It had been two weeks since it was all over. They’d spent the majority of their time in Kakariko Village. Impa had been gentle and fastidious in her care of the princess, and Link felt a little out of place at the sight of it – the two remembered each other, remembered everything of the past. Impa could tell Zelda of what had happened since, and Zelda could be nostalgic with Impa. Link could really offer neither, he supposed, though he’d seen more of Hyrule nowadays than Impa had.
Despite all of this, though, both Link and Zelda struggled. Link spent his spare time sparring or traveling the area, resting in Hateno, helping the villagers in both places. Zelda just… rested. After two weeks, even Impa was showing signs of uncertainty and worry. Link didn’t know what to do.
The swordsman sighed as he kicked a pebble into a pond, watching a frog hop away. He had so little understanding of the past, he felt useless to help. But at the same time, he just felt useless, period. His entire purpose and life mission when he’d woken up, the main goal he’d built his entire identity around, was over. Zelda spent a hundred years holding the Calamity at bay and now it was over.
It was over.
And they were both left with… they didn’t even know.
Maybe that was the issue, then. Neither knew what to do now. Neither knew how to move forward after they’d spent so long being stuck in the past.
Well, Link wasn’t quite stuck in the past. He couldn’t remember it. Maybe that was why it still seemed to hold him hostage. Either way, the wounds of the Calamity were everywhere, whether it was remembered or not.
Link stared at his reflection in the water. Now what?
He sighed, falling into a seated position in front of the pond. The frog from earlier landed on a lily pad. He watched it aimlessly, mind restless and heart hurting. As he watched it, the world seemed to fade around him, his body growing light, and he recognized the feeling, the sensation, and his eyes widened a hair – he… hadn’t had new memories trying to resurface since the Calamity had been defeated.
Link took a small, shaky breath, letting his mind go where it wanted to, drifting into the past.
He’s home. The lighting is a little dim since it’s raining. There are sniffles by the stairway, and he feels the need to go to them, but whispers to his left catch his attention.
“Til, this is ridiculous. A funeral for a frog? Really?”
“Honey, she loved that frog!”
“She saw it for maybe a few weeks, didn’t she?”
“Yes, and she loved it! She even named it.”
His father sighs heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re proposing we hold a funeral. For a frog that lived by the pond for a few weeks. Because Lyra is upset that it died.”
“That’s exactly what I’m proposing,” his mother replies.
“Til, everything dies, if we held a funeral for every single thing we’d be mourning our entire lives.”
“This isn’t about mourning, Abel,” his mother argues. “It’s about learning to close a chapter of your life and move forward. She’s young, this is a good way for her to learn this.”
His father watches her skeptically and then sighs again. “Very well.”
His mother smiles and nods, heading towards the stairs and kneeling, blocking someone from view as she speaks softly. His father approaches him, and he stands a little straighter, eyes watching him with unspoken curiosity.
“Well,” his father huffs. “I suppose we should put on our formal attire for this, seeing as it’s an important affair.”
He catches himself midway into smiling, unsure if this is an actual joke or a grumble, but the wink he gets from his father make shim relax. He nods and the pair go their separate ways, and the world fades and spins dizzyingly for a moment before he finds himself standing outside. He and his father are dressed in colorful regalia, a hat keeping his head warm in the damp air. His mother is wearing dark, somber clothes, and he sees a little girl—his sister—holding a candle in front of the pond. He can’t hear the words being spoken, or even tell if there are words being spoken, but somehow, he feels… at peace.
Link gasped, startled as he opened his eyes, cheeks chilled by tear tracks that had half dried. For a moment he just sat there, processing what he’d just seen. That was—he’d seen his—
He shook his head. Somehow… that felt…
He glanced up at the sky and looked beyond it, his heart racing, and he struggled to catch his breath before looking back down at the pond.
Grief over a family he didn’t know anymore welled up inside him, but the lesson they’d taught him burned even more. He rose, taking a steadying breath, clenching his fists and closing his eyes as the tears fell.
He knew what they needed to do.
The next day, Link and Zelda stood at Fort Hateno, flowers in the princess’ hands, Link dressed in his freshly cleaned champion garb. The pair looked out over the field and all its wreckage.
Zelda took a shaky breath, and stepped forward, as if she were getting ready to address a crowd of people, as if the dead were all standing there waiting. Link felt as if they were, he felt the gravity of the situation sitting heavily on his shoulders.
At the same time, though, he felt… good. This felt right. And he…
The images of his memory came unbidden, of faces he barely knew in his mind but knew in his heart.
They’d lost so many.
“Calamity Ganon… is gone,” Zelda said, her voice thick but growing stronger. “The plague that destroyed our land is no more. So you… you all can rest. We thank you for your sacrifices, we mourn you for your loss, we beg for forgiveness that it… that it took this long.”
Link stepped forward, his shoulder brushing hers. When she glanced at him, he offered a smile. No more regrets, Zelda. This isn’t about that.
Zelda seemed to read that in his expression, and she nodded, closing her eyes.
“It’s over,” she whispered, kneeling and placing flowers by a stone they’d found and decided to use for the occasion. “It’s over.”
And for the first time in two weeks, Zelda cried. And for the first time in his living memory, Link cried.
And as the sun set and their tears dried, they smiled, and moved on together.
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