Making an actual "about me" post again bc I need to be more active on this blog anyway :P
Soo hello, I'm Lizzy and/or Sky (a nickname from my discord and tumblr usernames lol). I'm a Christian, have only played two Zelda games (to my deep regret but I’m slightly broke), and spend waaay too much time writing fanfiction 😅
Links:
Ao3
Loz Masterpost for quick reference (coming at an unknown date bc I’m a chronic procrastinator)
Main blog: @to-be-frank-i-dont-care (what I'll follow you from)
Skyward Sword sideblog: @skyward-children
I believe that's all for now :P my inbox is always open so feel free to come hang, I love meeting new moots!! Also if anyone ever needs prayer and/or encouragement please let me know :)
Loftwing Letter for @rainoverthewindow 🫶
(Ao3) | @zelinkcommunity
I’m still your Zelda.
Link fights the lump rising in his throat as he backs away from the golden crystal suspended before him, stumbling a little on the cracked stone pedestal below his feet. His fists ache from slamming against the amber structure and his throat is sore from screaming her name, but he scarcely notices the pain over the even fiercer wound in his heart.
She is gone.
Asleep in the crystal, frozen in time for thousands of years, her light dimming like the sky outside the temple as dusk falls. He can feel her warmth fading out of the room, the very same warmth and life and joy that has surrounded him since they were children.
But now, like her, it is dwindling, and the room is growing cold.
Link drags the back of one gloved hand across his face, catching the last few tears still staining his cheeks before he looks up at her a final time. Her face is serene, the gold of her hair accentuated further by the crystal, but he wants nothing more than to see her smile again. To hear her laugh. To look into her eyes again and dare to think he sees his own love reflected in their depths.
But in spite of his wishes, she is still trapped within the crystal, and the temple is growing dark, and his heart has broken into a thousand irreparable shards.
He turns away, boots scuffing on stone as he moves back to the main room of the temple where Impa still waits and the massive purple gate turns in endless rhythm. Impa says nothing, merely giving him a slight incline of her head and watching as he comes to a halt.
“It’s done,” Link manages to say, voice strange to his own ears. Ragged from screaming her name as the light surrounded her. Weary from months of travel, away from her side. Weak with longing for a heart that cannot be his.
Not anymore.
Impa’s eyes close for a brief moment. “You know what you must do, then,” is all she says, and Link can barely summon the strength to nod.
The other side of the gate is no more comforting than the one he just came from. Groose and the old woman wait for him to speak, but Link just shakes his head numbly and goes to sit in the cool, lonely dusk outside the temple. He leans his head back against the crumbling stone wall and watches as the sky rotates through shades of red and pink and gold before finally it deepens to a velvety blue.
Link sighs. He’s so, so tired. He wants nothing more than to curl up and sleep. Just five more minutes, and he’ll resume his journey. Just five minutes of rest. That’s all he asks. That’s all he needs, and then— and then…
His head droops forward, eyes beginning to drift shut. He can feel sleep coming to guide him away into blessed relief free of consciousness. He is just on the verge of it when her voice rings out in his mind.
I’m still your Zelda.
Link starts, the echo of her words jolting him from his stupor. What is he doing? Tired or not, he has to keep going. For her. So her sacrifice will not be in vain.
Come on, Link. Get up. You can rest later.
Wearily he drags himself upright. Wearily he straps his sword and shield to his back again. Wearily he downs a potion so he’ll at least have something in his stomach. Wearily he moves forward into the darkening twilight, away from the temple.
Away from her.
“Still my Zelda,” he murmurs to the night, and keeps going.
❀ ❀ ❀
She’s still his Zelda when he spends hours swimming through the flooded forest till he is beyond exhausted, till everything looks like a tadtone and his head is swirling.
She’s still his Zelda when he gets crushed by a boulder and wakes in a Bokoblin prison with a splitting migraine and bleeding wounds, and is forced to spend the night searching for his stolen gear even when he wants nothing more than to rest.
She’s still his Zelda when he finds the massive skull in the desert, abandoned deep in a canyon gorge where lonely winds blow.
She’s still his Zelda when he learns that he has one more Silent Realm to face, though this one horrifies him so much more than the rest because it’s on his territory. His homeland. His Skyloft, where he and Zelda grew up together. Where he realized how much he loved her but could never find the courage to say so to her face.
But even through it, even through the fear as footsteps hammer the earth behind him, even through the choking panic as blades slice the air at his heels, even through the wretched disappointment when he fails, again and again, and has to relive his failure over and over and over—
Even then, she’s still his Zelda.
He repeats it to himself like a mantra, till it is the only thing that gives him any purpose, till nothing more can keep him going through the blood and pain and exhaustion. Her smile hangs in his mind every time he snatches a few precious moments of sleep, and the memory of her laughter pushes him onward till at last he reaches the final dungeon.
“Still my Zelda,” he whispers through cracked and bloody lips as he watches Sky Keep burst forth from the cliff in a shower of dirt and rocks.
“Still my Zelda,” he pants as he runs through room after room, going in circles that lead him nowhere and make him hopelessly lost and confused.
“Still my Zelda,” he croaks from beneath the massive foot of a Moblin, its leering face and putrid breath lingering above him as it drives its spear into his ribs.
Still my Zelda, he thinks as he forces down a potion and cleans his wounds as best he can, because it hurts too much to speak.
And when the crystal finally shatters, and her warmth and light fill his heart once more, his eyes flood with tears of joy. He can scarcely move. He can scarcely breathe. Because that’s his Zelda, and finally she’s awake.
Finally they can be together again.
“My Zelda,” he whispers as he catches her in his arms and cradles her to his heart. He sinks to the floor, fingers entwined in her hair, her scent surrounding him. She smiles weakly and hugs him as best as she can, ear pressed against his chest where she can hear his heartbeat thumping loud and strong.
“Your Zelda,” she murmurs back, and fumbles to catch one of his hands, tracing her fingers over the scars that now crisscross over his skin. She looks like she wants to say something more, but tears are filling her eyes and she can’t speak.
Link senses what she is thinking, smiling and bumping his forehead gently against hers as he pulls her even closer. “Don’t blame yourself like I know you are, because I would’ve done it a thousand times over,” he whispers. “In a million lifetimes.”
“But why?” she murmurs, hands coming to cup his face as she looks at him with eyes full of love. “I’m just Zelda.”
“Wrong,” he corrects her softly, brushing hair behind her ear. “You’re my Zelda. And me?”
Their hearts beat as one as he finishes, “I’ve always been your Link.”
The ocarina burns through Zelda’s gloves and deep into her skin as she stands before Link at the end of it all, the weight of what she must do crushing the breath from her lungs. He looks so tired, so worn, the very reason she cannot keep him here, but every fibre of her being yearns to do the selfish thing and refuse to send him back.
She makes every effort to ignore the longing hammering against her ribcage, trying instead to focus on the task before her. Already she has thanked Link for all he has done for her and Hyrule, and promised to make up for her mistakes as a child by returning him to his rightful timeline.
Now all that is left is to play her lullaby and send him away to a place where she cannot follow.
She sweeps her gaze across him, throat constricting at the cuts and bruises on his skin, the bags below his eyes, the dried blood staining his clothes. He’s been through so much. Lost his childhood, took on the weight of responsibility that should never have been his, endured loss and grief and trauma, and all he has to show for it is pain.
She can help him, though she knows that to do so will tear a fresh wound in her own heart.
But he has made so many sacrifices. It’s the least she can do to do the same for him.
Zelda draws a breath to steady herself. “Now go home, Link,” she tells him in trembling tones, and tries her best to sound happy for him. For the life he is about to recover, for the childhood he is going to reclaim, though its innocence has been stolen from him forever. “Regain your lost time. Home… where you are supposed to be… the way you are supposed to be–”
I hope you can be a child again, Link.
I wish…
I wish I could go with you.
He watches her with a strange shine in his eyes, the depths of which she will never look into again, a fact that makes her heart wrench in her chest. Slowly she turns the ocarina over in her hands, lifting it in spite of her own selfish desires to keep him here. Preparing to send him away from her side forever, back to a time she can never set foot in again.
Yet just before the mouthpiece touches her lips, she hesitates.
Zelda’s breath hitches unsteadily in her chest. Unconsciously her fingers curl around the cool surface of the ocarina, her entire body frozen in place. She feels the caress of wind against her skin and the burn of tears against her throat and she knows with every fibre of her being that she cannot, she will not, say goodbye.
But part of her also knows that to make him stay by her side is a form of selfishness she cannot afford to indulge in. To refuse him his childhood after all he has been through for her sake– he will be haunted the rest of his life regardless of what choice she makes, and returning him to his own time will at least allow him a chance at reclaiming some of what he lost, as well as allowing him to warn her child self.
It has to be the best choice.
It has to, because otherwise her heart will crack in half and she will give in and keep him by her side forever.
She must send him back.
Yet still she hesitates.
Link watches her carefully, the shadows of exhaustion hollow beneath his eyes. He reaches a cautious hand towards her, brushing her arm, and his voice is fragile when he says her name, as though he is afraid she will break.
He is not wrong, but she cannot let him know that. Instead she will wait till he has returned to his own time, and then she will crumble, she will collapse, she will scrape the shattered fragments of her heart together as best as she can, and he will never know.
“Zelda,” Link says again, pulling her from her thoughts, his fingers still a light pressure against her arm. “Are you all right?”
She forces a smile in his direction, breath trembling as she searches her mind for a suitable answer. But her thoughts are empty save for him and the fact that soon she will be all alone, and the best she can manage in spite of herself is a whispered not really.
His eyes widen a little at her response, and then, throwing caution to the wind, he steps forward and pulls her into a tight, reassuring embrace. “Is there anything I can do? Any way I can fix what’s bothering you?” he asks softly, and another crack splinters across her heart.
“You’ve already done enough, Link,” she says in a whisper, though her own arms wind around him in turn, just for a moment. Surely she can allow herself this last bit of indulgence before he vanishes from her presence forever. “There’s nothing more I need ask of you.”
Except…
Except to stay.
If I asked, would you?
Would you stay with me?
Would you grow old by my side?
The words cluster at the tip of her tongue, but she knows his answer without even speaking them into existence, which is the precise reason she must stay silent– no matter how fiercely her heart commands her otherwise. Because he would tell her yes in a heartbeat, and she cannot permit him to do that, much as she wishes him to.
She squeezes her eyes shut for just a moment, holding him as tightly as she dares, pressed so close against him she can feel his heart beating in rhythm with her own. “Zelda," he begins, voice low and searching, but she only shakes her head brokenly and releases her hold on him, stepping away before he can stop her.
“Don’t, Link,” she whispers, the bitter tang of regret already thick on her tongue at the loss of his touch.
“Zelda,” he says again, and his hand trembles as he holds it out to her, his expression pleading with her to take it. “Will you let me stay with you?” He swallows hard, and anguish sharpens his features as he adds, so soft she has to strain to hear him, “Please?”
The ocarina is so unbearably heavy in her palm, like a condemnation shaped into something tangible. Her voice burns her throat like fire as she drops her gaze from his.
“It’s time for you to go home, Link.”
The last fragment of hope slips from his countenance, and with it goes her own. The air seems to freeze around them, the seconds slowing and stopping, but all too soon the thread will break. They cannot linger here forever.
The flow of time is always cruel…
It seems an eternity before she begins to lift the ocarina again, pulse dull and heavy in her ears. I’m sorry , she wants to tell him. I wish it didn’t have to be this way. I wish I didn’t have to send you back. But fate tugs at her heart and pulls at her limbs, and she has no choice but to obey.
I wish I could tell you how much you mean to me.
I wish–
She swallows and looks up at him again, and immediately her heart threatens to betray her again. Tears are pooling from his eyes, running down his cheeks like liquid glass, but he simply stands and watches her, ready for whatever she is about to tell him.
Ready for her to break his heart like she is about to break her own.
But she cannot, not just yet. There is one more thing she must ask him.
“Link?” she manages to choke out, even as her own eyes begin to fill and her lungs constrict as though they have been wrapped in chains that are being pulled tight.
He exhales, waiting, eyes flooded with devotion and something else she can’t quite decipher.
“Yes, princess?”
Zelda tightens her hold on the ocarina, unable to tear her gaze from the boy before her yet unable to look into those endlessly blue eyes of his.
“You won’t forget me, will you?” she whispers, and there is a desperation to her tone she cannot explain even to herself. All she knows is that the mere idea of her memory fading from his mind is something cruel, something wildly unbearable.
“Me, forget?” His gaze softens like the sky after spring rain, and the faintest of smiles curves his mouth. “ Never .”
She releases a tearful laugh, and before she knows what she is doing she is flinging her arms around his neck and pressing her cheek against his own. “I’ll never forget you, either,” she breathes in his ear as he embraces her in return, her tears dropping thick and fast onto the fabric of his tunic. “For as long as I live, and beyond. For eternity. I promise.”
A cool wind springs up around them, tugging at their hair and clothes, pulling at them as though it wishes to drag them apart. But only once she has pressed a kiss to his cheek does Zelda step back, brushing her own face dry with one gloved hand before, one last time, she raises the ocarina to her mouth.
“Goodbye, Zelda,” Link whispers as she begins to play, so quietly she can scarcely hear him. She allows herself a final look at him– at his hair, the brilliant gold of a field of wheat; at his eyes, the impossible blue of the sky above their heads; at his smile, warmer than the rays of the sun itself.
He has always seemed otherworldly to her, and now he is being pulled away from her for good, back to the faraway past from which he came.
A single tear falls down her cheek.
Goodbye.
The notes of her lullaby drift and swirl into the air around them in a haunting melody, surrounding Link in ethereal blue light that matches his eyes. She squeezes her own shut as tight as she possibly can as the notes of the song grow stronger.
After just a few moments she stops playing, ocarina clutched tightly in one hand, her other arm reaching out in a final farewell. She doesn’t open her eyes, because she knows that if she does, her heart will fly apart in her chest, and her soul will cry out to follow him to a place it can never set foot in again.
She feels the slightest press of his fingers around her wrist, sliding up to grasp her palm as a final hoarse call of farewell meets her ears, and then his hand is tugged free of hers and he is gone.
When there is silence save for the low whisper of the wind, when his warmth and presence have long since faded from the space before her and she is sure she is alone–
“Goddess, I’m so bored,” Zelda complained one afternoon as she and Link sat in a grassy area by the bazaar. “Nothing has happened this whole day! Or as a matter of fact, this whole week! ”
Link glanced up from where he was idly chipping away at a piece of bark with his knife. “Do you want to go back to the Academy? We could get Pipit and Karane and try to find something to do.”
“I’d rather go anywhere but the Academy,” Zelda groaned, flinging an arm over her face and squinting up at the sky. “I’m so tired of all the adults watching us all the time like we’re going to break the rules. I just wish that we had more…more…”
“Independence?” Link suggested.
“Yeah.” Zelda sighed, rolling onto her stomach and folding her arms below her chin. “I mean, I love living in the Academy and everything, but it’s a little stifling sometimes. Always having a teacher or some other adult making sure you’re not doing anything you shouldn’t, even if they know you never would.”
“Well…” Link gave her a mischievous grin. “We kind of have done stuff we shouldn’t before. Like when we put a wind cushion on Instructor Horwell’s seat, or slipped a sky stag beetle in Cawlin’s bag so he got pinched when he reached inside, or—”
“Okay! Okay, I get it!” She stuck her tongue out at him, making him chuckle. “But you get my point, right?”
“Yeah, I do. It can feel pretty claustrophobic at times.”
She hummed in agreement, watching a blessed butterfly flit its way past. “So… what can we do about it?”
“Grow up?” Link suggested unhelpfully, earning an eye roll and exaggerated snort from Zelda. “Well, I don’t really know what other options we have except waiting till we’re old enough to be taken seriously.”
“You’re not using your imagination, Link.” She blew out a breath, drumming her fingers on her shoulder and thinking for a moment. “Even if we can just get away for a day, that would be enough. I just want to be away from adult judgment for a few hours; is that so much to ask?”
“We’re away from it right now,” Link noted with a yawn.
“Link!” Zelda reached over and smacked him with one hand, a scowl crossing her face. “You’re supposed to be on my side!”
“I’m always on your side,” he returned defensively, rubbing the back of his head where she had hit him and giving her a hurt look. “I was just pointing out the facts.”
“I know.” She sighed again, flipping over onto her back and draping her arms across her stomach. “It’s just not fair.”
Link made a sound of agreement, tucking his knife in his pocket and discarding the piece of bark before he stretched out beside her. “This is kind of nice, though, right?” he asked her with a small smile, beginning to feel sleepy in the warm sun. “We don’t have any adults with us right now, and we get to be away from them all afternoon–”
Her own lips curved upwards slightly. “True. This is nice. I just wish we could… do something.”
Link let his eyes flutter shut. “Mm….yeah.”
“Wait!” Zelda cried suddenly, sitting upright and jolting him wide awake. “I have an idea. What if we spend a night at the Lumpy Pumpkin?”
“What?” Link looked up at her like she’d just sprouted a second head.
“We could convince my father! Just imagine, we could fly over there before sunset, have dinner, maybe dance or something if they have music, stargaze, and then sleep in the guest area they have! They have two beds, if I recall—”
Link’s cheeks warmed. “But, Zelda, won’t your father think—”
She frowned at him. “Won’t he think what?”
He swallowed, the heat spreading from his face to his ears. “That it’s, uh, a date?”
“A date?” Zelda repeated. “What do you mean?”
“Well, ah, um, don’t– don’t couples usually go out to eat for dates? A-and dancing, and stuff–” Link said feebly, though by now his face was the color of his Loftwing and Zelda’s was beginning to match it the more he rambled. “I mean, he might assume–”
“He won’t,” Zelda said firmly, resolutely avoiding Link’s gaze. “He knows we’re just friends, and this isn’t the weirdest thing we’ve asked him. We’ll never know if we don’t try!” She grabbed him by one hand and dragged him to his feet, tugging him in the direction of the Academy. “Come on, walk faster!”
Link obliged, stumbling a little before he caught his balance again. “I still think he’s going to say no,” he said, coming up beside Zelda but not pulling his hand free of her grip.
“Well, I think he’ll say yes,” Zelda replied stubbornly. “I mean, we’re sixteen! We aren’t children!”
“We…kind of are, though?” Link pointed out hesitantly. “Technically, at least.”
“Well, I wasn’t being technical!” Zelda huffed. “Goddess, Link. It’s almost like you–”
She cut herself off, eyes going wide. Link swallowed nervously, side-eyeing her and mumbling, “It’s almost like what?”
It’s almost like I think it’s a date, too?
Zelda chewed her lip, giving him an uncertain look, and then shook her head fiercely and began walking at lightning speed. Link sighed, picking up his pace to keep up with her. “Look, Zel, I just–”
“No,” she interrupted, not looking at him. “I’m asking my father, and he’s going to say yes. Okay?”
“Okay,” Link answered after a moment. “I trust you.”
She glanced over her shoulder to glare at him, though a smile was playing about her lips. “You better.”
They found Gaepora in the schoolroom dropping something off for Instructor Owlan. He looked up as they entered, a smile crossing his face at the customary sight of the two of them hand-in-hand, but Zelda didn’t give him a chance to speak.
“Father,” she said a bit breathlessly, finally relinquishing her grip on Link and charging forward towards Gaepora. “Link and I have a question.”
The headmaster raised one bristling eyebrow at the two of them, already anticipating one of their usual bizarre requests. Such as can our Loftwings sleep in our rooms with us at night? or for the Pumpkin Festival this year, could we dress as scarecrows and hide in the maze to scare people? (For which the answer to both had been a resounding no, though they had still done it anyway).
“What is it, my dear?” Gaepora said, arms folding over his chest as he looked from Zelda to Link and back to his daughter again.
“Well, um, see–” Zelda hesitated, glancing at Link. Clearly his doubts were making themselves known in her own mind. “Don’t panic or anything–”
“The last time you said that, I ended up with Skyloft mantises in my study for weeks .”
“I know, but– just listen.” Zelda drew a breath. “We just thought, since we’re sixteen and we don’t get to really do much outside of Skyloft, it would be fun to do something… off of it.”
“Go on,” Gaepora rumbled, though his other eyebrow was lifting to join the first at the top half of his forehead.
“And we’ve been to the Lumpy Pumpkin lots of times in the day, and as you know it’s a really respectable establishment and you’re close friends with Pumm and I’m friends with Kina–” Zelda swallowed hard before finishing in a rush, “So…could we maybe spend the night over there?”
Silence. Gaepora’s eyebrows were by now out of sight.
Link and Zelda traded an uneasy glance.
“...Zelda,” the headmaster said finally, pinching the skin between his eyes as though he were trying to comprehend her request. “You want to fly to the Lumpy Pumpkin and stay there overnight? Together?”
I knew it, Link thought, and by the way Zelda’s shoulders stiffened, she could hear him thinking it, too.
“And what’s wrong with that?” she argued. “We have sleepovers all the time; it’s no big deal! Like I said, The Lumpy Pumpkin is really well respected, and we know everyone there, and it’s not that far from Skyloft! It would only be one night!” She caught the headmaster by one arm, looking up at him with an expression that Link was personally never able to resist, though her father might be a different story. “Father, please! When have we ever done anything stupid?”
Link winced, because just off the top of his head he could think of dozens of times he and Zelda had been stupid together. Apparently Gaepora could as well, because his mustache was twitching as if he were struggling to suppress a smile. “Relax, my dear,” he said fondly, ruffling his daughter’s blonde hair with one hand. “I’m just teasing you. I trust both you and Link implicitly, no matter the ridiculous pranks you two have played on me and others in the past.”
Zelda brightened, giving Link an I told you so look before she said, “So you’ll let us?”
Gaepora nodded. “I’ll let Pumm know in advance, but other than that, I’m fine with you both going. Just for a night, mind. And I want you to get there before sunset, alright?”
“Yes, Father,” Zelda said breathlessly before turning to Link and jumping up and down in excitement. “I told you he’d say yes!”
“Yep, you did,” Link answered with a smile, catching the way Gaepora hid a chuckle as he ducked out of the room. “So, are we going tonight, then?”
“Obviously!” Zelda grabbed his hand and yanked him out of the schoolroom, pulling him down the hall towards Link’s room. “But we need to plan out what we’re going to do and in what order.”
Link rolled his eyes. “If you say so, Instructor,” he snickered, earning himself a light smack to the back of the head.
“I just want to be ready for whatever might happen!” Zelda protested as she shoved his bedroom door open.
“Yeah, like what? A Skytail invasion?”
“You never know,” she argued, pushing him onto his bed before plopping down at his desk and grabbing a sheet of paper. “Okay, so get there before sunset, eat dinner and dessert– or wait, maybe we should eat dessert later on– dance, stargaze, go to bed–” She paused, tapping the top of his quill against her lips. “Hmm, though perhaps we could stargaze before dancing. But the dancing might be over before we’re done, and–”
“You know what I think?” Link said lazily, hanging upside down off of his bed and giving her a grin. “I think we should just do stuff as it happens. You don’t have to have a list for everything.”
“Okay, maybe , but you never have lists for anything,” Zelda retorted. “You’re never prepared, and look where it’s gotten you!”
“I prefer to go with the flow,” Link said smugly.
“Oh, you do now, do you?” Before Link could react, Zelda had leapt up from her chair and tackled him, knocking him the rest of the way off his bed and collapsing on top of him in a fit of mutual giggles. “So you weren’t prepared for that , huh?” she shrieked, plopping down on his stomach and tickling him right at the top of his ribs, the one place he was most sensitive.
Link snickered, thrashing like a fish out of water and laughing in complete helplessness. “Let go,” he managed to squeak between giggles, unable to catch his breath.
“Absolutely not,” Zelda said mischievously, tickling him even more. “The last time you laughed this hard was when Groose’s pants fell down in sparring a few months ago.”
Link choked at the memory, all but wheezing as Zelda gave up on tickling him and fell to the floor beside him, convulsed in laughter herself. “Didn’t Cawlin’s sword snag on his belt–” Link gasped between chuckles.
Zelda let loose an earsplitting snort, burying her face in Link’s shoulder and cackling madly as she added, “–And Groose tried pulling free but instead his pants just fell to the ground–”
“And he tried to pull them back up but instead he got tangled in them and fell flat on his face,” Link finished, wiping away tears.
That sent them both into another fit of laughter, and it was several minutes before they were able to compose themselves. “Okay, we’d better get packing now for real,” Zelda giggled, getting to her feet and moving towards the door. “Otherwise we’ll never make it out of your room.” She glanced over her shoulder at Link, one hand on the doorknob. “Meet me by the bazaar in an hour?”
“You’re on,” Link said with a grin, and Zelda beamed before ducking out into the hall.
<><><>
Approximately an hour later, the two of them met outside the bazaar as Zelda had said, each carrying a bag full of whatever they might need for a night away from home. Zelda bounced on her toes, her bag bumping against her leg as she grinned at Link. “Are you ready??”
He returned her smile, hoisting his own bag over his shoulder and nodding enthusiastically. “Let’s get going, then,” Zelda chirped, grabbing Link’s free hand and all but dragging him towards the nearest diving platform.
They leaped off and summoned their Loftwings, then secured their bags to their birds’ harnesses and guided them in the direction of the Lumpy Pumpkin, arriving just before sunset. After an uneventful dinner (save for when Link absentmindedly stuck out his foot and sent the waiter sprawling), the two of them attempted a few rounds of dancing, which turned out to be a complete disaster. Link discovered that he had approximately twelve left feet, and Zelda, much as she would have liked to say otherwise, wasn’t the best dancer herself, so their “dancing” ended up being the two of them whirling in a giddy, off-balance circle in which they nearly trampled everyone in their path.
They finally limped off of the dance floor with sore feet and a silent pact not to do that ever again without practicing first. “So, do you want to get dessert now?” Link suggested as they collapsed into their chairs. “We could take it outside and stargaze like you wanted to earlier.”
Zelda brightened at his proposal. “That’s a great idea! What do you want to order? Please don’t say pumpkin pie.”
“I wasn’t going to,” Link answered, amused. “I know you can’t stand it. What about just a simple sundae?”
“Sounds good to me,” Zelda replied, already waving the waiter over.
Once they had acquired their sundae, they headed outside to the back of the restaurant where a small shed was and used it and each other to scramble onto the restaurant’s roof, where they settled in to eat their dessert and watch the stars.
“So, have you had fun today?” Zelda asked Link, legs dangling off the edge of the roof as she took a bite of ice cream.
He grinned and nodded, wind ruffling his hair. “Absolutely, except for my feet hurting because of you stepping all over them.”
“Hey, you stepped on mine more than I stepped on yours,” Zelda retorted, leaning over to elbow him.
Link bit back a chuckle. “That’s fair.” He was quiet for a moment, swinging his legs back and forth before he ventured hesitantly, like he was afraid she would give a negative answer, “Have you had fun?”
She snorted at him, though her eyes were soft. “What do you think? I got to be away from my father’s supervision for a whole afternoon, have dinner and dance with my best friend, and now I’m eating ice cream and stargazing with him. Of course I haven’t had a good time after all that.”
He ducked his head, smiling. “Just thought I should ask, since you asked me.”
“Yeah, but the difference was that you seemed to think I hadn’t had a good time today, silly,” Zelda said affectionately, poking his cheek with one finger. “But I always have fun whenever I’m with you.”
Link felt himself blushing. “Really?” he asked a bit hoarsely, pushing aside the now-empty dish and scooting a bit closer to her.
“Really.” Her eyes sparkled at him.
“Well, um, I do too. But– but with you,” he added with a stammer, then winced. Goddess, way to sound smooth, Link.
Zelda laughed in spite of his clumsiness, and the sound was like sunlight itself. “I know, you goof,” she murmured, leaning over to rest her head on his shoulder.
He tipped his head to bump against hers, gazing out at the dark sky before them. Far in the distance, the soft yellow glow of the lights on Skyloft pierced the darkness like fireflies, making Link’s heart feel warm and fuzzy. It was exciting to be away from the main island for once in his life, but at the same time the pull of home was always present, calling to him across the vast expanse of sky. He couldn’t imagine ever leaving it, though he was certain that if there was ever a time Zelda wanted to live elsewhere– wherever that might be– he would follow her without hesitation. Skyloft might be home in the sense that he lived there, but she was home in everything else.
“There’s a shooting star,” Zelda cried out suddenly, jolting him from his thoughts and pointing enthusiastically towards a golden streak of light illuminating the sky. “Quick, Link, make a wish!”
She closed her eyes, presumably sending her own wish out to the universe, but Link stayed as he was, his eyes fixed on her as he drank in every detail. The loose strands of her hair dancing in the breeze. The sweep of her lashes against her cheek. The soft curve of her lips as she mouthed her wish to the heavens.
That’s my wish, Link thought, warmth flooding his heart. That you’ll always be happy, as long as you live, and that you and I will always be together.
Zelda’s eyes fluttered open after a moment, and she turned towards him, beaming. “Did you make a wish yet?” she asked him, face aglow in the warm light of the fireflies.
He returned her smile, reaching for her hand and linking their fingers together. “I did.”
“So what did you wish for?”
Link laughed, bumping his head against hers. “You know I can’t tell you that, silly. Otherwise it won’t come true.”
She let out a giggle in return, rubbing her thumb across his knuckles and sending a swarm of butterflies through his stomach. “Worth a try.”
“Hey, Zelda?” Link said hesitantly after a moment, throat clogging slightly as one of his more recent fears sprang to mind again.
“Hm?”
He swallowed, mouth dry. “Don’t ever leave me, okay?”
She lifted her head, giving him a surprised look. “Why would I leave you?”
Link sighed. “I don’t know. Just…promise you won’t?”
Zelda’s eyes softened, and she pulled her hand from his in order to wrap her pinky finger around his own. “I promise.” She paused for a moment, lost in thought before adding quietly, “Do you promise the same?”
He squeezed his finger against hers, a soft smile on his face. “I promise, too.”
“Good.”
She leaned her head on his shoulder again, and they sat for a long time in silence, watching the stars.
<><><>
Now, over a year later, Link stood at the very edge of the wooden pier in Skyloft’s plaza, wind whipping around him and nothing but empty sky below his feet. He gazed out across the clouds to the shining green pillar that pierced them, created just last night when he learned that he was the chosen hero all the legends spoke of. The one fated to save the world.
His wish that night at the Lumpy Pumpkin had failed, and now Zelda was gone. Snatched away beneath the clouds.
But Link knew he was going to get her back, no matter the cost. He had to.
He allowed himself a final moment at the edge of the only place he’d known his entire life, breathing in the familiar sights and smells of home. But Skyloft felt foreign without her presence. Like he’d woken up to find the sun was gone, but the world was still moving unchanged.
Link closed his eyes and released a long exhale. I’m getting you back, Zel, he thought, and hoped that somehow she knew he was coming for her, that somehow she knew he wouldn’t abandon her to her fate.
Link’s first look at the sailcloth was purely accidental.
He didn’t mean to find it and spoil the one thing Zelda had been adamant about him not seeing before the Wing Ceremony. But she was late one day for her academy-assigned hour of lunch duty, and had asked him to drop her school bag off at her room and bring her a scarf so she could tie her hair back as she worked. Of course Link had obliged, except that while he was looking through her wardrobe for a scarf, he spotted a flash of white material, assumed he had found one, and tugged it down to discover that he was, in fact, terribly mistaken.
Because instead of the scarf he believed he had found, he was actually holding what could only be Zelda’s handmade gift for the winner of the Wing Ceremony.
The very same gift she had been so secretive about for weeks now, making a huge show about not letting him in her room until she had safely hidden it.
That gift.
He cast a quick glance around the room to be sure he hadn’t been spotted, then was quick to shove the sailcloth back in her wardrobe and grab the requested scarf instead. He hurried out of her room towards the kitchen as fast as he possibly could, doing his best not to look suspicious when he gave Zelda the scarf a moment later. She must have noticed something was amiss in spite of his efforts, because as she wound the scarf around her head and secured it behind her ears, she gave him a questioning look.
“Are you alright, Link? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” she said jestingly, though there was a faint note of doubt in her voice. “Is something wrong?”
“No, definitely not,” he squeaked out, already tying on an apron to help her even though his own lunch duty wasn’t till next week.
She didn’t look like she fully believed him, but after he had cracked a few poorly-timed puns, slipped twice on a fallen glob of pumpkin, and managed to somehow get flour in his hair, she seemed to have forgotten. Lucky for him, because the moment she found out he had seen her personalized Wing Ceremony gift before the actual day of the ceremony was the moment his short life came to an end.
He soon forgot about the incident as well, until he was standing before her a few weeks later atop the Statue of the Goddess and she was untying the sailcloth from her shoulders to present him with.
Right.
Link barely heard what she was saying before she was extending the sailcloth to him, a wide smile on her face. “I made it myself,” she said a bit shyly, and he wasn’t quite dense enough to miss the implication in her tone– And I was hoping you’d be the one I got to give it to. He felt himself blush a bit as he reached out to take it from her, remembering to look as surprised as he possibly could without arousing suspicion.
“It’s beautiful, Zel,” he said admiringly as he held up the fabric so the sun shone through it, illuminating the careful blue stitchwork that outlined a loftwing rising in flight. “And–” A grin crossed his face, and with exaggerated motions he held the sailcloth up to his face and took a deep inhale. “It smells nice, too,” he added cheekily.
“Link!” Zelda scolded, though there was a smile tugging at her lips. “Quit goofing! This is supposed to be a sacred ritual, remember?”
“I know, I know.” He lowered the sailcloth, still grinning. Thankfully she hadn’t picked up on the fact that he had already seen it once before, and hopefully she never would. “Thank you, Zelda. I’ll cherish it.”
“You’d better,” she said teasingly.
But it wasn’t until she was taken from him later that day that he realized how special her gift really was.
It wasn’t until he was curled up in his bed late that night, the sudden weight of destiny crushing his chest till he could scarcely breathe, that he even remembered he still had it.
In a flash he was scrambling out of bed, tears falling thick and fast down his cheeks, and reaching for the clothes he’d worn the day before, digging through them till his fingers brushed the soft, cool fabric of the sailcloth.
Zelda made this, was his only coherent thought as he hugged the sailcloth to his chest so tightly his arms trembled. Zelda made this. Zelda.
He owned countless items she had handmade for him, but somehow this felt different, because it was the last thing she had given him before she was snatched from the sky and yanked below the clouds, out of his reach. Numbly he collapsed onto his bed again, curling into a ball and holding the sailcloth to his face. Her scent, like sky and wildflowers and warm summer sun, still clung to it, soft and comforting. As he drifted into the few hours of sleep granted to him before fate took control, he imagined she was lying beside him– her hand in his own, a smile on her lips, her eyes locked with his in the dark.
She haunted his dreams until he woke up, and when he opened his eyes, the cold weight of reality swept over him like a wave.
Gone.
But her sailcloth was still cradled in his arms, and for now, it had to be enough. Because otherwise he would crumble, he would break, he would shatter like glass. And it was imperative that he did just the opposite, because she was out there somewhere, waiting for him. Waiting for him to find her.
Waiting for him to bring her home.
So he fell to the surface, below the clouds he had known his whole life. He forced himself onwards through bite wounds and arrow punctures and water depletion and exhaustion, all for the hope that someday he would find her, someday they would be together again. With Fi at his side to guide him and a desperate longing in his heart, he traveled through temple after temple, through forest and volcano and desert, never fast enough to catch her but so close he could feel her presence wherever he went.
And always, each night as he went to sleep, he wrapped her sailcloth around his shoulders, over his heart. The fabric became more worn and rough with each day that went by, and her scent slowly faded until it was no longer detectable, but he didn’t care. It was enough to have just some small part of her with him, held close against his heart as he fell asleep. As if maybe, by holding her final gift to him as he drifted into darkness, he would be granted a moment with her in his dreams.
Day after day. Week after week. Through sickness, and injury, and starvation, on and on and on. Catching glimpses of her that faded too soon, hearing her voice and seeing her smile but being forced away from her again and again. Chasing her footsteps wherever they went, until even her presence was denied to him, hidden away in the distant past.
“I miss her so much, Fi,” he whispered each night, hugging her sailcloth and staring up at the stars.
Fi always answered him from inside the sword, even though she didn’t fully understand his grief.
“I am sorry, Master.”
And each morning he awoke and Zelda wasn’t there, and her sailcloth was cold in his arms, so he couldn’t even pretend she had left him just before he woke up. Panic was ever-present in his throat and chest now, panic that he would never be able to open the Gate and reunite with her. Panic that if he did, he would arrive in the past and discover her dead. Panic that if he did see her alive again she wouldn’t love him anymore, even as a friend. He was too scared to even think of her not loving him in the way he had yearned for, hoped for, dreamed of for years, because he’d been head over heels for her for so long he didn’t even know when it had begun.
Come back to me, my Zelda, he would think, the soft glow of the moon washing over him, Skyloft so far over his head it was as though it were in another universe. Come back to me.
But she could never hear him. All he could do was press the fabric of her sailcloth against his cheek and whisper into it how much he loved her, hoping that somehow his words would reach her, wherever she was.
Destiny speared through his heart yet again in the distant past, when she sealed herself away from his reach in golden crystal and fell into a centuries-long slumber before his cry of I love you reached her ears. He curled up on the floor outside the crystal for as long as he possibly could and wept into her sailcloth, even as the warmth of her presence faded slowly from the room. And when he finally forced himself to leave, he whispered again his promise to come and wake her up, once all of this was over.
It seemed like years before he saw her again, and for her, it was. Hundreds and thousands of them flying by while she slumbered in the depths of the crystal, until finally it shattered and gave her back to him. For a moment a tiny fear ate away at his heart that she wouldn’t remember him when she opened her eyes, but then the softest of smiles crossed her face and melted his fear into nothingness.
“Zelda,” he whispered into her hair as they clung to one another moments later, tears coming thick and fast from two sets of sky-stained eyes. He fell silent after that, because if he had tried to say anything else the only thing that would have escaped would be a broken sob.
“You kept your promise,” she said tearfully, fingers curling into the fabric of his tunic.
“Of course I did,” Link murmured, voice ragged with the sheer joy of holding her again. “Actually, it was an effort not to wake you the moment you left me.”
He felt her laugh. “But I didn’t leave you, sleepyhead. Not really.”
“It felt like you left.” He buried his face in her shoulder, taking in everything about her that he had missed so badly– her voice, her scent, her touch. Wishing that somehow he could freeze this moment for the rest of their lives, but time always forged onwards regardless, and their fate had not been built around happiness.
It seemed only moments before she was taken from him again.
After all he’d done, all they’d been through, her hand was ripped from his and a flash of blinding light drove them apart, leaving him too weak to stand. Too weak to chase after her. Too weak to stop Ghirahim from separating them once more.
Too weak, and too late, like always.
When he was able he charged into the past after her and into the thick of every evil that was sent to stop him, all while she lay unconscious just out of his reach. I’m coming, Zelda, was his only thought with every swing of the Master Sword, with every bash of his shield.
And at the end of it all, when he stepped into the temple of Hylia with one eye swollen shut and blood dripping from his nose and cuts and bruises on every inch of his body, Zelda ran towards him with tears streaming down her face and they collapsed in each other’s arms.
“It’s over,” she whispered in his ear, holding him so tightly he could feel her shaking. “Finally, it’s all over.”
“Yes, my Zelda,” he breathed, tucking his chin over her shoulder as his tears soaked into the fabric of her dress. “It’s over.”
They sat atop the Statue of the Goddess that night, Link’s sailcloth wrapped around their shoulders as they gazed out at the stars scattered over the surface.
“They look so different from down here,” Zelda remarked, tipping her head against Link’s. “Up on Skyloft they felt close enough to touch. But here, they’re so far away, and you can see so many more of them. Millions upon millions…it’s incredible.”
“Mm.” Link shivered a little in the cool night air before a thought occurred to him. “Did you watch them every night? When we were apart, I mean.”
She gave him a curious look, then nodded slowly. “Most nights, yes. It usually took me a while to be able to shut out the events of the day before I could sleep, no matter how tired I was.” She paused a moment. “Did you?”
“Every night,” he affirmed, a sleepy smile crossing his face. “Which means that even though we weren’t together, we were still looking up at the same sky.”
Tears filled her eyes, and she surprised him by flinging her arms around his torso. “You goof,” she whispered, squeezing him as though she were afraid he’d disappear if she didn’t hold him tightly enough. “You wonderful, loveable goof.”
“Did I say something wrong?” Link asked a bit worriedly as he wrapped his arms around her in turn. As an afterthought he added with a grin, “Or maybe that was too cheesy of a line.”
“It was pretty cheesy,” Zelda giggled, then added in a softer tone, “But that’s what I love about you. And it was a perfectly beautiful thing to say.”
“I’m glad you liked it,” he whispered, and pressed a kiss to the top of her head.
Days and weeks flitted past on the Surface, interspersed with new discoveries of plants and animals alike, a constant stream of people coming and going between the new land and Skyloft, and a variety of research and exploration. Link and Zelda worked the hardest of anyone, pouring in as much effort as they possibly could into every aspect of building a life on the Surface, but every now and then took a well-deserved afternoon off just to relax and soak up each other’s presence.
“By the way, Link,” Zelda said offhandedly to him on one such day of rest. They were having a picnic in the grassy area outside the Ancient Cistern, bare feet dangling in the crystalline water and a spread of food laid out between them on Link’s sailcloth.
“Hmm?” He glanced over at her, half-eaten mushroom in one hand. “Something the matter?”
She shook her head, a smile playing about her lips. “No, not at all. I just wanted you to know that I know you saw the sailcloth before the Wing Ceremony.”
The mushroom dropped from his hand as he stared at her in chagrin. “You what?”
Zelda snickered a little. “Why do you think I had you look for a scarf in the exact location the sailcloth was hidden, silly? It seems stupid now, but at the time I was hoping that maybe by seeing it you’d have a little more motivation to go out and practice. Though…I’ll admit I was also hoping your reaction would be funny when I actually gave it to you, since you’d have to pretend you were seeing it for the first time.”
“Oh.” He flushed, looking down at his hands, and then admitted shyly, “Well, the only motivation I really needed was that you were playing the goddess for that particular Wing Ceremony. I…didn’t want anyone else to be up there with you but me.”
“Me either. Which is why I made the sailcloth specifically with you in mind.” Cheeks dusted pink, she glanced down at the worn piece of fabric on the grass. “You said you’d cherish it, and… I think you have. Am I correct?”
Link nodded, leaning back on his hands. “You are. Because I loved it even more when you weren’t there, since it was the only thing I had of you to carry with me. It was soft, and it smelled like you, and…” He cleared his throat. “And every night I fell asleep hugging it.”
“You did?” She stared at him, one hand lifting to cover her mouth as a faint sheen of tears filled her eyes. “Every night?”
“Every night,” he repeated, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Without it I think I might have gone crazy, not having anything of you with me. But you know something?”
“What?” she whispered, hanging on his every word.
Link’s smile broadened, and he placed a hand over hers. “The sailcloth was great to hold when I missed you, but nothing is better than the real thing.”
“You flatter me.” She let out a tearful laugh before adding, “I wish I’d had something of yours to carry with me. All I could do was sit and miss you each night and hope you were picking up on it.”
“Oh, I definitely was.” He rubbed the back of his neck, bashful again as he confessed, “Because I was doing the exact same thing.”
Zelda giggled. “We’re hopeless, aren’t we?” Her smile swept over him like sunshine as she reached across to grab his collar and pull him in for a kiss.
His eyes fluttered shut at the same time hers did. Just before their lips met he whispered, “I wouldn’t have it any other way, my Zelda.”
@skyyknights has such a charming writing style :D I love her characterization of the Skyward Sword cast and how much love she clearly has for the game!
Day 1, July 13: AT FIRST SIGHT - submitted by @abbyz-elda
Day 2, July 14: WISH - submitted by @maomaopilled
Day 3, July 15: FORGET ME NOT - submitted by @louwhose
Day 4, July 16: INTERTWINED
Day 5, July 17: IN A BIND
Day 6, July 18: HIDDEN
Day 7, July 19: WHAT ONCE WAS - submitted by @nocturnalfandomartist
Thank you to everyone who submitted prompts and voted! We hope this prompt list sparks creativity and can't wait to see your creations in July. Make sure to read the rules and join our Discord server for more fun while we prepare for ZW25!
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