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Chapter Text

“I’m actually quite embarrassed to say it, but I was thinking about what I do when I’m healing.” 

Mipha fidgeted and blushed – however Zoras blushed. 

“You know, what usually goes through my mind… It helps when I…” 

Her eyes flicked over to the princess’s face. 

“When I think about –” 

The ground shook, and crimson thunder rained down from the sky as the sick entity of corrupted darkness rose and began to swirl around the remains of Hyrule Castle.  The Champions stood there in a moment of shock and horror, before corralled into action.  They scattered off to their prospective Beasts.  

Revali crouched down, ready to take off to where Vah Medoh was perched, ready for battle – but a tug of a feather stopped him.  Link had snatched a wing into his hand, face pinched into a strange expression in a moment of doubt.  Not doubt, exactly.  Perhaps more like hesitation. It was unlike the man to show it, usually confident and sure of every swing of his sword.  

Revali turned to face him.  “What is it, hero?  Here to kiss me goodbye?” It was said half-sarcastically, but the bird did not startle when Link pulled him down to press a quick peck of the lips to his beak.  It did, however, cause his down feathers to ruffle embarrassingly.  These little moments of affection never failed to do so.  These actions had become more commonplace as the duo grew closer, transforming from an initial tense rivalry to close camaraderie, until it tread into some unknown territory of tenderness.  

The Rito broke out of his stupor to look the shorter man in the eyes.  “I have something to confess to you, about our… our bond, of sorts.”  It was a rare moment of sincerity for the prideful bird, and it caused his eyes to trail down to the braid he had woven into Link’s hair some weeks ago.  Unbeknownst to him, it was a Rito custom of courting – the truth was on the tip of Revali’s tongue, but he eyed the darkening horizon.  “I suppose it can wait until after battle.” 

Link looked ready to question it, but another rumble of the collapsing castle and they were painfully reminded of their duty.  They shared a quick embrace, perhaps held a second or two longer than usual, then parted ways.  It was time to face the demon king that plagued their land.  

No ‘good lucks’ or farewells were spoken, for they did not need it; they had spent the past months arduously training and preparing for this horrid day to come – whatever the outcome of this fateful battle was, it all came down to them.  They could only hope it was enough. 

---

It wasn’t enough. 

This was the first thought that came to Link’s mind as he woke in the liquid chamber.  He was made painfully aware of how alone he was, memories of chaos and battle and failure you failed the Princess you failed them all rushing back through his head – suddenly the shrine felt all too suffocating and the walls were closing in on him, daunting and mocking.  Brushing aside a stray korok, Link stumbled towards the exit, ignoring the wooden crates and chests in favor of his need to get out, leave.

I wasn’t enough. 

Outside, he was greeted with the sight of a barren world, overgrown with shrubbery and camps of bokoblins around each corner.  The once bustling town was in ruin, all broken cobblestone and burnt wooden skeletons of houses.  In some twisted way, it was beautiful, the way a wilted flower is beautiful.  A grim reminder that, over time, nature always has its way.  

But then, a voice – Princess Zelda’s voice – rang out into the clearing, urging him.  She’s alive.  Then, everyone else could be alive too. 

This realization rushed through Link’s head, and the next moments blurred by.  He looted some clothes from some abandoned house (he didn’t want to think about who they last belonged to).  He knelt to the spirit form of the late King Rhoam Bosphoramus (he didn’t want to think about his unnatural green glow waiting in the misshapen temple for his return).  He was in Kakariko, standing before whom he could hardly believe was his friend Impa (he didn’t want to think about how her wrinkled skin was old and veiny compared to his).  

Perhaps Link will look back later and regret his lack of attention.  He was, after all, the Hero of Hyrule.  He was destined to defeat Ganon, seal the darkness, and return Hyrule to its former glory – but he wasn’t all too eager to rematch the big bad, not after the disasters of his last battle.  No, none of that mattered now – all he needed was to find his friends, find Revali, destiny be damned.  

And that is how Link found himself shivering his way through the blizzards of Tabantha region, tunic abandoned for the old man’s scratchy doublet and pockets stuffed with spicy peppers.  He could hear the trills of Rito Village before he could see it, and he almost cried tears of relief.  The wooden walkways were soft clouds under his frostbitten toes, and the first thing he did was shove a handful of rupees toward the innkeeper before all-but throwing himself into a hammock and passing out.  

For once, he wanted to sleep in – but it was a hero’s instinct to be ready for action, to rise before even the sun did.  So Link begrudgingly rolled out of the warm linens and smacked face-first onto the wooden panels at precisely 5am, ready to do some heroing.  

The roost community was fairly close, and so the elder had already been notified of Link’s arrival before he feebly knocked on the post of the owl’s platform.  He was led to “Revali’s Landing”, they had called it – and oh, didn’t his heart pinch at the memory of their first meeting, a haughty sneer between a too-proud archer and a too-stoic knight.  Then off he went back into the cold, gone to find some Teba at the flight range.  

Teba reminded Link somehow of Revali, though perhaps a bit more reserved.  Something about his ever-present frown, or his confidence in each wing stroke, or the look of his disapproving ‘I’m better than you’ eyes.  But no matter how much Teba claimed to be, he would never rival Revali – he had a wife and children, a family to return to each night.  In stark contrast, Revali would claim that he was dedicated only to his title of the Ritos’ best warrior, that he had no time for something as trivial as love and sentiment.  He cared for no one, at least not until the Champions – they became his family.  

That is what Link thought as he sheepishly boarded Teba’s back, shot at the corrupted Vah Medoh, and watched Teba fly back to the roost to tend to his burnt feathers.  Revali would have continued, would have fought and claimed he was fine until his wings were charred off, the reckless fool.  

Treading lightly on Medoh’s back, he noted a few dents and scratches from a few of his stray bomb arrows.  Link winced internally – ‘vali will have my head for this, he thought as he imagined his feathered friend squawking at his terrible bowmanship that marred his precious Beast’s surface.  He knew this was a distraction, though, something to take his mind off the worry at the forefront of his head.  He only heard the Princess’s voice in the Shrine of Resurrection; the rest of his friends, though, he could only hope they had waited for him too.  

The moment he stepped inside, he was greeted with a voice – his voice.  

“Well now, I’ve seen that face before…” 

Link startled, looking every which way for the voice’s speaker.  “... Revali?” 

“I had a feeling you would show up eventually.  But making me wait a hundred years is a bit… indulgent.” 

Something tight within Link’s chest released, a tight coil between his ribs sprung loose.  They had a chance.   

Link did not hesitate to follow Revali’s orders, desperate to see him again.  He laughed at each of his condescending jabs as he lit up terminal after terminal – for him it was just a few days ago he last saw him, but still he had missed that proud peacock.  And when the Windblight emerged, a horrendous amalgamation of darkness and old rusted metal, Link felt no fear.  No, he only felt righteous fury, a fire burning in his stomach.  Looking at the face of the creature that had hurt Revali, it was not difficult to leap into battle, defeat the being and watch as it shrieked and shriveled into nothingness.  

Perhaps this was not very heroic of him, but some darker part of Link felt a twinge of satisfaction to watch the creature writhe in pain.  But this wrath was quickly forgotten as the green flickering form of Revali appeared before his eyes.  

No.  Not like this.  

Eyes wide, Link ran towards him, the aches of scrapes and bruises ignored.  Leapt to meet him halfway – and he passed straight through the transparent form.  

No. No. No. No no no I was too late I failed I–

A wing swapped at wringing hands.  “Now, now, none of that.” Link looked up through teary eyes to see the disapproving yet fond expression on Revali’s face.  “You’re here now – that’s all that matters,” he murmured softly.  He pressed his beak close to Link’s forehead.  

It was then Link understood.  Revali was gone, yes, but he was still here.  He had died all those years back, but he had waited for him.  Trusted Link to come back and free him.  And so Link put his grief aside.  

The duo stayed, talking for hours.  Revali talked about his final moments fighting the Windblight, the shame and terror that rose in him once he realized he was going to be bested for the first and last time.  Link talked about protecting the Princess ‘til the end, waking up in the chamber alone, the guilt he felt knowing he had failed as a hero, though he had never wanted the title in the first place.  Deep in conversation Link could almost imagine the brush of feathers holding his calloused hand. 

They stayed together until the sun rose and the ache in Link’s body made itself known.  Taking the gift of Revali’s Gale with him, he promised to visit again soon, to free the rest of their friends and most importantly “take care of yourself!  Hylia knows you don’t do it enough!”, through the wise words of the Rito. 

Chapter Text

From the tip of Medoh’s beak, Revali saw a beam of red light emerge from Vah Ruta’s trunk that signalled Link’s triumph over the Waterblight, and smiled.  He thought of Mipha.  Soft and sweet yet strangely fierce, it was impossible to dislike her – it was no secret that she was the unanimous favorite of all the Champions.  

He remembered first meeting her, seeing her small soft-spoken form and scoffing.  Healers held no weight in battle, only stood off to the side and supported the big hitters.  That was what he thought until he saw her wield her Zora spear, twisting and lunging like a graceful dancer in the water, not to mention the thousands of times she healed a broken wing from a spar gone wrong, gently chiding to be more careful.  

That taught him never to underestimate her again – she had gained his respect, and now it was his turn to gain hers.  He had confessed this to her one night, sitting together over a campfire and slightly inebriated by one too many bottles of mead.  Mipha looked at him and laughed – not the delicate giggle that sometimes escaped her mouth, but a loud, raucous roar he’d expect more from Daruk.  After her laughter had subsided, she leaned on him, said that he need not seek it – he already had it.  Truly, she was the best of them all.  

After Vah Ruta was freed, Link returned to Medoh before the next blood moon rose.  His travels became quicker and easier as he unlocked shrines and towers across the land.  His arrival was announced once more with the eerie blue glowing from the portal.  

Link’s hands were flying before they stopped glowing blue.  A man in Kakariko! Obsessed with cuckoos!!  His hair was disheveled, as if one had made a nest in it.  Revali moved to untangle and groom it, maybe redo the Rito braid on the right, but then remembered his pale transparent form.  

His room was completely filled with cuckoo drawings!  And he was sobbing that they had escaped, so I had to find all ten of them and they are really really aggressive and something about their eyes are just so demonic and I hate them I hate them very very much.  

Link made a dramatic huff, as if to emphasize how much trouble they had given him.  It was oddly endearing.  “What?  The Hero of Hyrule can’t handle a few small birds?” 

“It wasn’t a few, it was ten.  And I would slay three Hinoxes before I’d touch another cuckoo again.”  Link’s voice was rough from disuse.  

“How is Mipha?  I trust Waterblight didn’t give you any trouble like the cuckoos did?”    

Oh shove off.  I swear they’re demon spawn, the little terrors.  Link’s eyes brightened – speaking of Mipha though… 

Using the Gale he gifted to him, Link swiftly swooped up high above Medoh’s back that Revali had to squint to see his small form.  What on Hyrule was he doing?  He floated there for a moment, until he began to hurl back down, gaining acceleration every second.  

Was this a new paragliding trick Link had learned from Rito Village?  Why is he going so fast?  If this is a new paragliding trick, why isn’t he using his paraglider?  You have a paraglider, Link.  Use it.  Any moment now.  ANY MOMENT NOW.  

Revali’s panic grew exponentially with Link’s fall – he stumbled over his feet to catch him, just for his body to pass straight through his feathered arms.  The body made a sickening crack, and if spirits could get sick Revali most certainly would have.  

Oh Hylia the Hero of Hyrule just died in front of him what the hell he still has two more champions to free he still has to defeat Ganon and save Zelda and there he is completely broken and mangled and oh there it is the corpse of Link he’s dead he’sdeadwhattheactualfuck– 

A pale green glow surrounded Link’s body and suddenly Mipha’s spirit form appeared.  Revali let out an undignified squawk of panic he would later deny.  Her voice rang out like bells: 

“Link, just because I let you have my Grace, it doesn’t mean you have free reign to hurt yourself meaninglessly.  My patience is not unlimited, you know,” she chided only half jokingly.  And there he was, rubbing the back of his neck and grinning sheepishly and being completely whole, as if he didn’t just break himself moments ago. 

Revali stood mouth agape as he swiveled his head between the two forms.  Mipha?! 

“Do take care of my brother, Link.  He tends to be overenthusiastic in his duties as a prince – do not forget to remind him to be just Sidon himself, too.  I should return to my Ruta now – don’t hesitate to call for me when you need healing, just NOT some silly party trick for Revali,” she teased.  And then she was gone.  

There was a pregnant pause as Revali checked Link over again for any remnant of a wound.  There was none.  Then: “you saw Sidon in Zora’s Domain?” 

Yes, he’s grown quite well into a prince.  Just as beloved by the Zora people as Mipha was!  He’s honestly amazing.  

Revali thought of the small, teary-eyed guppy from before that had clung to Mipha’s legs, and honestly couldn’t imagine him as a grown regal prince.  But he looked at Link and he had a soft smile on his lips and a small tint on his cheeks and oh, he felt a deep burning in his gut he didn’t know could happen, let alone be caused by that small Zora child from a century ago.  

“What about Rito Village?  How is the roost?” He blurted.  Anything to wipe that expression off of Link’s face.  

Link’s eyes lit up and he pulled his tablet off of his belt, glowing a bright cyan blue.  The digital pictures displayed snapshots from the roost post-Calamity: five young Rito fledglings at Warbler’s Nest, Link making salmon meuniere in a cooking pot with his tongue stuck out, a white feathered warrior Rito stringing a bow.  

Teba!  Oh, you two would have gotten along like birds of a feather.  Or perhaps you might have hated him, who knows.  

He shrugged, as if the thought was humorous to him. 

He trains at the Flight Range every day, says he wants to master your Gale! He was the one to bring me to Medoh. 

Link continued to talk about the village, but Revali could not listen.  He only thought of the roost, his home – or he supposed it used to be his home.  The burning in his gut curdled further.  

Then he felt a deep immense guilt, shame that for just a moment, he wished the village was worse off without him.  But no, he should be happy, glad that his home was doing so well.  Even if it meant that he was not part of it.  Even if it meant he was replaceable.  

As if sensing his discomfort, Link had paused to look at him, deep in thought.  He spoke, hesitantly: “They named the landing after you.”  It seemed Link could almost hear his thoughts echoing in his head, a mantra of notenoughnotenoughnotenough – and he had pitied him for it. 

In that moment Revali felt a terrible surge of hatred towards the hero and his sympathetic eyes frowning at him in worry.  He hated being pitied, hated his translucent nonexistent feathers, hated that he could not fly past the span of Medoh’s metallic wings.  He hated that Link had the luxury to complain about his hero title he inherited the moment he was born, when Revali had to sacrifice his life just to have his name slapped on a small landing.  That Link could roam all of Hyrule, flying with his Gale, while he was forever anchored to his Divine Beast.  

It was too much.  Too much to handle.  “Please… stop.”  It was hard not to revert to his ways of snappy fury, but he could try for Link.  

Link opened his mouth.  “I–” 

“Enough!  Enough about the village, Teba, the landing.  I’ve had enough.” 

Link stood there, eyes wide.  Revali had not used that voice with him for a long time now.  His fingers fidgeted; Revali wait, I – 

“ Leave. ” Link looked close to tears.  “I can’t do this right now.  Leave me be.  Don’t you have anything better to do, hero? ”  Revali often called him that in moments of teasing fondness.  He now spat it like an insult.  

Mouth half open, he looked like he had more to say, but after a moment’s pause, Link turned away, defeated.  Revali did not see him go, only saw his shadow against the reflection of the blue portal, before it disappeared.  

--- 

Link had known from the moment he mentioned Teba that he had spoken wrong.  He saw the envy in Revali’s eyes and knew, but it was too late.  He left Medoh feeling dejected – but he supposed he had time to visit Zora’s Domain, see Sidon, before he left for the deserts. 

Chapter Text

It took some time for Link to return to Revali after that.  Revali spent every night pacing through the chambers of his divine beast, reliving their last conversation.  He could admit that his temper was not the best.  He had been unnecessarily cruel to Link in his grief, that could not be denied.  But their relationship was resilient – Revali had slung insult after insult upon first meeting Link, and still their friendship endured.  

In his time alone, he decided.  Next time Link visited, Revali would tell the truth.  Tell him about the braids, his heart skipping a beat every time he leaned into his crest, how he craved for more time with him.  He had lost everything in his failure to defeat Windblight Ganon – he would not lose Link, too. 

So when Link inevitably appeared again, Revali steeled himself.  It was just Link – nothing had changed between them, and so nothing needs to change.  He prepared a winning smile that probably looked like an ugly grimace on his bird beak, and made a dramatic swivel to face the portal.  

“So hero, I see Urbosa’s beast glowing red from here.  I take it the Gerudo people are doing well, now that you’ve saved them all, huh?”  He made sure to add an extra teasing tone so Link knew he was playing nice after their last conversation.  

He snuck a look to see Link with a small relieved smile, with a hand raised awkwardly in greeting, no worse for wear.  So he too was nervous.  Good.  Ask a question to fill the silence – think of something– 

“I can’t believe you convinced them to let you into Gerudo Town.  From what I remember, Urbosa said strictly no men were allowed inside the walls.”

There, they call it ‘voe’.  If it was possible, Link looked even more awkward.  “And… and I didn’t convince them.”  He winced.

Wait, then how did he– oh.  oh.  This is pure comedic gold.  He shot a mischievous smirk at the furiously blushing hero.  “Crossdressing, Link?  Really?  I didn’t know you were into that kind of play.” 

I’m not!  I was undercover!  Link flushed a darker red.  It was really too easy to tease him. 

“I bet you’d make a terrible girl, Link. Too brash and rough, no ‘voe’ would like that in a partner.” 

Now that’s not true!  Y’know, I was forced into this ‘Voe and You’ class and the headmistress, Ashai, told me I was the ideal vai.  Link preened a bit until he seemed to realize what he said – and burst into incomprehensible mumbles.  Suddenly he lit up and grinned back evilly – you just want to see me in Gerudo garb, don’t you? 

Revali choked.  “No! I’m just saying, I would make a better woman than you would.  You see, you lack a certain poise, grace, that I have.  I’m certain I would attract more mates than you.”  And wow, Revali never could have imagined himself saying such a thing. 

I guess I’ll just have to show you then.  Link crossed his arms in a childish show of mock-pout and dug out his sheikah slate, swiping a few times then glowing a faint blue, champion’s tunic dissolving off his torso.  Sheikah technology never ceased to amaze.  

A veil covered the lower half of his face, and a loose-fitting top draped over his shoulders.  He crossed his arms as if to say I told you so and strutted dramatically in a circle.  Link looked absolutely ridiculous doing so, and it would have been utterly hilarious if not for the starburst scars scattered across his arms and back.  

“You’re injured.”  The playful mien soured.  

Link rubbed his neck.  It’s fine.  Thunderblight was a bit of a challenge, but I defeated it.  It’s fine now.  Urbosa is fine now.  

Oh Hylia, how had Revali not noticed it until now?  The way Link avoided moving his arm a certain way, a telltale sign of phantom pains and skin pulled taut.  He couldn’t imagine the excruciating pain of being struck by lightning, let alone being struck five, six times.  

“It’s fine, really.”  Link must have sensed Revali’s discomfort.  Y’know, not all of these are even from Vah Naboris.  I actually got this one – he pointed to his left forearm – trying to unlock a shrine deep in the Faron region , he tried to joke, but it fell flat.  

And there it was again, the inexplicable fury that came with worrying for Link’s well-being.  It came and went with every injury.  As a fellow Champion, Revali knew that such things were sometimes inevitable – but knowing the hero well, he knew Link would not hesitate to scale a mountain cliff with no regard to the dangers of falling just to search for more korok friends.  

Yes, the notion of it made him furious, furious that Link could so easily throw his life away being foolish when he had a duty to perform, when the whole entire world’s fate relied on him.  He didn’t understand how absolutely terrible it was to look down and see yourself pale and green and completely see-through.  

Revali burst.  “Link, you need to stop being so reckless!  You are a hero first and foremost – you have a duty to save Hyrule from Calamity Ganon, why are you wasting it frolicking in the jungles, getting yourself hurt meaninglessly?” 

I told you, it’s fine.  Ire flashed across Link’s face, pinching his brows together.  I can take care of myself.  I healed myself in the Zora Domain’s waterbeds, I can still fight Ganon.  

Revali couldn’t help it – he scoffed.  “What, there to visit Prince Sidon again?” 

And what if I did?  What’s it to you?  Link felt the frustration building in his throat.  It made him angry and vindictive.  He took a deep breath to compose himself.  “Sidon has asked permission to court me.  And I accepted.” 

“No.  I won’t allow it.” 

“I wasn’t asking for your permission.”  

“You have no time to flirt and loiter.  You’re to defeat Ganon and save Princess Zelda.  Or have you forgotten about her, too?”  Link reared back, as if struck.  

“What are you here for, Link?  To boast your ability to roam the world, while I’m tethered to a floating hunk of metal?  Be able to abandon me, replace me with a red excitable fish?” 

Link frowned, as if the notion bothered him.  Sidon is not your replacement, Revali.  For one, he sees past my hero title and regards me as an actual being.  

Link wanted to be petty, defend his new partner’s name, but he saw this for what it was – a tragedy of something that could have been, but now could never be.  It wasn’t Revali’s fault.  He took another shuddering breath, full of grief and sad acceptance.  “Don’t you see, Revali?  We were never anything back then, and we’ll never have the chance now.  You’re dead, Revali.”  His rough crackly voice sounded like a death sentence.  

“ And whose fault is that? ” Revali spat.  Every word dripped out from his mouth like venom.  It was terribly cruel, he knew that, but in that moment of hurt all he wanted to do was hurt back.  “It was your failure that left me, left all of us for dead.  In our final battle we all called for your help and you didn’t answer .”  

Link was truly crying now.  Revali had never seen him cry before, didn’t know he could cry at all. Never thought he could be the one to cause his tears.  Perhaps he didn’t know the hero as well as he thought.  He screamed, words cracked and broken – “I’m sorry, I’m sorry I didn’t want to leave you I didn’t want to survive without you I didn’t ask for this I didn’t want this to happen–” Link was hardly understandable at his point, sobbing broken apologies.  

Oh Hylia, Revali felt disgustingly ugly for it, but he could not control the words escaping him, striking into their target like a pack of starving Tabantha wolves.  “You’re a selfish fool.  You failed us all, hero.  The world is in ruin because of you.  Zelda is suffering in that godforsaken castle because of you.  We are all dead because of you – and you have the audacity to court with the brother of the one you killed?”  He didn’t mean it, he didn’t mean it why couldn’t he stop? 

Link couldn’t speak.  He was hyperventilating.  Mipha – Mipha didn– Revali swiped his wing sharply through his wringing hands.  “It doesn’t matter what Mipha thinks.  It doesn’t change the fact that she’s dead.  That we’re all dead.  You can move on all you want, but you’ll never escape the fact that it’s all. Your. Fault. ” 

It was deadly silent, save Link’s body-wrenching sobs.  And then Revali saw it – an invisible weight on the hero’s, on Link’s , shoulders.  Dragging his shoulders down.  The immense amount of responsibility and guilt and grief weighing down on his head and neck and spangly scarred limbs.  A hero’s duty he never asked for but was thrust upon him anyway.  He looked small.  Just a boy made to endure the world’s terrors.  It was then that Revali understood.  

Has it always been there?  How could he have missed it before?  Did he do that to him? 

An apology was on the tip of Revali’s tongue, but Link was already gone.  An apology wouldn’t have mended anything anyway.  Link was long gone – he had been for a long time, now. 

Chapter Text

Link did not return for long after that.  Revali kept expecting him to reappear on Medoh’s portal – he imagined and reimagined how it would go: a heartfelt apology, a promise to be better, a sweet embrace.  But he never came back.  Not after Vah Rudania was appeased, glowing red from its mouth like its brother and sister Divine Beasts.  Not after he heard Zelda’s plea for help, warning that she couldn’t hold Ganon off much longer.  Not even after the final battle at Hyrule Castle.  

The battle against Ganon was almost anticlimactic, how easily Link took him down.  Of course, it didn’t stop Revali from worrying for him every hit he took, but really, Ganon never stood a chance against the force of nature that was Link.  It was painfully clear now: Link was truly the strongest of them all.  And Revali couldn’t even feel his usual envy for the hero and his natural-born talent, not now that he understood all the sacrifices he unwillingly had to make for it. 

Calamity Ganon was gone.  Princess Zelda emerged from Hyrule Castle scraped and bruised, but alive.  The world could finally heal.  And so one by one, the Champions began to pass on, with the Calamity defeated.  

Daruk was the first. Steady and fearless, he was always the reliable support in the group, first to explore somewhere new and ready to protect his friends.  Though he sometimes acted brash and childish, he had an unexpected aura of wisdom to him, looking outwards to the horizon.  So he had no qualms leaving this plane of existence, eager to explore the ultimate unknown.  Revali felt the moment Daruk did, Rudania going to rest in its vacancy and preparing for its next pilot.  Perhaps Yunobo, when he matured into a fully grown Goron.  

Urbosa was next.  She had some things to attend to before she was ready to go – check in on Gerudo Town, make sure the young Chieftess Riju was fit to lead (she was).  Although Zelda was officially the leader of the Champions, Lady Urbosa naturally fit into the role much easier, headstrong and confident in her decisions.  She was inclined to indulge the Princess in her interests in research and relieve her of her royal duties anytime her father turned his back.  She was like a mother to Zelda and to the rest of the group, always knowing what people needed and caring for everyone individually.  And so when she saw the world thriving without needing her care, she was content to pat Naboris once more on the back, then leave her ghostly form.  

Mipha took a bit longer to pass on.  She was always a bit sentimental, always caring too deeply (though she would argue there was no such thing).  It was bittersweet to see her baby brother grown up, beloved by everyone and a splitting image of what she could have been if she had had more time.  Mipha was hesitant to leave – hesitant to leave Sidon, to leave Zelda.  She spent months atop Ruta’s trunk watching from above, morosely peering down to see Hyrule rebuild its pathways, reestablish trade routes with the Zora, and repopulate its city.  It was the night after Zelda’s coronation that she finally accepted that it was her time to leave.  So she kissed Sidon’s forehead, smoothed Zelda’s golden hair one last time, and vanished by the morning.  

As for Revali?  He couldn’t move on.  He couldn’t bear to do it.  He spent years alone on Vah Medoh, circling endlessly above his old home, stewing in self-pity, waiting for Link to come back.  At first, Revali reverted to his anger – it was easy, comfortable even.  His anger was something he was used to.  He wanted to blame Link for abandoning him, leaving him alone in the sky.  But it eventually simmered down to some sense of mourning – grief for a love that could have been, but ultimately did not become.  

In the end, he really was useless.  In his younger years, he had fantasized dying like a martyr, one great heroic death to be immortalized forever like the warriors in the village’s folktales.  Now that he’s lived it, the tales didn’t talk about the immense grief that came with a life cut short.  They didn’t talk about how heroes, no matter how great, were eventually forgotten when they weren’t needed.  

Revali wasn’t needed anymore.  That’s all that could be said.  He’s been here for ages now watching as the world moved on without him – as Link moved on without him.  Was he even real?  Was he even a spirit, or just a memory?  Maybe Link already forgot about him.  He was useless, after all.  Maybe Link was already dead – maybe he already lived a good, long life.  Maybe he was old and wrinkled and content in old age, peacefully waiting for death with his lover, knowing they both will never experience the cold nothingness of a green translucent body.  Maybe Link forgot about him.  

It was at that moment that Link finally returned to Vah Medoh, portal glowing blue where Revali thought would never activate again.  Revali dared to take a look at him.  He was older now – his hair was longer and tied back, his face had lost its remaining baby fat on his cheeks, he was tall and broad and lean.  He looked like a true hero, one who had seen the world crumble and fall, and had come out kinder and wiser because of it.  Most importantly, he was wearing the official Zora jewelry indicating a marriage: sapphire circlet on his temple, silver cuffs around his wrists, jeweled ornaments scattered across his chestplate.  He looked beautiful.  The Hero of Hyrule and the Zora Prince: they were a well-matched couple.  

Link walked up to him.  They stood in the main chamber, where both Revali and the Windblight fell years ago.  They stood silently for a while, looking into each other’s eyes – one’s bright blue, the other’s pale and white.  Then, Link spoke: 

“I love you.”  It was spoken like an undoubted fact, a simple truth of the world.  

“You loved me.” 

Link closed his eyes, smiled sadly.  “I have to let you go.” 

“I know.” 

A pause.  

“Well, I suppose this is my cue to leave?  To let go?” 

Link said nothing, only nodded once.  He had a soft bittersweet smile on his lips, and the sun shone right through making his hair gleam golden.  Looking at him, Revali forgot all the pain endured in the past years.  He felt no anger – he had none left.  No, he could only feel a form of sad acceptance, acceptance that Link was always too radiant, too good for him.  Oh Hylia, he deserved the best in the world.  Let him be happy, let him know no pain. 

One last thing: “Please, don’t forget me.  Don’t forget us.  When you remember me, do not remember my cruelty nor my words – only remember the love I held for you.  Oh Link, forgive me, please don’t forget me.” 

And suddenly Link pulled him close.  He gasped – they touched.  Held in a sweet embrace, Link whispered – “Never, Revali.  I will never forget you.” 

Revali felt relief blossom in his chest, expanding outward.  He was lighter than a stray feather floating away in the wind.  When he was alive, he was so boastful of how weightless his flight was – he knew nothing of weightlessness then.  Now he was unanchored, unbound to the heavy mortality of the earth.  He was free.