prompt: promise

pairing: Skyward Sword prequel manga; Hylia/Link

notes 1: I AM SO PSYCHED FOR THIS WEEK, HOLY HECK. This fic is going to be made up of unconnected one-shots, for various incarnations of zelink. Some will be happy, some will be sad, some will be a mix of both. Some will be from Link's perspective, some from Zelda's, and some will have both. So far what I have planned is two for OoT, one for WW/PH, one for SS, and one for TP. I have no idea what I'm doing for day 4.

notes 2: does this even count as zelink? I hope so. I felt like it was appropriate to write the first incarnation on the first day.

disclaimer: The Legend of Zelda is not mine.

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The sky was shrouded in clouds the color of obsidian, and the ground was moist with blood. Corpses littered the battlefield, monster and human; there was no time to bury either kind. Vultures and crows snapped at one another, fighting for the choice pieces of carrion. The stench of death was stained deep in his lungs, and his tongue tasted of ashes.

But a half-mile to the north, the castle still jutted up from the earth, formidable and strong. The monsters had not reached the gates, at the least, and the civilians were safe.

Link slid the Master Sword through the scabbard at his hip and stepped over the body at his feet, his eyes darting to the monster's face briefly, then away. Other survivors were drifting towards the castle as well, many of them carrying wounded comrades. He stopped to lend his shoulder to a limping soldier who looked ready to collapse.

It was the sixth day of the war against the Demon King, and they were barely holding the monsters back. The castle's food supplies were all but gone, and every day more soldiers were sent out to die against the enemy's forces. People were losing heart.

As Link picked his way across the field of corpses, half-carrying the wounded soldier, a warm current of air rushed past him. He looked up to see the red Loftwing streak across the sky towards the castle, its loose feathers drifting down to the ground. It always seemed to glow with light, even against the dark clouds, though Link knew that was more because of the rider than the bird itself.

He crossed the drawbridge at last and handed the injured soldier off to one of the nurses waiting at the castle's entrance. There was a crowd congregating in the courtyard. The families of the soldiers huddled close together, waiting for their loved ones to return. Many of them would stand at that gate for hours to come, watching for someone who would never appear.

The Goddess stood at the back of the crowd, her skin giving off a soft, otherworldly light. Though she was slight and slender, there could be no doubt of the authority she held. She was beautiful in an ethereal way, with wide sky-eyes and a tumble of pale golden hair. Her hand was on a young girl's shoulder, and she spoke to her quietly. The Loftwing was behind her, preening his crimson feathers. Hylia looked up when she saw Link approach.

"Hero," she greeted as the girl broke away and moved off into the crowd. Hylia's eyes, azure as the summer sky, looked him up and down without betraying her thoughts. Sometimes it felt like she could see right through him. "I am glad to see that you are well," she said finally.

Link knew what she saw—the slump of his shoulders, the scars on his face, the rips in his tunic and cloak. And most of all, the blood: caked onto his hands, soaked into his clothes, dripping from the blade of the Master Sword. None of it was his. When he tried to imagine the number of lives he had taken today, he felt ill. Link took a breath to ground himself. "How does the fight against the Demon King fare?" he asked.

Hylia's eyes flitted to the people in the courtyard, then back to Link. "Walk with me," she said, and he followed.

They found themselves in what had been the castle gardens before the drought and the war took their toll. Before they dragged Link down into the dungeon, this place was lush and green, filled with life and color. Now the earth was cracked dry, and the plants were no more than withered husks.

"May I share something with you, Link?" Hylia wondered. When he nodded, she said, "I do not believe we will win this war."

He snorted. "Everyone knows that, Your Grace."

"Yes," she agreed as she halted to brush her fingers against the dead remains of a flower. When she touched it, it lived again, its wilted petals lifting up and blooming in brilliant orange. Then she pulled her hand away, and the flower withered once more. "We can no longer save this land. But we can save its people. On the morrow, I will fight the final battle against Demise. Yet…I do not know if I will win." Hylia turned to Link and fixed him with those blue, blue eyes, and for the first time since her Loftwing had landed in front of him she looked afraid. "You must promise me, Link," she pleaded.

After being framed and imprisoned for so long, he was wary to trust, but there was sincerity in her voice. "Promise?" Link repeated.

Hylia put a warm hand on his arm. "Protect them. Protect my people. Keep the monsters back from the castle so I can send them to safety. And then join them, so you can be safe in the sky. Promise you will live even if I fall."

"I will keep them safe," Link vowed. He said nothing about the rest; he knew he wasn't going to survive this battle. It was a dread that sat deep in his chest, certain as the sunrise, yet he made his peace with it. His death was a small price to pay for the lives of thousands.

Hylia let out a breath and gently ran her fingers over the bruises the shackles had left on Link's wrists. Her touch was feather-light, like the kiss of a butterfly. "None of this has been easy for you, and I regret that," she said sadly. "But for what it is worth, thank you."

"Whatever happens tomorrow," he murmured, "I'm glad I got to fight at your side. It's been an honor. We both did everything we could."

Hylia nodded, and Link took her hands. His were callused and scarred; hers were soft and unblemished.

Their fingers locked, desperately strong, and they held fast to one another like a port in the storm.

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By the time she reached his body, her white skirts were stained crimson.

The Demon King died with rage and a vow for vengeance, but he would terrorize the land no longer. And Hylia had rent the castle from the earth, sending it up to the sky, out of sight from the ashes of what had been their home.

She stepped over the corpses of monster and human alike to reach him. Link's back was leaned against the face of a boulder, his head tilted back. His hand was pressed against the wound at his side, the green tunic soaked with red. His eyes were open and glassy, staring up at the sky.

Hylia reached him and knelt, reaching out to close his eyes. If she ignored the stiffness of his muscles and the blood covering him, he could be sleeping.

He broke his promise, she thought, and for the first time in centuries, Hylia felt tears come to her eyes. She blinked, and let them fall. And yet he had held Demise army's back, and now her people were safe in the clouds, away from this nightmare. He kept his promise.

Hylia leaned forward and pressed a kiss on his forehead, even though the skin was long since cold.

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Thousands of years later, in a town called Skyloft, a goddess was born inside a girl and a hero was born inside a boy.
Through storm and fire and a narrowly avoided apocalypse, they found their way back to each other. And this time, he stood on the goddess statue with his hand in hers, and promised that he would stay.

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