I designed Zelda for @jdetan and @theangelicstoryteller 's upcoming story, Unmade, Unbound, Unburdened!
Here are two alt versions of her ref sheet and some character art! :) Be sure to keep an eye out for the story, from what I hear it's going to be interesting!! 👀
I’m going to be busy most of the day tomorrow, so it was either update this early or late. I chose early! ...Partially because I felt bad about the cliffhanger last week, but also I’ve been excited to share this chapter for ages and I couldn’t wait any longer. I hope y’all enjoy.
Ao3 link
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He opens his eyes to pale blue.
Link startles, gasping. He’s not... where he used to be. Distant clouds drift through a sky that isn’t colored quite right, soft shades of blue and green with pale sparkles of a lighter teal floating through them. He’s floating alone in this strange gentle sky, and... no longer wearing a shirt, which is maybe a bit concerning. But his arm still glows, and without his shirt it’s much more noticeable.
Suddenly he looks down and notices the Light Dragon drifting below him, her eyes closed, their baby tucked on her head. Neither of them are moving, and Link lurches towards them, but he can’t get any closer no matter how he tries.
What is going on?
Something like sunlight lights this place through the clouds, a few beams landing on the two dragons, and Link feels a twitch go through his hand.
He looks down at it, skin crawling as his arm twitches and raises of its own accord, and then feels the back of the hand warm as the circle there begins to glow a soft honey color.
Recall.
...Activating by itself?
Soft sparkles drift from his hand down to the Light Dragon, and Link watches his arm pulse with teal as more golden light drifts down. They fall gently on Zelda’s scales, drifting down like snowflakes, and he watches in confused silence.
Then his eyes widen.
Recall.
Will that... will that work?
What about—
Something catches his attention behind him, and he turns his head to see two spirits shimmer into view, the more familiar visage of Rauru appearing to the left, and on Link’s right, a woman he’s only seen through Zelda’s tears.
Sonia.
He wants to ask if they can help, if they can do anything to save Sunny, but his voice won’t work. He’s still shaking, and watches as both spirits look at the two dragons below, Recall’s light still slowly trickling. Then the light pulses, and grows.
Sonia drifts closer, and her hand settles on top of Link’s, gentle and cool. Rauru moves as well, his hand weirdly familiar as it brushes both his and Sonia’s, and the light grows exponentially, pouring onto Zelda and the little one. Magic tingles and warms his arm, sweeping through him, and Link does what he can to help, feeling magic rush in and through him like he’s merely the banks of a river directing it.
The gold sweeps across Zelda, flakes of light flurrying off of her as her serpentine body shines. Their baby is soon lost in the glow, and Zelda soon follows, light like thousands of fireflies drifting off of her and into the air around them. Link can’t see anything for several moments, and so all he does is focus on Recall, magic still pouring through him, his arm feeling like it’s submerged in something impossible to describe, like pure, liquid light.
Save her. Save them.
Please.
It feels like hours, but the glow finally starts to fade, though it shrinks as it does, to a size much smaller than the Light Dragon. Finally it shimmers away enough that Link can see again, and below him—
His breath leaves him.
Blonde hair cut near the shoulders, jewelry swaying in the soft breeze. A dress gently rippling around her, loose around the middle, a relaxed expression with a tiny crease in her brow that she makes so often in her sleep—
She—
Zelda’s back.
Zelda’s back.
She’s floating below him, her body restored to normal, Hylian again.
Recall worked.
It worked.
Link makes a noise that’s equally pitiful and joyous, but then he realizes there’s something else. There’s a piece of light beside Zelda, long and glowing brightly enough that he can’t make out what it is, though... somehow he knows anyway.
It didn’t work for the both of them.
Link’s heart falls, grief mixing sickeningly with the relief, and beside him Sonia and Rauru look at the light, then at each other. Then they set their hands over Link’s again, Sonia’s face especially determined.
Her hand holds his firmly, and he sees her close her eyes. Light spills from his fingertips again as she focuses, and it showers over the light curled against Zelda’s side. Despite her unconscious state, it looks like she turns to the glow, almost cradling it.
Link can barely breathe as he presses all the energy he has left out of his arm, pleading for the goddess to grant him this, and all four of them shine, Link’s arm, Zelda’s necklace, Sonia and Rauru both.
Magic thrums, a melody vibrating in his ears, almost overwhelming. It crescendos, and he swears he sees the back of Zelda’s hand light up with something triangular before his vision is taken by the light again, and a high-pitched noise rings in his ears.
It fades more abruptly this time, and Link rapidly blinks, desperate to see the results, his heart pounding so fast he thinks he might be sick.
Please. Please Hylia, please.
He’s finally able to make out Zelda again, floating serenely below him, but the light beside her is gone.
Instead a child, probably three or four years old, hair long and gold and wild is nestled at her side, and Link isn’t sure if he wants to laugh or sob.
She’s okay.
Goddess above, she’s okay—
His arm shakily lowers, but then he looks at it and startles as he realizes it’s no longer glowing teal, or strangely shaped, but rather back to how it used to be, his own fingers and palm and wrist back in place. Rauru’s arm no longer stands in its stead, and his fingers tremble as he flexes them, disbelieving. It doesn’t seem exactly the same as how it used to be, but it’s his.
He turns his head to look at Rauru and Sonia, head spinning with shock, heart soaring with gratitude, and they smile at him, their hands now clasped together.
He can’t get the words out to thank them, but somehow he knows they understand.
A breeze begins to blow then, brushing Link’s hair. Sonia and Rauru grow fainter, blue light drifting into the sky, and Link feels a pulse of sadness, knowing somehow that he won’t see them again. Their job is finished. Now they can rest.
The breeze strengthens to a rushing wind, pulling them away and further scattering their forms. The clouds in the realm begin to rush past him, sunlight shining, and Sonia and Rauru fade away, looking at him with care and regret and many, many more emotions in their eyes.
The light shines, the wind roars, and Link’s world fades away.
(...)
He wakes to air rushing past him.
Link’s eyes flutter, struggling to open against the harsh wind bearing down on them. He manages to crack them open enough to see, bleary and exhausted, then gasps as he realizes he’s falling through open air, a long, long way up.
Quickly twisting around, he gets into a better position so he can land somewhere safe, but—
Then he sees Zelda falling far below him, her body limp in the wind.
He immediately dives for her, his shock pushed to the side in favor of pure action. Wind rushes past him, his ears aching with the pressure change, his bare chest stinging in the wind, but he keeps going, willing himself to fall faster.
The ground below gets closer and closer, but he’s almost within reach of Zelda and he stretches, reaches, desperately willing himself to go faster.
He won’t miss this time.
He won’t miss this time.
His fingers graze hers, but it’s then he realizes there’s someone else falling beside her, someone smaller with a mop of gold hair, and his heart lurches into his throat.
Sundelion.
Link’s fingers finally grasp Zelda’s, her hand fitting perfectly in his, and as the ground hurtles toward them, he lunges to the side and uses his other hand to snatch their daughter’s as well.
He wraps himself around Zelda, their child held safely in between, and he tucks their heads in, desperately angling himself towards the water he can see below... and prays.
They hit the water harder than he’s ever hit it before.
Link misses a few moments as they crash into the pond, but he comes back to himself before long, frantically dragging his family up to the surface with a choked gasp.
Getting out of the pond is a struggle, Link still exhausted from the battle, and trying to swim to shore while also keeping two other people’s faces out of the water almost seems too tall an order. A moment of panic meets him as his body wavers, but somehow he finds the strength to do it, practically running on autopilot.
And he stumbles out of the pond, carrying Zelda to shore, their baby tucked against his other shoulder.
He wobbles away from the water and gently sets Zelda down in the grass moments before he would’ve dropped her, his arms quivering. He keeps a hand on her though, and with his other he wraps the little girl in a blanket from his bag, a bit afraid to fully let go of either of them.
He holds their daughter tight as he looks at Zelda’s face, taking in her features and reassuring himself it really is her, tracing a gentle hand along her face, lightly smoothing back her hair.
He kisses her forehead, then looks down at the girl in his arms.
She’s in a simple white sundress, the material a strange fabric that almost looks gold from certain angles. The blanket hides most of it, and covers the rest of her except her head, but that’s plenty enough to identify her, her features undeniable. Link runs a trembling hand over her still-dripping hair, amazed at actually holding her, that she’s okay, at knowing she’s real.
That he’s holding his daughter.
Her breathing is even, none of that awful wheeze she’d had after Ganondorf had struck her. There’s no blood on her either, red or gold, no sign of distress in her peaceful expression. She looks content, and as Link smooths her hair, her head tilts towards him, landing on his arm.
“Hey Sundelion,” he whispers, thumbing a gentle hand along her cheek, and pausing at the gold he sees on her neck. He leans closer, and blinks as he realizes what it is. Tiny scales like freckles dot her skin here and there, clustered in places like her ears and shoulders, and her hair has an unnatural shine to it, like her mane did as a dragon. It’s a strange feature, but beautiful, and Link once again thanks Hylia for Sonia and Rauru and the utter blessing he’s been given.
He has Zelda back. He has them both back.
He’d hoped for it, dreamed of it, and almost can’t believe it’s real now that it’s happening.
Zelda begins to stir before Link can do anything else, and he leans over his wife, shivering from what he tells himself is just still-damp skin. Her head shifts, but she’s taking her time waking, and Link stretches out a hand and gently touches her cheek.
“Zelda,” he whispers. “Open your eyes.”
Zelda’s face creases, and then her lashes flutter. Wonderfully green eyes open, a thin ring of purple and blue surrounding the familiar emerald, and Zelda blinks, looking dizzy.
Then she sees him.
“Link..?” she murmurs, voice weak. It’s still sweeter than anything he’s ever heard, and he lifts his hand from her cheek and carefully helps her sit up as she squints in the sunlight. She blinks again. “How are you...”
She takes in their surroundings with a dazed expression, then looks at herself, a hand slowly going to her necklace. Link’s stomach lurches, remembering the last tear she gave him, and Zelda seems to remember it as well, her breath hitching as her fingers graze the stone.
“But I was...”
Her gaze goes back to Link, and she studies his face a moment, confusion and wonder all mixed together. Link lets her parse it out, letting the silence sit between them. He’ll answer questions, but he wants to give her a moment to adjust to... everything. And he’s plenty content to just look at her, and listen.
A soft sound comes from the sword at Link’s back, a flicker of blue catching both their attentions, and Zelda breathes in as she looks at it.
“She reached you... after all,” she whispers, a shaky smile appearing on her face. “That means... the Demon King... he’s gone?”
Link nods, a shaky smile of his own starting to form, and Zelda takes in an unsteady breath as she puts a hand over her mouth, fingers trembling.
“My plan worked?” she whispers, and Link nods again. “I... I’m not in a dream, right?” she asks shakily, and Link takes her other hand, and firmly squeezes it.
“You’re not,” he says, reassuring himself of the fact by squeezing her hand again. “He’s gone.”
“He’s gone,” Zelda breathes, and a true smile starts to form on her face. “Oh Link... he’s gone. You really did it!”
She smiles at him like the sun itself, warming his heart like he just downed a bowl of warm stew, and she touches her necklace again, gaze puzzled.
“But Link... I don’t understand. How am I..?”
Her hand falls to her stomach, and the color drains from her face as she lightly feels at it. Her gaze flies down to her dress, the fabric looking loose around the middle, and the look on her face is worse than any Link has ever seen.
“Oh no. Oh no, no Link—”
“She’s here,” he reassures, leaning closer to show her the child in his hold, and Zelda’s eyes snap to his arms, an unsteady gasp coming from her throat.
She scrambles closer and nearly falls over, looking terrified and relieved all at once, and brushes a trembling hand across Sundelion’s cheek. Their daughter stirs at the touch, and blue eyes with a thin ring of darker blue and purple flicker open, both Link and Zelda watching as she blinks up at them, sunshine falling across her face.
“She... Link, is she really..?” Zelda whispers, her eyes glassy, and Link nods, still holding her hand.
“It’s her,” he whispers back, and their daughter blinks again, trailing her gaze across her parents’ faces.
Then she abruptly begins to cry, and Zelda gathers her and Link both up into an embrace, shushing her gently while tears start to fall from her own eyes. Link holds them both back just as tightly, resting his head over Zelda’s, and his wife buries her face in his shoulder, smiling even through her tears.
“She’s okay— she’s okay— I can’t believe I... how did... I don’t understand—”
“I’ll explain,” Link whispers back in a thick voice. “What I can, anyway. You’ll have to fill in some gaps.”
Zelda makes a choked noise that might be a laugh. “I will, I want to tell you everything, Link, so much happened, I-I—”
Her voice breaks, but she keeps trying to talk, talk about all sorts of things even while her voice wobbles and hitches and she and their daughter cry. It’s such a Zelda thing to do that Link can only keep pressing increasingly desperate kisses to her hair and hold her even tighter.
In the middle of it all, Sundelion clings to the both of them, looking overwhelmed in multiple ways, and Link lightly scratches her head like he would with her as a dragon. Her tears slow a little with the motion, and Link gives her head a kiss too, Sunny clutching at his arm with unusually sharp nails.
He doesn’t even notice the pain it brings.
Zelda’s head lifts to look at him, and Link presses his forehead against hers, his hand shaking as he cups her face. He still can’t believe she’s back, that she’s herself, that their daughter is alive and herself and okay and it’s finally over—
Zelda smiles at him through her tears, bright as the sun, and he lets out an overwhelmed laugh as Sunny squeezes herself up to both of them, her eyes confused but bright.
“Oh Link... we’re home,” Zelda chokes out, and Link pulls her back into the embrace with a joyous sob.
Zelda holds him back, trembling in his hold, and neither of them says anything else, the sun warm on their heads, their daughter secure in their arms.
And the light above them seems all the brighter with the stain of darkness finally, finally, gone.
The first burned. It's not that hot buttered apples are complex. Just that other things are. He glances over the steaming cook pot. Such a small chef.
She taught him how to make soup first: Vegetable cream. Something he might serve to Zelda one day.
Grief drapes heavy on Koko's tiny shoulders. Bitter butter and charred apple. Her mother passed; her place taken by shadow and grief.
He thought of Zelda. He gathers the death to himself like it's his fault. Like every other loss in the land. Like he lost one hundred years ago and now death consumes what it will.
Wafting toasty ripe, this second apple is ready. He cuts a piece for her approval, and waits. His littlest mentor—teaching him a skill he already knows—nods sagely.
Patient, he waits to see it. The expanding in her shoulders, a glimmer peeking through her eyes. I did it, her small smile says. I taught him how.
He couldn't fight Ganon one hundred years ago, but he can war against the hopelessness here, this very moment, in the heart of a child.
"It's good." She says, bobbing her head like he'll never quite reach her level of expertise.
Smiling, he rises, cutting a section for himself. It's hard to say how things will shape up against the Calamity. What outcome he'll leave behind this time.
Right now, Koko's spine is straight and her eyes are bright.
He bites his buttery apple, and it's sweet.
@zelink-microfic
This is equally barely a microfic and barely Zelink but here we are. 😎
I'm writing a drabble a day for @retrowrimay! That means exactly 100 words per prompt, no wiggle room allowed. Today's drabble is a LOZ (Zelda 1) fic. And if I may, this one fucking slaps.
