There is an 85% chance this Kikwi isn’t Zelda

Two deactivated robots had crumpled in the back of the room, rusted beyond repair. Maybe they were part of Skipper's crew? Had they... been waiting for him to return to this place? Link frowned and called upon Fi for analysis.

She appeared in a swirl of dancing light. “This robot is part of the LD-301 Series of artificial life-forms,” she explained. “As just one of a number of mass-produced robots, it was not assigned a name.”

Link’s stomach twisted.

Her description was factual, no different from the ones she gave to any common robot. So why did Link suddenly and desperately ache for a Timeshift Stone? 

He had seen dozens of these fallen robots on his journey, but something about these two in particular made their fate feel… wrong. Maybe it had been the way Fi called them "nameless." Maybe it was the heavy quiet weighing down the atmosphere. Maybe it was how kind and genuine Skipper had been to him so far, leaving Link to wonder if there were other robots that shared Skipper’s kindness, ones Link would never have the chance to meet.

Regardless of the reason, Link knew exactly what he needed to do next. As if in a trance, he solemnly retrieved his gust bellows and began to sweep the room.

Cleansing air rushed past the sand and ushered the dust through the door. Link, for once, minded the pots, not breaking a single one as he blew away the ancient sand. He took special care around the robots, making sure each was spotless, and finally moved on to the edge of the room where portraits peeked out from their sandy blanket.

Link’s heart leapt to his throat as he uncovered the paintings’ subjects.

There was Skipper, of course, his hands raised happily towards the sky. Other paintings were gorgeous seascapes, with sunsets and blue skies reflected over more water than Link could comprehend. Grand ships in their prime sailed off to new worlds—Link wondered with a pang if those lands would ever be discovered again—and right next to a grand blue and gold chest… was a painting of the crew.

Link had never seen so many robots all in one place. Their hands were thrown high like Skipper’s, the proud captain in the middle of the jolly crowd preparing to take the wheel for them. None of the robots had mouths, but somehow, Link knew they all were smiling.

He dragged his hand against the wall as he wandered towards some papers pinned up a few feet away. Link traced an inlaid gemstone with his fingers. Even the walls had sea charts on them, faint lines marking pathways to forgotten lands and oceans lost to time. Link smiled sadly at little scratches and carved waves. So much character for a little room.

Link reached the first posted message and squinted to read the faded text:

Dear Captain, Thanks for everything, zrrt! Yours, the crew, vrrrrrm.

Link’s chest somehow grew warm and cold all at once. Of course Skipper would save a note like this. There was a lot of love behind it. Link moved on to the next message:

Dear Dad, Good luck at work, vrrm!

The air completely left the room.

Link’s heart skipped a beat, so many dreadful puzzle pieces snapping into place, because those were toys, children's toys, and decorations built for Skipper’s... Link took a step back and blinked rapidly. He didn’t even question how it could be so. He just knew it to be true.

And just like that, the room felt less like an old house, and more like a memorial.

The gravity of just how old this room was sunk upon him like a dirge without a melody. He could no longer deny the obvious.

Everything in the desert was gone. It had been for a long, long time. 

The little robot he'd saved at the mining facility was gone. 

Skipper's crew and family—two of which now lay discarded and vacant on the floor—were gone.

Skipper himself was dead. 

He had been deactivated long before Link had even been born.

It was all a bit more existential than Link had been prepared to deal with that day.

Feeling his limbs turn to lead, Link lowered himself onto the lone stool that sat in the middle of the room. Reverently, he turned his gaze to the faded portrait of Skipper. Funny how he'd only just been introduced to the captain, and now mourned him and a crew he never met.

"Master."

Link jumped as Fi's loud chime shocked him out of his daze. Clutching his heart, he glanced up at her now corporeal form, gasping a bit. "H-huh? What is it, Fi?"

She stared back at him with her blank, emotionless eyes. "I recommend waiting until after you have achieved your objective before taking a rest. First we need to find the sea chart."

…Right. Duty first, Link grimaced, and couldn’t help the way his heart sank and mourned. Fi was right, of course, and he knew it. He knew. Impa's warnings were still fresh in his mind, after all. But with Zelda in Impa's proven care, safely on the other side of a gate of time, Link had at least hoped that Fi would have allowed him a moment of silence in this place so heavy with memories. 

Memories. Time. Link had never felt them weigh so powerfully on his soul. 

He drew out a long, deep sigh that felt like it reached his boots, and slowly dragged himself off the stool.

The sea chart was right where he'd expected it to be. The bright turquoise chest was hard to miss in such a dilapidated room. At least it seemed to have protected the old sea chart tucked away inside, as the pages were much crisper than the crinkling letters on the walls. Link carefully placed the map in his bag.

Once again, Fi's chimes filled his ears, and again he turned to listen.

"Master, look over there."

Link felt his face grow more somber as he followed her gaze. Skipper’s crew waved back at him, oblivious to their fate.

"That is the ship containing Nayru's Flame," she concluded from the painting. "There is a 90% chance that the synthetic life-forms assembled here are the crew. As I have determined that the map you hold is indeed Skipper's sea chart, we are now one step closer to locating the Flame. Let's take it back to him."

Link looked back into the spirit's unblinking eyes, feeling his heart twist for his companion. What sort of existence was it, he wondered for a moment, to know so much and yet feel so little?

"I detect you are... disappointed, Master Link? I had expected this information to be useful to you."

Link smiled sadly at her, patiently shaking his head. "No, no. I'm not disappointed, just..." Weary? Overcome? Would she even understand what those feelings were, or just mistake it for needing physical rest? "It's just... a lot. All of this." He gestured to the wall.

Fi tilted her head. "You are... overstimulated?"

Link breathed out, pleasantly surprised at how close her assessment was to the truth. "Yeah. That's almost it."

"You are overstimulated... by paintings?" Fi cast her gaze around the room, reassessing its contents. Finding nothing of note, she turned back to Link. "I do not understand."

Instead of trying to explain his feelings and inevitably failing, Link tried a different approach. He pointed to the painting of the crew.

“What do you see in this painting, Fi?” he asked, slowly.

“Was I not clear before in my description of the subject matter?”

“No, no, I can see what's obvious, that is Skipper and his crew,” Link nodded at the painting. “I'm just trying to get you to look more deeply at it.”

“More deeply, Master?”

“Well, yeah. Think about it. What do you suppose getting a picture together meant to Skipper, or his crew? Why would Skipper keep it in his cabin?”

Fi paused for a moment, processing his question. “...One could surmise the picture was an object of great importance to him that he wished to keep close,” she said slowly.

Link's heart leaped with hope. "Yeah! Yeah, it holds a lot of sentimental value, doesn't it? A moment from day long past... What else, Fi? Can you see why it's sentimental?"

When Fi failed to respond in favor of simply staring at the painting, Link backpedaled. Trying to speak more in her language, he probed, "What can you... analyze about the moment this painting was made? About the crew? About Skipper?"

Fi continued to stare at the painting in silence. After a few moments, Link figured he’d pushed her too much, and the wind began to leave his sails. Well. At least he’d tried to get her to understand. Link was contemplating heading for the door when suddenly, very slowly, Fi spoke again.

"…The image would indicate that the ship's captain spent many happy days among his many crew members.”

Her eyes were still glued to the robots as Link spun around, staring at her in shock. The hope in his chest burst like a ray of light, spreading through him in an instant. “Yeah, yeah it does, Fi,” his voice wavered with pride. “They all look very happy.”

“They were all closely connected.”

“Yeah,” Link breathed out. “If I had to guess, this picture probably reminded Skipper of simpler days, before he was alone. Before… he had to face the monsters by himself."

Link shook his head, trying to focus on Fi’s breakthrough instead of the way Skipper's story sounded so, so familiar.

Fi glanced back at him a moment—almost quizzically—before returning her eyes to the waving crew. She studied the picture quietly for a long time, as if trying to see past its canvas. After a few seconds, Link realized that she was too preoccupied to say more, so he left her to her analysis and ambled back to the stool.

Link dropped onto the seat with a weary sigh. His arms were killing him after using the clawshots so much, and it felt good to let his throbbing limbs droop for a while. Funny how easy it had become to forget such discomforts while on a time crunch. Well, maybe that was less “funny” and more “worrisome,” but it was a problem for later. For now he would rest his body, and maybe… his eyes… too… … …

A gentle glowing blue light roused Link to his senses before he could fully nod off. After shaking himself awake and breathing in deeply, Link blinked blearily up at Fi.

“Hey. Sorry,” he apologized, rubbing his eyes.

Fi was… oddly slow to respond. “…A report, Master.” She turned her face to the grate in the ceiling.  “I have detected a bug infestation in the upper area of the house.”

“A… bug infestation?” Link repeated, feeling very confused as he glanced up and saw nothing but the grate above him. He tried to ignore the decorations.

Fi simply nodded and spiraled back into the sword on his back, leaving him without further explanation.

Link groaned as he started to piece together what a “bug infestation” probably meant. Having fought a few arachas already, he could only assume that there were a fair few of them crawling all over the roof of Skipper's house. Great.

A bit disappointed that Fi had reverted to her no-nonsense way of speaking so soon, Link resolved it was time to go. He stood, stretched his arms and back, and made it to the door before pausing to glance around the room once last time. After sending up a small, silent prayer for Skipper and his family to find peace, Link turned the doorknob and left the room.

The sound of cicadas and swirling wind hit him as soon as he was outside.

“All right, let’s get this over with,” Link murmured, quickly finding a box to climb. He crested the first level of the house and braced himself for hordes of scuttling legs.

The roof was empty.

Link blinked, hauling himself up so he could stand. He walked a full circle around the level to double-check, and still no arachas. Had he missed something?

Link stopped at the foot of a clump of vines and followed them up with his eyes. There was one last tier of the roof he could investigate, though it offered very little room for a supposed “infestation”. There were no monster sounds, either. In fact, the only noise he could hear besides the wind was the persistent buzz of cicadas…

…Hang on a second.

He climbed the vines as quickly as possible. Sure enough, the highest level was completely clear of arachas. The buzzing, however, was only getting louder, leaving no room for doubt as to just what kind of bug had made its home at the top of Skipper’s Retreat. Link slowed his pace to a crawl as he tip-toed around the smokestack in the center of the roof, desperate to catch a glimpse of them.

Beautiful cicadas clung to the smokestack, chirping their chittering calls to all that would listen. For a brief moment, Link considered pocketing them, but it almost felt wrong to take them from this place. So, he simply crept as close as he dared, studying their glistening black and gold bodies and letting their rattles flow through him.

He smiled. Musical insects never failed to put him at ease. They reminded him of his home, a place so full of music and laughter.

Of Zelda’s music and laughter, he amended with deep yearning.

Maybe that was why cicadas were now one of his favorite insects.

Link gasped. And Fi knew that.

Some mix of disbelief and pride soaked through his bones. Is that… is that why she…? He turned his head, trying to study the hilt of the Goddess Sword, which remained suspiciously quiet.

Link let out a breathy laugh, a grin splitting his face. “Thank you, Fi. This made me really happy.” He ran his fingers over the hilt. “I really needed this today.”

The sword chimed under his touch, and Link was convinced her glowing flicker was brighter than usual. Its warmth spread through his body, giving him the strength he needed to stand up straight.

Link made his way down the roof, stepping out onto a platform where a zipline waited to escort him back down to Skipper. He breathed in the desert air, the breeze ever so faintly tinged with the salty smell that surrounded the Timeshift boat in its pocket of ocean. It was time to move on. It was time to find the Flame.

Link gripped Fi’s hilt once more, squeezing it as if he were holding her hand.

Together, my friend. We’ll do this together.

Fi chimed brightly behind him.

>>><<<

End of fic!

Check out my Masterpost of my other fics!

Author’s Note: I can’t remember now if this is one of the first times Fi describes something in emotional detail (referring to Skipper’s many happy days with his crew), but it’s one of the first that stuck out to me, especially after being smacked in the face with “get back to work” after I made Link sit down before getting the sea chart at Skipper’s retreat. 😅

ALSO (and because I just did this in-game) freeing Skipper’s crew from the Sandship must have been a HUGE mood booster for Link. He made a difference in Skipper’s life and got to have him reunite with some of his crew, at least! Asfdhjgfkh the robots are so cute, y’all, I love them ^u^

Extra Note: I am a children’s book/family friendly author, so please keep all comments Safe For Work (no swearing please!) I want to do my best to make this a place for everyone. Cheers!

“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. 

I’m bringing you home. 

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. 

If you wish to be graced by his prescence personally, here you go xD