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Link had changed. That was really the gist of it all. He was different from who he was before. Not in a bad way, but Zelda wasn’t sure if she could call it all good either. It was just...different.
The princess’ appointed knight used to almost never speak, and even rarer would he show how he felt. Only when they were alone would Link feel comfortable enough to talk to her and show her the most timid of smiles. (This being after she had gotten over her childish distaste of him, of course.)
But this boy, her hero, was quite...chatty. Compared to a hundred years ago, at least. Every person they came across seemed to know him, and were happy to see him. He’d always greet them in return with a smile, (And what a common occurrence that was nowadays, his friendly grin.) and ask them about themselves. How were they? Their family? Is everything regarding *blank* still ok? It was new. Hearing Link’s voice so often, so clearly. Not bad! Just different.
He didn’t remember her, that much was obvious. She asked him about it, and the conflicted look on his face, the way he opened his mouth to explain, yet no sound came out. That said it all. It was...upsetting, to say the very least. They had lost so many people, their friends, their family. They only had each other now it seemed. Sure, there was still Impa, and Purah, and Robbie. But Zelda and Link were unique in that they were both seemingly untouched by time, like a perfectly preserved artifact from 100 years prior. Link was special, to her even more so. To have a dear friend forget you, with almost no one left in life, hurt Zelda’s heart.
She couldn’t be mad, however. She knew of the side effects the Shrine of Resurrection would most likely have on Link. It wasn’t his fault. In fact, if anyone were to take blame it would have to be her. No, she held no ill will towards her friend, she was only disheartened that the pictures she left of the slate didn’t jog his memory quite like she hoped it would. Sad that they couldn’t pick up where they left off. Nothing would ever be the same again, it was all different now.
“Are you okay?” A warm voice cut through her thoughts, and Zelda’s head snapped up to look over the campfire that her gaze had been lost to while her mind raced. Link stared at her, with open concern, and how odd was that? His stare lingered, a bit more awkwardly before Zelda abruptly realized that he had asked her a question.
“Oh! I’m— ahem. Yes, I’m quite alright. Thank you.” Zelda quickly attempted to recover, her ears pointed down, flushed red with embarrassment.
“You sure?” Link pressed, scooting around the campfire a bit to sit closer to her. It hadn’t been long at all since the calamity’s defeat. They haven’t discussed...that much, about it. He watched her quietly ponder how to answer. Zelda’s frequent zoning out was worrying him more and more.
Link didn’t know what to think of Zelda at first. When he woke up, and heard her voice in the Shrine of Resurrection, he didn’t even think twice about trusting it. It felt kind and familiar, yet Link couldn’t put a face to the name “Princess Zelda” for a long time. That was, until he went to the East gate in Lanayru promenade.
Each new memory recovered felt strange, like they weren’t exactly his to begin with. From the outside looking in. He remembered the events, but none of his thoughts. He didn’t feel like he really knew Zelda or the other champions, but that didn’t stop him from the insistent itch of familiarity. He couldn’t remember how he felt then, but he knows how he feels now. He ached for Mipha’s kindness, pleaded for more of Daruk’s affirmations, and was desperate for Urbosa’s direction. Hell, he’d give almost anything to get the chance to playfully snark back at Revali just to see his reaction. He missed them all, terribly, without even truly knowing them as people.
But Zelda, she was different. Because she was alive, waiting for him to come and save her. And yet, after recovering all the memories he could, Link couldn’t quite place how he felt about the princess. Whereas thinking about the champions brought regret and a foreign nostalgia, Zelda was different. It wasn’t until she stood before him in Hyrule field did he realize what it was.
Protective. Link would do anything to protect her. He had given his life to do so 100 years ago and he knows he’d do it again in a heartbeat.
He couldn’t say as much unfortunately, as he had this bad habit of having words get stuck in his throat when faced with his past. He now knows that silence was a big part of who he used to be. But when Link woke up, he had no idea that words had ever eluded him. Talking to the Old Man was a breeze, as natural as breathing. In fact, Link was excited whenever they crossed paths on the big lonely plateau with no one else to speak of, or to speak to.
The moment he revealed himself, however, as the King of Hyrule, it was as if Link’s vocal chords ceased to exist. He felt the inexplicable urge to fall to his knees and kneel, but he didn’t. All he could do was listen, and silently panic over why his throat felt closed up and the numbness in his fingers and toes. He couldn’t speak a word, the weight being placed on his shoulders was too heavy to allow him.
Meeting the spirits waiting for him in each divine beast had the same effect. He had so much to say, so many questions to ask. But the second their eyes fell on him, his words vanished. It was beyond frustrating. Words would continue to elude him in every memory he recovered of himself. Whereas now, Link loved to talk with people, whenever he could.
Children were the easiest. No kid understood the weight of the world that sat on Link’s shoulders. No, all they wanted from him was an ear to listen to their childish ramblings. Or to see his cool sword, or to catch funky bugs for them, or to play tag with them, or to make them lunch. They were so jovial, so innocent. Link was sure the fairies in the woods behind Kakariko village would reveal themselves to such pure souls.
Animals were also on the list. It was so simple to talk to them, he sometimes did it without thinking. Cooing at his horse had become a subconscious occurrence at this point. It honestly comforted him just as much. Dogs too, Link always eats a lot, and yet throughout his adventure he somehow almost always had leftover scraps the perfect size for an adorably begging stable hound. Praising them is natural, the words flow easily.
But even the hero of Hyrule had bad days. Days where the thought of speaking was far too exhausting to even consider. The just-out-of-reach memories, and the nostalgia he just couldn’t comprehend was so draining, but he couldn’t stop fighting, so instead he stopped talking. On those days, he went to his friends, people where words weren’t needed.
The Zora were always welcoming, no matter the hour. Prince Sidon was always ecstatic to see Link return to the domain, his smile never failed to make Link’s soul feel lighter. The quiet was easy enough for the prince to fill, talking about anything and everything, never going too long without telling Link how much he treasured him.
The Rito were just as kind, and Teba and Saki’s familial care for him always managed to cut through Tabantha’s cold and warm his heart. Tulin and Kass’ girls never minded his sudden silence on those days. They’re happy to sing for him instead, or in Tulin’s case, he’d talk enough for the both of them by gushing over how awesome his dad is.
The Gorons were nothing if not friendly, always happy to see a “brother.” Although Death Mountain’s unrelenting heat wasn’t a mood-lifter, Yunobo definitely was, his excitement in seeing Link again was contagious. They’d sit in their “secret hide-out” and the Goron would retail every wacky story he could think of. Yunobo was practically cheering every time he got a laugh out of the champion.
The Gerudo didn’t quite see him for who he truly was, (being a voe and all) but Riju did. She was always happy to welcome Link into the palace, silence and all. For someone so young, her words were so sure in everything she said. Her undying faith in Link’s ability always lifted him up. He didn’t remember much about Urbosa, but he was sure she would be proud of the Gerudo’s chief.
And after a while of being with his friends, Link would be able to muster a soft “Thank you.” before going off to continue his adventure.
Now, Link had added Zelda to that list. Despite his inability to speak in her presence at first, the princess was nothing but patient. Kind, and patient, and encouraging. He supposed it should’ve been obvious that she would be used to his bouts of silence already. And soon enough, words no longer were out of reach, it was gradual but now he could talk about the sun and the stars a thousand times over if he wanted to. Except, the more often he spoke, the more Zelda seemed to get lost in thought…
At this moment, Zelda was the one at a loss for words, she opened her mouth to speak a couple times only to shut it a second later. She truly had no idea how to ask this, if she should ask at all. It sounded incredibly rude no matter how she phrased in her head. Frustrated, the princess gave up and pressed her hands to her face to groan into. How in the world are you supposed to ask your amnesiac friend how he truly thinks of you?
“Zelda?” Link prompted, fully expecting the worst to come out of her. An entire century trapped with the calamity couldn’t have come without pain. She stiffened up as he spoke, slowly raising her head from her hands to meet Link’s gaze. Her eyes were wide with….curiosity?
“What did you call me?” She blinked up at him with her big green eyes, Link felt like she was staring into his soul.
“Uhhh, your name?” Link scratched the back of his head, suddenly very nervous. Did he do something wrong?
Zelda stared at him for a moment longer before the smallest of laughs leaves her, gazing back down into the campfire. After a long silence, she explained.
“You used to always call me Princess.” She said in a confusingly wistful tone, and Link blanched.
“S-sorry! I’ll go back—“
“No, please!” Zelda interrupted him, putting a hand on his shoulder and he immediately froze where he sat. “Honestly, I’d prefer just...Zelda.” She smiled softly.
“Oh...good.” Link immediately sagged in relief, and Zelda couldn’t help but giggle. Her smile grew wider when he sent her a playful glare in response.
She couldn’t remember a time before the Calamity where Link ever called her by her name without her title placed in front of it. Nor could she think of a moment with such easy banter between them. Granted, there were eyes and expectations on them at all times, and rules were to be respected, even if she considered her appointed knight a friend.
Still, being “Just Zelda” was a nicer feeling than she ever expected. The way he so casually said her name, and spoke to her so easily, had Zelda grinning for a while. She didn’t understand why it left her with a warm fuzzy feeling, but she certainly wasn’t complaining.
The next morning, Zelda woke up to a slice of fruitcake for breakfast. She could feel her mouth watering before Link even held it out to her.
“I heard this was your favorite? Sorry, if it’s not. I can make you something else if you’d like. Zelda?” Link watched in confusion as the princess took his free hand in both of hers, her eyes practically sparkling.
“Goddess bless you, Link.” She said it like a woman on the brink of starvation before snatching up the fruitcake and digging in.
Link blinked at her incredulously for a moment and burst out laughing, loudly and freely. It was a wonderful sound. He shakes his head fondly as he starts to eat as well.
“I take it the princess likes her meal?” He teases her with a smug grin.
“Oh, hush you!” She fires back, but there’s no bite to it. A poorly contained smile sits on her face as she eats. He didn’t remember this from before, but he went out of his way to learn it again. Just for her. That warm feeling enveloped her entire being.
“Thank you.”
“Anytime, Zelda.”
Just Zelda. She could definitely get used to just being her. Maybe all this change wasn’t as intimidating as she first thought it to be. The past would always hold a dear place in her heart for as long as she lives, but that doesn’t mean the future has to be the same. As Zelda savors another bite of delicious fruitcake, she comes to her conclusion. This is most certainly a Good different.