There are many things Link shouldn't remember. He knows this.
He shouldn't remember a land swathed in green, the sound of rain through the leaves of many tall and sunlit trees, shouldn't remember a deity tall and radiant in Her Glory, a shield on Her arm and blue eyes alight with joy, he shouldn't remember feeling proud and yet humble to serve at Her side.
He shouldn't remember answering to another name, remember serving with bold, brave souls against a darkness that only grew stronger and more devious with each battle, he shouldn't remember the feeling of steel through flesh, and the taste of blood in his mouth, and his vision darkening even as glorious brilliant light swept the battlefield, the Goddess wrathful and beautiful in Her rage and sorrow.
He shouldn't remember how to wield a blade as if it were a mere extension of his being, how to shift his weight as he rolls in the sparring arena, how to balance out his stance when he wears a shield.
Fighting shouldn't feel like second nature, not to a child of six-and-ten years.
But it does. His teachers praise him for how quickly he learns, his classmates less so. Zelda is a comfort, a friendly shoulder to lean on when the teasing gets a bit more pointed than it should be during their younger years.
But even she doesn't know his burden.
As the years roll by, his dreams become nightmares, the vision of the darkness dragging Zelda down, the monster rising from its seal, the dreadful scream of its awakening ringing in his ears as he wakes.
He has found some solace in praying at the Goddess's temple, asking for strength and protection. On nights when the nightmares keep him awake, he sneaks from the dormitory and avoiding the guards, finds a space under one of the trees near the statue of the Goddess. He doesn't sleep but finds some part of his spirit soothed nonetheless.
The day of the Wing Ceremony dawns and Link is awoken by Zelda's Loftwing shoving its head through his window and spitting a letter at him. He can't say it's entirely unexpected. Zelda always did have a particular brand of humor.
So the push off the platform near the temple isn't a surprise either. His missing Loftwing is.
Link can feel the faint emotions of the red Loftwing, rage and indignation flowing through their bond. He sends calm and reassurance back before following the trail leading below Skyloft.
The Loftwing squawks loudly when she sees him. How dare they put me in a cage! She seems to say. And how dare you take so long to get me!
Link pats her wide bill, getting the tips of his fingers nipped for the gesture of support. The Loftwing is not pleased, though she will carry him without complaint; she's not angry at him after all.
She is far less kind to Groose when she sees him.
Instructor Owlan raises an eyebrow as Link calmly watches Groose avoid the red Loftwing's angry pecking.
"Link…" the instructor starts.
"He deserves it," Link says placidly. "He trapped her in a cave this morning."
"Ah," the instructor replies. It is an unspoken rule amongst those in Skyloft that the Loftwings are not to be touched by those who are not bonded to them. Groose and his cronies will receive little sympathy from anyone who hears of what has transpired.
Owlan lets the Loftwing chase Groose for a few more minutes before giving a sharp piercing whistle. The Loftwing pauses, turning her head to glare before stalking back to Link's side. She nudges his shoulder, a low grumble rumbling in her throat.
Link buries one hand in her bright feathers, scratching just under her bill. She makes a kind of purr before settling her head atop his.
"Students!" Owlan calls and all present snap to attention. "Today is the Wing Ceremony, in which you demonstrate your skill and bond with your Loftwing in a race to claim this," he holds up a weathered yet still brightly colored statuette of a Loftwing braced to take flight. "The student who claims the statuette will advance to the next class on the path to knighthood. They will also receive a gift from the young woman chosen to represent the Goddess in this year's ritual."
Zelda waves, smiling.
"Let's see your finest flying out there," Owlan continues, "Show us just how hard you've been practicing. I want to see good, clean flying. Anyone caught interfering with other riders will answer to me." The instructor's eyes narrow as he looks the students over.
"That goes double for you, Groose," the headmaster Gaepora snaps. Groose jumps at the man's tone. Link hides a smile behind one hand as Owlan's yellow Loftwing takes flight, the statuette secured to one leg by a length of rope. It circles once then begins to head northwards.
"Line up!" Owlan calls.
Link's Loftwing squawks and takes a running leap off the platform while Link makes his way to the end of the line.
"Three, two, one. Begin!"
Link easily avoids Groose's elbow jab, sprinting to the edge of the platform.
The wind streams over him, cool and welcoming as he free-falls into the sky.