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“Psst. Hey, Link!”
He groaned, ears flicking distastefully at the soft voice disrupting his well-earned (and most certainly necessary) rest. A finger poked his cheek. The sensation, while gentle and feather-light, tore him away from his rose-coloured dreams like a slap to the face—dreams of a future with his beloved and, hopefully, several new loved ones in the form of little children. Another groan fell from his lips, louder this time to ensure the person, whomever it was, knew just how he felt about having his sleep disrupted. He rolled over, burying his face into his blanket and raising ruby red wings to cover his face in hopes of deterring them. He sent a prayer to Hylia that they would just leave him alone .
The blanket was torn away from him, and in its place, frigid night air pierced his flesh, a monster attacking him without the protection of his armour. Sky yelped, his eyes snapping open in alarm, wings tearing back from his face so he could search for whoever was in his room with him. If Legend had decided to play a prank on him again —
Using his surprise to motivate his sluggish body, he hauled himself up to glare at the person who had decided he wouldn’t sleep tonight, only to freeze when he saw familiar white thread woven into golden blonde hair. Joy bloomed in his chest, a warm, golden flower that poured excitement into his veins as he lifted his gaze, meeting familiar, sky-blue eyes he had missed for months. Despite having seen her only hours ago, giddiness spread through him as if this were the first time he had set his eyes upon her all those years ago, a then-unfamiliar sensation warming him from head to toe and leaving his cheeks a tender pink, the colour of pale roses and young, innocent love.
“Zelda!” His voice was light, breathless, and he took a moment to appreciate how something as simple as her presence could snatch the precious air from his lungs. Hylia, he loved her.
Any irritation that had bubbled up at having his dear (but not as dear to him as her) sleep snatched away dissipated into fine mist in the wake of his fiery passion for her.
Zelda’s lips peeled back into what he guessed was an attempt at a smirk. The attempt failed when her face was simply too gentle, too soft to encapsulate such a wicked thing—perhaps she needed lessons from Groose, or even Legend; the veteran had to have excellent tips, when his neutral expression seemed to be that of a scowl.
Sky’s sleep-addled thoughts were torn in two when Zelda began to giggle, the sound so light and refreshing, it seeped into him too, easing the months of aches and exhaustion he had resting on his shoulders, of longing for someone in a different time, and for a chance to stretch his wings. “I got you!” Hylia, even her voice could cure the worst of ailments. At the very least, it had cured the homesickness he had been weighed down with for months.
“You got me,” he said with a petulant huff—for effect, of course. He could never be mad at her—though, the time she had put bugs into his bed had come close; her laughter had settled the rage quickly before it had time to so much as consider becoming a true flame.
Her attempt at a smirk softened into something he was more familiar with: a tender smile with warm, crinkled eyes directed at him, as it always was. A special smile she reserved only for him. The thought left his heart fluttering in his chest and his cheeks burning and he suddenly found himself grateful for the shadows wrapping around them like thick blankets, hiding his secrets despite how they were now dating—she would tease him to no end if she found out regardless of their status.
Ever the more confident of the two, Zelda asked, “Do you want to go out? It’s been a while since you have been home, and I was hoping we could fly together like old times.”
At the thought, Sky’s wings twitched with barely contained excitement, any lingering remnants of fatigue that had been clinging to him determinedly dropping from his frame and in its place leaving only thrumming golden energy. “Of course!” The words fell from his lips easily. He had been dreaming of their daily flights in the long months he had been separate from her.
Her face brightened at his words, a glimpse of the brilliant sun beyond the dark clutches of the shadows, before she reached for his hand and dragged him out of bed. “We have to be quiet,” she said as they crept over to the door, pausing to shoot a look into Fledge’s room beyond the thin wood separating them. Sky followed her gaze, peering between the gaps in the divider, only to smile fondly when he saw how Fledge slept on, likely having passed out after finishing his nightly workout.
That was perfect for the two of them; while he knew Fledge wouldn’t tattle on them normally, he couldn’t say for certain what the other would do when Sky had been “missing” for months now. Panic made even the most placid person change, it seemed.
With Fledge out like a light, Zelda eased open his door, wincing at every faint squeak of protest it gave, as if the wood was protesting having being woken in the early hours of the morning, just as Sky himself had. When it had been peeled back far enough for her to slip through, Zelda turned back to shoot him a grin, her eyes sparkling with a childish mirth he had longed to see for months now. He easily returned the gesture, squeezing her hand to let her know he was ready—and if it was also to remind himself that she was here, that this wasn’t another one of the vivid, rose-coloured dreams his mind weaved out of dawn clouds, then nobody needed to know.
Zelda nodded, an understanding passing between them with ease, as if he hadn’t been away for months and this was simply another one of the near-nightly sneak outs they underwent back when they were fifteen, filled with an unshakeable energy only teenagers seemed to possess. She turned back to the hallway. Beyond the gentle glow that seemed to encircle his dearest even on the darkest of days, the shadows grew thick and warped, shrouding the hallway in a darkness comparable to Demise’s. He wondered if her presence had chased away the darkest of the shadows within his own room, a beacon of comforting light. It wouldn’t surprise him, when she had always had a soothing effect on him from the moment they had met—not so much when she was pushing him from platforms and watching him fall with that menacing (but not really) smirk of hers. Hylia, he adored her so.
Zelda tugged on his hand, pulling him back to the present. He met her curious eyes with a dismissive shake of his head; she needn’t know of his woolgathering, though he was certain she would be able to guess it with a simple glance at his pink cheeks. Again, he found himself grateful for the shadows wrapped around them snugly.
“Let’s go,” she whispered, her voice piercing the silence despite being no louder than a breath. Sky paused, narrowing his eyes to search the darkness, worried they would be caught—they hadn’t before, but it would be just his luck for them to be found out now , after so many years of sneaking out.
“Don’t worry.” Zelda squeezed his hand comfortingly. “Everyone’s exhausted after training today, and then the excitement of seeing you home. We’ll be fine ,” she promised, her gentle eyes locking with his. Sky wasn’t certain whether it was the certainty behind her words, or the simple fact that it was her saying them, but he found himself believing her, the knot of anxiety within his chest unwinding. In response, he tightened his fingers around her own, knowing she would get the message: they rarely needed to use words, when they understood each other so well.
They slipped out of his room and into the hallway, pausing only when Sky bumped his wing on the doorframe and cursed softly. Zelda sniggered, quickly throwing her hand up to muffle the sound while he pouted, glaring at her through teary-eyes. It wasn’t his fault that he was rarely in such an enclosed space anymore; he hadn’t had to account for doorframes in over a month now, when they had been traversing Wild’s era for so long.
“Be quiet, silly,” Zelda whispered, her voice high, breathless with fading laughter. Still pouting, Sky huffed in response, but when she began to pull him towards the stairs he followed without argument.
They slipped up the steps easily, the shadows seeming to silence their footfalls as they crept up to the second floor without a hitch. Their boots clacked softly on the flagstone as they slipped past the headmaster’s room, followed swiftly by their two instructors’ rooms. He stretched his wings out tentatively as they walked, his flight feathers brushing against the potted vines pouring out of their holders, which were placed intermittently along the brick walls. The emerald leaves caught on his feathers, guided along by ruby red before they fluttered back into place. The action was familiar, one he had done hundreds of times before for no reason other than to watch the vines drift back into place, and it soothed his nerves now, promising that everything would turn out fine for him, just this once.
Sky paused before the wooden double-doors that stood between them and their freedom, a sudden thought hitting him. He glanced back into the inky darkness, Zelda letting out a curious hum at the delay. His friends would be sleeping now, spread out between Groose’s room, and Strich and Cawlin’s. It felt strange to leave them here alone, and he found himself torn between his friends, whom he considered family, and his beloved, whom he had missed dearly over the past few months.
Zelda tugged on his arm again, drawing his attention back to her. “They’ll be fine,” she promised him, easily reading the concern on his face despite the darkness. “They’re safe here, and we’ll be together out there. It’ll be fine.” Her words soothed his concern, as they always did.
Sky smiled, nodded, then followed as she led him up the single step onto the platform that encircled the exit to the academy, their boots clicking on the polished tiles. Zelda pulled open the door slowly, wary of making a noise, but it’s well-oiled joints remained silent as she peeled it back just far enough for the both of them. Together, they slipped out.
Cool night air washed over him like a waterfall cascading over his flesh, a once-familiar chill now turned stranger when he had been away from home for so long—rarely did the surface hold such frigid, thin air. Zelda closed the door behind them, and then, as if the world had been holding its breath, the night came to life around them. Crickets chirped, a low, constant hum filling the air and easing the tension in Sky’s shoulders. It was a constant sound across all times, one that was alive on the Surface and on Skyloft. When the crickets were singing their nightly tune the world was safe, devoid of any monsters. They promised peace and rest. Moonlight pooled over the land, draping itself over every blade of grass and every shuddering leaf of Skyloft, over every moss-covered stone archway and whitewashed wall of his dear home. It caressed Zelda’s cheeks, highlighting her dark freckles and creating a galaxy across her cheeks, one he longed to trace his finger across, to map out so he would remember the beautiful constellations once he had to leave again. It flowed down her hair, leaving a gentle halo of silver surrounding the crown of her head and making her look all the more like the Goddess she had once been.
As if feeling his gaze on her, she turned back to him. His cheeks burned brighter at being caught, though she didn’t seem to mind. She never did. A quick grin was sent his way, that cheeky-but-adoring grin where her eyes crinkled softly as they slipped shut and her head tilted ever so slightly in a way that reminded Sky of the sweet Hylian Retrievers he had met in Wild’s time—or, they had met him , when he hadn’t been able to hold himself back from cuddling the adorable creatures the moment he realised they were safe. Twilight had given him the courage, the farmhand pushing past him with that softness he had never thought such a strong man could carry, making a beeline for the panting pups and picking up all three, cooing and making kissy sounds as they licked his face, equally as excited as he was despite being manhandled.
Sky shook away the fond memory dancing along the edges of his mind, determined to focus now, to make more fond memories with the girl he adored to look back upon when he was away from her again and he found loneliness dripping from his being as the incessant emotion was wont to do.
They paused outside for a moment, their hair and feathers fluttering in the gentle breeze, and Sky took a moment to tip his head back and take in the millions of stars peppering the sky above, glimmering sweetly down at him as if taking him in fondly, like a mother might upon her child returning home for the day. He wondered if the stars possessed such an emotion, if they recognised travellers and watched over them fondly as they pursued adventure and fame, if they whispered ancient stories to new travellers thousands of years later on the quietest of nights so they might live on. Perhaps, that was why constellations formed: the stars’ unique way of reminding the world of what transpired while their back was turned.
Zelda’s hand sliding down his arm tore his attention away from his distracted thoughts, and he shook his head, offering her an attentive smile as she twined their fingers together, just like old times. Her hand was warm over his, reminiscent of when he held his palms out to a glorious, crackling fire on a frigid night. Her warmth chased away the chill, leaving his skin buzzing pleasantly. It was a familiar sensation, one he hadn’t realised he had been missing all these months.
“Come on,” she whispered, grin widening before she turned to lead him away from the Academy. Sky missed the expression instantly.
They started out at a slow pace, content to simply take in the night and drink in each other’s presence as they had been wishing to do every night for the past few months. The lush grass beneath them muffled their steps, as if the world was fixated on helping them sneak out, silencing any sound they might make on the off-chance someone—Pipit—was patrolling nearby. Sky doubted he would be, when the other had looked exhausted earlier, but the yellow-clad knight was notorious for pushing himself too far. If they ran into him, he would send him to bed sternly, Sky decided.
(Hylia had to be on their side tonight, as they crossed paths with only the wind.)
When they made it to the stone steps leading down to the bazaar, Zelda gave his hand a quick squeeze in warning before she broke into a run. Sky matched her pace quickly—he had to, lest he stumble and crash face-first into the stone—and then they were racing down the steps and past the bazaar, the flags tied to the tall, patchy tent fluttering in the wind as they passed.
With the cool night air twisting through his feathers and the sight of Skyloft turned silver under moonlight spread out before him, Sky felt like a teenager again, sneaking out for the first time with Zelda’s warm hand leading him along, the other always the instigator to their antics. Any cheeky idea they pursued would originate from her, and she was always more than happy to include him in them. And, of course, he never said no to her.
(He had never been able to, and had it not been the fondness thrumming through his entire being, warm and fuzzy, he would worry over how much sway she held over him. But she would never hurt him, he knew.)
They forwent the steps leading away from the bazaar, the excitement thrumming in their veins like threads of warm gold pushing them to leap over the edge of the platform instead. Their wings flared out behind them, allowing them to glide a few paces before their boots sank into soft grass and they were off again.
Zelda led them towards the wide stretch of wooden platform that jutted out at the edge of the plaza, the sight of the worn wood sending a thrill of excitement through Sky’s veins, his wings puffing up slightly, muscles in his shoulders tensing with anticipation.
“Remlit!” Zelda called out in warning, before she ducked, the offending creature flying over her head, missing her hair by a breath. Sky’s eyes widened and he ducked before he wound up with a face full of furious fluff—with claws that were way too sharp for the remlits to be safe to keep around as pets.
Seriously, who thought that had been a good idea?
The remlit flew harmlessly over his head, its furious snarl piercing his ears in the same way a monster’s snarl would when they missed a killing blow, and he winced. He didn’t turn as grass turned to flagstone, an abrupt change that shocked him out of his fearful stupor. Their boots clacked on the ground as they ran by the Light Tower, the clicking of the remlit’s nails following behind them menacingly—had they always been this determined, this out for blood?
The remlit’s short legs were its downfall, its determination wavering as they left it in the dust. Stone turned to polished wood faded with years of use as they made it to the platform. Spurred on by the change, Zelda pushed herself, and in turn, Sky, to run faster as the open air stretched out before them, a yawning expanse of inky black separated only by a peppering of twinkling stars and grey clouds lined silver by the full moon. They slipped into the shadow cast by the Light Tower, darkness enveloping them as they took the final few steps towards the edge of their world.
And then, they jumped.
Years ago, on their first dive, they had hesitated, terrified that their weak wings and shiny new flight feathers wouldn’t be able to carry them and they would disappear below the clouds, joining every other item that had fallen over the years. Irretrievable. Alone.
Now, a decade later, they knew their wings would carry them, and that if they were to stumble and slip, they would have each other’s backs. If Sky’s wings were weakened from months of near-inactivity, then Zelda would carry him until he gathered himself again.
Rather than spread their wings and slip into a glide, Zelda pulled him to her chest, tucking her wings in close. Sky mimicked the movement, curling his arms around her and resting his head over her shoulder as the wind raced past them, tearing harmlessly at their hair and feathers. It’s frigidness left his eyes burning, and he slipped them shut, burying his face in Zelda’s shoulder, focusing his attention on her sweet, perfume-y scent—the faint remnants still clinging to his sailcloth back in his room couldn’t hope to compare to the real thing. They plunged together, a feat they had once been so terrified of facing.
Zelda sent out one wing, just far enough to catch the air on their left, and then they were spinning, round and round through the air, like that one time a moblin had pitched him across a field—an experience he would not recommend. Only, this felt more like a dance, a calculated action, where the moblin had only had his demise in mind.
Zelda pulled away from him, just far enough for their noses to touch, their eyes meeting. Childish mirth shone within her eyes. Baby blue flicked away from him for a millisecond, out towards the inky blackness surrounding them, and Sky read her intent as if the words lay within her eyes. He nodded.
With a grin, Zelda pushed him away from her, clasping their hands together before he could slip out of her reach. Sky twined their fingers, a warm thread tying them together as they spun through the air, around one another in a dance of trust. Of love.
The cloud barrier, a swirling expanse of fluffy white—emphasis on swirling —drew nearer. Zelda’s fingers tightened around his own, signalling for him to wait one, two, three seconds, before her right thumb swiped outwards over the back of his own. In response, Sky gently began to spread his wings, angling his body up and out of the dive, knowing without needing to look that Zelda would be doing the same beside him.
They levelled out just before the cloud barrier. Sky lowered his free arm, his fingers dancing through the frigid molecules of water, before Zelda’s pinky swiped up the outside of his hand.
Sky grinned, allowing her to take the lead as he arched his back and pushed his wings harder, the force behind each beat parting the air neatly behind them. Zelda’s pinky swiped over his hand again, and Sky pushed himself harder, determined to match her pace, to not be left behind.
(Never again.)
They gained altitude, the air growing thinner, cooler, as it rushed past their cheeks, freezing beads of sweat across Sky’s forehead before they could fully form. He wondered if Zelda was trying to reach the twinkling stars above them and had chosen to take him along for the ride. Or, perhaps that fragment of Hylia within her chest was yearning to be as close to the real thing as possible. Sky wasn’t certain how it worked, but the fervour behind Zelda’s powerful wing beats told him it was more than the simple notion of feeling the air against her cheeks.
Zelda slowed as they reached the second layer of clouds, lazily drifting above Skyloft, her hand reaching out for the silver-lined shapes, and Sky wondered if perhaps she was reaching for the stars, a curiosity bubbling within her that could never be sated—Sky himself knew it couldn’t, for he had tried again and again to reach the stars. They weren’t meant to be caressed by Hylian hands, only gazed upon with fond eyes.
Zelda’s fingers tightened around his own, a warning before she tilted her body backwards. Sky followed in tandem, tucking his wings in as she did, their bodies arcing in the air together. For a fleeting moment, they hung there in the sky, motionless like the stars above, as if they were lying upon a blanket of clouds and watching the sky as they had done dozens of times before on a threadbare blanket on the roof of the Knight’s Academy, a stolen bottle of wine between them and warmth bubbling in their chests. Then, gravity pulled them back down headfirst. Bright, breathless laughter bubbled up in Sky’s chest as his stomach flipped pleasantly and he allowed it to flow freely from his lips, placing his free hand over his chest to try and settle the sensation so similar to champagne dancing drunkenly in his stomach—a sensation he had become well-acquainted with on his nights with Warriors. Beside him, Zelda let out barks of laughter that sounded like music to his ears, the cheerful, lilting noises ones he had missed with an unbearable ache.
And then, they were flipping over, guided by a carefully angled wing of Zelda’s into a glide. Sky caught a glance of her brilliant blue feathers rippling in the cool night air, before it was gone again, replaced by the beautiful, sky island he called home. From up so high, the island appeared tiny, no larger than the palm of his hand. The Knight’s Academy and Bazaar looked like mere child’s toys, an imitation of something much bigger. Lanterns left flickering orbs of gold, like fireflies perched across the island, reflections of the silver stars glimmering above.
Zelda guided them into a slow descent and Sky followed her gaze to the lake floating above Skyloft, barren, save for the sky fireflies drifting lazily through the bushes. The lake was dark and still, mirroring the stars above, as if it had captured a piece of the twinkling sky for itself. Even the waterfall slipped gently down into the Skyloft lake below, smooth as silky curtains, and Sky wondered if such a feat was only achievable by the Goddess—the other waterfalls he had seen, particularly in Wild’s time, seemed to spill everywhere, hostile and violent where this one poured smoothly.
(Or, perhaps he was overthinking this all. His woolgathering always gained a certain rosy tint to it when he was next to his beloved.)
They landed seamlessly on the soft grass—or, Zelda did, Sky’s landing spoke of a significant lack of practice and a cockiness that left him stumbling forward and crushing the fragile, luminescent flowers that freckled the land when he fell on his front. His fall tore a snort of laughter from Zelda’s lips, unrestrained in a way she only allowed it to be around him. The sound made his embarrassment worth it, to break down the walls Zelda so often kept up around everyone else.
Sky huffed, blowing a lock of hair from his face and glaring at the gentle golden glow of the flower before him as if it were the cause of all his problems, before the light was replaced by the shadowy silhouette of a hand. His eyes followed the shadow up to Zelda’s face, warm with fondness and mirth, and with another petulant huff—only for show, of course—he took her hand, allowing her to haul him to his feet effortlessly. The force behind the action left him staggering forward and into her side, where she briskly embraced him, and he wondered, as he leaned into her warm, comforting chest, if that had been her plan all along. If it had, he wouldn’t call her out on it, not when it resulted in this.
Zelda held onto him tighter, and as they swayed in the gentle breeze, he imagined her eyes slipping shut with contentment, felt the slow, steady thump of her heart over his own. In this still moment, they beat together, a tender tune woven from life and blood, magic and love.
Sky couldn’t think of a moment he had felt more at home than now, in her arms.