(A fragment I wrote over a year ago for a friend. Cross-posted to AO3 where you can find her account, which is sadly devoid of any Zelda writing.)
They met at a burial, hovering at a respectful distance as a man in his twenties with an impossibly serene face was put to rest. It was a strange funeral, attended by emperors and vagrants alike (and the list went on: a travelling mask salesman; an entire crew of windriders, a dozen in all; some even said they saw a male dragon circling the skies above). Whoever the mourners and however far they had travelled, they all sat in silence watching that strange fallen man vanish beneath six feet of earth and necrostasis charms.
During the wake, Navi avoided the faces she recognised. Hylian faces reminded her too much of those seven years of rewritten history. She was lured into conversation with the Goron patriach Darunia and later with Nabooru-Malika and both times it did nothing but remind her of the world's most unspeakable horror - watching a child of ten allow duty and sacrifice into his heart.
She busied herself talking to the many unfamiliar faces. Creatures of all heritage and heraldry were all more than happy to strike up a conversation, and more than once she found herself in a circle as stories were shared of a man who had conquered demons and bested armies.
Strangest of all was listening to other faeries speak of him. They seemed to have been everywhere in his life, not even as a conscious choice but as a recurring motif of happenstance. It was in listening to them more than anyone else that she learned what had become of her young friend since they had parted ways. Where Navi had once led him, these other faeries had followed him. They spoke of him with unending adultation, painting him as calm, courageous and charismatic. It was as if they were speaking of one of the flawless archetypical heroes of legend, not a real person. This unsettled Navi more than anything else, and she found herself retreating to an isolated tree branch just out of view of the solemnities, where she mulled over this for some time. That boy had been a lot of things but flawless was not one of them.
It was good, she decided after a time. Her friend had grown in her absence. She had done right by him.
"Let me guess," spoke a faerie from behind her. "Another one of those little ditzes who had a thing for him."
Navi started. "You scared me," she said, turning around. "I... a thing?"
The newcomer smirked and settled on a tree branch right below Navi's. "Every second faerie at the funeral looked as if it wasn't just a friend but their soul mate who'd gotten impaled with the pointy end of a, um... What was the official line? `An out of control storm spell'? I'll bet you there are whole conclaves of faeries out there who fell half in love with him."
She looked perhaps a few hundred years old (and how she glowed... emanating from her was a plurality of colours Navi would have described as `gold-maize-sour' and which a biped would have described as `yellow').
"He was a good man," said Navi quietly. "Don't speak so callously of him at his own funeral wake."
"Hey, it's not my fault what other people think of him. Have you seen all the princesses bawling their hearts out around the campfire by M'dirchon Rock? Little kid was always a bit of a ladies' man; pity he never seemed the slightest bit interested in, uh..."
"Do notspeak of him like that," repeated Navi, a little more harshly. "He was a very brave man in a very treacherous world. Pay him your respects instead of making a childish mockery of-"
The other faerie's voice grew dangerous. "One: I will pay my respects however I damn well want to and I'd say at this point I have earnt myself a little levity. Who do you think scooped his entrails off the floor and put enough back in to make him presentable for the funeral?"
Navi didn't let the surprise show on her face, but it was there in her voice. "You're saying you-"
"I got there a week after it happened and nobody else was willing to go into that atrium. Voodoo nonsense. The bodies of thirteen dead high priestesses and prophets - the deadbodies of 'em, and gods were they dead - are not about to sit back up and start cursing you again, but no, nobody was willing to try getting his body out until a faerie rocked up on their doorstep volunteering. Faeries are expendable, I guess. Sensible people are expendable."
"I..." Navi was flabbergasted. "I thought - assumed - someone would..."
"Well, they didn't," said the faerie with a little shrug. "Two: you talk a lot like he did back when I met him. Are you Navi?"
"I am. And you are...?"
"Tatl."