Archive of Our Own ^beta

The sun was setting over Hyrule Castle, casting long shadows across the vast fields. The air was cool, and the wind carried a faint chill. Link stood at the edge of a cliff, his eyes fixed on the horizon where the remnants of the Calamity had once loomed. His heart was heavy. The battle had been won, but the scars it left behind seemed to deepen with every passing day.

Zelda was behind him, her presence a comforting yet aching reminder of all they had endured. She had regained her powers, and with it, the responsibility of restoring her kingdom. But as much as the people celebrated their victory, Zelda knew that some wounds could not be healed with magic or time.

Link heard her approach before she spoke. Her footsteps were soft but deliberate, as if she was unsure whether to interrupt his solitude. He turned slightly, just enough to meet her gaze. Her face was tired, though she tried to mask it with a smile.

“You’re always out here,” Zelda said quietly, stepping beside him. “I wondered if you’d ever come back inside.”

Link didn’t answer right away. His blue eyes were distant, lost in a battle that still raged inside him, one she could not see.

“Link?” Zelda’s voice was fragile now, like a thread unraveling.

Finally, he spoke, though his voice was rough and low. “It’s... quiet now.”

Zelda nodded. “Yes, it is.”

“But it doesn’t feel like it’s over,” he continued, his fists clenched at his sides. “It never feels like it’s over.”

Zelda’s heart ached at his words. She had known, of course. She had seen the nightmares that plagued him when he thought no one was watching. She had felt the weight of his silence, the burden of being the Hero. He had always been the one to protect, to fight, to bear the brunt of the battle. And even now, when peace should have been theirs, it eluded him.

“I’m sorry, Link,” Zelda whispered, her voice cracking. “I’m sorry I couldn’t—”

“Stop.” Link cut her off, his tone sharper than he intended. He softened when he saw the hurt flash across her face. “It’s not your fault. None of it was.”

Zelda shook her head, tears welling up in her eyes. “You’ve sacrificed so much, and I... I couldn’t do anything. I was trapped, watching you suffer, fighting for me, for all of Hyrule. And I couldn’t even—”

“You saved us,” Link interrupted, his voice more firm now. “You saved Hyrule.”

“I didn’t save you,” she whispered, tears finally slipping down her cheeks. “And now you’re still fighting... alone.”

Link’s expression softened as he looked at her. He reached out, hesitating for just a moment before gently wiping away her tears with his calloused hand. The gesture was so tender, it nearly broke her heart all over again.

“You were never alone, Link. You were always with me, even when I was trapped in that darkness. I felt you, your courage, your strength. You brought me back.” She took a shaky breath. “But I don’t know how to bring you back.”

Link’s gaze fell to the ground, his hand dropping to his side. He didn’t know how to answer that. He had always been the one to act, to protect, but how could he be saved from the shadows that haunted him?

“I don’t need saving,” he finally muttered, though even he wasn’t convinced.

Zelda took a step closer, her hand resting on his arm. “You don’t have to do this alone anymore,” she said softly. “You don’t have to carry it all by yourself.”

Link’s shoulders slumped under the weight of her words. For so long, he had been the silent protector, the one who stood between Hyrule and destruction. But now, when the kingdom was safe, he realized that the one thing he couldn’t protect himself from was the pain inside.

“I don’t know how to let it go,” he admitted, his voice barely a whisper.

Zelda’s heart clenched at his vulnerability, at how deeply he had been hurt. She stepped even closer, wrapping her arms around him in a gentle embrace. Link stiffened at first, unaccustomed to such tenderness after so much battle, but slowly, he relaxed into her touch. He let out a shaky breath, his arms coming up to hold her in return.

For a moment, the world around them disappeared. The castle, the kingdom, the endless expectations—they all faded away. All that remained was the two of them, bound by their shared pain, their shared fight.

“You don’t have to let it go all at once,” Zelda whispered against his shoulder. “But I’ll be here. Every step of the way.”

Link closed his eyes, resting his head against hers. Her warmth seeped into him, melting the cold that had settled in his bones since the Calamity. He didn’t have the words to express the depth of his gratitude, his fear, or his hope. But in that moment, he didn’t need to. Zelda understood. She always had.

And for the first time in a long while, Link felt something other than the weight of his burdens. It was faint, fragile, but it was there.

Hope.

And as the last light of the sun faded, leaving the world in twilight, they stood together, finding comfort in the quiet, in each other.

For now, that was enough.