Chapter Text
Memory is a funny thing. You’ve done your best over the course of the last ten months to regain what you could. In fact, you’ve been lucky, not many amnesiacs are given still images from their past. You’ve collected all of the ones she left for you and Kass helped you with remembering some more.
But, really, there’s almost nothing in your head from a hundred years prior. You have those memories, but that’s it. No sense of your family. No recollection of your childhood. No clue where you were born. No clear answer on what your standing was with her.
Right now though, on Hyrule Field, as the malice clears and the sun shines, you’re struck dumb.
She’s in your arms, crushing you in a hug. May I ask, do you really remember me?
The answer was “Truthfully, not nearly enough,” but now, with your face pressed against where her neck meets her shoulder, the scent of her brings you back like nothing else has until now. While she’s dirty and covered in one hundred year old mud, that’s not it, no, this smell is distinctly Zelda. You inhale sharply, your legs suddenly feel like jelly, this is Zelda.
She smells like warm safflina. No, more specifically, like warm safflina tea sweetened with courser bee honey. And maybe you’re drowning in it. Maybe you’ve drowned in it before. It’s heady and confusing and you can feel her voice vibrate through you as she speaks, hear the smile in her words, “No matter, we’ll make more memories together.”
Her scent doesn’t make you remember anything specific. It’s not like the memories that flashed you back to a point in time, a playing out a scene for you to observe. This is far more ambiguous, imparting some vague truths, such as these: You know her scent. You liked it then. You like it now. What does that mean?
And when she pulls away, she laughs, she wheels away from you spinning, her arms raised. Zelda, the savior of Hyrule, spinning on her tiptoes. Zelda, the avatar of the goddess, stopping short and stumbling as she finally takes in the ruined castle, “Oh my.”
It seems like a strange metaphor for your fragmented memories, to have set up camp in crumbling ruins on the way to Kakariko. You don’t know this place, but maybe you ought to. And there, right in the middle sitting by the fire, is Zelda. It seems fitting, since you’ve been trying to puzzle her out for months.
You’re struck by the familiarity of little things, like by the way she holds a skewer in one hand and gingerly touches the roasted mushrooms with the other. When she notices you staring, she laughs, “Wouldn’t it be funny if after all this time, a mushroom were to burn me, but not Calamity Ganon?" No, it wouldn’t be funny at all, but you chuckle anyways.
After the meal, she wistfully wishes for a bath. You chew the inside of your cheek as you think, but the best you can come up with is heating some water and offering a spare blanket for a sponge bath. Even if it’s not the real thing, she’s grateful anyways.
You don’t really know what to do with yourself, perhaps you should give her privacy. In fact, you’re making a good go of that, wandering over to stand by a crumbling wall with your back to her, trying to pick out the mountains against the night sky. But, she asks you for help, “Would you be able to hold my hair out of the way?”
And so you stand close to Princess Zelda, holding her long hair away from her as she carefully wipes at the grime on her neck. Her hair is a bit matted in some places, but it’s still soft. It feels as shiny as it looks, an odd concept, but you’ve got the odd feeling you thought the exact same thing back then. So, what does that mean?
“Let go a moment,” she bends down and soaks the blanket with more warm water, wringing it out a bit before she rights herself. This time she doesn’t have to ask you to gather her long tresses up again. You can’t help but touch the bare skin of her back and shoulders with your fingertips as you do so, but she doesn’t seem to mind.
“Great golden goddess, I’d commit crimes for a real bath,” her voice is wistful. She turns to catch your eye, rewards you with a smile. There’s a mischievous gleam in her eye, an amused warmth in her voice as she says, “But this is the next best thing!” And honestly, you feel a bit warm and flustered, but you manage a hoarse “Glad you like it” by way of response.
And so you stay and hold back her hair and she doesn’t tell you to stop, probably even when she doesn’t need you to any more. You feel a bit silly though once she’s done with wiping her arms and you let her hair drop, “I’ll just be over there.”
You try your best to focus on those mountain tops again or the fireflies lazily drifting in the small copse of trees ahead of you, but you can’t help but glance back once, catching a glimpse of her sitting on a rock, her gown hiked up mid-thigh as she continues her sponge bath. You snap your head back to the darkness, eyes wide and silently cursing your apparent lack of propriety and self-control. You lean against the wall as you chew at the inside of your cheek. There’s a gnawing familiarity, you get the sense you’ve chastised yourself for something like this before. Now what does that mean?
“Oh, fireflies!”
You start with a gasp, twisting slightly away from the unexpected noise. She’s standing right at your side, almost close enough to touch you, her hands clasped behind her.
“You’re sneaky,” your breathe out, not really able to hide the exclamation in your statement.
A slow smile grows on Zelda’s lovely face and she just answers with a pleased hum, her eyes focused somewhere out in the darkness.
“Can you catch one?”
“Huh?”
She twists her body a little closer to look you in the eye, “A firefly, can you catch one?”
Your mouth feels dry and your jaw hangs open a bit and you can’t seem to talk and you settle on nodding and that makes her look so happy and you can’t help but feel like you’ve been here before.
So, you stalk quietly into the trees and fumble at catching the first two, but finally you nab the third and carefully coax it in one of your spare jars.
And then you’re back at the fire and she’s sitting next to you. Like right next to you. Like her side is pressed right up against you kind of next to you. You gave her the jar and you’re both leaning forward, examining the glowing creature inside.
“The flashes seem to follow some sort of pattern. Do you think it’s a form of firefly communication?”
“Maybe.” She looks at you and you clear your throat, “Did you know, I’ve noticed fireflies in Lurelin flash faster than the ones around here?”
“Really?”
“Mmhmm. I’ll take you there to see some day,” it's a presumptuous statement to make, but you feel bold. It’s hard not to, what with her pressed to your side from hip to shoulder.
“Oh, I’d love that!” The Deku Tree was right, her smile is like the sun, “We must devise a way to measure the frequency of flashes,” she turns her attention back to the firefly, her voice pensive, “We’ll develop a timekeeping chart of some kind…”
After another few moments of contemplating the glowing insect, she twists open the lid and lets it go.
Silence falls as you watch the firefly drift away. The sound of the crackling fire is pleasant, accompanied by the croaking of frogs and chirping songs of the restless crickets.
This time yesterday you were preparing for battle, at your home in Hateno, picking out your best gear to take. Considering if you would bring Urbosa’s shield, wondering which choice was more sentimental: taking it or leaving it? Ultimately, you left it, because you had a thought that maybe Zelda would want to see it unscathed. The bitter scent of freshly brewed elixirs hung in the air. You did your best to keep the dread tucked in the back of your mind, finding purpose in the preparation.
But here you are. Here you both are. Alive and well, sitting together and talking about fireflies. Maybe it’s frivolous, but maybe it’s why you went up against Calamity Ganon. You like this, sitting here with her by a fire out in the wild.
“Tell me,” she is staring at the fire, her voice soft, “how has Hyrule changed?”
It’s a harder question to answer than she may think, and so you take a few moments to consider your response.
“I don’t remember much about how it was.” You expect to see disappointment when she looks at you, but instead it’s curiosity.
“Ruins like this are everywhere, especially the closer you get to Castletown,” you pluck a long blade of grass to fiddle with, “The Sheikah Slate marks the ruins of villages that are gone, like Mabe and Gopongo. In comparison, Kakariko, Hateno, and Lurelin are thriving, I think that’s because they’re each secluded in their own way.”
“I see…” she looks down, sorrow in her big green eyes.
You clear your throat, intent on giving her more, “The Hylians are a resilient folk.” You catch her gaze once more before looking back at the piece of grass in your hands, “Some have become nomadic. They have stables that can be easily disassembled and built elsewhere, I think… I think you’ll like those. I don’t think they existed a hundred years ago.”
And so you tell her about Tarrey Town and that lifts her spirits. You tell her about all the wild horses running free in the fields. She giggles when you tell her the last one you caught and tamed is called Goofus.
“And Impa, what is she like now?”
You huff out a small laugh as you tease the blade apart, “Stern. And wise.” You consider the question further, “She’s tiny and perhaps a bit frail, but there’s no questioning that she’s the leader of the Sheikah. A matriarch, through and through.”
Zelda smiles, “I’m glad to hear it. I’m so looking forward to seeing her again.”
“She’ll be so happy. And so relieved.”
You fall quiet again, worrying at the blade of grass. “Can I ask, do you find me much changed?”
It’s funny, this notion hasn’t bothered you until now. You’re not sure which answer you’d prefer. Maybe she liked you better as you were. Despite all your bravery, you can’t look at her now.
“You’re just as easy to sneak up on as before,” you finally do look at her, her amused tone matches the smile on her face and you can’t help the rising heat in your cheeks. But she does make you laugh, some of the tension leaving your shoulders.
You start as her hand slips gently under your elbow. Her hand comes to rest over your own, stilling your fidgeting with the blade of grass between your fingers.
“Being with you right now feels like it did then,” she’s staring at you with her luminous eyes, but you can’t meet her gaze anymore as you ponder her response. Your brows knit together as you stare at her hand over yours. You don’t know enough to puzzle out what she means by that. What any of this means.
“But…” she voice is hesitant, she stiffens a little at your side, “I would do you a disservice by assuming you are the same person now as you were then.” You look at her and take in her uncomfortable expression, embarrassment laced with a hint of panic. She thinks she may have caused offense.
You open your mouth, honestly, you’re fine, really, you’re just confused. But, you can’t formulate a good response. Maybe it’s the feeling of her arm wrapped around your own or the soft warmth of her pressed to your side. Or maybe your thoughts are sluggish because your exhaustion is finally catching up with you.
The creases in her brow ease and resolve appears in her eyes, “How about this, please ask me again in a few days,” her eyes dart to the side and then catch yours again, “I’ll do my best to observe and give you a more thoughtful answer. I must gather the data, you know?” With the question she tilts her head. Your stomach flips and flops.
And so you toss the blade of grass away and flip your hand to clasp her own. You give her fingers a squeeze and make sure to look her in the eye when you say, “Yes. I’ll ask you again.”
There’s a curious shyness in her eyes and a dusting of pink on her cheeks. She looks away.
But suddenly her head snaps back, she gives you an appraising look, “I can tell, Hero, that you need to sleep.”
You only have one bedroll and you’d already told her it was hers when you set up camp. So, you have a mild internal crisis when Zelda sits up after a few quiet moments of lying down and asks if you’d join her.
You’d been puttering around the campsite, reassuring yourself that you’d properly packed your food stores away and that Epona was secure. You’d already cleared the monsters out of the area earlier but that didn’t stop you from giving the perimeter a once over.
“Wha…” you don’t manage to formulate a real word as you stare at her and you can feel the heat rising in your face and on your neck. You’d planned to just sleep on the forest floor, you’ve done it dozens of times and really, you don’t mind.
She scoots over, pats the spot next to her and stares at you, her gaze imploring. The blanket is pooled around her waist, “I’d prefer not to be alone.”
But she won’t be alone, not really. You’ll be right here.
Zelda’s eyes dart down and up again, her hand clasped shyly before her heart, “And it was nice, sitting with you earlier…”
It was nice, that you agree with.
And then she holds out her hand palm up, an invitation. And before you really can question it, you’re crawling over to her.
“You should take your boots and the like off,” she gestures vaguely at your torso, “You’ll be more comfortable.”
Of course, she's right. So, you spend the next couple minutes unbuckling the belts of your scabbard and the packs at your waist. And it does feel wonderful to take your boots off. Finally, you pull the outer layer of the Hylian tunic over your head, deciding the thinner undershirt is enough.
And while you’re doing this, Zelda takes to organizing your things, like moving the belts into a pile and then looking at your leather pack appreciatively, “The craftmanship is exquisite. I’ll need you to help me find new travel gear, I quite like this.”
You watch her as you fold your tunic and find you can only manage a nod.
There’s a part of your mind that’s chastising you for your motivations in agreeing to this sleeping arrangement. While you’ve been friendly with people, you haven’t shared a bed with anyone since you woke up in the shrine. Before that, well, you don’t remember. You’d received some flattering requests in the last 10 months, but you’d turned them down. You’re more reserved than those people seemed to think you are.
And yet, on day one, Zelda has asked you to share her bed and you’ve gone and agreed to it with little hesitation.
You put your Hylian tunic next to the belts and lay the Master Sword next to them, within easy reach.
She pulls back the blanket and you oblige, shifting your hips onto the narrow space beside her and sliding your feet below the blanket.
And then you lie down and just when you’re wondering how sharing a bed works, she taps your arm and you raise it, just enough for her to slip between your body and your arm. And then that’s that: she’s lying on her side against you.
Zelda lays her arm across your chest and you pull the blanket up to cover the bare skin of her arm and shoulder. One of her small feet slides against your ankle and then slips between your feet. You didn’t expect this level of intimacy, but also you realize that was foolish, considering how small the bedroll is.
With your arm already behind her back, you decide to be bold. You wrap it more snugly around her, with your hand resting at the dip of her waist.
And with that, Zelda sighs contentedly. And you have to agree: she’s soft and warm. You try not to let your mind linger on the softest of her curves pressed against your ribs. Her head is resting on your shoulder and if you moved just a bit, your nose would be in her hair, but you don’t.
You catch her scent again, all warm safflina tea, honey sweet, and you’re struck once more with an overwhelming familiarity, of some hidden truth from the time before.
“I’ve missed you,” she mumbles, her voice soft and sleepy, “and I’ve missed this.”
You’ve missed her, on some level, but not like this. You didn’t know she’d want to slip her hand around your arm or that she'd want to hold you like this. And suddenly you worry she thinks you remember something that you don’t.
"Zelda, I’m sorry, I don’t remember,” your tone carries an odd mixture of exhaustion and urgency.
The only response you get is a drowsy hum as she slides her hand up to your shoulder, holding you a little closer.
If you were less tired, perhaps you'd press the matter further. But right now, for the first time since you can remember, you don't feel the dread of the Calamity hanging over you. And right now, you've got Zelda, alive and warm, tucked under your arm.
Whatever is going on between you and her, well, it can wait for tomorrow.