Fan Fiction Friday: A Run-Down Little Castle (A Breath of the Wild One Shot)

You once told me that you stopped praying to the Goddesses, that you prayed to my mother instead. You said that you felt more connected to someone you knew, someone you loved, than you did with an ancient deity you had never met. My mother could hear you, you said, and she cared. At the time, it felt somewhat sacrilegious to me, denying the Goddesses in such a way. I sought my power from them, after all. Now, looking back, I think I understand. My prayers had always fallen on ears deaf to me, and I blamed myself.

I am learning not to. It is a difficult lesson to swallow, but it’s one you always tried to teach me.  

Now, I try things your way. I don’t know if you can hear me, but I would like to think you can, if you felt my mother could hear you. And I have so much to tell you.

Today has been…emotional, to say the least. I honestly don’t think it has fully settled in my mind all that has transpired. I will try and make some sense of it all for you. You would be happy.

No. Proud. I think you would be proud. I believe this is what you would have wanted. I know you tried to bridge the gap between us; if only you could be alive to see us now.

I will start at Hateno.

We had just teleported to the shrine – I don’t think I will get used to that method of travel. It’s so strange, to feel like your entire body is dissolving. It takes the breath, then blasts it back into you without warning. Like losing consciousness for a moment, then waking up in an entirely new world, and you have to take a moment to remember where you are. The aftereffects, Link says, only last for a couple seconds, but it feels like they last years.

Of course, I understand my entire sense of time is completely warped anymore.

Link turned to me, sheepishly, hand at the nape of his neck. If I did not know him as I do, I might have mistaken it for shyness, but he was positively scared. But what in Hateno could have him so worried?

“Do you trust me?” He said it so quietly, I barely heard him for the winds.

“Of course, I do.” Why would I not? Had I ever given him the impression I didn’t? I admit, the question hurt a little, but the hurt was entirely selfish. I shook it off and listened, for there was something more important on his mind.

“Close your eyes, then.”

I did. He took my hand and lead me, carefully, delicately, with me every step of the way.

“Step down.”

“To your left.”

“A little slower over the branch.”

“Coming to a bridge now, take it slow.”

And never once did I stumble, nor worry that I would. I felt completely safe, even though we walked quite a distance. I heard water below my feet around that bridge, and not once did I fear falling. I knew he was there, and I listened to the sound of his voice, and everything just seemed…safe.

Finally, he let go of my hand. I heard his footsteps away from me, and then, “OK, open your eyes.”

Urbosa, I was so confused. All I could see was a house. Gray, simple, with little white flowers and growing trees. Overgrown vines on the door. Broken stones in the foundation, and a tall chimney that stood dormant, and a little crooked. The whole thing looked like a swift breeze could have blown it over!

I know the confusion showed on my face, for instantly, he crumbled. So pleased, his face, and suddenly, he went emotionless. His shoulders slumped without word, and he glanced down at the grass below him.

Only then did I understand. This little house, with all its flaws and imperfections…it was his! I laughed so hard, which I know he didn’t expect.

“Show me around!”  I ran up to him and took his hand to guide me once more. He brightened so much, and even smiled. He does that so much more now, but only when we are alone. I cherish every one like a precious sunrise. He pushed open the front door and positively bound inside, me in tow.

One large room, two levels. A…loft, I think it might be called? Sparsely furnished with a small kitchen area, a dining room table, rugged stairs that creaked as I ascended, and a simple bedroom with paintings of Hyrule. And so many books.

I felt like I was in a dream – long, I have wondered of the insides of Castle Town houses. I think I have my answer now. Everything seemed so mismatched, so chaotic, so homey. Nothing like the castle – I didn’t fear touching the books or the papers on the desk or even the pitchers and plates hanging from the kitchen cabinets. Nothing was centuries old and cost a fortune – or maybe it did, and I could not tell the difference. It’s not the point. This place was a home.

There was a picture of all of us, too. Above his bookshelf.  The one from the Sheikah Slate that Mipha wanted taken, when Daruk decided it would be funny to crush us all together. I had forgotten that moment until I saw the picture again. You looked so amused. I looked horrified.

I miss all of you so much, it hurts even still. I cannot forgive myself. Not yet. I don’t know if I ever will…

I explored that home for so long, wordless. It all seemed so fascinating, like this peek into Link’s mind, what he held dear, who he had become. His home spoke more than he ever did.

I must have been lost in my own thoughts, for I actually jumped when he called to me from below the lofted bedroom. “Do you like it?”

“It’s wonderful!” I laughed again, running my hands along the railing and looking to the ceiling. I could see cracks in the walls. The wind was there, too, providing a high-pitched whistle with every gust. I felt a little cold, but nothing too bad. I imagine it will be terrible in colder seasons. “Whatever possessed you to buy it?”

He shrugged, this time truly shy. “They were tearing it down. No one else wanted it. I…figured I could put it back together.”

I remember grinning at him. He’s always trying to put everything back together. And everyone…

“It’s perfect, Link.”

And then…

And then I saw them.

On the wall.

Urbosa, my breath left me again. And this time, it hurt. I felt like my chest would never allow air in again.

He had them all. I should have taken a picture with the Slate to show you. I could hardly believe it myself as I came down the stairs and to the displays on each of the dining room walls. But there they were, as though no time had passed at all.

Revali’s bow.

Daruk’s Boulder Breaker.

Mipha’s Lightscale.

And…and your shield and scimitar. Those were the most flawless of them all, glimmering under the light from the candles above. Like they were never used. I wanted to touch them, but my arms felt so numb. He had taken such wonderful care of them, just like the Thunder Helm he returned to Riju last week.

I cried. I tried not to, tried to hide it, but I just couldn’t.

I still can’t believe you’re gone.

Perhaps that’s why I speak to you now. I just cannot accept that you’re not here anymore. I like to think you are, and you’re with my mother, and my father. And that my father is acting like an overgrown child, and telling dumb dad jokes, and walking around with his pants hiked up and his ankles hanging out. I’d like to hope that you’re sitting with my mother, laughing and mocking him. And that she smells like flowers and has a laugh like bells.

And you.

I hope you can hear me.

Please, tell me you can.

…

…

I hope you’re proud. I hope your little bird has made you proud.

He handed me your sword and helped me fasten your shield to my forearm. He has promised to teach me to use them. A princess should never need to wield a sword, Father always said.

But you told me once that the princess in the time of Twilight bore arms. A bow and sword alike.

And I am not a princess anymore.

I will learn. For him, and for Hyrule. But most of all, I will learn for you. 

…

He told me the house wasn’t much, but “they say it will be a few years before your castle is repaired.” I was so wrapped up in my memories that it took me a moment to catch on. I have been so distracted, and so easily distractible. I sometimes feel I can barely concentrate.

“It will be a while before we can move back, but until then…”

I looked at him.  His face flushed as crimson as the sunset.

“I didn’t mean to presume…!” He sighed and slumped behind his façade. I set the scimitar back in its display and approached him. He couldn’t look at me, but I could still see his eyes. So sad, so blue.

“You presume nothing, Link.” I took his hand once more. “I…had hoped you would return with me.  As my…”

One word.  One word, and I would say it all. It should not have been hard, but the word dried in my mouth. I looked at him, and he at me, and I could not tell him how I felt. He knew, I know he knew, as I know his true feelings, but I just could not say it.

As my King.

Why is that so hard? I survived Calamity Ganon for a century, I carry on a name for a monarchy long dead, I have faced down monsters and evil alike, yet I could not manage a single word to a boy I have cherished for so long.

I hated myself.

Say it, I told myself.  Just tell him.

…

“I hoped you would return…as my King.”

And then it happened.

He kissed me.

It was a small peck on the cheek, quick and simple, but I could feel his lips long after they left me. My face burned bright as he scratched the back of his neck once more.

“Link, -”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t -”

I never thought it would come to this, but I wished and longed for it. And for the first time in a hundred years, I finally felt alive. Electricity from my skin into my very soul, my heart shattering and repairing in one beat. Suddenly, it was just Link and me, in a small, broken home, just trying to make our way together. And nothing else mattered.

I cried and kissed him again and again. When all had been lost, we fought through our own wicked realities, and finally found each other one hundred years later.

I opened my eyes to see him looking at me, and I could only smile and hold him. My Link. My love. My King. I have no crown, no castle, no throne, but “a Queen should not need these,” and I think I understand that now, too. I have love, and I have will. We will make this work, in our run-down little castle in Hateno.

And I can fix the draft.

 

Featured image by Andrew Jordan.