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The air was cold, this high up, at this time of night.
Link sat by the fire he had built on this lonely outcrop of a sky island, high above Hyrule. The fire crackled gently as he stared silently off into the distance. A few used wooden skewers, the remains of his dinner, sat on the ground by his side. Next to them, a package wrapped delicately in cloth.
Not quite cold enough to necessitate the lovely Snowquill jacket he had bought from the Rito Village, Link had nonetheless wrapped a thin blanket around his shoulders to seal in some warmth and make his watch a little more bearable. The Glide suit wasn’t very insulated, focusing more on being aerodynamic, but he’d need it for what he had to do. Better to be prepared, even if a little more uncomfortable.
The Master Sword, whole and recharged, was hung around Link’s shoulders. After so long apart, he was afraid to put her down on the ground.
It was quiet, this high up. No chorus of crickets and frogs to sound through the night, like on the ground. Up here, there was only the sound of the wind and the occasional birds that lived up here on the sky islands to accompany your thoughts.
Link sighed, rising from his seated position for the first time in an hour or so. He stretched backward, feeling his spine pop a few times. A few more bones popped and clicked as he stretched in various directions, getting his blood flowing again.
It was as he was reaching down to grab another handful of sticks for the fire, that he happened to glance back toward the horizon he’d been staring at for so long.
And froze.
There she was.
The Light Dragon, that unmistakable aurora of colors around her head. Her long form trailing through the night sky as she continued her endless, lonely flight. A good distance off, and just a little below his position.
It was time.
Link quickly reached into his pack, producing a Splash Fruit. A quick squeeze, and the skin cracked, allowing the water within to pour onto the fire, extinguishing it.
Link grabbed the pointed nose of the Glide Mask from where it hung around his neck, affixing it over his eyes. He never stopped looking at the Light Dragon, as if she might disappear if he took his eyes off of her.
With one quick sweep of his arm, he grabbed the thin cloth package from the ground, tucking it into his bag.
Silently thankful he had just stretched, Link began to sprint for the edge of the sky island. The stone scraped under his boots as he leapt from the edge.
The wings of the Glide Suit unfolded at his sides and back, and the cold night wind slid under him as he caught it.
Link was flying now, arms at his sides as he rode the night winds toward the Light Dragon.
He was getting closer now. More and more of her slowly came into detail. Her claws, her long hair. Her piercing blue eyes, wild and mournful.
Link’s paraglider unfolded above him with a WHUMPH as he released it. His gloved hands held the straps with a tight, experienced grip, even as the cold air stung his exposed ears.
A flex of Rauru’s arm and Link’s will, and Tulin’s Aspect manifested in the air beside him, glowing blue in the night. It seemed to give him a somber look, before Tulin’s Gust blew from behind him, propelling Link forward, ever closer to his destination.
Getting close now. Link clenched his teeth, calculating his descent. If he missed, it would be tough going getting back to a height and position where he could try again.
He’d wait again if he had to.
This was important.
As if sensing his approach, the Light Dragon’s eye shifted, pointing straight at him.
With a low growl, she seemed to slow her flight, allowing him to get closer.
The updraft created by her flight finally caught the paraglider, lifting Link higher into the air, until he was directly above her.
Link quickly pulled on the taut cord attached to the paraglider straps, withdrawing it back toward him, allowing him to fall. In a practiced maneuver, he released it again, withdrew it again, released, withdrew, slowly controlling his fall.
Until, at last, he landed on the Light Dragon’s back.
Link’s hands reached out, grabbing the thick spike in front of him for support as he steadied his footing on her scales.
Satisfied he wasn’t going to fall, he began the slow, careful climb toward her head.
As he slowly clambered along her back, each step careful and measured, he scanned her scales, beautiful and rippling with her movement.
Every once in a while, he’d find something. A leaf, stuck between two scales. Some feathers from a bird that had had a close encounter. A loose scale, wedged between her carapace and one of her spikes.
The leaf and feathers he plucked from where they had stuck, allowing them to float away in the wind.
The loose scale, he pocketed, not knowing quite why, only knowing he would never bear to part with such a precious thing.
Eventually, Link clambered over the raised ring of scales at the top of her neck, finding the Light Dragon’s long, flowing hair before him.
He reached out, taking a strand in each hand, pulling himself upward. Unlike the sparse hair or the coarse whiskers of the other dragons, the Light Dragon’s hair was soft to the touch. It was thin and flexible, yet strong, and no less beautiful.
Link hated to pull on it, even though he knew dragons had naturally thick skin. She likely couldn’t even feel him climbing over her.
Still. It was the principle of the thing.
As he climbed, he tried his hardest not to think of how, even now, her hair still felt and smelled like her.
His boot touched down on the top of her forehead. He stood there for a moment, between the frontmost curl of her horns, staring ahead into the night. The Light Dragon continued her flight, the wind making Link’s hair flutter.
With a sigh, Link removed the Glide Mask from his face, before carefully stepping down onto the Light Dragon’s long, thin snout.
He gently turned, facing her, kneeling down onto one knee.
He pressed one gloved hand onto the area between her eyes, before leaning in, pressing his forehead against her soft fur.
A maelstrom of emotions spun in his chest. Relief. Grief. Fear. Hope. And, most of all, Love.
Link pulled his forehead back from hers, before climbing back onto the top of her head. Trusting her to keep her head level, he sat down, legs crossed, facing her hair, her long back and tail.
Link reached into his bag, delicately removing the cloth package, carefully unwrapping its cargo, before carefully tucking the enormous, glowing bouquet of Silent Princess flowers in his lap.
They were her favorite.
It hadn’t been easy, collecting this many.
But it had been important.
So he’d done it.
Link reached forward, wrapping his hand around another one of the Light Dragon’s hairs. He began to slowly pull it toward him, against the wind. It was long, like a length of rope.
Still, he pulled patiently.
Eventually, the end of the hair approached his hand. Link carefully, carefully removed one of the Silent Princesses from the bouquet. He began to wrap the hair around the stem, carefully weaving it into a tight knot that would take some work to undo.
Link gave the end of the hair an experimental tug in his hands. Then, satisfied that the knot was secure, he let it go.
The long hair flew backward in the breeze, carrying the Silent Princess with it, before catching taut as it reached its end. The Silent Princess remained where it was, held snug by the hair.
Link smiled, breathing a sigh of relief.
Then, he began the slow process of pulling another hair toward him.
Now that he had done it once already, he was able to do this one quicker with the knowledge that it would work. He expertly weaved the knot around the stem of the next Silent Princess, made sure it was secure, and let it fly from his hands.
It was slow going, braiding each of these flowers into the Light Dragon’s hair. Even as Link fell into a rhythm, it was no less time-consuming.
By the time the thirty-sixth and final Silent Princess was done, Link’s hands ached. The sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon, turning the dark greys and blues of the night sky to the orange and yellow of daybreak.
Link breathed deeply, cracking his knuckles, as he looked at his work of the past hour or so with a smile.
Three dozen Silent Princesses danced in the early morning breeze, glowing gently, woven into the Light Dragon’s hair, all along its length.
With the utmost care, Link slowly rose to his feet, standing once again on top of the Light Dragon’s head.
Slowly, delicately, he stepped down and backward, back onto her snout, facing her forehead. He ran one hand through her soft fur, hoping she knew and understood.
Dragons were mindless animals. Everyone knew that.
Even so, Link had to hope. He had to.
He pressed his forehead against hers once again, sniffling softly as his own tears leaked from the corners of his closed eyes. He cried silently, the strange cauldron of hope and grief in his chest finally bubbling over.
The Light Dragon rumbled in her throat, not quite a growl.
With a ragged sigh, Link pulled his head back from her forehead. He’d stay here all day if he could… but he knew he couldn’t.
There were too many people counting on him. There was another Blood Moon due for tonight. The Monster Patrol had their eyes set on a Moblin encampment in Necluda. And so much more.
Link kept his hand pressed against the Light Dragon’s forehead for a few seconds longer. A silent, unspoken promise.
Then, finally forcing himself to pull his hand away, he flung the paraglider into the air above him, where it caught her updraft almost instantly.
Link blinked the cold tears from his eyes as the Light Dragon fell away beneath him. Hyrule Field was spread before him, far below him.
She watched him as he went.