Archive of Our Own

Year 10,000

I shouldn’t have cried so much.

How unbecoming of me, and how troublesome it will be for the great sprawl of Hyrule below! No doubt a shower of dragon’s tears will have deleterious effects on the flora and fauna; I will not be so arrogant as to presume that mine in particular would be beneficial. What I would give to study the effects, and surely the effects are innumerable, as there has never been a recorded instance of Dinraal, Naydra, or Farosh shedding any tears on our kingdom below.

But this body, and these claws—well. I certainly don’t foresee note-taking in my immediate future (or perhaps ever again, a thought which I banish at once).

Mineru was wrong. This discovery inspires no particular pleasure in me. If the rest of the Zonai legends are to be believed, I will never have a chance to tell her: draconification is not, in fact, instantaneous.

Perhaps it is so in body, the explosion of heat so violent and sudden I thought perhaps I had incinerated myself—but in mind, it will more likely be a prolonged and arduous process. I coil high above Hyrule now, two or three days into what will be a very long life, and am at once fascinated and devastated to find that all my thoughts are as intact as they were on that last day of being Hylian.

Again, I wish I could write all of this down. The research I could conduct would not be insignificant. My heart twists to think of all the advancements I could bring home, of all the knowledge I will gain and lose in my time as a dragon. So much good change could it do for Hyrule.

Still, dragons seem like creatures that would have impenetrable, faultless memories. And if I am to be one, then I will strive to remember all that I can. I cling to this preconceived notion like a woman drowning.

Year 9,998

The aimless flight path I have chosen for myself gives me ample room for my thoughts to drift back to all I left behind.

When I had been living in Old Hyrule with Rauru and Sonia, every day was filled with new discoveries, new plans, and new drills to hone my control over time. My hours to brood were few and far between, so every day ended in such exhaustion that I sank into nearly dreamless sleep—but now, eternally awake and aware, my mind wanders. I try to restrain it. The endeavor is fruitless.

At first, it is all quite pragmatic. Imagine being plucked from the machinations of your life without warning. I no longer have to. All the things I left behind! All the half-finished tasks! I say this—think this—in the tone of a harried chaperone, or perhaps an oxcart driver, panicked at the thought of all the extra work I have burdened others with. I’d been partway through a new lesson plan for the Hateno schoolchildren, I’d left dozens of books open in my study belowground. I wince to think of all the mildew that will eat away those books, so tiresomely sourced from local merchants. I’d sent out scouting teams to investigate monster dens. I’d only finished a portion of the research studying the medicinal uses of Lizalfos horns. A cure for the typhoon cough that strikes Hateno and Lurelin every wet season hinged on that research. I can only hope someone finds it all and continues in my absence.

And then, after I exhaust my agonized assessment of every important and every menial task I left unfinished, I think: oh, all the things I left behind.

I have left him twice now, that knight of mine. Link will wake up—he has to wake up, because I shan’t let myself imagine a future that does not have him in it—and he will be alone again. Last time, I had ensured that Impa had taken him to safety. I had watched them go until they disappeared into the fog, before I faced my fate and sealed myself into the castle.

The last I saw of Link this time, he’d been diving for me. He’d been a red smudge against that nightmare black, with nothing to tether him. Just the memory of him makes me nearly sick with grief. What a fool he is, oh, what a fool he is. I think I may cry again.

A dragon does not have much, I have learned. Not the sky which we call home, nor the time which we spite by living. But I do have my faith in him. It will have to be enough.

Year 9,863

I have gathered a short and by no means exhaustive list of new findings on the topic of dragons since becoming one. Again I lament the distance between myself, a quill, and a fresh sheet of parchment, and again I can only hope that a dragon’s memory is a greater prison than any stone dungeon. Alas, another hypothesis that I won’t be able to test, because I may not remember to.

But I digress. Before I succumb again to any more navel-gazing, I have observed several particular things of note:

1. Dragons have no need to eat. I find myself feeling no hunger to fill nor thirst to slake; indeed, I allowed myself the luxury of dipping low enough to skim the surface of the oceans that border East Necluda, and the salt water passed over my tongue and into my body with little, if any, pronounced sensation. The sheer lack of contact with Dinraal, Naydra, and Farosh in all the time of recorded Hylian history leads to the inference that, if food is ever necessary to a dragon, it is not found in the lands below.

2. Dragons have no need to sleep by any mortal definition. That is to say: I find myself entering a sleep-state that can be described as wakeful dreaming, where the awareness of my surroundings flattens to a mere thin trickle. I will notice the winds that keep me adrift and the turns of the moon and little else. Meanwhile, I experience long visions of a golden sky. I have no companions in this strange other-sky, and so I must conclude that it is a place of my own imagination.

3. Dragons have a proclivity for healing. This lesson I learned personally and most vexingly. I am a young dragon with, perhaps, much to learn of my own sheer size—I forget often that the entirety of my form stretches out nearly half a league from my head, no longer am I the compact Hylian I once was. I was lost in thought, as I seem to be more and more now, and had been flying too close to one of the sky islands of the Lanayru region. Most sit higher up, and I was not looking. My tail collided with one of the Zora sky islands, shattering it into dozens of stone shards, tearing a wound open in my lower belly. I was not able to see it clearly, again because I must remember that I am much larger now, but the blood that sprayed forth was a golden ichor. Only a few drops made it as far down as Hyrule before the gash began to close. I was aghast and amazed in equal measure. To think—if only I could harvest from myself, in some way, to send back pieces of my body to the scholars who might glean more from these healing properties. So many lives could be saved. So much illness could be prevented.

I have considered many times flying lower over Hyrule in an attempt to leave parts of myself—my scales, shards of my spikes, and other shed bits—for Hylians to retrieve and study, but my first and only attempt ended disastrously (they began shooting arrows at me in fright and, running out of arrows, began hurling stink-fruit at me).

Leaving them in the ocean to wash ashore like sailor’s treasure may go over more smoothly, but then again, that may encourage a scourge of pirates.

Hyrule! Know that I am thinking of you always, even if I cannot help.

Year 9,101

In order to keep my mental devices sharp, I have come up with a memory tool for myself. I’ve wracked my brains thinking of the most human thing we have, which then led me down the spiraling rabbit’s burrow of what separates a human from a dragon (if not speech, if not thought, if not love, then what? We underestimate the capacity of our skybound companions).

But, anyway. All I have been able to conclude is that poetry, namely the poetry my mother used to read to me on particularly difficult nights of practicing my magic, separates my existence as a dragon from my life as a Hylian.

Of course, I must also remember any claim that dragons do not have poetry of their own is naive and myopic. I shudder to think that my assumption of this at all signals a deterioration of my human judgment. Indeed, they are a creature that has inspired countless centuries of art and poetry! But this is for my own sanity, as I intend to keep it about me for as long as I am able.

It goes as follows:

I cried, ‘For sorrow! For love! For this rage I’ve kept!’
as the rain came fair from the blackened sky,
for these soldiers, O soldiers
listened mute as we wept and wept.

‘’Til the dawn!’ they’d cried, ‘’Til the end!’ they’d sung,
without remorse, nor fear, nor hint of woe.
Now I listen, here alone, in my scaled greaves,
in these muddy gallows deep where the silence hung.

This poem was penned, if I recall, by Sir Marsh Gaunt. Hylian literature seldom featured war poetry. Much of the writings on war were sequestered to inscrutable academic tomes, many of which I read clandestinely, while poetry was regarded as an art unbefitting the coarse topics of battle and blood. But I recall this one so vividly as it had an illustration to accompany it, of a lone knight on his knees in a torrential storm, surrounded by the dark and inky shapes of his fallen comrades. My mother had paused after these two stanzas—the poem was quite a bit longer, and, as I learned older, profoundly vengeful in its third act—and decided to choose another poem for the evening, but that painting had entranced me. The loneliness was nearly bleeding from the page in its static rain.

I recite this poem to myself when I feel my thoughts flatten. This flattening occurs more and more frequently as of late, and I would be lying if I said it did not alarm me.

Year 8,939

In my time as a princess, I allowed myself few indulgences. Why should I ever have a moment to rest until the people of Hyrule were cared for? I ruled as I thought right, and all I can do now is hope that they thought it sufficient.

This meant that I also seldom allowed myself the indulgence of wallowing in kind, warm memories, outside of remembering what my fellow Hylians have done and what they’re owed. Such indolence! I can still hear it in Father’s voice. How curious, how the voices of people gone never quite leave us.

But now, armed with nothing but time, I indulge. The memory that I’ve fixated on tonight makes me smile and brings me back to Lurelin, to one of those rare nights in the summer when not a drop of rain wetted the sky. Link and I had been there to ensure that the newest conservation program that I’d implemented was going well, and they’d insisted that we’d stay for their bonfire that night. I’d remembered begging off, insisting that it wasn’t proper, that it was their celebration to hold and have. Link had just looked between me and the village elders, and that’s all that it had taken to sway me. His eyes had been glimmering.

There was much dancing and merry. The songs of Lurelin could have chased any storm away. I had changed into a dress, the night so warm, and Link had sat on one of the logs lining the bonfire until I tugged him to his feet to dance. Barefoot in the sand. His face had been full of alarm and then full of quiet glee, both of our hands sticky from candied palm fruit and banana skewers. He shone with sweat and salt from the sea.

At the end of the night, I was parched, and I’d gone to find drinks for him and myself. Link had hooked a wilting flower behind my ear. The dancing and the heat and—here, I will admit, in the safety of my head—the palm liquor had made me loose and carefree.

“What’s that there?” the drinks vendor had asked as she’d handed me two cups of sparkling green elixir. “In your hair.”

“Ah—my knight Link—”

But I remember her not hearing, or not listening to me, perhaps both. She’d reached out to readjust it and had gone on to say, “Which villager thinks he can woo our princess of Hyrule? You are far too busy for such dalliances. Such a flower is only given between lovers!”

I had been so thankful for the cover of night. Link had stared at me in question when I’d returned and not even been able to look him in the face, and he’d turned to glare at the drinks vendor, as if she might have offended me. I’d grabbed his hand so he’d sit back down.

I hadn’t let go. And I wish I’d held on longer. We'd walked like that to one of the huts we were staying in and I had let go first, and Link hadn't so much as batted an eye. But all I could do was lie awake, staring at the ceiling, though I knew we had a long day of travel ahead of us by sunrise.

Till the dawn, they’d cried, till the end, they’d sung…

Year 8,750

Time blurs, as do the months and years. Little wonder that dragons live so many millennia with apparent effortlessness. The coming and going of the sun loses much of its meaning when you lose the need to count them with your loved ones.

It hurts my soul—do dragons have souls? I have argued that all things do, even the monsters that plague Hyrule, which has earned me many a grimace and a headshake—to think of King Rauru and Her Majesty Sonia. The loss stays keen as ever, and as biting as it was the day I’d lost them.

I am wiser than to think that repeated loss inures one to new, unwelcome instances of it—and yet, not wise enough to understand that in my heart. Loss is an inevitable part of queenship, of ruling any kingdom. I have lost my mother, my father, my girlhood. Watching Sonia die before me—watching Rauru’s ultimate sacrifice—hurt me in ways I’d hoped I could no longer be hurt.

These months—years—I forgive myself for it. I am starting to believe that no wisdom cures a soul of grief. I do not believe I would want that cure at all.

I cried, for sorrow, for love, for this rage I’ve kept…

Year 8,222

I miss you.

Ah, you are not here. I wonder if dragons can go senile. I have been seeing things, and—what were their names?—Farosh, Naydra…and the other brilliant, golden dragon with me. I have tried signaling to them best I can, to see if they want to talk…

Right, where was I?

Yes—talking to the others. They are a taciturn trio, even as younglings, though perhaps they are already unimaginably older than I will be, at the end of this. Who is to say, if they do not tell me? Still, I am quite grateful for their company. The skies are a little less lonely with them around.

I miss you. My mind wanders back to this thought with an insistence that should be worrisome, but I find my heart quickens less with fear by the year. Things simply are, rather than things being events to react to.

But it does when I think this—you. The image of you fades each time my mind wanders back to this unrelenting yearning, and I should think that this muted fear means something. I think I fear forgetting you, which I cannot see ever happening when I miss you so much. Your name would take such a different shape in my mouth now. Long and fanged and—and.

Link! Link. I’d have to curl my tongue up against the curved backs of front teeth I no longer have.

I miss you. Ah, you are not here…

Your expression, if I’d ever said that to you in the flesh, would have been—what? I do not know. Did I ever tell you any truths? About me. About us, about what I wished for us. I’d hoped to show it. You don’t realize. You are so free, and making you my consort would have been a cruelty. How could I do that to you? Do that to the one person I will break myself to save?

Being a dragon with nothing to do but float and want has rekindled this selfish desire of mine.

I’d kept it hidden so well, you know, you get into every corner of the house searching for bugs. I’d had to hide in the castle. I don’t remember where I put it. It wasn’t even finished. Blue to match your eyes, with leather I’d sourced from Hateno. Only the best. I was still sewing the hems.

If you find it, I hope it fits.

Till the dawn, they’d cried, till the end, they’d sung. I’ve tried to remember other poetry, but have failed so far.

Year 7,764

Hyrule is changing.

And of course it is, but today I looked down and saw the beginnings of a sprawling empire that I would one day oversee. Some of the Hylians working on it had pale silver hair, and others, warm brown skin, their hair shorter than ever, no longer the floor-length mane that the Queen and King I knew wore.

I…find I cannot remember their names.

Yet more great islands have appeared in the sky around us. I am not sure from where, under whose command, and for what purpose, but they leave us well alone, and we do the same. Titanic birds have also appeared near us, though with the exception of some benign curiosity, they steer clear. They are red and shoe-billed.

Now is a good time to confess that I have lost track of the years. No amount of ‘I cried for sorrow, for love, for this rage I’ve kept as the rain came fair from the blackened sky’ can combat this. Some days I find myself at odds with this realization. Keeping time has always been a human pursuit, but perhaps an inane one, and without it I feel myself giving way.

This is a high slope I find myself on…

But I go on: for these soldiers, O soldiers, listened mute as we wept and wept.

Year 6,115

Civil war has erupted. Don’t know how long it will last. This must be the Hyrulean Civil War of old, if my approximation of time is accurate (likely not).

Bloodshed stains the land below. Skirmish. Siege. Flew close to…to the cerulean dragon, the one of ice, and she gave a shattering scream that went ignored as a whisper on the wind. Hylians, they do not care. Fire and brimstone beleaguer their land, and what of it? They are here for so little time, and it goes wasted on such petty squabbling…

The historical accounts of this war were always held in high regard and spoken of with deep respect. For the people lost and the lessons learned and the treaties written in blood. It all feels so far away now, minute, and…

A blast shakes the heart of the land. “Stop!” comes from my mouth. If they hear it they do not care and I—I care. This is the kingdom I love…

Till the dawn, till the end.

Year 5,573

I am very tired.

Year 5,294

War has ended. Land lies in ruin. Desolation, far as the eye can see. New peoples of this land…the early peoples of the Gorons, the Zora…never knew that their fins had begun so large. More variation, too, in the morphology of their genus. Shocked to see Zora who had once been octopi. Consider: what allowed the domination of the shark phylogeny? Note to study later and ask…

…

There was a prince. He…a friend, of yours. Link! Link. He will want to hear this.

How many years until I meet you?

Now I listen, here alone, in my scaled greaves.

Year 5,007

I have a fear that I will meet you and not know you. I have a fear that none of my senses will know you and I do not know which to exercise first. I can see as far as the edge of time and what if I cannot recognize you. I can smell the blood of a bird shot out of the sky game and grill and I fear I will not recognize the dirt and wild and sweat and sea on you. I can hear the rumble-beat of drums of a festival and you, you, what if I cannot hear the soft susurrus of your hair on your shoulders and the quiet gurgle of your stomach after fish. I sail through clouds and their humid breath reminds me of your nose on my arm in sleep and what if I will never know that again. I can taste the sky, silver in the evenings and red in the dawn and what if you find me, your strange human hands holding fruits smaller than my pupils, and I will not know they are sweeter because you have touched them. I fear all of these things, Link, Link, I recite your name to myself again and again almost as much as that poem because if I forget it and you I will be undone. I think I am already coming undone so long is a dragon’s life. This is the part the Zonai feared, and everything that comes after. The state of utter unknowing is not one to pity, I will not know that I do not know, but this I would not wish on anyone. Watching the back of your own head as you walk away from yourself. In these muddy gallows deep where the silence hung.

year 4,944

there was a memory i had and i will not let myself forget it. there was a memory i had and i will. there was a memory. green hangs in a silk curtain about the sky it is winter and the snow falls very thick and that is how i remember because in this memory it was in winter. you will remember it more than i do i think or maybe i hope.

i remember this because i kept it to myself and i would take it out to admire when i was alone the memory i mean. like a bottle of starstuff that i was keeping a secret from the world and you. and now thinking about it i feel poorly.

but you were there. when i try to remember things now great big holes are eaten through the them and almost all my memories have holes these days like good linen left out in typhoon season and taken by lurelin moths. good linen in typhoon season you remember because of typhoon cough everyone would wear linen because it was cooler when we all caught the fever.

the snow is very thick in the mountains and it always was. it was when we were there too and every step it came up to our knees and all the travel was slow because the snow was very thick. then the blizzard started and it was so cruel it was like being chewed in the maw of a great icy beast and the flakes were starting to cut red lines in your cheeks. the sight it made me cry and the great icy beast froze and ate my tears. you had your cloak you took it off and put it around my head so the ice would spare me and i never felt warm like that again.

the fire we made in the cave went all night. neither of us slept we just waited for the blizzard to pass. you said you were going to hunt something to eat but i didn’t want you to leave and get hurt oh you know so many people slip on the ice and get hurt i couldn’t let you go out. the wind howled like a wounded lynel.

you were going to leave i knew it so i pretended to fall asleep on you. i did not have to pretend very much walking all day searching for traces of gloom in the mountains made weary travelers of us both so i put my head on your shoulder. i put my head. i put my head on you and. i started sliding it was not on purpose and i was really very tired you know i do not know how you do not get tired. this was a memory i had and i will not let myself forget it. your hands on my head and holding my shoulders you lowering me into your lap so i could continue to pretend sleeping. your hair was so long my cheek was ticklish with it it was so long like silk off corn gold as a spring moon.

i remember it because i never wanted to get up and i never wanted the blizzard to end and all i wanted was to open my eyes and look up into your face but then the moment would end and i never wanted the blizzard to end and this was a memory i had. i think i loved you.

i cried for sorrow for

year 3629

separation between dragon and human is not speech thought love fear poetry not even poetry because we have all of that and i will always have all of that what separates a dragon and a human is time not the having or the losing of it but the feeling of it

time

link when time passes please imagine me passing it with you because a hylian knows time in their eyes and their rivered skin and their drooping ears and and their gnarled hands and their aching backs and their tired feet and their greying hair imagine me not as the dragon so new i could be polished

i will always be this

till the end theyd sung

year 2102

i cried, ‘for sorrow! for love! for this rage i’ve kept!’
as the rain came fair from the blackened sky,
for these soldiers, o soldiers
listened mute as we wept and wept.

‘’til the dawn!’ they’d cried, ‘’til the end!’ they’d sung,
without remorse, nor fear, nor hint of woe.
now i listen, here alone, in my scaled greaves,
in these muddy gallows deep where the silence hung.

year 1503

if the sky falls with me in it

here alone in my scaled greaves

year 160

link just know if i forget you that i

year 88

dear knight i once knew

just know

year 3

temple of time opened

the sky sings as he flies but the clouds are not his home he is not scared

is he not

i was scared from the first day until now i am still scared

year 1

the fair

sky is so far from home

the red castle sings like a grave

month 2

the new lightness of

my head is most welcome it has been heavy without a crown the boy stands where my eyes meet and stares very long with his small head on mine

sometimes he sits in silence and i do not know why when he goes he leaves

one flower for me which the wind catches

day 1

when the sky falls i feel it because it turns red and fills with a black river broken by stones and on one of the stones is

THE BOY

THE

I MUST

HE IS

the flight from the great sky island is consuming one violent fall AND ONE VIOLENT CLASH

the black river its

but it is good to be a small young dragon when

you are

0000 0

the tenth day

“My name is Zelda, and I am your Princess of Hyrule. I have been gone very long, and I want to apologize from the bottom of my heart for abandoning my people when they needed me most. You have all shown bravery that will carry Hyrule into its new age. I wish I could tell you all everything, but I’m afraid I don’t remember much of it. I don’t think I remember anything at all. One day I might, but until then, I am so happy to be home with all the people I love. Thank you all for helping Link as he did everything he could to find me. There’s…we will have news for Hyrule soon. It is excellent news, but until then, there is much to do and lots to rebuild. Let us get to work.”