Author's note: SKYWARD SWORD SPOILERS. If you don't want to be spoiled for a fight early on in the game, don't read it. This is almost entirely wild theorising. Awesome.


When they are young, they steal away from the palace to gaze at the night.

The sky is different at night. Where it is blindingly bright during the day, a dazzling white spot moving against the background and leaving everything in a washed-out filter, the sky at night is soft. He sees contours and ripples and lumps and bumps, a soft and content grey, the sky-light dimmer and soothing to the eyes.

Are those reds and purples he sees amongst the grey? Perhaps it is - the world at night is more colourful than the world at day.

His friend gazes ahead, at softly glowing grasses and mushrooms, and says, "Some day, this will all be mine."

But he is looking up at the friendly clouds.


When they are adolescents, they steal away from the palace to be alone.

There is a cool hand in his hand, confident fingers exploring his skin. Grass tickles his back and the breeze caresses his limbs, and he gazes up at the reassuring clouds.

There is a cool hand in his hair, cool lips leaving white marks on his throat, and his eyes almost close at the scandal of it all. But at the last moment, they fly open again - somewhere, something extrordinary is happening.

Because for just a moment, the clouds have parted.

And he sees stars.


When he is a young man, he steals away from the palace alone.

He meets his contact under the smothering clouds, and together, they look up at the sky. "You've seen them," he says, and he's gazing for the hidden. "The stars."

He's silent for a moment. "I have."

"Then you see the truth. You know that he has changed. You have eyes to seek."

Slowly, he nods. There is another world up there, above the concealing clouds.

His contact gazes at him, and then he tells him about her.


When he returns, he cannot quite manage to steal away.

He is waiting for him, legs folded, perched on his golden throne. "You met with them, didn't you."

It is not a question.

The other's lip curls up in a sneer. "They lie to you, my friend. There is no different sky and you will not be the one to see it."

He is silent, unmoving. Although he nods once, slowly, he still cannot bring himself to forget. There's a gloved hand on his cheek, and dark eyes he cannot meet.

Because he cannot forget the stars.


When his friend is consumed by his egomania and is no longer the boy he once kissed under the clouds, he prepares not to steal away, but to leave openly.

He wears their symbol now, an eye forged of blood, marked with three to signify the Goddesses. Goddesses, not the singular goddess of the Surface - the Goddesses of the people of the sky, the Goddesses that protect Her.

He cannot stay.

"They will destroy you," his former friend says, and his gloved hands are shaking in rage and frustration. "They will never let you live in their light. If we are to live in the dark, then we must extinguish their light."

He gazes up at him with eyes as red as the symbol he now wears, and shakes his head. "Then we will be of the shadows, and let the light give us form."

And he turns, ignoring his former friend's shouts - he will find this holy child and he will consume her for himself, and there's nothing he can do to stop it.

He keeps walking.


When the Sky Child falls from the clouds, he is there to help her to her feet.

He thanks the beast who caught her, takes her hand, and runs - the Surface is not safe for one of the Sky, and he can see the fear on her face when she gazes up at the clouds.

"Where is the sun?" she asks quietly.

"What is the sun?" he asks in reply.

Later, when they are able to find some measure of brief safety, he explains and so does she. She is no child, he realises, but a young woman who does not seem aware of her beauty. Beneath her skin, holy light glimmers in her veins, and there is starlight in her eyes.

This, he decides, is what godliness feels like.


When they stop to rest one night, he discovers that she carries a treasure with her - a golden lyre that glitters like the stars.

It fits in his hands like it was designed for him, and her hands guide him through songs and melodies.

And, later, she lies settled in his arms while he plucks a melody for her, and silently he swears that she will never be alone.


When they meet with the young man who fell for her, he is surprised at the lack of jealousy he feels.

Perhaps it is his own fascination. He shines like the sun that She has told him of, and he finds himself captivated. His stars, his sun - he longs to see them again, but the two of them together sate the urge for now.

"She is like the stars," he tells the sun, and the sun tells him, "Then you are the moon, watching over the stars."

Perhaps, he realises, the moon can protect the sun as well.


When the hero who fell from the heavens brings purity to the land, the stars and the sun and the moon are revealed. The day they confront his old friend, the sky is cloudless blue, as clear and as warm as the eyes of his stars and sun.

And yet, something is changing. The sun hides the stars and the moon from view, the boy from the heavens protecting them from harm. And overhead, the moon is stealing closer and closer to the sun.

But the sun cannot win this on his own. And so he kisses his queen of the stars goodbye, and as the moon shields the sun from view and the stars shine forth, he takes the blow intended for the hero.

Gazing skyward as the moon eclipses the sun, he feels a pair of warm hands in his own. "Protect her," he murmurs to both the hero and to those he knows are watching, and the battle rages on.


When the battle ends, the sun and the stars are left alone, settled beside the fallen moon. The sun is shining, now - the moon has faded from sight again, the stars hiding their glow until the night falls again. But it'll be a cloudless night that falls on the Surface this time - there's no moon to bleach out the skies, but there will be soon.

The queen of the stars slowly rises to her feet, unafraid amongst these men and women that bear the eye of truth. "He will be remembered," one says, a white-haired woman with the same red eyes he possessed. "And we will protect you and your family eternally."

She bends on one knee, and the queen of the stars starts when she realises her sun is doing so as well. For a moment, her eyes fill with tears, her starlight eyes blur.

"We will take his name," the white-haired woman continues, and reaches up to touch the white marks beneath her eyes. "We will walk beneath the cloudless sky and let your light cast our shadows."

The red-eyed woman lifts her head and gazes at her fiercely. "In his name, the Sheikah will protect you for an eternity."


When they are young, they steal away from the palace to gaze at the night.

It is a new life, born to the race that bear his name. A reward, he decides when he first lays eyes on her - his queen of the stars, young and beautiful in the sun.

At first, he is saddened when she does not remember all that they lived through. But slowly, he too begins to forget - to forget endless clouds and glowing seas of grass and a world that does not possess a sky.

He does not forget the stars and the sun.

One day, they will move and breathe as one, and he will protect her within himself.

One day, he will not fail her, and their feet will carry them to see his sun again.

One day, his hands will produce songs from an ancient golden lyre, and he will briefly remember the gentle clouds.

One day, his stars and sun will chase the dark from the land, and the moon will rise again unblemished.


When they are older, they steal away from the palace to gaze at the sun, the stars and the moon in a cloudless sky, and the first and last of the Sheikah is grateful for the light.