Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Sky was first watch.

He was often first watch.

It was one of those decisions that was made because of a bunch of little things piled up on top of each other. He was hard to wake up, for one, so second and third watch tended to not sit well for him. He was pretty sure no one liked trying to wake him up either, though he wasn’t sure why. He once caught the rest of the chain drawing lots for who had the honor, and he was more often woken by something tossed on top of him than a shake to the shoulder these days.

Getting him up, Sky assumed, was probably the main reason he was almost always put on first watch. The reason the rest of the group had silently agreed upon, trying not to make it too obvious. Sky accepted the favor graciously, quite willing to admit that first watch was his favorite anyhow. Not because it didn’t require waking up though.

He liked that he was there as the others went to sleep. He enjoyed watching over them, having them relax under his gaze as they slipped into pleasant unconsciousness. He sometimes felt that he was guiding them into pleasant dreams.

He always started his watch pulling out his harp, strumming it into gentle lullabies. Sometimes he hummed, or he sang along softly. The way Zelda – Sun – sometimes did for him in Skyloft.

He felt that their breathing was gentler when they fell asleep on his watch, though that might’ve just been his own pleasant imaginings.

Their group held calloused pasts with fevered scars on their minds. Sky often found that he had been the only one to get a full night’s sleep. So he hoped that his playing would transfer some of that peace to the others.

Because sleep was peace. To him. It was when he was awake that his thoughts would spiral and his guilt would start gnawing at his conscience. He would watch the others banter, see them cry or laugh or yell, and be reminded of his final failure. In a way, his wakefulness was his nightmare. Sleep was where his solace lay.

And he wanted that for the others.

Especially on nights like this.

All was calm, for the moment at least. But the day, the waking hours, had been bad. No one had left the battle scot-free. The monsters hadn’t stopped coming, surrounding them and drawing out the battle to try and wear the heroes down. It had lasted hours. And then it had taken hours more to heal the hits they had taken.

Wild and Legend were in the worst shape, both jumping in the fray to drive the battle off when Four had taken a hard hit to the head and gone down for a terrifying five minutes. It had felt like eternity. Four had eventually come to, hardly well enough to rejoin the battle but without much choice, and Legend and Wild had both managed to corner themselves in bad spots.

Probably because the two had decided to burn their way through the horde with fire.

Now everyone was patched up, though not free from pain, and quietly refusing to sleep. Each one going over his own failures, caring for everyone’s injury but his own, while curled into their matts. They either didn’t know they were bad at pretending to sleep, or they were so caught up in their own thoughts that they didn’t care. It was an old and familiar routine.

The three least injured had volunteered for watch. Sky, then Twilight, then Wind.

Sky was sure they were all wondering how any of them would sleep that night. But they still gave the pretense of trying.

Sky’s practiced fingers plucked at his harp, familiar lullaby – one passed from Zelda to Zelda apparently – curling its way through the camp. Its familiar chords were comforting, but not so much that they guided the group to sleep as usual. The lullaby was too well known among them, too often played, too easy to tune out.

Sky played it twice through, stopping in the middle of his third run. The self-imposed silence was jarring, even to his own ears. Glancing around at the others, more than one of his companions had unconsciously tensed at the change. But they still pretended to sleep.

Sky sighed, shifting so his back was to the fire. His gaze settled on the tree ridden horizon, stars blinking in familiar patterns above them. He let his eyes adjust away from the firelight, properly watching the borders as he considered his options. He was going to get his brothers to sleep tonight.

They needed it now more than ever.

He tested his instrument, plucking a few experimental notes. He had taken the time to learn a few new songs throughout this journey, soft spells of music that blessed with sleep. Lullabies from each time, from the peoples of the lands. Songs that, it seemed, most of them had forgotten in lew of their journeys and their princesses songs.

While the others explored, or helped with chores, or sparred, or got into mischief, Sky had been learning these songs. Though he had fallen asleep to their charms on more than one occasion, leading to the others just assuming that he used his free time to nap.

Which was actually fair.

But now, maybe they needed these new lullabies. The songs of the people they protected.

So Sky started plucking with purpose, humming gently as he tested his voice. The camp started to settle again, the heroes letting their thoughts wander with the music. But their pretense did not last so long this time, though they tried to keep still. This was a new song, one unfamiliar except for the one playing it, and it did not settle into their thoughts the way Zelda’s familiar lullaby did.

They listened with unconscious attention as their minds acclimated to the new notes.

Twilight had second watch, Sky remembered. The rancher would need to fall asleep soon to get any semblance of rest that night. So Sky started with a lullaby he had learned from one of the mothers watching the children run around Ordon.

He played it once with only a hum, making sure that he remembered the notes. Then, softly, he let the words fall from his lips.

“Wild wolf, please

 leave us be.

 I know you’re prowling

 Out from the forest

 to come steal from me.”

Sky trained his eyes onto Twilight as he sang, watching carefully to make sure the song wasn’t upsetting. It made sense this lullaby came from Ordon, but Sky was scared it might not sit quite right with the man who could literally turn into a wolf. It was why he hadn’t tried to play it around the others before now. It was a risk, but one that was worth taking on a night like this.

Luckily, Twi seemed to sink into the song. His breathing became more deep and regular, muscles visibly relaxing at Sky’s gentle tenor. So Sky continued.

“I know your pain,

Cubs hungry again,

But you won’t take mine from me.”

There was a soft shuffling through the camp, a collective change of thought as the heroes wrapped themselves into the lyrics. Still, only Twilight seemed so strongly affected.

“Wild wolf, please

Why won’t you feed

On the scraps

That I leave you?

I promise this

If my child you kiss

That is the last thing you’ll do.”

The last note faded out, the last word fading to a drifting hum. Twilights breathing was deep and regular, promising a hopefully deep and dreamless sort of sleep.

If he was prioritizing by watch, the Wind was next. Not to mention the fact that the sailor was still young. He needed his sleep more than the others, even if he didn’t want to admit it. That’s just how growing worked, whether he liked it or not.

Sky looked at the little sailor, the kids body had been curled into a tight ball earlier on. Now it was relaxed. Though Wind’s head still shook every now and then, shaking itself out from its sleepy stupor out of pure stubbornness. The chosen held back a chuckle, switching tunes in a near seamless shift of notes.

He had learned this one from Wind’s grandmother, a far away look in her eye as she sang. Now he slowed the tempo, creating a slightly more dreamy variation, watching the sailor carefully all the while.

“My bonny lies over the ocean,

My bonny lies over the sea,

My bonny lies over the ocean,

Oh bring back my bonny to me.”

Winds head stopped fighting its droop, a soft habitual hum matching the tune coming sleepily from the cot. It got quieter and quieter as Sky sang.

“Bring back,

Bring back,

Oh bring back my bonny to me

To me.

Bring back,

Bring back,

Oh bring back my bonny to me.”

The sailors hums had shifted to soft snores, blanket slowly rising up and down in time with his breath.

Two down, six to go.

Sky changed tunes once more, fingers creating a gentle ramble as he considered who to focus on next. Either Wild or Legend would probably be best, the two needed to heal. And sleep was part of that.

He decided on Legend. Wild was always jumpy, and would need as much relaxing as possible before he could even attempt to sleep after such a battle ridden day.

They hadn’t gotten much time with Legend’s Zelda, but she had taught Sky one lullaby she remembered hearing again and again as a child. He had laughed when he first heard it, feeling it rather suited the horder of a veteran. Now was a good time to test that theory out… if he could remember all the lyrics.

And the Vet didn’t get mad about being called a baby…

Well, there was a chance Legend wouldn’t immediately recognize it was for him, so there was that.

Sky let his tuneless drabble pick up the melody, vaguely aware of the others perking their ears up with interest. He was sure at least Four and Time had caught on to what he was doing by now, but it seemed they were all curious about the new songs.

“Hush little baby, don’t say a word-”

He heard a cough that sounded suspiciously like a snort from Four’s bedroll. Sky purposefully ignored him, focusing his energy into remembering the lyrics.

“Papa’s gunna buy you a mocking bird.

And if that mocking bird don’t sing

Papa’s gunna buy you a diamond ring.

And if that diamond ring turns brass,

Papa’s gunna buy you a looking glass.”

He glanced over at Legend’s cot, trying not to be obvious. The Vet was lying on his back, leg heavily bandaged and propped up. His hat was slipping down over his face, but he was making no move to fix it, shoulders strangely relaxed.

Sky slowed the song a little, coaxing out the embers of slumber that threatened the veteran’s eyes. Slowly, painfully, the Vet’s breathing steadied, bejeweled hands relaxing over his stomach.

“And if that looking glass gets broke,

Papa’s gunna buy you a billy-goat.

And if that billy-goat don’t pull

Papa’s gunna buy you a cart and a bull.

And if that cart and bull turn over

Papa’s gunna buy you a dog named rover.

And if that dog named rover don’t bark,

Papa’s gunna buy you a horse and a cart.”

The Vet’s soft breaths turned to barely audible snores. Sky let the notes slow even further, making sure his brothers sleep was true and deep.

“And if that horse and cart turn around,

You’ll still be the best baby in town.”

He plucked a few extra chords, working to transition to the song he learned from Flora without disturbing the caressing rhythm. It was doubtful the champion had any memory of this song, but Flora and Purah had assured him that music tended to imprint itself on the mind. It was one of the things the mind held on to the longest.

Wild might not remember the song consciously, but the chance was high that his mind would know it and react with comfortable familiarity. And even if he didn’t, Sky had a feeling the songs hauntingly familiar words would touch the champion’s close guarded emotions, gently collapsing in on him with the force of weighted sleep.

This melody was more complex, but well suited to the chosen’s kind tenor. His dreary audience listened on, falling for the calming weave of his voice.

“Oh, Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling

From glen to glen, and down the mountain side.

The summer's gone, and all the roses dying,

It's you, it's you must go and I must bide.

But come ye back when summer's in the meadow,

Or when the valley's hushed and white with snow,

It's I'll be here in sunshine or in shadow,

Oh, Danny boy, oh Danny boy, I love you so.”

Wild’s blankets shifted, a quiet snuffle lifting with his breath. He tried to hide it, but it was well too late. Wild was having a quiet sort of cry. Sky let his voice go a little louder, not much for fear of breaking his hard fought sleeping atmosphere, but enough that Wild wouldn’t feel the need to focus on quieting himself.

Sky sang on, hoping that the cry was a refreshing one. The kind that ended in a much needed and welcomed sleep.

“But when ye come, and all the flowers are dying,

If I am dead, as dead I well may be,

You'll come and find the place where I am lying,

And kneel and say an Ave there for me.”

Wild’s sniffles became further apart from each other, his breathing steadying himself as the others had. Sky let his voice soften instead of swell, leading his way to a gentle end of the melancholy song.

“And I shall hear, though soft you tread above me,

And all my grave will warmer, sweeter be,

For you will bend and tell me that you love me,

And I shall sleep in peace until you come to me.”

Sky let the notes ring to near silence, listening for the tell-tale sign of Wild’s quickened breath. But the champion stayed silent, breath softer than Sky thought he had ever heard him. Even and content. The Hero of the Wilds slept.

Before full silence disturbed Sky’s musical bubble, his fingers were moving again. He had been planning to do the song he had learned from the minish next, mostly out of spite from Four’s snort during Legend’s lullaby, but his fingers were sore. Wild’s song was beautiful, but more complex than many of the others. Now Sky needed to rest his hands with something a little more simple.

Hyrule was sniffing from his cot, apparently affected by the music meant for Wild. Then he could be next. The traveler needed his sleep anyways, his magic nearly drained entirely from the earlier battle and subsequent aftermath. He didn’t want to sleep, Sky could tell, he wanted to stay alert and ready to help.

But that would do no one any good. He would wear himself down. Sky started plucking the simple notes, remembering the basic tune Dawn had taught him during one of their rare visits to Hyrule’s castle. It was, apparently, one of the songs that kept her sane while in Ganon’s clutches. Not hard to remember, and a constant reminder that there was someone making his way through the world to reach her.

He plucked the tune twice through, letting his vocal chords rest for a moment. He caught Time’s single eye looking at him curiously as he did, the old man quickly looking away as he saw that he was caught. Silently, Sky thanked Hylia that he hadn’t thought to do Time’s song yet. The old man was a toughy, not in skill or content, but in the fact that he was, well, old. Older. Would a lullaby even work on him?

Voice properly rested, Sky was ready to sing to Hyrule. Steady and simple.

“Twinkle, twinkle, little star,

How I wonder what you are.

Up above the world so high,

Like a diamond in the sky.

Twinkle, twinkle, little star,

How I wonder what you are.”

Sky could see Hyrule’s ear twitch, remaining stubbornly silent but very much awake. Still, the rise and fall of the traveler’s chest had become a bit more even. Sky thanked the stars (no pun intended) that there were more verses.

“When the blazing sun is gone,

When he nothing shines upon,

Then you show your little light,

Twinkle, twinkle, all the night.

Twinkle, twinkle, little star,

How I wonder what you are.”

The tune was easy to remember, as were the words. It was something that felt very much like Hyrule, like a breeze drifting by with a nostalgic smell and happy memory.

“Then the traveler in the dark,

Thanks you for your tiny spark,

He could not see which way to go,

If you did not twinkle so.

Twinkle, twinkle, little star,

How I wonder what you are.”

Hyrule had gone very still. His breathing was still uneven for true sleep, but the words had caught in the traveler’s mind. Sky consciously slowed his tempo again, watching carefully as Hyrule drifted into fond memory of the land he loved so dearly he gave himself its name.

“In the dark blue sky you keep,

And often through my curtains peep,

For you never shut your eye,

Till the sun is in the sky.

Twinkle, twinkle, little star,

How I wonder what you are.

As your bright and tiny spark,

Lights the traveler in the dark,—

Though I know not what you are,

 Twinkle, twinkle, little star.

Twinkle, twinkle, little star,

How I wonder what you are.”

Hyrule was now audibly snoring, body deathly still otherwise. Fatigue, deep and true, settled on the travelers form, promising that he would not wake till well after the sun. So long as his dreams remained kind or dreamless.

Sky felt Time and Warriors watching him, both only mostly successful at being discreet, as he shifted into his sleeping ballad for Four. Four offered an almost amused grumble, fully aware what the chosen was doing and yet too exhausted to fight it. Sky could almost feel the smithy’s sarcastic ‘as if this is gunna work on me’, but that wasn’t going to stop him from trying.

His notes twined to a slightly gentler tune, this song with four verses. And it was minish certified. He hadn’t had as much time to learn this one as he had some of the others, and the little beings were somewhat hard to understand, so he went over the tune a couple times to make sure he remembered it well enough to play.

He hummed it out, a quiet duet with his harp, before daring to try the words.

“Down in the valley, valley so low

Hang your head over, hear the wind blow

Hear the wind blow, dear, hear the wind blow

Hang your head over, hear the wind blow.”

The beat was steady, the rhymes neat and pointed. The song was structured and predicable and all the more wonderful for it. Sky could almost physically see it winding into Four, the Smithy’s body sinking into the rhythm just as it would tapping out iron.

“Roses love sunshine, violets love dew

Angels in heaven know I love you

Know I love you, dear, know I love you

Angels in heaven, know I love you.”

Across the camp, Warriors gave a deliberate yawn, eyeing the smithy. Four’s mouth followed, stretching out into a betrayed copy of the yawn. Sky smiled, giving Wars a small nod of thanks.

“Writing this letter, containing three lines

Answer my question, "Will you be mine?"

"Will you be mine, dear, will you be mine?"

Answer my question, "Will you be mine?"

Sky stifled his own yawn, eyes locked on the smithy’s form. He couldn’t tell if he was sleeping or faking quite yet. A low hum joined Sky’s voice and he glanced over at Time, the old man’s low baritone melding unobtrusively to Sky’s tenor for the last verse giving the song a slightly sweeter tone.

“Down in the valley, valley so low

Hang your head over, hear the wind blow

Hear the wind blow, dear, hear the wind blow

Hang your head over, hear the wind blow.”

Four still did not move. Then, at once, a shuddering breath shook through the small body. And he was asleep, hard and sure.

Sky let his lips fall into a satisfied smiled, plucking his strings mindlessly again. Was he brave enough to attempt Time just yet? Perhaps not. The old man still seemed altogether too aware.

Wars then.

Sky had learned a number of songs from Wars’s time, but most of them were bellowing army songs. Songs to keep comrades near. Songs to liven a dead march.

Only one was a lullaby, taught to Sky by an old woman welcoming her grandson home. She had been kind, teaching him even has her grandchild cried hugging her skirts. The boy, the man, had been away for a long time. She said it was a song of peace. A song of rest. And often, of goodbyes.

It wasn’t easy on the harp, it didn’t sound as well. But the woman had asked Sky to play it for her after teaching it to him, and he had. Over and over for the reunited pair. And he had adapted it well, as well as he could.

He let his hands still, the camp entirely silent for the first time since he had started watch. The moon was much higher now, perhaps a week from being full. Neither Time nor Wars moved, something akin to anticipation – or perhaps suspense – hanging in the air. Sky took a deep breath, flexing his fingers as he reached for the familiar first note. He knew not everyone in the captain’s time knew the words, but there was no way Wars would mistake the tune.

Hopefully, Sky had made it gentle enough not to send the captain spiraling. Hopefully, his voice was kind enough to offer rest.

“Day is done, Gone the sun,

From the lake, From the hill,

From the sky.

All is well, Safely rest,

God is nigh.”

Wars had recognized the tune, though he had first relaxed into Sky’s voice. As Sky finished the first verse, the captain turned to look at him. His face was pale. But his eyes were drooping. Sky kept his smile soft, a gentle reminder that it was a song of rest. Not of loss.

“Thanks and praise, For our days,

Neath the sun, Neath the stars,

Neath the sky,

As we go, This we know,

God is nigh.”

As he sang, Sky wondered how many men the captain had put to rest with this melody. Hopefully, enough that it had become a comfort instead of a reminder. Warriors had moved, so he was sitting with his back to a tree. But his eyes were closed, a strange peace around his mouth and a single wet streak down his cheek.

“Fades the light; And afar

Goeth day, And the stars

Shineth bright,

Fare thee well; Day has gone,

Night is on.

Go to sleep, Peaceful sleep,

May the Soldier or Sailor,

God keep.

On the land or the deep,

Safe in sleep.”

The captains shoulders had visibly relaxed, slumping in his stubborn seat. Sky attempted to soften his voice further, guiding Warriors to a safe and dreamy place. He closed his eyes, feeling a soft rumble in his words as he drew the captain to a lasting slumber.

“Love, good night, Must thou go,

When the day, And the night

Need thee so?

All is well. Speedeth all

To their rest.”

Sky held the last note with a breathy waver, falling silent a moment after while his fingers started plucking a slightly more uplifting tune. If only for himself.

He opened his eyes again, finding Time staring straight at him. His gaze held a tired thanks, and a question with a bit of challenge attached. Sky’s fingers drifted to a new melody, sleepy and clear. He thought back to when he had asked Malon if she knew any songs that might help their difficult members fall asleep.

She had chuckled. She didn’t know if it would work for the others, but there was a dear little tune that supposedly knocked the old man right out. It was just… it was short. Much shorter than many of the others. Shorter than even Wind’s had been.

He wasn’t sure it would truly work. But he was going to take up the challenge. He had promised himself he’d get every single one of his brothers to sleep through that long and difficult night. That included time.

He forced himself to keep breathing evenly, refusing to let his nighttime nerves and the old mans stare get to him. It was a single verse only. Not particularly hard to play or sing.

Sky met Time’s challenging gaze with a soft look of his own, consciously coaxing the old man into his own plodding pace. Nothing need be fast tonight. (So said Sky’s eyes). The sleep they thought would never come now blanketed the brothers like snow. If music was, by nature, magic, then it had woven a true and strong spell of slumber.

Join the others, (Sky’s fingers begged, teasing out their tempting graces and dreaming melodies) and rest.

Softly. Softly. With great care. The single verse fell out, hanging on the hovering breeze and weaving its way through the dreamless camp. Battling the quickly lost Time.

“Rock’a’bye baby,

In the tree top,

When the wind blows

The cradle will rock.

When the bough breaks

The cradle will fall,

Down will come baby,

Cradle and all.”

Sky fell silent, watching Time’s heavy form beat with breath as steady as the rest. Truly and fully asleep.

Sky had done the impossible.

He took a deep breath and started plucking out one last melody, a gift for his brothers to guide their dreams. To blow away the worries of the day. To wish them rest.

“Lullaby and good night, with roses bedight

With lilies o'er spread is baby's wee bed

Lay thee down now and rest, may thy slumber be blessed

Lay thee down now and rest, may thy slumber be blessed.”

Sky decided to slightly change part of the next verse, making sure it better suited them. Substituting mother with brother was neither hard nor blasphemous, and brought the tune closer to his heart.

“Lullaby and goodnight, thy brother's delight

Bright angels beside my darling abide

They will guard thee at rest, thou shalt wake on my breast

They will guard thee at rest, thou shalt wake on my breast.”

He sang the last verse, knowing full well that he would now be taking second watch as well. And third. There was no way he could break his brothers blessed sleep. Not this night. So he hummed the tune over and over, even as his stiff fingers eventually stilled, until the sun crested the opposing horizon once more.

He let himself sing it through once more with the morning birds he was always to dead to hear, offering a weary grin as the first of his brothers began to stir.

“I will guard thee at rest, thou shalt wake on my breast.”

Chapter Text

Twilight woke to a foggy sort of dawn, the haze of dew still hovering in the morning air. He was used to waking early, but it was rare that he would wake so refreshed. And he wasn’t sure if he could ever remember waking with a song sticking so clear in his head.

After a moment he realized that the song in his head matched a quiet music drifting through the camp. Sky’s voice, tired and weak and wonderful, murmuring out the words of the gentle tune.

“I will guard thee at rest, thou shalt wake on my breast.”

It was nice.

Wait.

Wasn’t Twilight supposed to be second watch? And why was Sky up so early? He was never up this early.

Twilight shot up, realization waking him fully. A glance around the camp confirmed his fears. Every single one of them was deep asleep with a kind of restfulness Twilight wasn’t sure he’d ever seen within the group. That was good, wonderful even.

It also meant that Sky had been on watch the entire night.

The chosen sat by the dimmed fire, smiling at him in quiet greeting. His fingers held a slight tremor, though it seemed as though his harp had long been set aside, and soft circles tugged at the skin beneath his eyes.

“Good morning.” Sky said in what was nearly a whisper. He sounded oddly chipper, though his voice was obviously raw.

Twilight sighed and moved to sit by him, attempting to replicate Time’s trademark disapproving stare.

“You were supposed to wake me.” He murmured as he sat.

Sky shot him a weary but satisfied smile. “I know. But I don’t think I’ve ever seen any of you sleep so soundly. I didn’t want to disturb that.”

Twilight’s gaze swept the camp again. He was almost loath to admit it, but Sky was right. It was clear every single one of them had gotten a full nights rest. Sure, one or two eyes held the telltale puff of nighttime tears, but no one’s face was rubbed raw from the pain of nightmares. As if the tears had begun before they slept, and stopped for good thereafter.

“Agree to disagree for now,” Twilight finally said, “you should have woken me. But tell me, how did you do it?”

“What?”

“Don’t give me that, Sky, no one thought they’d be sleeping after yesterday. This-” He waved a hand over the slumbering camp, “- shouldn’t have been possible. We didn’t just ‘fall asleep’. I remember you playing some sort of song… it sounded vaguely familiar though I couldn’t place it…”

Sky chuckled lightly. “For you, it was The Wolf Song.” He hummed a few bars. “Wild wolf please, let us be…”

“Is it a magic song?” Twilight asked, suddenly suspicious. “One to make people fall asleep?”

Sky outright laughed. “Not in the sense you’re speaking, no. It’s just a lullaby I learned in Ordon. I’ve learned at least one from each of our era’s.”

“Wait. So… you just played some lullabies and we fell asleep like children? All of us? Time too?”

Sky nodded. “Time too. I wouldn’t exactly say like children though. Everyone was exhausted. Changing the songs just helped you not get caught up in your own thoughts I guess. Since they weren’t what you all were used to hearing.”

Twilight narrowed his eyes. “And what about you? You fought just as hard as the rest of us. You’re just as exhausted, and now even more so.”

Sky waved him off, frustratingly unbothered. “I fine, I can go one night without sleep. I sleep so much anyways it’ll hardly make a difference, and it’s not like I haven’t done it before.”

Twilight was about to remind Sky that he hadn’t, actually, stayed up the entire night during this quest where there were people around him to help, when Wind sat up blearily from his bedroll and telltale shuffling sounded from Four’s cot.

“Twi,” Wind groaned, rubbing his eyes, “Isn’t it supposed to be my watch? Why didn’t’cha wake me?”

Twilight groaned, thumbing at Sky. “Someone decided he didn’t need sleep last night.”

Wind cast a worried glance Sky’s way, quickly replaced with a wicked sort of grin as the pieces fell into place. “Looks like someone else is getting Time’s lecture for once. Been nice knowing ya.”

Sky only gave a sheepish chuckle, light blush on his cheeks. As if he were mildly embarrassed. Like a child caught halfway to the cookie jar.

That’s all he did later too, when actively receiving Times lecture. Twilight didn’t understand how the chosen didn’t recoil beneath the old man’s disapproving gaze. It was almost like he was receiving the lecture out of obligation, like he was allowing Time to lecture him.

Then Twilight realized that this might’ve been the first time he’d seen Sky on the receiving end of a lecture. The guy was generally quiet, all things considered, taking things at his own pace. He had never even had issues sleeping. Not like the rest of them.

Now that Twilight had noticed it, it was becoming more clear. The chosen was, probably unconsciously, keeping them all at an arm’s length. Twilight knew Sky had worries, they all did, but he was quiet about it. His looks were long and far away, and his terrors did not seem to haunt him in the night. Were they repressed? Or did he simply handle his problems differently than the rest?

Twilight decided to watch him for the rest of the day. If the chosen would slip up at any point, it would be now. When he was sleep deprived.

It didn’t take long for Twilight to realize that Sky lingered near the back of the group. He was bad with hills but did not complain. His shoulders sometimes stooped when he thought no one was watching. His eyes flashed strangely, something a little less than fearful, when unknown sounds echoed out of the woods.

And, most often, Sky watched those in front of him. His gaze lingered on the backs of his successors, as if he could decern the burdens that weighed so many of them down. His eyes were heavy and perhaps a little sad.

And Twilight, for the life of him, couldn’t fathom why.

He could, however, catch the other curious gazes that watched the chosen hero. Twilight, it seemed, was far from the only one keeping an eye on their resident sleepy head. And Sky, bless his heart, was far too tired to notice.

Mid afternoon introduced a new portal, and the portal introduced Skyloft. Literally Skyloft. Normally they would end up in the wood below, but Hyrule nearly fell off the edge after running through the portal, saved only by a quick handed Time.

Time stepped up as the portal closed behind them, placing a heavy hand on Sky’s shoulder. “We’re at your home now. You should take this time to rest.”

Sky looked up at him, wry expression looking almost exasperated. “I told you, I’m fine. I promise I’ll sleep well tonight. For now, we need to figure out where we’re going this time around.”

A blue loftwing swept down next to him. Sky’s Zelda, Sun, leapt off and ran directly to her hero. “You’re back! I knew I could sense the portal!”

Twilight exchanged a look with the others. Sun… she always seemed to know when they’d arrive. In a way that none of the other Zelda’s could. What’s more, no one felt like they could ask why. There was something she and Sky weren’t telling them. Not lying, exactly, but dancing around. And it had the vibe that it was better left unsaid until those in the know were ready to share.

After a quick chat Sky dove off the edge of the island, whistling for his own loftwing and speeding off a moment later.

Sun turned and greeted the rest of them. “Sorry for my delayed greeting, welcome. Let me show you where you’ll be staying while Link… err… Sky checks on the surface building grounds.”

“We are thankful for your hospitality.” Time said. “Though I wonder if Sky is alright for this right now. One of us could go in his stead. He didn’t sleep at all last night.”

“He didn’t…” Sun blinked, exasperation plain on her face. “That explains why he looked so out of it. I’m afraid it’s too late to stop him now though, that loftwing of his is in a class of its own. Why didn’t he sleep?”

Legend piped up, leaning heavily on Wars and all the more cross for it. “He decided to play us all lullabies to get us to sleep. Then he decided that we looked so precious he couldn’t wake the next watch. In short, he’s an idiot mother cooco.”

Sun nodded along, hand to her temple. “Of course. I should’ve pushed him off that ledge, the stubborn brat. I tell him time and time again, ‘take care of yourself’, but nooo-”

She cut off, remembering mid-sentence that she had an audience.

“Excuse me.” She coughed. “I’ll show you to your rooms.”

“I am sorry.” Twilight said quickly. Before she could turn away. “I was supposed to take watch after him, and we’re all supposed to care for each other. I didn’t mean for him to take my watch, he’s usually so responsible…”

Wind jumped in. “Me too. I was also supposed to have a turn last night. Sorry.”

Sun blinked. She almost looked… confused.

“Responsible?” She asked. “Link? Still has two weeks left of court ordered community service Link?”

“I’m sorry, what?” Four asked. “Court ordered community service?”

Wild looked perturbingly impressed and Twilight made a mental note to keep him and the chosen apart for a while.

“Purposeful property damage.” Sun replied flatly. “I’m sorry, he’s responsible in your group?”

“We thought he was.” Twilight found himself mumbling.

“Goddess.” Sun groaned. “You thought, Sky, the first incarnation of Link, the first holder of the hero’s spirit and person who set the standard for heroes breaking pots… was responsible.”

“I mean,” Wind said, “When you put it like that…”

She groaned again. “Holders of wisdom thou art not.” She calmed, sighing. “Well, at least you know now before he does something outrageously stupid.”

“Actually…” Warriors said, “Now that we know, we were kind of hoping to get him back.”

“We were?” Wind asked, sounding altogether too excited. Kid could smell a prank from a mile away.

“I don’t remember talking about this.” Twilight said.

“Yeah, yeah.” Legend said waving him off, “We all know you’re the good kid. But trust us, you’ll want in on this one.”

“Oh?” Time asked.

Wars and Legend, normally at odds, were oddly terrifying teamed up and grinning ear to ear. Twilight gulped, chill running down his spine.

“We thought we’d give him a dose of his own sleepy medicine.” Legend continued.

“Miss Sun,” Wars asked, tossing a charming smile her way, “would you be willing to lend us a hand?”

Sun was, amusingly, uncharmed by the captain’s blinding smile. But she was, apparently, drawn well and truly into the siren call of causing her dearest Sky a little bit of harmless fun. And much needed sleep.

Sky returned in the early evening, the sun only barely touching the horizon and the sky still starless and bright. His trek to his usual room was strangely quiet. None of the other Links were in sight. He figured they were probably in the mess hall, having heard the dinner bell on his way up.

He decided to head that way instead when a sweet and high note of music caught his ear. Curious, he turned towards it, realizing that it was ringing out of the direction of his own room. The next note rang out.

It was the tender fingered harp Sun used, her hand unmistakable to his ears.

Sky smiled, turning back to his room. The Ballad of the Goddess. He’d know it anywhere.

Sure enough, Sun was sitting on his bed, eyes sparkling as he walked in. She nodded at the spot next to her, beginning to sing the song in earnest.

Her voice was high and strong and sweet. It encompassed everything he held dear, the things he missed the most while out on his journey. The harp tremored with her skill, bending to her will in such a way that it never did for even his own practiced hands.

Sky followed the tune, sitting next to his love as he seeped the sound in. By the end of her performance he was yawning.

“That was wonderful.” He murmured as he waited for the last note to fade, leaning on her shoulder and placing there a kiss. “I missed you.”

But Sun did not stop playing. Rather, her fingers spun their way to a tune that felt familiar to the skyloftian. Familiar, and yet unknown. Almost haunting.

He lifted his head, eyeing her questioningly. She answered with a smile as bright as the sun and soft as the moon, eyes fluttering with a sleeping invitation. A moment later and her song was accompanied by her soft hum, sounds spelling out the pattern of the coming words.

Sky accepted her offered gift, laying his head comfortably in her lap as he had when they were children. Dinner could wait. For now, his Sun was giving him something much more dear.

Another sound joined in, so soft and subtle that it didn’t register at first. The steady streaming notes of an ocarina. Then a second one, balancing the tones of the gentle melody.  

Sky started to move up, looking for the sound’s origin. It took only a moment for him to give up, Sun moving her elbow to forcibly keep him down. There were worse reasons to be trapped, and there were worse prisons than his lover’s lap.

Satisfied that Sky had given up, Sky focused in on the song. Steadily, slowly, she let her hums become louder. They melded with the harps plucking strings and Sky waited in anticipation for Sun to break out into the impeding song.

But she never did.

A soft voice, high with youth and wavering with a practiced vibrato, joined the ensemble. Sun’s lips decidedly closed.

“Coo roo koo.”

Had Sky known to look, had he been able to move, he might’ve found Wind laying stiff under his bed. The sailor’s voice confident and practiced from many a shanty sung over a storm.

“Cooruku.”

A second voice joined in, lower than the first. Sky strained to see, but was unable to make out Four’s own laying form beneath the opposing bed. The smithy’s voice a surprising but wonderful high-toned baritone.

“Coo ru ku, coo ku.”

The verse ended like a soft cooing dove, sounds fluttering together in a pleasant sort of medley. Sky stopped fighting to figure out where the different sounds were coming from, accepting his fate and closing his eyes to listen better. It was a lovely song. Sweet and slow, numbing in its mesmerizing high notes and warm where the low notes trembled.

More voices joined in.

“Coo roo koo, cooruku, coo ru ku, coo ku.”

They played off each other in practiced harmony. Twilight’s bass and Hyrule’s tenor, the others not playing an instrument bouncing through the baritone spectrum. Wild helped Twilight with the low harmonies, Hyrule blending with Wind’s high melody. Warriors joined Four, voices bouncing back and forth between melody and harmony, depending on where they were needed.

Wind’s voice broke out above the others, leading the words with his clear youthful voice while the others wove around him.

“Oh hush thee my dove, oh hush thee my sweet love

Oh hush thee my lap wing, my dear little bird.”

Suddenly, it didn’t seem to matter much to Sky where the voices were coming from. Sun’s lips trembled very slightly with each hum, face guiding and peaceful above him as she played. (Sleep, Sun’s weighty gaze seemed to urge, do you not feel the burden of your eyelids? How they yearn to droop and fall?)

“Oh, fold your wings and seek your nest now

The berries shine on the old rowan tree

The bird is home from the hills and valleys.”

The voices were soft in their weave. Those low were quiet. Those high were cajoling. The ocarinas proved steady, the harps notes bending with graceful bends.

The song was not long. It was not complicated. And it seeped its way into Sky’s weary bones.

“Coo roo koo, cooruku, coo ru ku, coo ku

Coo roo koo, cooruku, coo ru ku, coo ku.”

The voices parted into practiced rounds, slow and warm. The words and calls blending together into peaceful nonsense.

“Coo roo koo, cooruku, coo ru ku, coo ku

Coo roo koo, cooruku, coo ru ku, coo ku.”

The words were not new, but the sounds danced back and forth in a dreamy sort of dance. Sky wasn’t sure when he had closed his eyes. He wasn’t sure when the sounds had filled his mind so completely that all other thought had ceased.

“Oh hush thee my dove, oh hush thee my sweet love

Oh hush thee my lap wing, my dear little bird.

Oh, fold your wings and seek your nest now

The berries shine on the old rowan tree

The bird is home from the hills and valleys.”

The rounds fell off, echoing voices quieting and slowing and fading away altogether. In a moment, a long and sugary and short and blessed moment, all that was left was Wind’s tenor and Sun’s soft hum. Even the instrumentals fell softer and softer, fading to nothing as the last verse teased its way out.

“Coo roo koo, cooruku, coo ru ku, coo ku

Coo roo koo, cooruku, coo ru ku, coo ku.”

All that was left now was Sun’s soft hum, her gentle and practiced hands guiding her chosen hero off her lap in favor of the bed’s pillows. She brushed his bangs softly off his face, glowing as she noted his steady and quiet breathing.

Her hum, as steady as Sky’s breathing, covered the soft shuffles of the others. Wind and Four sneaking our from under the beds. Warriors, Hyrule, and Legend tiptoeing further away from the door. Time, Wild, and Twilight shuffling away from the window.

All that was left were the lovers, Sky in a true and enchanting sort of sleep.

“Coo roo koo, cooruku,” Sun murmured, still caressing his hair with gentle strokes, “coo ru ku, coo ku.”