Skyward Sword isn't mine.
Last chapter, guys. Thanks for all the reviews and I hope you like the ending! You've all been really cool :)
Zelda plucked a single note on her harp, the string vibrating quietly under her fingertip, and opened her eyes, sunlight falling on her blond lashes. The birds chirped cheerfully in the trees, and from the Goddess Statue she could make out the smudge that was Eldin Volcano on the horizon. The wind buffeted her skirts—still a Skyloft dress, because even though they had left their childhood home behind, it was still a part of her.
She rubbed a thumb over the shiny gold of the harp and thought of Demise and Hylia and how this cycle wasn't over—it was only just beginning. She thought of a girl hundreds of years from now who shared her name, and a boy from humble beginnings who would rise to greatness, and of how Zelda and Link would be broken and reshaped and changed over and over, until the end of time.
(Hylia hadn't meant for it to happen like this. Zelda could feel the Goddess's regret almost like it was a palpable substance—she supposed that not even guardian deities made the right decisions, all the time.)
But looking out over the surface from what felt like the top of the world, Zelda knew that some things were worth protecting.
Gloved hands lifted the harp out of her arms, and Link started strumming a song—the song that had had been the beginning of everything. Zelda knew they were both thinking of the same thing—of a day over a year ago when they had both been different people, when she had played this song for him on this very statue.
"We're not going back, are we?" she said softly. It wasn't a question.
Hylia's ballad—Zelda's ballad—ended abruptly, in the pluck of one string, the sound resonating in her ears. "I don't think so," Link answered, and Zelda nodded. It was a fact she had come to accept, because it was better this way—better for them to leave the past up in Skyloft.
Better for them to rebuild the surface, and rebuild themselves.
Link's arms dropped to his sides, the harp dangling in one hand. She watched conflicting emotions chase each other across his face, dark blue eyes troubled. He took a breath and let it out in a whoosh. "Zelda—"
And then suddenly they were kissing—full on, her body pressed against his, their skin radiating heat. His lips were gentle and forgiving against hers, his calloused hands cradling her face, her fingers tangling in his hair. Zelda didn't know if he had kissed her or if she had kissed him—all she knew was that this was right. This was how it was supposed to be.
They didn't break until both of them needed air, and even then Link was the one to pull away, both of them gasping, a little giddy, a little lightheaded. She could feel the bright red warmth spreading across her cheeks—she would've thought that being a goddess reincarnated put her above blushing, by now.
(She could feel Hylia's amusement lingering at the edges of her mind, but there was approval, too. The Goddess had lost her love hundreds of years ago, but Zelda had still found hers.)
Link pulled her close, dwarfing her as he wrapped his arms around her tightly. "Love you, Zelda," he mumbled into her neck, and she didn't even need to reply. He knew how she felt already. Zelda knew he still had the scars that came from being the one who everyone counted on, and those scars would never fade completely—but she was here to help him heal.
Link pressed his lips to hers again, and Zelda knew that they could take on whatever happened. They turned and faced their world together, and the weight of destiny pressed down on their shoulders—but they were both strong enough to carry the burden, now.
And it was only the beginning.
