Tears of the Twink

The Legend of Link, Not Zelda

Everything was a blur.

Hyrule looked... normalish. Sure, there were new plants sprouting everywhere, scary flying rubble in the clouds, and big sky rocks constantly falling down, probably crushing tons of unsuspecting women and children every other minute, but hey, at least he was on solid ground again.

No more freaky, ghosty goat man claiming he's the owner to the dead arm now attached to his body. 

"Hylia above..." Link mumbled, looking down at the strange, foreign limb. How old was this thing anyway? He turned it over in disgust, cursing the stupid long blue nails that kept getting in the way every time he used his sword. 

Would the goat guy be opposed to him trimming them down? Would that be offensive to this body part he'd been specially gifted? 

Nah. He'd already wiped his ass an hour ago with it. The damage was done. A little nail trim wouldn't hurt anyone. Maybe he could find some clippers in his house.

"You mean, our house, Silly," Zelda's voice sounded in his head, and he frowned, standing frozen outside the front door to the large house in Hateno.

When he'd offered to let Zelda stay with him, he never imagined she would completely take over the place. Priceless and irreplaceable weapons that he could really use right now, were gone. Even the weapons that weren't given back to the guardians were sold to who knows where, maybe even tossed in the garbage.

To rub salt in the wound, where his possessions had once hung were now all of Zelda's tacky photos, one of some guy she insisted was just a friend she spent time with on the weekends. 

"Herald's family needs help advertising their small business. I am doing this for the betterment of Hyrule and its subjects," is what she said, but Link couldn't shake the feeling that something was off.

Did she really need to be over there every weekend and sometimes weekdays as well? And why could Link never tag along with her? No matter how he looked at it, her explanations never made sense. Not that he could ever speak out against the princess. He was her loyal soldier after all...

Sighing, he decided not to enter, knowing nothing inside belonged to him anymore anyway, and went around the side to the shed. 

Finding a change of clothes in one of the wooden chests, he quickly got dressed, his thoughts still turning.

The princess was gone—fallen down a chasm—and the worst part: Link didn't feel anything. No grief that she may be dead. No uncertainty about how he was going to carry on without her. Certainly not the sadness everyone he bumped into expected him to feel for this woman that was supposed to be his everything, his whole world.

She was his whole world though. He was not to think of anyone or anything else, or even be a real human with feelings when she was around. He was a shell of himself in her presence, to be used as she saw fit. Not that he could really complain. Most people would kill to be that close to the famous princess who stopped calamity Ganon. If only they knew what she was like behind closed doors beneath the humble, charitable facade she always wore in public.

Clenching his fists, he stepped out again, not sure why he was so angry all of a sudden. A light rain began to fall, and the sound of drops hitting a pool of water echoed and he looked up.

His eyes locked on the well for a moment.

Zelda's secret study. The place he was never to go. The place that she'd demanded Bolson Construction build for her since, "I do not have enough space in my own house for privacy and seclusion."