This takes place post-MM, in my head-canon that Link doesn't turn into a stalfos and actually returns to Hyrule. Of course, I could only imagine that he may not be quite mentally sound when he returned (I mean, some pretty screwed-up stuff happened in Termina), so... this angst was born.

I'm sorry if you feel like maybe Link seems like too much of a crybaby in this. I kind of had that worry too, but then again, I figure there's really only so much a person can take before they need some serious help or therapy or sedatives or something. I dunno.

Anyway, reviews are very much appreciated but definitely not required. Thanks for visiting and I hope you enjoy.

The night sky above Hyrule was truly quite a sight. The vast dark blue background, caught in the transition between "late at night" and "early in the morning," was spotted with an innumerable amount of white stars. The full moon, large and yellow, hung at its highest point in the sky. All was quiet save for the crickets and occasional gust of wind rustling the full green leaves on the trees.

It was quite beautiful, and for all reasons and purposes, Princess Zelda should have been happy.

She hated nights like this.

The princess looked down mournfully, at the shaggy blond head buried in her shoulder. The boy was only allowed around her during daylight hours, since no one in the castle knew anything about him outside of the fact that Zelda trusted him and he somehow knew of Ganondorf's mutiny before it happened. But on these nights, the boy's pattering footsteps would wander up the staircase to her quarters, blue eyes speaking of horrors she could not comprehend, and she would just smile at him wistfully as he laid down next to her, still shivering from whatever horrid nightmare he had just woken from.

Link had lived in the castle for several months now, ever since gaining the trust of the King with his information on Ganondorf's coming mutiny. Zelda had never seen him before the day he walked into the courtyard, but felt like they knew each other somehow...

As it turns out, it was because she did know him, in some different timeline. It was hard to understand at first, as Link was not the most eloquent of people and it all just seemed so implausible, but Zelda was one to trust her instincts and she was certain that Link was telling her the truth. After begging her father to let him stay at the castle, he finally agreed, still grateful for the boy's helpful information, and the pair became very fast friends. He told her all about his adventures in the future and the past that never happened, and when she asked, "Will I be pretty?" he blushed and nodded.

But she knew he wouldn't stay in place for very long—after going on an adventure like his, she knew a pleasant, safe, repetitive life in the castle would not placate him for long. So she wasn't surprised when she caught him trying to sneak off, sword and shield in place on his back. She just smiled at him and gave him the Ocarina and the Song of Time to go with it—the Goddesses had manipulated time for him before; maybe they would need to do it again. Link thanked her, and with a hug and promise to be back soon with his fairy friend in hand, he was on his horse's back and riding away.

It was two weeks later, when the boy came staggering into the courtyard once again, looking half-mad, that she wondered if she ever should have let him leave.

It was impossible coaxing the story of what exactly had happened out of her friend, even after she finally succeeded in subduing him. He seemed deeply traumatized by the whole thing, only telling her vaguely that he had ended up in some strange land where the apocalypse was imminent. Apparently, he had repeatedly used the Ocarina of Time to reset the three days he spent there, which was probably why he had only been gone for two weeks, but had seemed like he thought he'd never see Zelda again.

While saving a world from a fiery moon-related apocalypse seemed disturbing enough on its own, Zelda knew there was more to the story, things that Link would never dare tell her—the things he screamed about in his nightmares.

Almost on cue, Link whimpered something unintelligible into her shoulder, and Zelda automatically began threading her delicate fingers through his thick hair, humming her lullaby absentmindedly. The boy gave a sigh in his sleep, momentarily comforted, but she knew in time the screaming and thrashing would start, his cries of things she didn't understand (an Anju and Kafei, a Mikau and Darmani, a Skullkid and a moon that was going to kill him, three days that never ended) echoing through her bedchamber, and then he would wake and his blue eyes would glint with horror and tragedy, with all the lives he hadn't been able to save, with all the things he'd seen, and above all, he would look lost, like just a child who had long since been dragged astray of what was light and what was dark, what was real and what was fake, what he was and what he wasn't.

And then he would cry. He would not cry like a girl, or a baby, or even a boy who was sad about the unfortunate circumstances of his life. He would cry like someone in true pain, someone who was scared, someone who could only do so in the dark where the world couldn't see him.

This had become the regrettable routine for Princess Zelda. Every night the boy came wandering into her room, blue eyes almost luminous in the darkness, and they would sleep side by side. She would hold him through the nightmares and he would scream into the silk-covered pillows until sleep finally found him again. When the sun rose every day and she opened her eyes, he would already be gone, and when they played together throughout the day, neither mentioned a word about how the previous night was spent. The dark circles stood out on Zelda's fair face and Link's eyes were often rimmed with red, inciting strange glances from various people who wondered just how two seemingly carefree children already looked so worn.

Presently, she felt Link shift against her, and she prayed he wasn't having a nightmare. Slowly, his eyes opened and he lifted his head, staring quietly into the dark room and not even appearing to notice her.

"Link?" she whispered, noticing his lower lip trembling. "What's wrong?" She knew perfectly well what was wrong, but she asked anyway.

He was silent, and his eyes glinted wetly in the dim light filtering through the window. "Zelda," he murmured.

"Hm?"

"It's dark. It's so dark, and I can't see anything..."

The princess sighed, smoothing his hair like Impa used to do for her. "I know. I know." He wasn't talking about her room, and neither was she.

"... I'm lost..." His voice, a raspy whisper, cracked slightly as he glanced about the room, like the solution to his problems may be hiding in the shadows.

Zelda tightened her grip on him. "I'll find you. Just give me time. I'll find you..."

The Hero slowly drifted into a feverish sleep, and Princess Zelda laid awake for the rest of the night. When he grimaced or whimpered, all she could do was hold him tighter, and look forward to the day when that old Link, the one whose eyes shined and whose smiles could light up a room, would come back to her.

She woke from a fitful sleep as the sun rose, casting light through her thin curtains across not only her, but a boy as well, holding her hand in his sleep and looking at peace, if only just a little, for the first time in a while. And when he squeezed, she squeezed back.

She'd find him.