A/N: Here we have the final chapter of Grief. I hope you've enjoyed reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it. Don't forget to review, and keep an eye out for more from me soon. And if you're looking for something to read in the meantime, I recommend looking at CrazygurlMadness' "One Last Year."

See you all again soon.

-L

"Only people who are capable of loving strongly can also suffer great sorrow, but this same necessity of loving serves to counteract their grief and heals them."

― Leo Tolstoy

She was back in the darkness of the Calamity, in the half-trance of prayer.

She was acutely aware of being surrounded by evil: it was like hot, moist breath on the back of her neck, like clammy hands on her skin, like the promise of biting into ripe fruit, only to find it rotten. Once, in the desert with Urbosa, Zelda had gotten dehydrated, and she remembered how sweet it had felt to drink water: she felt, now, like she had when she was thirsty in the desert, and the evil around her whispered: drink. Succumb. Give yourself to me.

But she wouldn't. Her body had locked in place. Her knees were folded, feet tucked beneath her, hands clasped. She didn't think she could move if she wanted to. The physical pain had vanished a long time ago. Now she was a woman trapped in a statue, and she couldn't flex even her mind, couldn't pull it from the task at hand. Restraining The evil was the only thing she could do now, and she reached out to the barriers she'd pulled around Hyrule Castle like curtains, felt the Calamity jerk backwards, snarling, like a sprinting mad dog reaching the end of its chain.

She could tell that the aura of the Calamity was racing, roaring, around the periphery of its prison. She could feel it distantly, swirling against her barriers. But she remained focused. This was her duty, her task. She had to keep the Calamity contained. She had to stay focused until Link woke up.

We have been one for so long, the Calamity whispered in her ear. You've dwelt within me for the duration of your life five times over, and then some. You are part of me, and I am part of you. You will never be able to escape me.

The Calamity had shown her visions. She was never sure what was real or what was a nightmare. She'd seen fields burning, crops withering away in drought, the people of Hyrule crying out for mercy. She'd seen monsters carving their way through cities, seen children murdered by Guardians. She'd seen death. She'd seen rape. She'd seen torture, seen every monstrosity the Calamity could summon in an attempt to break her faith.

Princesses don't lose faith, Zelda chanted in her mind. And on the heels of that thought, another:

Link won't fail me.

And then a vision, a new one: of white hills dotted with luminous stone. Sparkling pools of water shone beneath a warm sun. A Zora woman, heartbreaking in her familiarity, stood in the center of a shallow pond. Her crimson scales flashed in the golden light, and her clawed hand was curled around a trident. It was Mipha, healthy and whole, smiling in the sunshine.

She held out a hand to Zelda. Zelda's muscles locked. It's an illusion, she reminded herself. She couldn't move. Couldn't reach back, couldn't break her prayer, couldn't lose faith.

But Mipha hadn't been reaching out to Zelda. A man walked through Zelda, so familiar that she gasped. It was Link. He was alive, he was safe—

He took Mipha's hand and pulled her in. Her arms went around his neck, and his hands settled at her narrow waist. The sunlight caught his brilliant hair, and he smiled down at Mipha, completely happy.

"I'm so glad we ran away," Mipha said to Link, looking up at him with a smile. "Without the princess' power, Hyrule was doomed anyway. I'm glad we saved ourselves."

"Yes," said Link. His grip on Mipha's waist, though gentle, became a bit more possessive. "Hyrule can burn. It doesn't matter. Nothing matters but this."

He dipped his head forward and caught Mipha's lips in his own. Mipha leaned into the touch. Zelda watched, transfixed, horrified. Around them, the world slowly caught fire. The sky went smokey, and the sun grew red tendrils. But even still, Mipha and Link kissed, becoming frantic, and Mipha began to pull at Link's clothes.

The water of the shallow pond began to bubble and boil around their shins. They kept kissing, even as fire raged around them and smoke blew overhead. Hyrule was dying around them, and they— and they—

"They never cared about you," the Calamity whispered. "They would have been happier if you'd never been born. You killed them. You stole their happiness. Give up."

"I won't," Zelda said back. "Never."

"Join me," said the Calamity. "Be one with me forever. Together, we can be great."

"No," Zelda said. She screwed her eyes shut. She breathed in slowly, then exhaled. Mipha had never run away. She had died in the battle. And Link had gone to the Shrine of Resurrection… and then…

She remembered. "I defeated you. You're dead. You can't hurt me anymore."

"I'm part of you," said the Calamity. "Forever."

"You are not," Zelda responded firmly, and opened her eyes.

She was lying on her little pallet before the fire. She sat up. She was drenched in sweat. She used unsteady hands to push her drenched hair out of her face, and exhaled shakily.

Just another nightmare. Nothing to be afraid of.

Zelda leaned her head back, shutting her eyes. She felt the heat of the fire on her throat and the stretch of muscles. It had taken her so long to regain her strength that even now it felt like a luxury to be able to move her body. She rolled her head one way on her neck, then the other, willing her racing heart to calm as she breathed through parted lips.

Everything was fine. The Calamity had gone.

But it had taken Zelda and Link's hearts with it.

Here in the darkness, so much like the Calamity but vacant of the Calamity's evil, Zelda could admit painful truths to herself that she couldn't face in the light. She'd loved Link before. Had the Calamity shown her a vision of Link and Mipha, it might have broken her. But it never thought to do that, never thought to use love against her, because it didn't know the power and pain of loving. It had shown her darkness, desire, torture — but never love.

And it would have been that love that would have broken her.

Yes: she'd loved Link before. But so much had changed. He was a completely different person now, with a different life and different memories. And she… well, she felt like a husk some days. She buried the emptiness deep within her, kept herself busy so she wouldn't know… but the Calamity was right. Part of it was in her now, a vacuum of darkness and pain that would never leave her soul.

She felt filthy. Tainted. She wanted a bath. She wanted to immerse herself in one of the Goddess springs and purify herself, body and soul. She wanted to fling herself into a bonfire and burn away the darkness that still lurked within her. She buried her head in her hands.

She wanted to go home.

Not to the castle as it was now: a blackened, ruined wreck. She wanted to go home, to those sunny days before the Calamity swallowed her whole and burned Hyrule to the ground. To the research lab, to a castle full of light and music and fashion and politics. To her mother's rose garden, fragrant and familiar.

But home was gone. Hyrule, even, was gone. She'd spent a hundred years being tortured, fighting the darkness with every breath and thought.

She didn't want to fight anymore. She didn't want to feel this way anymore.

Like a woman sleepwalking, Zelda rose from her little nest and walked across the house. She paused with her hand on the door latch. She needed to find someone… She needed to go...

Her eyes drifted to the stairs. She didn't have to be alone.

Her hands fell away from the latch. She thought about Link in his grief, and how he'd clung to her hand, let her lean against him. Feet moving of their own volition, she made her way up into the loft.

Link was lying in the bed, tangled up in his own sheets. Heedless of the danger that could come from waking him, Zelda shook his shoulder with a clammy hand.

"Link," she said softly. "Wake up."

Link came awake with a snorting snuffle. But he didn't attack her. Instead, he blinked up at Zelda blearily.

"Prinsses? Wassron?"

"I…" Zelda's throat caught. What could she say? I'm scared? I'm homesick? I'm terrified and don't want to be alone anymore? "I had a bad dream. Can I… stay up here? Just for the rest of the night?"

"Kay," Link mumbled, clearly mostly asleep. He scooted over enough that Zelda could slip into the sheets and curl against his side.

In the bed, she felt warm, and safe. Link's scent surrounded her, reassuring her. Everything was alright. She was safe. She felt his arm come around her automatically, drawing her close like a giant pillow, and she let him pull her against him. She felt him snuggling into her hair, but her mind wouldn't quiet.

"Link?" she asked quietly.

"Muh?"

"Would you have run away with Mipha if she asked you?"

This seemed to rouse him more than anything else had. He lifted his head off the pillow enough that he could look at her through bleary blue eyes.

"What's this about?" he asked her.

Zelda felt imminently foolish. She was glad the shadows hid her blush.

"Nothing," she said. "Just — just silliness."

He rolled onto his side so that he was facing her. Her wrist and hand were between them, and the arm he hadn't curled around her came down, his fingers tangling with hers.

"I don't remember much," Link admitted, his voice husky with sleep. "But I know that I never, ever would have abandoned you. Ever. Not even for Mipha."

"But you don't know if you loved her," Zelda said, hating how small her voice was.

Link shifted, and Zelda found herself pulled slightly closer to him.

"I don't remember," he agreed. "But I was the hero. Am the hero," he added. "The hero never shirks his duty."

"Neither does the princess," Zelda said softly. She curled a little more comfortably against Link. There were tears in her eyes, she realized. When she spoke, her voice was thick. "Princesses do their duty. Princesses aren't afraid."

Though he lay still beside her, Zelda could feel Link thinking rapidly. She almost regretted waking him up, but she was scared: of the darkness outside, and of the darkness in herself.

"You don't have to be a princess here if you don't want to," he told her. "Here, in this house, you can be all the things that princesses can't. You're safe here, and — and I'm here for you, too. However you need me."

Zelda exhaled shakily.

"Are you sure, Link?" she asked softly.

His grip on her arm shifted, his fingers trailing down to rest on her hip.

"I'm sure," he told her.

Zelda curled against his chest, and his other arm came around her. She was crying now, really and truly in earnest.

"I'm so afraid," she said, her voice breaking. "I'm terrified."

"Of what?" Link asked. His voice was a whisper in her hair.

"Of the darkness. The Calamity," Zelda breathed into his nightshirt.

"Pr… Zelda," Link said. Her name rolled from his lips like one of her prayers. "It's gone. You sealed it away."

Zelda shook her head. He didn't understand. He stroked her hair soothingly, waiting for her to come to herself.

"It's always with me," she managed after a few moments of careful breathing. "In my memories. And my heart."

Link sighed, long and deep. She felt his breath ghosting through her hair.

"Come here," he said, tugging her closer, so she was completely within the circle of his arms, her legs tangled with his. He wrapped himself around her tightly. "You're safe. There's no Calamity here. Only me. Alright?"

"Alright," Zelda agreed meekly.

He nestled her a little more comfortably against him. She could hear his heartbeat beneath her ear, beating steady. It was slowing.

"You did the right thing in coming up here." His voice was low and soothing. He sounded content. "Whenever you're afraid, come find me. I'll always protect you."

"Thank you," Zelda said, slowly wrapping her free arm around him. She shut her eyes and breathed in the comforting smell of him. "Thank you, Link."

He smiled against her hair.

"You're welcome," he said. "Now go back to sleep."

"Alright," Zelda agreed quietly.

It was hideously improper. Princesses didn't sleep in the same bed as their knight, tangled up like lovers. But here in this house, she wasn't a princess. She was Zelda, and she was scared, and Link was offering her safe harbor. She felt protected. Cared for. The comfort of him washed the last of her nightmares away.

Though Zelda had been certain she wouldn't sleep again that night, between one breath and the next, she sunk down into comforting dreams of home.

Before the Calamity, Link had been a disciplined knight with a will of steel. He'd risen at or before dawn each day to practice his weapons. He'd once told Zelda that waking up was the hardest part of every day, and that if he had his way he'd do nothing but sleep and eat. She hadn't believed him at the time, but this new Link had proven that the old Link had been telling the truth. Prying him out of bed some mornings had felt like nothing so much as trying to get a pearl out of an oyster. Link was decidedly not a morning person, and wanted to do little more than dream the days away.

That's why it was such a surprise when Zelda woke up alone in Link's bed. She could hear low humming and the sizzle of a pot, and the unmistakable smell of breakfast. Zelda sleepily rolled out of bed and made her way to the edge of the loft. She peered over the railing. Link was cooking by the fire, and looked up as she poked her head over the edge of the loft.

"Good morning," he said. "Breakfast?"

"Nguh," mumbled Zelda, disoriented. When they'd traveled together back before, he'd woken her every day with breakfast and a sunny smile. Her heart clenched in her chest at how familiar he looked. But she still hadn't answered him, she realized, watching him watch her expectantly. "Sure."

"Come on down."

All of Zelda's things were downstairs: fresh clothes, her hairbrush, everything. So she finger-combed her hair and tidied her wrinkled clothing as best she could before making her way down to where Link was humming before the fire. After being melancholy and lost for so long, it was wonderful to see him looking cheerful. Zelda found herself smiling at him as he bustled around over the cook pot.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked her.

She'd slept in his bed, in his arms. Her cheeks flushed at the reminder.

"Very well, thank you," she said, blushing and looking down. "And you?"

"I also slept well."

"Good." Zelda swallowed. They'd spent the night together. Granted, it had been entirely chaste, but still. She'd had romantic feelings for him before the Calamity. And… and this new Link intrigued her. "Thank you for… for comforting me."

"You're welcome." The brilliance of Link's smile dimmed. "But I've realized I've been the one doing all the talking. Seems a bit backwards. You used to talk more than enough for the two of us."

Zelda shrugged uncomfortably.

"It's your turn to be the chatterbox, I suppose."

"No. You don't want to talk about what happened to you while I was sleeping. I understand," he told her as he slid a plate of eggs in front of her. "But you need to talk about it with someone. Eat up."

"I — oh, but, there's really nothing to talk about." Zelda eyed her eggs. Bribery eggs, she thought.

Link snorted. "Liar. You spent a century surrounded by the incarnation of evil. It had to take a toll, and you've been avoiding facing that. So either you can eat your eggs and talk to me, or you can eat your eggs and tell me who you want me to go get for you to talk to. Either way, you're eating your eggs and you're talking about what happened."

Zelda glared at Link even as she forked a fluffy egg into her mouth.

"You're just trying to distract me from your grief," she said.

"No," said Link patiently. "I've been working through it with your help. Now it's your turn. You can't avoid it forever. It'll only get worse if you try."

Zelda thought about the nightmares. The frequency with which she was getting them — more and more, in fact. And she remembered what Purah had said about grief being like poison that needed to flow through the system in order to leave it.

Did she want to talk to anyone else about this? Could she?

Her friends from before were all too old and had dealt with their own suffering. She couldn't put this burden on them. Urbosa was gone entirely. Paya wouldn't know how to help. Which left…

Zelda gave in. There was no time like the present, she supposed. Link wanted her to talk. So she would talk now, while it was bright, and her courage was with her.

She took a fortifying breath and cast her mind back.

"You died," she said. "You died in my arms. And then I was all alone."

He stirred.

"What was it like?"

"I felt hopeless," she said. "You were gone. Everyone was gone. I wanted to die too." She stared at her eggs. "While Purah and Robbie sealed you and the Sheikah Slate in the Shrine of Resurrection, I went back to Castletown and temporarily sealed the Calamity away. I returned the sword to its pedestal, and made arrangements with Impa for how she should guide you when you awoke. Then…. Then, I went back to the castle. The wards wouldn't hold for long without me." Her appetite was souring. She pushed her eggs around on her plate, watching the trail of moisture they left in their wake. "I walked across the bridge in Castle Town and then… it swallowed me."

Her mind touched upon it briefly, then flitted away: the blackness rearing up before her, a glint in its eye. The sensation of being engulfed by evil. A single, panicking moment where she thought that all was lost… except her powers surged out, protecting her, as her body folded into the familiar position of prayer…

Link watched her push her eggs. When it became clear she wasn't going to continue, he cleared his throat gently.

"Were you afraid?" he asked her.

"No," she said, releasing a shaky breath. "I mean, there was fear. Of course it was terrifying, seeing it above me, feeling its jaws close around me. But I was more afraid that I… that I would fail you. I knew that I needed to buy you time to heal. I was ready to die," she said. "But I wanted to hold out for as long as I could."

Link seemed to hold his breath for a long moment as he looked across the table.

"Thank you," he said softly. "For saving my life. And for keeping the Calamity contained while I healed. I'm sorry you had to do it alone." He frowned. "I should have been there. I should have fought harder. Stayed by your side."

"No." Zelda pushed her plate away. "No. You did everything you could. It was my fault. If only I'd realized how to unlock my power sooner, I—" She stopped. "I could have saved you. Saved everyone." She pulled her hands into her lap and clenched her napkin in her fists. "It showed them to me, you know," she told the table. "How they died. I had to relive it over and over — my father, Urbosa, and Daruk… Revali…" she looked up at Link. "Mipha," she said softly. "I watched them die again and again and again. It was one of the Calamity's favorite things to show me. To try to break my will."

"But it didn't work," Link said. "You overcame it."

"I did," Zelda agreed. She pushed a hand through her messy hair. And she gave voice to what had been worrying her, the niggling fear that had finally manifested in her nightmare last night. "But, Link. There's something you need to understand. If it had been cleverer, I wouldn't have been able to fight it."

He looked puzzled. "What do you mean?"

"The Calamity was hatred and malice incarnate," she said. "It didn't understand the power of gentler emotions. It tortured me with visions of pain and destruction. I could stand up to that. But if it had used my heart against me… if it had used friendship or love to tempt me…" she exhaled. Shook her head. "I don't know if I could have fought it and won. It showed me my loved ones dying. But all that did was give me strength. If it had shown my friends or father alive… or promised me it could bring them back to life… " She swallowed. Her throat was suddenly thick. "If it had shown them living life without me, being happy, I couldn't… I couldn't…"

Her ability to speak escaped her. Zelda stared resolutely at the table, willing away the fierce tide of emotion that had consumed her. The nightmare she'd had — the dream of Mipha and Link being in love, starting their life together, abandoning her, letting the world burn — it rose to the surface of her mind, chewing at her. Scraping at her until she was raw.

If — if she was alone — if Link left her, she'd have nothing—

A warm hand closed over her own.

"Tell me what you're thinking?" His voice was little more than a whisper.

Zelda inhaled carefully through her nose. She swallowed once, then again.

"I don't want to be alone," she said, her voice small and wavering. "I spent so long alone — I don't want to be alone again—"

His fingers tightened over her own.

"You won't," he told her. "For as long as you want me at your side, I'll be there."

Zelda thought back to her nightmare.

"But what if you find someone?" She asked him. "Fall in love. Want to get married. What then?"

Zelda heard Link exhale heavily, as though he'd been waiting for her to ask that question, and now that she had he was full of dread.

"Well," he said after a long moment of thought, "Even though I don't remember before, and all I've known is this, I don't— I can't— there's nobody who could…"

He trailed off. Zelda looked up and watched him think. His lips were pursed, and he looked very much like a man at war with himself. She watched as he pushed his own plate aside and leaned forward. His eyes were intent on hers, and she felt a little flutter in her stomach at having the intensity of his focus placed solely on her.

"One of the reasons why I've been mourning… I felt so much guilt at the idea that Mipha had loved me and that I couldn't remember her enough to know if I loved her back. It felt like a bad way to honor her. I felt guilt for… moving on from everything, I guess. Without really grieving her. Did I love her? Have I lost my soulmate, and will never remember her? Or was her love one-sided? I don't know which would be more cruel. And…" he frowned. "The idea of that, the confusion… that flung me into a spiral. I wasn't sure how I could reconcile having a happy and full life with the tragedies that happened before. I didn't know if I needed to mourn Mipha… or if I needed to mourn myself." He looked at Zelda, all earnestness. "Do you understand?"

"I think so," Zelda said.

"Good," Link said with a nod. "But then… then you came here. And you reminded me that I'm not alone. And that even though I haven't mourned, you mourned for a century. So… so between the two of us, it must balance out. Right?"

Zelda wasn't sure mourning worked like that. But… he was correct in his own way. He couldn't remember anything. She remembered too much. Between the two of them, they were even.

"I don't want you to stay with me because you feel like it absolves you," Zelda said anyway, just to be safe.

"That's not it," Link said. He sounded frustrated now. He studied Zelda intently for a moment, as though measuring her against some idea. Then he nodded, as though he'd made up his mind. "You loved me back before, didn't you?"

Zelda felt herself blushing. But he'd saved her from an existence worse than death. She owed him a little honesty.

"We were both very different then," she said. Then, because the answer seemed to matter to him, she swallowed her pride. "I did. I think it was the fear of losing you — Link, a man for whom I had romantic feelings, rather than Link the Hero — that unlocked my powers." Her mouth twisted in a bitter smile. "But that was so long ago, Link. And we are very different people now." She traced a finger across the whorls of wood in the surface of the table. "So much has changed. I barely recognize either of us from who we were."

"I know," Link said. "And for what it's worth, I don't — I don't love you," he told her. When she frowned to ask why it mattered, he held up his hands. "I don't know you well enough to love you. But…" the tips of his ears pinkened. "I do like you quite a bit. And I'd like to see where that takes us," he confessed.

Zelda sat back, surprised at the turn in conversation. She took a moment to study Link's expression. He looked almost like a boy trying hard to be brave: earnest, and afraid, and determined, and hopeful.

He didn't love her. But he liked her, and he wanted to stay with her. That was certainly a start.

Feeling a well of relief bubbling in her chest, she smiled at him. He was so dear to her. This new Link was far more raw and open than he'd been in the past. And yet she was still just as delighted by him as she'd ever been, and knew that given time, that fondness could deepen into something far more power than the simple crush she'd had on him before.

"I don't know you well enough to love you yet, either," she told him. "But I like you quite a bit as well. So I think that we should see where that takes us. Only, will…" she paused and groped for words. "Will you try to have patience with me as I work through all of the difficult memories I have, and when I'm afraid of the past, can I come to you? For comfort, like I did last night?"

"Of course," Link said. The fondness Zelda felt in her chest was echoed in his blue eyes. "As long as you're alright with me peppering you with questions about the past and what our lives were like."

"That's agreeable," Zelda said. She smiled uncertainly. "So are we… is this courting, then?"

Link grinned.

"I think it is," he said. "May I come around this table and kiss you?"

His words sent a thrill through her. Zelda smiled at him, giddiness rising within her.

"Yes," she told him. "You may."

Link pushed out of his chair and walked around the table. Zelda also rose, feeling nervous as he stopped before her. He stood close, but not so close that their chests were touching.

Slowly, with the deliberately unthreatening motions she'd seen him use on a spooked horse before, he raised a hand. He fanned his fingers across her cheek, pushing a strand of blonde hair out of Zelda's face. She remembered in a sudden panic that she hadn't brushed her hair yet, hadn't brushed her teeth yet, must look and smell like a fright… but when she summoned the courage to look at Link's face and say so, she found herself frozen by the intent look in his blue eyes.

And then he leaned forward, capturing her partially-open lips in his own, and her arguments were driven right out of her head.

It felt nice. Warm. Comforting and safe. As he kissed her, she felt a fluttering low in her belly, a tingling in her limbs. She stepped forward, closing the gap between their bodies, and molded herself more comfortably against him. His arms came around her, holding her close, and he tilted the angle of his head just a bit to deepen the kiss.

Oh. That… that was very nice indeed.

Gently, he pulled away, stepping back just far enough that he and Zelda could smile at each other. She was glad that he was her height: it was nice that she could look in his eyes so easily.

"Well," said Zelda with a smile. "I suppose that's quite a nice start to this."

Link grinned at her, exposing a deep dimple in one cheek.

"Good," he said. "May that kiss be the first of many to come."

On impulse, Zelda stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Link. She notched her chin on his shoulder and squeezed, grateful for the warmth and comfort and presence of him.

"Thank you, Link," she said. "For being here for me. And for everything."

"You're welcome," he said. He leaned his head against hers as he hugged her back. "Thank you for waiting for me."

Zelda inhaled happily. The taint of grief and pain was still there, deep within her — within both of them, she was sure. It would always be there. But they had each other, and Goddess willing, what was between them would only grow.

Zelda thought about saying a prayer, but didn't. She didn't need to pray anymore. All her prayers had already been answered, and they came in the form of one diminutive, stubborn swordsman.

Zelda smiled happily into Link's shoulder.

Yes. All her prayers had been answered. And she was sure that no matter what came next, Link would be at her side.

All would be well.

Uploaded Thursday, November 2, 2017