was a bit excessive.
Dance of the Silent Princess Act I Scene I; Tension
I just hit 200 followers(!!!) and thought I’d celebrate with the first of a fanart series that’s my take on a ballet adaptation of the events of Breath of the Wild.
Due to family circumstances I’ve been in a bit of a slump and not creating has left me in a bit of a dejected mood.
So, to lift my spirits and maybe show y’all something interesting, here’s a concept sketch of a scene from a project I’ve been working on here and there for a while.
Although the Slumber of Restoration will most certainly deprive him of his memories, please rust me when I say that I know he will arrive before you yet again.”
I thought I’d experiment with brushes while also getting this image down.
