((Transferred from my tumblr, which is also crownedcrusader. Lmao I honestly just remembered I wrote this so im transferring it here and to ao3-and is anyone else noticing my general theme of angst in all my zelinks. Sorry for giving u all so many sads haha.))

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Fi had told him it was a waste of time.

Not in those words, exactly–she was polite, even if she was blunt. But she only frustrated him with her criticisms of, "Master Link, I calculate only a 15% probability that Zelda can hear you while she sleeps," and, "If you seek to aid Zelda, might I suggest continuing on your quest to find the remaining two parts of the Song of the Hero?"

Even if it was only a fifteen percent chance that Zelda could even hear him while she slept, even if it was only a fifteen percent chance that Zelda would gain the company of a friend when she had nothing but her own thoughts and dreams while she slept, even if it was only a fifteen percent chance that Zelda would be less lonely for a few minutes in her isolation, there was a one-hundred percent chance that he was going to talk to her anyways.

This time was no different.

"Hey, Zelda," Link started, same as ever. He sat down and crossed his ankles, happy enough to be off his feet, and happier to be close to the friend he'd missed so much for so long. "I know you can't say much to me right now, but that's fine. I don't always say much to you either, so I guess it's payback for all those years of being shy around you, huh?"

He'd stopped expecting a reply somewhere around the third visit. He was at eight now–maybe nine.

"I brought you something this time," he said after a moment, smiling up at her and pulling out his adventure pack. "I don't have much time to carve these days–don't worry, I'm sure I'd still be good if I picked it back up. But, uh, I still wanted to make you something… or have something made for you, that is." A guilty smile appeared on his face as he pulled out his new and improved shield. "It's–well, you can't really see it, so I guess I gotta describe it for you. I… well, it's not perfect, but I couldn't let Rupin know what I was trying to make. I asked him to make Hylia on the shield, to show her face, like I was… like I was fighting for her, and that was my crest. That sort of thing. I dunno what I was expecting, but… Even without describing you, something about her seems… well, like you. Except not as pretty, of course."

Embarrassed at the slip-up, Link was quick to correct it. "I didn't mean… I mean, you are pretty, and she's not as pretty as you, but–I mean, you're Hylia, so technically any drawing of Hylia might be you, sort of? This goddess stuff kind of has me confused, I gotta admit. But I just meant that… That you're really beautiful, Zel. And I know there's so much more to you than that, and I never really prized beauty much till recently, but…"

His voice warbled towards the end, and he had to take a minute to compose himself.

"But recently, I haven't–I haven't gotten to hear your voice at all, Zel. I haven't got to hear the way you defend people in need, or–or how smart you sound when you're talking about pretty much anything. I haven't gotten to see you open your eyes and look at the world that creative way you used to. You–you don't move in there at all, you know? You used to be so active. I miss the way your fingers would twitch like you were practicing knitting." He took a deep breath, unable to look up at even her unaware form. "The only thing I get to see is what you look like. So your beauty's the only thing I get to keep looking at, and I know it's not much, but it's something, and I gotta hold onto something."

Link wasn't too strong to cry, but if Zelda could hear him with that fifteen percent chance, the last thing he wanted was to make her feel guilty. So he forced a laugh and wiped his eyes, forcing the hitch out of his voice.

"I just miss you, Zelda. I miss you so much I don't know how much more of this I can take. I wanna see you again, as soon as I can. That's all I meant."

In a moment of weakness, he stood up, satchels and sword and shield left on the ground. With careful footsteps, he made his way to her, hoping with blind hope that maybe something would be different this time.

Deep down, he knew that the barrier wouldn't break just because he wanted it to. He couldn't break it; not with his fists, beating it in a panic when she first sealed herself. Not with his courage from facing enemies ten times his size, not with his wisdom of finding the best solution to a tough opponent, not with his power of will in refusing to allow Ghirahim to get to him.

But since nothing he'd tried had worked, maybe it just required Zelda's permission.

Maybe it just required him to say please, and for her to grant his request.

She was a goddess, wasn't she?

It was stupid, he knew, but when he pressed his hand against the barrier, he still felt a spark of hope.

"Please wake up," he whispered, hating the way his voice cracked. "Because I don't think I can do this without you."

No matter that tiny flicker of hope, though, Zelda stayed silent. She didn't move, didn't flinch–she hardly seemed to breath, just as she'd been all eight times he'd visited her before.

With a heavy heart, Link walked back down to collect his things and get on with his adventure.

No matter how disheartened he felt, though, he knew even as he left that he'd be back for another visit.

That fifteen percent chance that Zelda could hear him was enough to take the risk. Because if he felt this alone without her when he still had friends in Skyloft and on the Surface, then how alone must she feel, trapped in sleep?

So he'd visit her here until she could wake once more.