[He scolds with a similar lack of strength, one hand lifting to cradle the back of her head as he does. Fingers that once pulled away at the slightest of touch now gently stroke her hair without hesitation or wavering.]
I only wish I had been there when you awoke. Forgive me—you should not have had to go through that alone.
[He's cursing himself now just as he was cursing his lack of certainty then. No matter how much time had passed, Zelda had never stirred as she slept, had never shown any signs of an imminent awakening. At least with Link he could sense when the time of his emergence from the Sacred Realm was near through the resonance of the Triforce and his connection to the Sages; Zelda's slumber had offered him no such inclinations. It was infuriating... and terrifying.
Because he knows, in some small part, at least, the ache she must feel. It is not the same - it's never the same, even as their lives each seem to mirror the other's in so very many respects, the same song played in different keys - but he has spent so much of the last seven years preparing for it, steeling himself for the moment he will cut fate's strings himself, and sever the ties that bind Hero and Princess in the name of atonement—even if that leaves him alone.
When peace returns to Hyrule, it will be time for us to say goodbye.
That knowledge, that empathy wrinkles his brow as he pulls himself back just enough to meet her eyes, his own surrounded by deep circles that he pays no heed to hiding, his own façades and weariness distant things in the face of her grief.]
You are welcome to remain here as long as you wish. I would never turn you away.
[He'll... figure out the logistics of it all later. It'll be fine.]
no subject
[He scolds with a similar lack of strength, one hand lifting to cradle the back of her head as he does. Fingers that once pulled away at the slightest of touch now gently stroke her hair without hesitation or wavering.]
I only wish I had been there when you awoke. Forgive me—you should not have had to go through that alone.
[He's cursing himself now just as he was cursing his lack of certainty then. No matter how much time had passed, Zelda had never stirred as she slept, had never shown any signs of an imminent awakening. At least with Link he could sense when the time of his emergence from the Sacred Realm was near through the resonance of the Triforce and his connection to the Sages; Zelda's slumber had offered him no such inclinations. It was infuriating... and terrifying.
Because he knows, in some small part, at least, the ache she must feel. It is not the same - it's never the same, even as their lives each seem to mirror the other's in so very many respects, the same song played in different keys - but he has spent so much of the last seven years preparing for it, steeling himself for the moment he will cut fate's strings himself, and sever the ties that bind Hero and Princess in the name of atonement—even if that leaves him alone.
When peace returns to Hyrule, it will be time for us to say goodbye.
That knowledge, that empathy wrinkles his brow as he pulls himself back just enough to meet her eyes, his own surrounded by deep circles that he pays no heed to hiding, his own façades and weariness distant things in the face of her grief.]
You are welcome to remain here as long as you wish. I would never turn you away.
[He'll... figure out the logistics of it all later. It'll be fine.]