The Memories Between Them | ✔

13) Realizations

⚔ In which they finally say it ⚔ 

Zelda

I told him not to go hunting with Dorian when he first started complaining about a headache. But heaven forbid Link ever rest when he actually needed it. He would rather run himself into the ground than admit he needs rest when he's ill.

But I digress.

Honestly, I wouldn't want to stop, either, even if I were sick. Not after the news we received. After I discovered we were free to do anything we wished. Even though it's now garunteed we have our whole lives head of us, I still would want to do everything I can. Even if that meant leaving the Kingdom.

And there it was again, that ever-present thought that Link was his own person, now a free man – not tied to oaths made to my father or obligations of the royal court or expectations from a family – and that he could leave if he wanted. And that feeling that it would be wrong of me to keep him from leaving, if he wanted. A constant war between wanting him to have the room to do what he wanted, but also wanting him to stay more than anything.

So when the dancing began, and my thoughts had run rampant all night, I pulled him aside behind Impa's house where the music was a lull in the background drowned out by the nearby waterfalls and the sunset fireflies danced through the air, lighting up the rockface in a pretty green glow. Link looked around, fiddling with the straps holding an old soldier's broadsword to his back. He hasn't been comfortable since putting the sword back; he's been more antsy, always fiddling with the buckles. Every morning he has a different sword, trying to match the weight. But I don't think he will ever find one that feels the same. The sword is unique, alive. And he was so used to it, to the weight – both physical and mental – after having it with him since twelve years of age, that being without it seems more unnatural than having it there.

We were wrong to assume freedom would be without its struggles.

He sits across from me, against the railing of the porch. His hair is down, a hair tie around his wrist. In this scene, I'm struck by how handsome he is. So it hurts me even more when I say my piece. I'm careful to make it look like I'm not about to cry, like I haven't been thinking about this for months now. Even thought we talked – however briefly – in Lurelin, I want to make absolutely sure this is what he wants. Before I get my hopes up, more than they already are. Before I even begin to consider the next steps, I want to make sure he'll be there.

He doesn't respond for a long moment, but his expression changes to something resembling confusion.

"I don't want to leave you, Zelda."

My name coming from his mouth never really had that much of an effect on me, until that moment. Or perhaps it was the way he said it, so sure that this is exactly what he wants. Making all my fears, all my worries, seem silly and unneeded.

The music changes then, and I dance in his arms just like I imagined we would, close to his chest. So different from those stiff, practiced dances the Knights had to learn in their schooling, so far from the waltzes we did at the balls so long ago, when I didn't want to dance with anyone but him. And this, I realize, is what freedom is supposed to feel like. Calm and loving, without surprises or rifts. Free to do as we please, with whom we please. Link sighs, as if he realizes the same thing.

I let my hope for a future with us grow, just a little. But there are still doubts keeping me from spilling my confession, right then and there. But those paths will be better traversed another time, when we are better adjusted.

We return to the party after that, when the music begins to pick up. Link throws his hair in a ponytail, a sign that he means business, and he takes to the floor. We dance again like there is nobody there, like we're the only two people left on earth. We dance and laugh like we've never suffered.