Prologue: Home

She would never see them again.

It had been three months since the mirror shattered behind her as her feet, for the first time in nearly a year, met the familiar terrain of her homeworld. For the first time in nearly a year, she was back in her own realm, not as a cursed imp, but as its guardian, savior, and princess. And for the first time in her entire life, it wasn't where she wanted to be at all. In this world she had nearly died to protect, she was a stranger.

It took her three months to realize why it was that her own world no longer felt like the place she belonged. The knowledge seared her to her core, forced her to feel the things she had been trying to shut the door on since she'd left home and come back to the land of her birth. It cut her open and let the truth bleed into her veins like liquid fire; each heartbeat drove it deeper into every molecule of her being.

Home was the smell of forest and leather and damp chain mail set out to dry by the fire when darkness came. Home was the feel of her nose buried deep in green cotton, the strong lithe arms that relaxed around her when sleep came upon them, yet still held her tightly all the way until morning. Home was the sound of his breathing, whether harsh and tight or slow and deep. Running breaths, sleeping breaths, fighting growls and wounded gasps, she measured time and distances by the sound of his silence, and that was home. Home was the look in his eyes, whether those of a man or a beast, the contrasting integrity and ferocity in his open gaze.

Home was the way she had come to know exactly which maneuvers he would use before he performed them, the way muscle slid under skin and over bone, stroke following stroke as she saw them in her mind's eye. The way they wove a deadly dance around their enemies, who fell like so many blades of grass at the point of tooth or sword, was home. Home was the way they had grown together from wounded animals to a force to be reckoned with, nigh unstoppable, the two of them like an army in themselves.

Home was the dark tower and its dark-cloaked figure. Home was the bright eyes and the wise hands, all steely strength and nobility and hidden softness. Home was the knowledge, somewhat uncomfortable at first, that Midna could rely on someone else as much as she did herself, the way she had fought against trust but at last given in. Home was the way she had known, the instant she knew she was dying, that there was still a way out in the shape of the girl, the woman, the queen with the solemn gaze.

Home was the way she had smiled as she poured the very essence of her being into Midna's own, the gentle pressure of her hand becoming less and less as she faded into nothing. Home was the warm feeling of a mind within her mind, guarding her day and night with a silence more pure than speech, keeping her safe, keeping her strong. Home was the resolution that she would give back whatever she could to the person who gave her all they had.

Home was the way they kept going even after they had failed time and time again.

Home was the way they had faced down their last battle together as if it was just another adventure, with the unspoken knowledge that each would die for the other if need be. Home was the way she'd made good on the silent pact, had tried in vain to finish what they had started. And, during the final resolution of the conflict, it was the way they had ended it when she hadn't been able to.

Home was the way she would spend the rest of her long, long life regretting that the price needed to keep her kingdom safe was the only one she never wanted to give. In the end, she had loved them too well, and she had lost them both.

Deep in the sightless black that was night in her realm, the Twilight Princess finally broke, burying her face in her hands and shedding her first tears after three months of silent endurance. Meanwhile, worlds away and high above the clouds, the first snowflake began to fall.

extended summary: The goodbye was unequivocal. The Mirror of Twilight is dust. Yet, as the former Hero enters a hard-won peacetime, he finds himself missing his absent partner in crime and desperate for a way to see her again. Returning to Twilight, Midna faces regrets and staggering responsibilities as she attempts to repair the damage done to her realm during Zant's brief reign. Meanwhile, a storm is brewing, a slumbering darkness awakens, and a silent corruption spreads unheralded across the Twilight lands. The history of light and shadow may have ended, but the Twili's own legend has barely begun - and only the combined strength of Hero and ruler can keep it from ending just as soon.