i write this with the deepest vow of silence, unwritten by penmanship so lost to time. i loathe that i cannot bring myself to sign this letter, should it find you. . . link. hero of courage, traveler of time, knight who seals the darkness. with this document, i shall depict to you my heart's oils on canvas. how it flutters on the wing like the softest fluctuation of a butterfly's wing, how slow the world seems to blow like a grass blade in your presence. the simplest things, from the everlasting glow of your golden hair, your smile by a dimly lit room's candlelight. time never seems to be enough, not when i'm with you. and though our time has been limited, and my future written in stone, i know one thing. my heart has never lasted this long for any of my readings, my knowledge, my wisdom. hylia forgive me for what little words i've shared with you, with previous venoms i spat at your very ilk. no satin flowery prose could ever mend the viciousness i once showed you, but i long for the days where i felt your hand ghost mine on a field's eve mid-journey. to see the fireflies dance by the softest shave of your face, and to prosper in the light that lie within your eyes.
yours truly.
Send my muse love letters on anon. Bonus points if you drop a hint on who sent it.
The letter doesn’t need a signature as Link’s throat tightens. It’s taken longer than it should have for him to return to Hateno. He’d been following various leads of sightings of her all over Hyrule rather than return to the home that they both shared. It was partially the work and partially the fear that keeps him away.
He might have built Hateno for himself but in the years since they vanquished Calamity Ganon it had become their home. And what was his home without her there? The house would be too still without her there.
And he re-entered the home, steps soft so as not to disturb the thin layer of dust that rested over everything in their absence. He doesn’t want to change anything without her there. Like a tomb, a memorial, he wants everything to be exactly as it is when she returns.
It takes an effort of will to venture down into her ‘study’, the place they jokingly called the hideyhole near the well. As much as he’s loathe to barge in there, he has to know….has to see if maybe she…
But he finds the note instead, reading it in a flurry and then in a trudge, emotions washing over him one after the other. Anger, frustration, joy, sadness, and, and—does he dare? What’s holding him back now?
I will find you, he promises himself, refolding the letter and tucking it near his heart. Zelda.