Chapter Text
Link looked up at the imposing silhouette of Hyrule Castle. Once a symbol of grandeur and power, the castle had lain in ruins at the hands of an ancient evil. The humongous entity of malice and destruction prowled above, roaring and snarling at the unseen force chaining it to the place for one hundred years. But even so, it knew, Calamity Ganon knew that the time would soon be ripe. Its prison would soon break apart, and the princess, who carried the burden of keeping it down, would meet her demise at that moment of weakness.
His hands clenched at his sides. The fear and anger bubbling in his chest forced down as he strode to the gates. At the back of his mind, he wondered if these emotions were even his. The legendary horse that person once befriended – Epona was her name – whinnied behind him. Her hooves pawed at the wet cobblestones and remains of Guardians he had downed minutes ago. How the horse lived for more than a hundred years was beyond him. Or was it perhaps the Goddess’ work at play, who wanted to mold him into the replica of her fallen hero?
A humorless chuckle rumbled in his throat. How cruel. Strapped on his back, the Master Sword thrummed in power and divine light. The heat - the burning heat - had become akin to a campfire – warm, yet one wrong move, and he would get burned. Link reminded himself that it was a one-time event. He knew it was only a matter of time before the legendary sword dropped its reluctant cooperation and scorched him to ashes.
What a fitting ending for ‘the hero of Hyrule’.
The massive metallic gates swung open at the pull of Magnesis, and the world held its breath as he took his first step into Evil’s den. The smell of decay and rust filled his nose as glowing blue eyes swiveled in his direction. Their metallic bodies were covered in grime and moss of one hundred years, creaking and clanking before they exploded into scattered pieces at the tip of his Ancient Arrows. The growls of lesser monsters were cut short as they drowned in their blood and their bodies dissolved into black smoke. The Scimitar of the Seven and Daybreaker - weapon and shield he had no right to inherit - glistened red on his hands. It was the very same color that stained the blue of his Champion’s Tunic - a garment that someone like him should not be wearing.
Link.
That was the name the princess called him when he awoke to a world of black and blue. It was the name he claimed for himself and answered to. He brought that name with him as he journeyed to the desolate lands of a ruined world and carried out the purpose the princess and the last king of this fallen kingdom had given him. A duty handed to a person brought to the world in a carefully crafted web of lies and deceit.
It was the same name that the Goddess-blooded princess – that Zelda – had called him once again.
“…Do you really remember me?”
‘Link’ looked at her, at those vibrant green eyes that held so much hope that her beloved knight truly remembered her after being robbed of his memories during a century’s worth of slumber and healing. She looked past the burn scars that discolored the left side of his face, the long and unkempt honey-blond hair peeking from beneath his hood, and the blood and grime on his clothes and torn skin. Her eyes settled on his eyes…on his blue, blue eyes that held only recognition from the memories that were not even his and prodded for an answer. An answer that only this body’s lips could give, but never his.
“I’m sorry….” His voice was raw in anguish and sorrow for the princess, for crushing the last hope glimmering in those eyes after waiting for someone gone one hundred years ago. “I am not him. I am not Link.”
Those were the first words he had spoken to her.
Six months passed after that, and it was more than enough for the princess to reacquaint herself with the estranged lands her family had ruled for several thousand years. It was a struggle for Zelda to cope with the ruins of the once-lively kingdom, yet the princess welcomed the change with open arms. The skittish girl had changed to an energetic and curious woman - one who would eagerly poke her nose at anything that caught her interest – in the span of three months. Though more mature and less snarky, she was the very same woman that the fallen hero quietly fell in love with from the memories and emotions he inherited. So much so that he wondered if it was because of those emotions that made him stay by her side for six months, or was it the duty, the knightly vow of her personal knight, of the real Link, that made it so.
What made him stay in this world a little longer?
He no longer had any reason to. His duty, his purpose of fulfilling the promise of a hero who shall deliver the world from Calamity Ganon, had already come to pass. He was just a puppet - an artificial soul crafted by the hands of the Ancient Sheikah and the pity of the Goddess, placed in an empty husk of a body. It was the body once owned by a soul that departed for the afterlife - the soul of a person meant to be the true hero of Hyrule, but would never return. He had no origins, family, or past to anchor himself on. He tried once, just once, to kill this body and let the real Link finally rest in peace, but the thought of Zelda, of his princess, mourning another loss so soon broke his heart. The guilt felt like a bodily hit from a charging Lynel, and he wondered to the heavens above if an artificial soul such as his had any destination at the end.
Link tried to explain, to convince Zelda that he was not her Link. He had no name, for he was not a real person. The princess was too stubborn to heed him, insisting that he thought as such because his memories were still fragile and fragmented. Yes, the old Link would not utter a word unless necessary and within her presence. It was a contrast to him, the Link now, who was approachable and amiable to friends and strangers alike, yet the general differences ended there.
He was still the same glutton she remembered, the gifted and skilled prodigy that shook the foundations of the societal hierarchy at his appointment as the princess’ personal knight, and the one who was destined and fulfilled his destiny in defeating Calamity Ganon. The list went on, and the princess could have prattled his ears off were it not for Purah barging into his modest home about some discovery regarding the history books Zelda nabbed from one of their brief visits back to Hyrule Castle.
He tried distancing himself from her, taking trips away from Hateno alone. Still, with his name – Link’s name – now well-known to the world, it took only a matter of days and a decent number of threats from the princess to have him return to her side with a head bowed low and steel himself for a lecture that would go on for hours.
It was not just Zelda; even Impa and the Champions’ successors seemed to have taken a watchful eye on his activities. He knew they were worried about him, concerned for the wrong person, perhaps chalking it on him missing going out there in the open by himself…and they were half-right. He missed the outside world - the comfort, the freedom, and even the dangers it nurtured. He only spent a few days in towns and villages if he could help it, especially now that the population had slowly increased over the past months. Him being there felt suffocating. It did not feel right, and he thought he did not belong.
Where he should be, where he belonged, was in the wilds - the untamable that cultivated him in his journey. The caring mother who served as his cradle and his trial to becoming the hero he was supposed to be. The Link from one hundred years ago was not him. That Link was born and raised within the imposing walls of barracks, unaware of the beauty and splendor that the Golden Goddess Farore had gifted them. He was an impenetrable fortress while he - the replacement, the fake, the imposter - was wild, unrestrained, and unpredictable.
He was not him.
He would never be him.
That was why he left at the one-hundred-nineteenth year of the princess’ birth and decided never to look back.