Link ("yeet it or eat it") (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
skyglider) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
dreamcrystals2022-10-06 12:10 pm
skyglider) wrote in dreamcrystals2022-10-06 12:10 pm
Entry tags:
001 ⚘ dream recording
Sender: Link
To: Everyone
Subject: Passive dream recording (Ghosts of the Past)
Warnings: Memory loss, spooky stuff, light implications of character death
[aaaand have some background noise if you wanna make it worse]
In the darkness, a voice, hollow and indistinct, several tones and cadences laid one over the other like a collage. Few phrases stand out, but the ones that do come through clearly.
"t𝓱Ｅ 𝓬𝓱𝐢𝔩𝓭 shows much promise."
"It's a h̢̲̤͋͑̑̉u̷̗͓̼̖̬̺ͬg̡̦̬̰ͨ̈́ͭę͖̲̺͔͚͖͛ responsibility."
"... 𝐻𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝒸𝓊𝓇𝒾𝑜𝓊𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒻𝓊𝓁𝓁 𝑜𝒻 𝑒𝓃𝑒𝓇𝑔𝓎, 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒶 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹𝓎 𝓈𝓂𝒾𝓁𝑒 ..."
[Those who stumble upon this dream will find that it has a quality of indistinct blurriness, like a photo out of focus, or perhaps a very old memory. Details are fuzzy to nonexistent, but you can see three figures outside of a house in a small, quiet village: two smaller, blonde, and one larger, broader, towering over both of them. You feel at once a particular emptiness; you are supposed to know who they are, but you can't place them. It's the feeling of forgetting something important, but being unable to place what that might be.
The smallest figure, long-haired and sporting a white dress, fiddles with a small patch of garden. The other figure might look a little familiar, to those who have met Link, though if you can believe it he's even smaller than he is now. He and the taller figure are currently engaged in some sort of practice match with wooden swords; the adult occasionally offers a note of encouragement in a deep, gregarious rumble: "Much better! Careful now-- watch your flank! Good." Clack! Clack-clack! The wooden swords crack against each other over and over as the match continues. The smallest figure chimes in again: "Don't step on the flowers, brother!" The details become even more nondescript as the practice match goes on, but eventually, both figures fall back onto the ground, breathing heavily.
As the dream carries on, you come to realize that Link himself is standing nearby, watching this just as you are. Unlike the subjects of the dream, he's sharply in focus. The smallest figure flickers, and then appears in front of the place where Link --the one watching the dream-- stands. She retains the same fuzziness even up close: her face, age, even her clothing is an indistinct blur. She looks up at Link, whose eyes widen.
"When are you coming home?"
Link seems conflicted: in moments, he seems almost shocked, as if he's seen a ghost. In others, it's as if he doesn't recognize this figure at all. He searches for words and grasps nothing. Something flickers; it's hard to tell whether it's the blurry figure or your vision, fading in and out of darkness.]
You can't help but feel as if some time has passed, as if it's been a long time since you first heard those strange voices.
"𝐻𝑒 𝓃𝑜 𝓁𝑜𝓃𝑔𝑒𝓇 𝓇𝑒𝓈𝑒𝓂𝒷𝓁𝑒𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝒽𝒾𝓁𝒹 𝐼 𝒻𝒾𝓇𝓈𝓉 𝓂𝑒𝓉. 𝐻𝑒 𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒹𝓁𝓎 ṡ̯̱̾͠p̤̬̜̮̻͍ͧ͝ę̹̟̣͇͎ͪ̇̚aͪ͏̯͖̱̮̦̼k͖̰̭͚̦͖̼̘̈̽̈́́s̵̺̰̪̞͕̔̑ 𝒶𝓃𝓎𝓂𝑜𝓇𝑒, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝓂𝒾𝓁𝑒𝓈 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓃 𝓂𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝓇𝒶𝓇𝑒𝓁𝓎. 𝐻𝑒 𝒾𝓈 𝓈𝓉𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓀𝒾𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝑜𝓊𝓁 𝐼 𝓀𝓃𝑒𝓌, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒽𝒶𝓈 𝒸𝒽𝒶𝓃𝑔𝑒𝒹 ..."
"Our ϝυƚυɾҽ is in h̀̓̒̔͏̠͖̜͔̳̻̤̠i̢̬̝̲ͧs̨̙̲̬̟͉̦̾͒ͬ ̡̼̠̫͇̭̜̘̤́͋́̊h̢̗̼ͪǎ̸͍̘̝̰͙̤̼̋͗ń̦͇̖̹̖̆͡d̹̫͕̘̦͕͐̔̚͜ͅṡ̴̗͎͇̮́͆̿ͅ ̖̝̘ͪ͒̃͝ͅn̗̦̮͖̭̋͞ow."
[Figures flicker back into existence, a dim light in the darkness. Five new figures now join the three from the first part of the dream, surrounding Link. Even the ones that are smaller than him seem to loom ominously overhead, bearing down, staring with eyes that don't seem to exist. Or perhaps they do, beneath the hazy film that masks the figures' details. They seem to expect something from him, but it's hard to say what.
Somewhere deep beneath layers of confusion, this dream begins to generate feelings of anxiety, of emptiness. Of a loss that means everything and nothing all at once.
"Have you really forgotten us?"]
"He can't f̡̤̤̩͕͋̄ͫâ̴̳̺ĭ̧͎̺̮̦̝͈̘͓ͤl̝͉̩̩ͪͩ̎ͭ͟."
"ɖɨɖ ɨ օռƈɛ have a ϝαɱιʅყ?"
"How do you m͖̞ͯ̅͠o͓̰̞͎̣͚ͣ̏͑̿͞ͅu̵̞͚̠̭̣̻͆͗͌ȑ̟̼͖͙̻̜̗̣̾͞n̜͚̙̏̔̇͛͢ someone you have ṋ̸̹͙͈͓̲̭̝̐̉͒o̡̟̯̤͎̙͆ͅͅ ͎͔̪͒ͭ͌̅́m̰͖̺̤ͬ͘ẻ̦̭̥͇̳̼̩̖̔ͩ̓͟m̯̞̩̄̕ỏͬ҉͚̙̱͍̼ͅȑ̵͈͖̭̠̫y̹̮̻̼̖̽̒̍́ͅ ̿ͯ̓͛҉̣͈ǒ̹̬͚̟͡f̢̞̲̥̊͂̀?"
"H̰͚̘̠̻̤̭̱͂̽̈́͜e̺̠̤̱̟̰ͦ͠ ̜̫̝̞ͫͪ͡m̶̗͕͙̽ṵ̷̰͍̲͈̳̍̆ŝ̵͓͙̤̜̣̙͕͌̑ͦt̊̔ͬ҉͙̠͕̲̲̪̞̺ ͖̪̟̝̑͘n̷̰̣̑̍͊͋ͅo̳̲̙̼͗͊ͣ͜ẗ͉̝̜̞̜͎̮̅ͧ̃͘ ̦͇͙̯̙̬͖̯̄́f̡̤̤̩͕͋̄ͫâ̴̳̺ĭ̧͎̺̮̦̝͈̘͓ͤl̝͉̩̩ͪͩ̎ͭ͟."
[Like an old film, the image flickers, and then fades. This is how the dream ends: slowly, gently enough to leave a residue of anxiety and regret.]
To: Everyone
Subject: Passive dream recording (Ghosts of the Past)
Warnings: Memory loss, spooky stuff, light implications of character death
[aaaand have some background noise if you wanna make it worse]
In the darkness, a voice, hollow and indistinct, several tones and cadences laid one over the other like a collage. Few phrases stand out, but the ones that do come through clearly.
"t𝓱Ｅ 𝓬𝓱𝐢𝔩𝓭 shows much promise."
"It's a h̢̲̤͋͑̑̉u̷̗͓̼̖̬̺ͬg̡̦̬̰ͨ̈́ͭę͖̲̺͔͚͖͛ responsibility."
"... 𝐻𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝒸𝓊𝓇𝒾𝑜𝓊𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒻𝓊𝓁𝓁 𝑜𝒻 𝑒𝓃𝑒𝓇𝑔𝓎, 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒶 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹𝓎 𝓈𝓂𝒾𝓁𝑒 ..."
[Those who stumble upon this dream will find that it has a quality of indistinct blurriness, like a photo out of focus, or perhaps a very old memory. Details are fuzzy to nonexistent, but you can see three figures outside of a house in a small, quiet village: two smaller, blonde, and one larger, broader, towering over both of them. You feel at once a particular emptiness; you are supposed to know who they are, but you can't place them. It's the feeling of forgetting something important, but being unable to place what that might be.
The smallest figure, long-haired and sporting a white dress, fiddles with a small patch of garden. The other figure might look a little familiar, to those who have met Link, though if you can believe it he's even smaller than he is now. He and the taller figure are currently engaged in some sort of practice match with wooden swords; the adult occasionally offers a note of encouragement in a deep, gregarious rumble: "Much better! Careful now-- watch your flank! Good." Clack! Clack-clack! The wooden swords crack against each other over and over as the match continues. The smallest figure chimes in again: "Don't step on the flowers, brother!" The details become even more nondescript as the practice match goes on, but eventually, both figures fall back onto the ground, breathing heavily.
As the dream carries on, you come to realize that Link himself is standing nearby, watching this just as you are. Unlike the subjects of the dream, he's sharply in focus. The smallest figure flickers, and then appears in front of the place where Link --the one watching the dream-- stands. She retains the same fuzziness even up close: her face, age, even her clothing is an indistinct blur. She looks up at Link, whose eyes widen.
"When are you coming home?"
Link seems conflicted: in moments, he seems almost shocked, as if he's seen a ghost. In others, it's as if he doesn't recognize this figure at all. He searches for words and grasps nothing. Something flickers; it's hard to tell whether it's the blurry figure or your vision, fading in and out of darkness.]
You can't help but feel as if some time has passed, as if it's been a long time since you first heard those strange voices.
"𝐻𝑒 𝓃𝑜 𝓁𝑜𝓃𝑔𝑒𝓇 𝓇𝑒𝓈𝑒𝓂𝒷𝓁𝑒𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒸𝒽𝒾𝓁𝒹 𝐼 𝒻𝒾𝓇𝓈𝓉 𝓂𝑒𝓉. 𝐻𝑒 𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒹𝓁𝓎 ṡ̯̱̾͠p̤̬̜̮̻͍ͧ͝ę̹̟̣͇͎ͪ̇̚aͪ͏̯͖̱̮̦̼k͖̰̭͚̦͖̼̘̈̽̈́́s̵̺̰̪̞͕̔̑ 𝒶𝓃𝓎𝓂𝑜𝓇𝑒, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝓂𝒾𝓁𝑒𝓈 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓃 𝓂𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝓇𝒶𝓇𝑒𝓁𝓎. 𝐻𝑒 𝒾𝓈 𝓈𝓉𝒾𝓁𝓁 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓀𝒾𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝑜𝓊𝓁 𝐼 𝓀𝓃𝑒𝓌, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒽𝒶𝓈 𝒸𝒽𝒶𝓃𝑔𝑒𝒹 ..."
"Our ϝυƚυɾҽ is in h̀̓̒̔͏̠͖̜͔̳̻̤̠i̢̬̝̲ͧs̨̙̲̬̟͉̦̾͒ͬ ̡̼̠̫͇̭̜̘̤́͋́̊h̢̗̼ͪǎ̸͍̘̝̰͙̤̼̋͗ń̦͇̖̹̖̆͡d̹̫͕̘̦͕͐̔̚͜ͅṡ̴̗͎͇̮́͆̿ͅ ̖̝̘ͪ͒̃͝ͅn̗̦̮͖̭̋͞ow."
[Figures flicker back into existence, a dim light in the darkness. Five new figures now join the three from the first part of the dream, surrounding Link. Even the ones that are smaller than him seem to loom ominously overhead, bearing down, staring with eyes that don't seem to exist. Or perhaps they do, beneath the hazy film that masks the figures' details. They seem to expect something from him, but it's hard to say what.
Somewhere deep beneath layers of confusion, this dream begins to generate feelings of anxiety, of emptiness. Of a loss that means everything and nothing all at once.
"Have you really forgotten us?"]
"He can't f̡̤̤̩͕͋̄ͫâ̴̳̺ĭ̧͎̺̮̦̝͈̘͓ͤl̝͉̩̩ͪͩ̎ͭ͟."
"ɖɨɖ ɨ օռƈɛ have a ϝαɱιʅყ?"
"How do you m͖̞ͯ̅͠o͓̰̞͎̣͚ͣ̏͑̿͞ͅu̵̞͚̠̭̣̻͆͗͌ȑ̟̼͖͙̻̜̗̣̾͞n̜͚̙̏̔̇͛͢ someone you have ṋ̸̹͙͈͓̲̭̝̐̉͒o̡̟̯̤͎̙͆ͅͅ ͎͔̪͒ͭ͌̅́m̰͖̺̤ͬ͘ẻ̦̭̥͇̳̼̩̖̔ͩ̓͟m̯̞̩̄̕ỏͬ҉͚̙̱͍̼ͅȑ̵͈͖̭̠̫y̹̮̻̼̖̽̒̍́ͅ ̿ͯ̓͛҉̣͈ǒ̹̬͚̟͡f̢̞̲̥̊͂̀?"
"H̰͚̘̠̻̤̭̱͂̽̈́͜e̺̠̤̱̟̰ͦ͠ ̜̫̝̞ͫͪ͡m̶̗͕͙̽ṵ̷̰͍̲͈̳̍̆ŝ̵͓͙̤̜̣̙͕͌̑ͦt̊̔ͬ҉͙̠͕̲̲̪̞̺ ͖̪̟̝̑͘n̷̰̣̑̍͊͋ͅo̳̲̙̼͗͊ͣ͜ẗ͉̝̜̞̜͎̮̅ͧ̃͘ ̦͇͙̯̙̬͖̯̄́f̡̤̤̩͕͋̄ͫâ̴̳̺ĭ̧͎̺̮̦̝͈̘͓ͤl̝͉̩̩ͪͩ̎ͭ͟."
[Like an old film, the image flickers, and then fades. This is how the dream ends: slowly, gently enough to leave a residue of anxiety and regret.]
[action] because i can
But this is a different anxiety than normal. Fuzzy images, mutable voices—impossible to bring into focus, no matter how she tries. A feeling of recognition picks at the back of her mind, just out of reach. And yet, Zelda does recognize Link, and the Champions and herself. She knows them, but still that feeling remains.
Eventually, Zelda gets out of bed. She intends to go to the kitchen, as she often does when the dreamsharing of this world wakes her, but she pauses outside Link's bedroom door. Is he awake too? Or was he able to go right back to sleep after the nightmare? Zelda steps up to the door and presses her ear against it to listen. She could knock, but she doesn't want to wake him if he did go back to sleep. ]
no subject
"Do you see the sky often?"
Before Aerith asked him that, before arriving in Reverein, Link didn't realize how much of it he did see...and how suffocating it is to be confined. Perhaps that's why he heads for the roof, in the quickest way he knows -- being under the stars and the sky feels calming. A small piece of home, of quiet, of the life he's been pulled away from. The invasiveness of the dreamshare hangs over him -- it's a weight he's going to have to deal with eventually. But for now, at least he has the sky stretching out overhead. Room to breathe.
There's probably an easier way to get up there than climbing the side of the house, but he only realizes that once he's there.
If the Princess goes looking, that's where she'll find him: sitting by the edge of the roof, hugging one knee to his chest while his other leg hangs off the side, watching the clouds as they roll across the dark sky.]
no subject
Zelda listens longer, but there's only silence now. Those sounds she heard before sounded like opening a window. Did he climb out the window? He must have gone outside to get some air. ...Through the window, for some reason.
Zelda heads outside (through the door, like a normal person) and walks around to the side of the tree home where Link's bedroom is located. There's the open window, but still no Link. ]
Where in the world...?
[ She looks all around for her knight until she spots his leg dangling off the roof. What's he doing up there? Her nightclothes aren't exactly suitable for climbing trees, so Zelda heads to the ladder on the opposite side of the tree home and climbs up that way.
When she finally reaches the roof where Link is sitting, the princess is a little winded. Link has probably been able to see her since she first went outside; Zelda didn't really make an effort to be quiet and sneaky. He has plenty of opportunities to sneak away if he wants to avoid her. Otherwise, she will come up beside him and sit down on edge of the roof. ]
no subject
He watches her approach and sit, making no move to protest. But it's a longer while before he finds words to speak, sliding his other leg down to hang over the side of the roof.]
... I'm sorry if I woke you.
no subject
She sits in silence beside him for awhile, giving Link the chance to speak first. It's something that Zelda rarely does, though not out of a place of ignorance or malice. Link is quiet—less so since Zelda made the effort to bridge the gap between them before the Calamity, but still quiet. He is often fine to let Zelda fill silence with whatever is on her mind, whether her worries, her discoveries, or simply her thoughts as they come to her.
But this time, it doesn't feel right to just start talking, so she waits. If they end up sitting here in silence all night, then so be it. Sometimes it's helpful just to not be alone when you're plagued by the unpleasant feelings that sharing dreams brings up.
When Link does speak, it's an apology, and Zelda waves it off with one hand. ]
It's all right. I've grown accustomed to it.
[ Hmm. That came out more dismissive than she wanted it too. ]
I suppose I should have warned you about this.
no subject
Maybe in some instances, silence should be broken.
He shakes his head when the Princess speaks, thoughtfully looking out at the trees. The treehouses, where who knows how many were subjected to the thoughts of his subconscious.]
I've seen it happen before. Just...
[Small, harmless dreams. Nightmares. Friends and total strangers alike, all with so much to say and think about. Did he really think it couldn't happen to him, too? The thought feels like foolish hubris in hindsight.]
I wasn't expecting it to be mine.
no subject
When I first arrived, I did not have one of my own for a long time. Several months, I believe. I started to think, 'Perhaps no one can see my dreams because I cannot use dreamotion.' At least there would have been some benefit to my failures.
[ She gives a little laugh, but it lacks her usual mirth. Unfortunately, dreamotion skill is not a prerequisite to dreamsharing, and the princess has had the misfortune of sharing several of her own nightmares in her year in Reverein.
Zelda turns her head and leans her cheek against her knee, looking at Link. Dreamshares are difficult for everyone—no one likes having their most intimate thoughts broadcast without their consent—but she suspects, perhaps, that Link might be taking this harder than most people. He is the private sort, and has been as long as she's known him. Those voices in the dream are the reason for it, the expectations and responsibilities burdened upon him throughout his life. ]
I wish I could say that they get easier. At the very least, they are not frequent.
no subject
Normally, he doesn't mind being lost. But not like this.
He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, thinking about the Princess's words. Even if they're infrequent, they're not impossible...but she's right -- this doesn't seem like the sort of thing that becomes easier over time.]
It's hard to prepare for something like this.
[Hard for her, too, he imagines.]
no subject
It is. No one has discovered a method of warding against them, even through the application of dreamotion.
[ Dreamotion really isn't good for anything.
Zelda continues watching Link, wondering about his dream. She understands the voices, she recognizes the people (even with the blurriness), but she's still stuck on the feelings. The confusion, the anxiety, the regret. Why did someone ask if he had forgotten them, or how you mourn someone you have no memory of?
Is Link also rolling these thoughts over and over in his head, trying to make sense of them? ]
Do you want to talk about it?
no subject
And yet...when has it ever done him any good, keeping his feelings quiet?
The people he's met, the friends he's made...they have all been open and honest since he arrived, at least for the most part -- they have shared those parts of themselves with him. The Princess, too. Continuing on the way he was before doesn't feel right.]
One of my first shared dreams was with a friend, about his family...his sister. When he was telling me about her, I thought-- [For a moment, he finds the feeling indescribable. "Your path seems to mirror your father's..." He can remember her words so well, now, and yet he can't remember the person she was talking about. He's quiet for a little while longer before he's able to find the words he needs.]
... I keep realizing I once must have had a family that I have no memory of.
[Who were they? What were they like? Did they survive the Calamity?... These are questions he's not sure he'll ever have an answer to. Not sure he even knows how he would find those answers.]
no subject
And just like that, everything clicks into place. The blurriness, the incomprehensible voices, the thread of 'memories' woven throughout the entire dream. Link has lost his memories? But he recognized Zelda when he arrived. He knows her, the Champions, the Calamity. He's just like he was before the Calamity. How could that be possible if he had lost his memories?
Zelda tries to couch her expressions, but some measure of her surprise is probably still visible. ]
You've... forgotten your family?
[ There's no judgment to her words, but there is concern. ]
no subject
He nods at the question, glancing thoughtfully at his hands for a moment.]
And everything else. When I first woke in the shrine... [It's strange, thinking back to that moment. How different everything was.] I didn't know who I was.
[It was like being a new person, he stops himself from saying.]
Some things have come back. Bits and pieces. [Some of those pieces line up to make a bigger picture: her, the Champions. The events leading up to the Calamity. Much of the puzzle is still incomplete, but those recent memories are much more clear. Perhaps more will come back -- perhaps all he needs is time. He hopes, at least.]
no subject
"Some things have come back." Which ones? Without meaning to, she starts playing back all of their interactions in their mind, like rewinding a video tape, all the way back to the day he arrived in Songerein. Did he recognize her, when she followed him into that alleyway? Zelda was so taken aback at the sight of Link before her that she doesn't remember his reaction. Did he know who she was, in that moment, or was he just surprised to have a stranger react so strongly to him?
Her own anxiety is starting to prickle in the corners of her mind. She saw herself in his dream, as well as the other Champions, but they were all just vague, unclear figures. The same with his own father, whom Zelda always thought he looked up to; and his little sister, whom the siblingless Zelda always envied him for.
Zelda's brows furrow and she turns away from Link, casting her gaze out to the trees and treehouses. There are two plausible causes for his amnesia that Zelda can think of readily. The first is that it was inflicted by the physical and/or mental trauma of the Calamity. The second is that it was caused by the Shrine of Resurrection itself. If that's the case, then it will make her the one to blame for the loss of his memories. After all, it was on Zelda's command that the Sheikah placed Link in the Shrine. Perhaps if she had told them to take him to Kakariko Village instead... ]
Link... [ She turns back to him. ] I am so sorry. If I had known... If I had even suspected...
[ They've had this conversation before. She's agonized over that choice time and again since Link has been here. It really was the only way to save him. ]
I am so sorry...
no subject
In the end, it's not the Princess's silence that grips his heart, but her words, and for a moment, he regrets saying anything, if only because of that apology. He never wanted her to blame herself. Never wanted her to think that any of this --any of it, his memories, the Champions, the onslaught of the Calamity-- was her fault. She did everything she could. He could blame himself just as easily for not being strong enough to continue fighting, but it would be just as untrue and unfair. They made the best of a difficult situation. Isn't that enough? Will it ever be enough?
When he looks back at the Princess, it's with the same unwavering determination of gaze as the last time they had this conversation. The weight of his dream lingers on him, reminding him that there are so many things he has lost -- things he may never get back. But even in the wake of that reminder, his feelings haven't changed.]
You did what needed to be done...and you saved me. [Indeed, more than that, she saved all of Hyrule. There have been times when he has thought to himself about the things he wishes he could show her: people, creatures, small moments and tableaus that the Sheikah Slate could never hope to capture. Those things survived --hope survived-- because of her choices and sacrifice. In the end, his memories seem a small price to pay for it all.
He's quiet for a moment, trying to figure out how to express that. How to express any of it.]
There's nothing to apologize for. It wasn't your fault.
[... But in the end, as emphatic as his feelings are, what actually comes out of his mouth seems pathetic by comparison.]
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The princess heaves a dramatic sigh, sucking in a deep breath and huffing it out in frustration. ] I do not regret it. Even if I had known what the Shrine would do to you... I only wish I could have paid that price in your place, somehow. You, Urbosa, Mipha, Revali, Daruk---you all paid such a terrible price for Hyrule. For me.
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Thoughtfully, he picks up a stray leaf from the roof, twirls the stem between his fingers.]
When I first woke up, one of the first places I went was the Temple of Time. [He pauses, returning his mind to that moment. The striking first view of Hyrule from the Great Plateau. The ruined remains of the Temple. The light-washed statue of the Goddess Hylia.] I barely remembered anything. Who I was, how to fight...
[A faint flicker of smile as he glances in her direction. As grave as the situation was, it was not without bits of humor -- he spent no small amount of time throwing sticks at Bokoblins, after all.]
... I didn't know why, but I felt moved to gather some flowers to place at the foot of the Goddess statue. Five of them. Much later I realized that they were for the Champions-- and you.
[Maybe it's not the most straightforward way to get at what he means, but it's the only way he can think of it right now. The Champions, trapped in their divine beasts; the Princess, fighting alone to keep Calamity Ganon sealed long enough for Link to come back... Not one of them is free from the hold of the Calamity.
Sora said something to him about memories of the heart. He wonders how true that is, now -- even if he couldn't remember them, perhaps his heart was mourning for the sacrifice they had made.]
You paid a price, too. You still do.
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A tear pricks at the corner of her eye, which she hastily wipes away with the back of one hand. The meaning behind Link's anecdote resonates in her heart, as clear as if he had said it plainly. It's almost funny how, despite losing his memories, his manner of speech is much like it was before the Calamity. Link's words are often few, and often chosen carefully; once Zelda stopped to listen, she started to understand what he meant with the words he said, as well as what he meant with his silence.
She leans her cheek against her knee again, her tense expression softening once more. ]
If the 'me' of the future saw that, I'm sure it gave me strength.
[ Link has mentioned before that he thought he heard Zelda's voice guiding him after he awakened in the Shrine of Resurrection. It's strange to hear about something she hasn't done yet, but also heartening, in a way. For decades, she's been calling to Link from the seal, trying to reach him within the Shrine. It sounds like, not only will she be able to rouse him eventually, but that she'll be there to guide him when he wakes. Knowing he will wake, despite how far that is in her future, makes Zelda all the more certain that she will be able to hold the seal until that time. ]
May I ask... [ She starts, then hesitates. There are many things she wants to ask, but one thing in particular is weighing heaviest on Zelda's mind. ] You said you've regained some of your memories.
Do you... remember me?
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Something in his expression eases a bit, as if that's something he needed to hear. For a long time, he's felt as though he failed the Princess, the Champions, the people of Hyrule. Had he doomed them all to their trapped existences? How was it fair, then, that he remained free? Could he really do anything for them...? Perhaps those thoughts weighed more heavily on him than he realized. Perhaps he just needed to know that he was able help her, even in such a small way.]
Hm, [he begins, somewhat noncommittally, pausing before answering the question.] I remember someone trying to feed me a frog. [His eyes slide in her direction, that same faint smile returning for a moment. Yes, he does remember...or at least, there are certain things he remembers. He pauses a moment, thoughtfully.]
Recent things are more clear. The Calamity, the Champions... ["Recent" in a manner of speaking, he supposes. The Calamity happened a hundred years ago for him -- fifty, for her. But his long sleep in the shrine means that it feels like much less time has passed, now that he's recovered some of his memories.] I vaguely remember drawing the Master Sword. Things before that...
[Well. She saw the dream.]
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(She never did get him to eat that frog either.)
Her gaze returns to him before long, softer now. She understands what he means by "recent." The Calamity still feels recent for her as well, as she spent her time in the seal slipping in and out of a sleep-like state. It's only thanks to her year in Songerein that the most jagged, scarring edges of that trauma have begun to smooth out. ]
If you would like, I could try to help you fill in some of the gaps. A few, at least. We... were not close before you were assigned as my knight, but I knew who you were and I saw you around the castle often enough when we were young.
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The memories he's recovered have hung over him ominously for a little while; the fact that he can remember some of these things so well, but not even a scrap of his life before he drew the Master Sword...what does that say about how he thought of his family? Or himself? In a way, it's heartening to have the confirmation that that was real...it means his mind has chosen to hold onto more than just the barest essential memories. Perhaps he can recover more, over time.
For a moment, he's surprised by her offer, not because of her kindness but because he wouldn't have expected her to remember him from so long ago. He met Mipha as a child, apparently; is it possible he's known the Princess for just as long, without knowing it?]
... I would like that, [he says at last, grateful and perhaps a little relieved.] Thank you.
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There's a twinge of worry in the back of her mind. Can she really fill in the gaps in Link's memories? Before he was assigned as her knight, how much did she really even know him? Back then, she barely spoke to him if she could help it. Mipha would be better suited to helping Link with his memories. Mipha knew Link for a long time, long before Zelda was even willing to give him the time of day. Maybe Mipha would have been able to heal whatever injury caused Link's amnesia in the first place. Not for the first or the last time, Zelda wishes it had been the Champions who survived the Calamity instead of her.
A yawn interrupts her melancholy and Zelda lifts a hand to cover her mouth. The lateness of the hour is catching up with her. ]
I think I will turn in. [ Zelda pushes herself to her feet. ] Goodnight, Link.