Origin of an Heirloom (Zelink Week 2026 Day 6: Heirloom)
And now for the final work for Zelink Week 2026 @zelinkcommunity!
This SS Zelink fic has made me want to rip my hair out ever since May 1st. It's very rushed, and something about it just seems...off. But I really wanted to try the idea I had about writing it, so I did my best. Like "Nothing in the Dark", this was originally going to be a one-shot, but I got carried away again...
It's nearly been a year since Demise was sealed away, and when Zelda had decided she wanted to stay on The Surface, so did Link, and everyone else in Skyloft, for that matter! Link has been very busy helping everyone, but eventually notices that Zelda has suddenly become very distant from him. Can he find out what's been eating at her? And more importantly, what is he going to do about it?
The fic is three chapters long, so I can't post it all here (head to my AO3!), but the first chapter is below the cut!
Once again, absolutely HUGE thanks @stingingcake for beta-reading this fic and a special thanks @mailrebel for helping me out with some crucial parts regarding the plot!
The Chirris fled the forest floor as Link rushed through the trees on his russet mount.
Leaning forward, he spurred the animal to accelerate. The ground shook behind him. More tiny wings fluttered in panic. He could barely hear the blood roaring in his ear over his racing heart. Winding past the copious tree trunks, he tried to ignore both sensations, ducking his head to avoid hitting the boughs above.
Alarm sparked in his chest as a black and red blur crept into his vision. His pursuer was catching up to him.
But Link kept his gaze ahead. The wooden arch was coming into view.
Just a little farther…
But suddenly Groose’s horse gave a groan, and began to hop excitedly.
Link laughed as Groose moaned in exasperation, clinging to the reins as the hotblooded steed began to toss his head. The race was over.
Allowing his rouge mare to slow, Link glided to a gentle stop in front of the settlement’s welcoming arches.
“These horses just don’t listen!” Groose complained. He managed to calm his horse enough to achieve a steady walk.
Link snorted.
“Sure, the horse is not listening…” he murmured.
Groose narrowed his glowing amber eyes, pursing his thick lips.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“You pulled his reins again, didn’t you? Parrow said not to pull on the reins while asking them to go faster; it makes them confused,” Link gently chided.
Groose pouted wistfully.
“My Loftwing always understood me…”
“Your Loftwing had a matching pompadour.”
Groose’s only reply was a dry frown.
They walked their horses through the small, yet lively settlement, the residents going about their day just as if they never left Skyloft. Pipit and Karane silently stood guard on either ends of the arches, both having declined to patrol on horseback, but ever so often would steal amused glances from each other. At the small communal pool of water, Henya and Greba kneeled side-by-side doing laundry, their voices lost in endless gossip. Even the Bazaar tent had been brought down and erected, though less frequent winds meant the sides of the tent were often rolled up to avoid overheating. There, Luv and Bertie could be seen experimenting with Surface plants and insects in their potions, their young child sitting on the floor nearby playing with her toys. Though she had grown old enough to sometimes try and toddle away, and Bertie frequently paused his work to check on her.
All offered greetings when the pair passed by, and Link politely returned each one, but Groose kept his glower forward.
Link rolled his eyes and shook his head. Yes, some things truly never changed.
“You really had me there, you know. You two were flying!” he said reassuringly.
Groose brightened at this. He brought a hand to his forehead.
“As much as it pains me to admit it,” he said with feigned defeat before switching to a genuine grin, “You beat me to it, buddy.”
Link returned his smile before Groose suddenly leaned forward with intrigue. “But seriously,” he started, “how do you do it? Your horse doesn’t try to buck you off…”
“You’re the one who picked the stallion.”
“Parrow said he’s the only one who can handle long distances. He also told me I need to be assertive with him.”
Link ran a soothing hand across his mare’s neck.
“You need to be direct; give him clear commands. You also should focus on his body language; you can’t push him when he’s getting fussy.”
Groose scoffed, giving him a sly glance.
“You’re one to talk about body language…”
Link cocked his brow at him.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Poor Zelda was practically throwing herself at you, and you couldn’t even take a hint!”
Link furrowed his brow, hands tightening around the reins.
“What are you talking about?”
Groose looked at him curiously.
“You seriously mean to tell me you hadn’t noticed her blushing constantly around you, or patting you on the arm, or sitting with her knees touching yours, or asking to come with you to gather food? She’s totally into you, man!”
Link froze, leaning away with a jerk. He pondered the time they spent at the beginning of their new life on the Surface. His wide eyes blinked rapidly as he tried to find any truth in Groose’s words.
His horse suddenly slowed down, and Link realized he had been holding the reins too close to himself. He shook his head and urged the mare forward, who caught up to Groose’s horse with a whinny as she tossed her head.
“No–she’s always been affectionate like that…” he stammered. “Though she stopped doing stuff like that a few months ago…”
He let his thoughts drift to the present, feeling a pang of grief.
“It’s actually been a while since I’ve spent time with her…” he murmured, his voice pensive and low.
Groose sighed dramatically and leaned over to pat Link’s shoulder.
“If only you had a way with girls as much as you have a way with horses.”
“Well I hope I have a way with this invention as much as Link has a way with horses,” a familiar voice suddenly interrupted.
Gondo was hanging around his scrap shop.
“You got me my ore, Link?”
Link and Groose dismounted to hand the craftsman pocketfuls of Eldin ore.
“How’s it coming along?” Groose inquired.
Gondo thoughtfully tapped the metal mask covering his forehead.
“I haven’t quite gotten the firing mechanism to work just yet, at least not without it blowin’ up in my face. But I have been able to experiment with the ores; each one produces a different color when it explodes. Mark my words, gentlemen, this celebration will be in lights of all hues! I just need to find a better way to ignite them, and I’m gonna need a lot of metal once I’ve cracked it!”
Groose drew himself up proudly.
“Mark my words, Gondo. You won’t be needing that robot anymore once I have these railroads installed! Link and I made good progress today, you know!”
“Well, we’ll just see about that!” Gondo teased.
Link chuckled as the men chattered about their handiwork, letting their conversation leave his ears as he glanced around the settlement. Zelda was nowhere in sight. But he couldn’t just let his questions about her vague and isolating behavior go unanswered.
“What’s the matter, Link?”
Link suddenly heard Groose’s voice, and turned to see the men looking at him with bright, yet concerned eyes.
“Has anyone seen Zelda?” he asked.
Groose cocked his eyebrow, flashing a mischievous smirk. Link returned his expression with an indignant glare.
“Last I saw her, she was headed off towards Faron Woods,” Gondo replied.
Link gave Gondo a grateful nod. Leaving Groose to stable the horses, he bade the men farewell, setting himself in Zelda’s direction.
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Picking his way through the lush vegetation, he kept his eyes peeled for any signs of her. Though instead the sign came in the form of a distant strum of a harp. The soothing melody beckoned Link deeper into the woods, and as he approached a clearing, it began to be joined by stark, whistling notes. Following the sounds, he arrived at a grassy plateau, on which was a small hollow tree which would sometimes house the resident Kikwis.
And there they all were in a half-circle, Bucha sitting with his back to the tree, Machi at his left side, and the others seated in a line on his right. The Kikwis on the right took turns singing in their high-pitched voices, Bucha punctuating their chirps with his bass tones. Machi was producing the fair sound Link had heard with an unfamiliar wooden instrument he held in his mouth. And right next to him, strumming out those golden notes with the Goddess’s Harp, sat Zelda.
The afternoon sun had crowned her soft hair with rays, rendering it as gilded as the harp, whose strings she plucked at with swift yet dainty fingers. Her eyes were shut in concentration, yet a small smile graced her lovely face, no doubt losing herself in the harmony surrounding her. The peaceful sight calmed Link’s heart, a crooked grin tugging at his lips. Until suddenly she opened her eyes, her azure gaze quickly finding him.
“Link!” she cried.
The small band halted their singing and playing, getting up to merrily greet Link as he climbed onto the plateau. The young Kikwis cooed at him, speaking all at once and pulling on his hands and tunic like a horde of excited children. Only with a grunt from Bucha did they allow him some space.
“Welcome again, Link,” Bucha rumbled. “Did you enjoy our performance? Zelda has sure helped us a lot with her sound, and Machi has been delighted to have someone play alongside his ocarina.”
Machi blew into his instrument so it let out a small “toot!”, inciting a giggle from Zelda.
“The pleasure is all mine, Elder Bucha,” she said bashfully.
Pride had begun to swell in Link’s chest, but a nagging thought plagued his mind. He nodded politely at Bucha before leaning towards Zelda.
“Could I talk to you about something?” he whispered.
She lifted her eyebrows, seemingly in concern, but nodded.
And so the pair said goodbye to the Kikwis, walking back towards the settlement.
They moved quietly for a while, hearing only the wind rustling the leaves. Not an unfamiliar activity for the two to partake in; Link often enjoyed walks with his best friend even if they didn’t speak a word, the act of just being in her presence enough to put him at peace. But there was a strange and unwelcome sensation hanging in the air between them. It seemed to make Zelda finger the strings on the harp and keep her eyes looking at anywhere but him. Not wanting to have it linger any longer, Link uncharacteristically broke the silence.
“What was that instrument Machi was playing? An ocarina?” he inquired.
Zelda nodded.
“Yes, it’s sort of like a flute. Machi says he carved it himself.”
Link waited for her to say more, but she kept unusually quiet.
“...Seems like he really likes playing it with you,” he murmured awkwardly.
Zelda let out a soft chuckle at this, and he felt relief seep into his heart.
“Yes…I wonder how long he’s been the only one with an instrument.”
“Well then, it’s a good thing you’ve joined him,” he said lightly.
She flashed him a coy smile before breathing a content sigh.
“But it sounds so lovely…I would like to play it myself one day, if he’d allow it.”
Link returned her warm expression. “Let me know if he does; I’d love to watch you play.”
Zelda looked away again; was that a blush on her face?
“I–If we can find the time with all this bustling about,” she stuttered.
They had reached the settlement, and she gestured to the villagers moving around them.
“Yeah, we’ve been pretty busy since everyone else came down, huh?” Link murmured. “When was the last time we just, hung out?”
Thought clouded Zelda’s eyes, and for a moment her eyebrows turned up in thinly veiled distress. She exhaled sharply with a quick shake of her head.
“What was it you wanted to talk to me about, Link?” she said with a tightness in her voice.
Frustration rising in his throat, he let out a sigh. He turned so that he was facing directly in front of her, stopping her dead in her tracks.
“That. Even in the beginning, we still found time to spend with each other. You’ve been acting a little…weird, you know.”
“I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
Link stared at her with a scrutinizing glint in his eye.
She spoke the words clearly yet was refusing to look at him, almost sheepishly clasping her hands together and swaying gently from side to side. A particular memory tickled Link’s mind; that she had only done this once before…
“Do you remember that day of the Wing Ceremony?” he asked softly.
“How could I ever forget?” she snorted dryly.
“You were acting weird that day, like how you are now and when we first came here.”
“I’m telling you, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she stated calmly, yet her eyes began to frantically dart around. Link’s memories surfaced, and he turned each one over carefully, searching for clues that could explain her mysterious behavior. At last one particular detail came to him.
“Yes…you were going to tell me something, but then Ghirahim’s tornado…what was it you wanted to–”
“Oh, Mallara,” Zelda suddenly interrupted, looking across the beaten street.
Link followed her gaze to glimpse the older woman sitting at one of the benches he had helped Jakamar fashion, slowly sewing what appeared to be a banner.
“She started working on that banner months ago. There’s no way she’ll be finished in time for the celebration,” she sighed. “Let me see if I can lend her a hand. I’ll talk to you later, Link!”
Before Link could say anything, she cheerily crossed the road to where Mallara sat. Disappointment furrowed his eyebrows; had she even noticed her arms were still occupied with the harp? She hadn’t even bothered to ask him to put it away for her.
Link sighed and shook his head, now walking forlorn down the alleyways.
“So how’d it go?”
Link leapt backwards into a wall with a yelp, as Groose suddenly appeared around a corner.
“How’d what go?!” Link spluttered, trying to regain his composure.
“Feelings? Zelda? Remember? Weren’t you just talking to her about it?” Groose asked, excitement lacing his voice.
Link rolled his eyes, letting out an exasperated sigh.
“She has no feelings for me.”
“What makes you so sure?”
Link took a deep breath, feeling something drag his eyelids and the corners of his mouth down.
“Ever since she stopped acting the way you were talking about, she’s been refusing to hang out with me. I think she’s doing it on purpose–”
“She’s probably just overwhelmed with everything that’s going on,” Groose tried to reason.
Link vigorously shook his head.
“More than how it was when everyone else came down?! Even if we had to work from dawn until dusk, she always made time for us. For me.”
He brought his gaze down to his clasped hands.
“It was always better when we worked together, anyway…”
Groose began to snicker in amusement, distracting Link from his melancholy. He stifled his laughter when he noticed Link’s confused expression.
“Sorry…but it’s all so ironic!” he chortled.
“What’s so ironic?” Link snarled.
“You like Zelda, Link.”
Link’s eyes shot wide open, his annoyance dissolving in an instant.
“I–I do not!” he stammered, feeling his cheeks warm.
Groose leaned toward him with a dry stare.
“What else do you call it when a guy fights a literal demon to protect a girl and then uproots his whole life just for her?”
Link fell silent, sheepishly scratching the back of his head.
“And the last time I’ve seen you this hurt over something she did was when she…” Groose added softly.
Link faced away from him, the painful memory of Zelda falling into a centuries-long slumber invading his mind. Hugging his arms, he compared his terror at the thought of her possibly never waking to his distress at the thought of her going as far as making up excuses to avoid spending time with him.
Could it really be?
No; she was his best friend, to be loved without the expectations of romance.
“Well even if I did like her…I don’t think she wants me anymore,” he sighed.
Groose rested a sympathetic hand on his shoulder.
“Now, come on. You two have been close for ages. I don’t know what’s going on with Zelda, but I’m sure she still cares about you…” he murmured. “The question is, what are you going to do about all this?”
Link racked his brain for something he could do to remedy his predicament, like he always could since he first landed on the Surface.
He stared up at Groose, his eyes pools of sorrow.
“I don’t know.”
