Quickly, before we begin I'd like to say a massive thank you to the spectacular people who have read and/or reviewed my other stories you guys are THE BEST capitals and everything!


I am falling, again, I've fallen like this so many times already. I've done it so often that you'd think I would remember not to before it's too late. I never do. None of us ever do. I wonder if they think the same things I do each time we go through this and get the chance to remember just how many times we've been through this. Currently, it seems patently obvious that going back means we'll just have to live through it all again. Going back after we've won doesn't magically make it so Ganondorf doesn't exist, it just puts us back to time where he does. Going back makes much more sense the times we've had to because everything has gone arse over tit. I've been responsible for more of these major cock-ups than I really care to admit to. But, by the time we all hit the proverbial ground again each and everyone of us will have forgotten, and the loop just starts over, exactly the same, just like always.

Although, it won't be exactly the same, it never really is, it'll certainly be similar, but every cycle always find some way to be achingly different from the last. I think, or at least I like to think, it's because each time it's us that's different. Each iteration of us, of the Princess and the Hero, of the Sages and the silent Sheikah guide and even of the Villian, is different, because you don't do this as often as we have without changing at least a little each time. We don't know it, don't remember well enough to see it, but we grow, we learn.

I like remembering the differences, unsurprisingly, they're the bits that stand out. I'm not talking about the different ways things went wrong, I don't see the point in agonising over who messed up or died or whatever, it's done, it's gone, we seem to have an endless supply of second chances so why play the blame game.

You'd think that, given the kind of lives we lead, that one of the constants during our repeats would be the matter of our hearts. Even now I'm sort of surprised that there isn't some kind of star-crossed lovers deal going on, but, there just isn't. Sometimes I love Zelda, sometimes I love Malon, sometimes I don't love anyone at all and sometimes I love you. I love loving you the most. There's a sense of guilt that accompanies the fall after one of the times I love either of the girls, not because I loved them and not you, but because I realise that I'll never love them quite as well as I love you Sheik.

I didn't love you the first time around, that one played out like a fucking fairy tale. I was all 'I will save you oh beautiful princess' and Zelda was kind enough to swoon in all the right places, she's good to people like that. It seems kind of dumb looking back at it but I wouldn't change it. Actually, it took me a few play throughs to fall for you. It took me ages a wrap my head around the fact that my body wanted yours, even though we were both boys. By the time I'd gotten my head straight, well maybe straight isn't the best word, anyway, by the time I had figured it out I was too late, we'd hit the end game. I couldn't do it, I couldn't beat Ganon, we had to hard reset that time, I never got the chance to tell you.

The next time was a few loops later and falling for you just felt so fucking right. You must have thought I was an idiot that time round. The first time we met my stomach dropped and my heart sped up and my brain went all foggy and I stumbled over my words because all I could think was that you were so unbearably beautiful. You looked at me like I was a moron. Over time I think I managed to upgrade myself from thick as shit to love struck moron. I'm pretty sure I was trying to win you over with the sheer force of my enthusiasm, and I like to think it worked at least a little.

We kissed, just the once, but it happened. You said that you wanted to give me something for luck before I went into the last temple, which was cheesy as hell but I'm not going to complain. You were all shy about it and the kiss you pressed onto my cheek was so brief I'd have missed it if I'd sneezed. I didn't miss it though, and I was a bit more gung-ho about displaying my affection. On reflection, going for some tongue action might have been a bit ambitious on my part. It shocked you badly enough that you bit me and that was end of our foray into passion. You apologised and I said it was my fault really.

To be honest, it didn't matter that it didn't go well, what mattered was that it had happened. I waltzed through the temple after that. There was no way in hell that I was going to let anything stop me when there was a chance of kissing you again after I'd finished. As it turns out there wasn't. I met you again in the Temple of Time and you and Zelda did that magical thing you two do. The big reveal that you're her and she's you that sometimes I believe and, sometimes I see right through. How could you ever be anyone but you?

After that I went on and fought Ganon, and this play thorough was a success if all you cared about was doing the ugly bastard in. It wasn't a success if you were hoping for us to have more time together like I was. I wanted more time to know you, to kiss you, to feel your body against mine. Oh fuck I ache for you so badly sometimes. I'm all want and need and desire that I don't understand.

I lost my virginity to you. Well, technically I've lost my virginity a whole bunch of times to a variety of people, but the first time, the very first time, was with you. A handful of play throughs after our badly executed attempt at a first kiss, you came to my camp one night, and held me and kissed me with a fire I didn't know a living being was capable of. You'd always been a passing fancy until that moment, something to be dreamed of but probably never had. I figured you'd be my perfect little fantasy admired from afar.

The reality was so much more than that. You were safety and warmth and salvation with your arms wrapped around me and the moment you asked to kiss me I knew the answer could only ever be yes. I offered no resistance when you laid claim to my mouth with yours. I tilted my head to present you with more skin to mark when you traced your kisses across my jaw and down my throat. I whined in protest when my questing fingers were met with clothes and not bare skin. I learnt that night that every inch of you is perfect.

I mapped your scars like constellations, I kissed each and every one of them. You played dot to dot with the dusting of freckles across my shoulders. I let my fingers follow the contours of your muscles while you left your own marks on my chest and the insides of my thighs. You took your time doing it to, making sure I was breathless and writhing and so very, very hard before you used your tongue and your fingers to make me melt. The idea of any part of you inside of me felt like more than I could bear. I was already well on the way to being unravelled by the time you entered me properly, but that was what undid me entirely. Your name rolled from my tongue and passed my lips over and over again. It was hearing you say mine, whispered, reverent, so full of love that made me come. Convulsing and stuttering I gasped and tightened around you as I came and you followed suit soon after.

We woke up twined together as if we were made to fit like pieces of a puzzle. You had my heart from then until the moment it stopped beating, underground and in the dark. As last moments go they were some of the best, I hallucinated that you were there with me, leading me into whatever there is after life. I held your hand and followed you into the dark.

I'm ashamed of how long it took for me to find myself lying next to you again. And even when I did it was hardly under the best circumstances. You see, just as I don't always love you, I don't always like you either, and you hate me too. We spit and swear and scratch at each other. We trade blows just as often as insults. I hate you because you treat me like I'm a moron. You hate me because you think I am a moron. I hate you because you talk in riddles when you could just help. You hate me because I get to be the Hero even though you work just as hard as I do. I hate you because you're so Goddess damned pretty. You hate me because I'm the one Zelda loves.

I think mostly, you hate me because this is all my fault. I took the stones to the Temple of Time, I let him in. I hate myself for that too. I remember the first time we learnt that rage and passion are two halves of one whole. We were arguing, it seems like that was all we ever did during that cycle, you were supposed to be teaching my the bolero of fire but I wasn't in a fit state to enter the temple. You dragged me out of the volcano, took me somewhere safe and then bitched me out for getting hurt. Not in the way a concerned, worried friend would, but more like I was a fucking idiot for letting it happen.

We yelled at each other, all while your careful fingers bandaged me up, I can't help but think we were both idiots for not putting two and two together. I said fuck you and you stared straight at me and said go on and I, well, I just couldn't keep my hands off you. We bit each other just as much as we kissed. When I pulled your hair, you pressed your fingers into my wounds. I pretty sure I literally tore your clothes off but you didn't seem to mind, you were too busy getting me out of mine. I swear to the Goddesses, the sight of you, out of that sinfully tight suit of yours, lying in front of me with your legs spread is something I dearly wish I didn't have to forget.

I worked you open with split slick fingers, you mewled every time I added another. The noises you made when I put my cock in you were the stuff of wet dreams. After that it was over too quickly. You only stayed long enough to teach me the song once we were done, and then you didn't look at me the next time we met. We went right back to arguing, as if what had happened hadn't. I think that, after the heat of the moment had dissipated, maybe you regretted what we did, while I clung to it, carrying the memory with me like it was something precious. It was something precious.

Even though we pretended that we hadn't had sex you never started looking at me again. Not once did your eyes meet mine after that, I hated you all the more for it. I hated that you didn't see the way I looked at you. I hated that even though I didn't like you, I couldn't help but love you and I hated how how much it hurt. I was glad when we reached the end of that cycle to leave the awkwardness and bitterness behind and to forget all the ways you'd hurt me and that I had probably hurt you too. Except, after that, for while all I seemed to do was hurt you. Not that I was the only one causing pain. There were times you were so cold to me, so scathing and unpleasant, all I wanted was to be friends, that was it, nothing more. I tried to prove myself to you once, to show you I wasn't worthy of such distain. It didn't end well. We reset soon after. I don't like to look at those memories, I don't like to think that, maybe, it was your fault. After that I was the one that did something awful.

Your eyes were so full of hope when we met for the first time again. Most of the time you treat me to the full force of your air of mystery when we first meet. Occasionally you look sceptical, worried, afraid that I won't be able to do the things I need to, or maybe just bored, I can't quite tell. And then there are the rare occasions where you look at me like I am The Chosen One, Hero of Time, capital letters and all. You looked at me like that this time. I think I looked like I wanted to eat you.

I'm not proud of what I did to you, of how I used you. I wanted you, I wanted to have you and for you to belong to me, but I never intended on loving you. I was a shameless flirt, all lingering looks, 'accidental' touches, innocent words laced with filthy intent and all the subtlety of a shovel to the face. It worked though, I made you blush and stutter. I made you gasp when I whispered things I your ear. I did everything I could to make your heart race and we'd both be lying if we said I didn't succeed. The only thing is, I did that with everyone. In fact, I saved my sweetest words for someone else, but I got you to fall the hardest.

I'm so sorry, I'm so fucking sorry. I made you fall for me because I wanted to and because I could. 'Cause it seems that there's no rule that says the Good Guy has to be, well, a good guy. I was an utter bastard, and it's not the only time either. I mean, I saved the world and stuff, I did a damn good job of looking like the Hero, but I don't think you could actually call me that when I did the things I did to your heart and didn't feel an ounce of guilt about it.

I kissed you, I told you that you were beautiful and I took you to bed with me because I know you'd never say no. I knew because I'd made you want me. I ran my fingers through your hair while you shook underneath me. I told you every would be alright, that I'd take care of you and there was no need to be scared. I kissed you again to distract you while I peeled you out of your leathers. You couldn't look me in the eye once I'd gotten you naked so I distracted you again with more kisses, these once trailed down your chest and stomach and pelvis until I could take your stiffening dick in my mouth.

I heard you groan around the hand you were trying to stifle yourself with and smirked around you. I bobbed my head and sucked, taking as much of you as I could before pulling back to run my tongue over your head. I kept going until you could barely keep the gasps and moans in before I trailed my fingertips down the crease between your thigh and groin. My fingers stopped briefly to cup and fondle your balls before moving further down tracing the curve of your arse and finding the place I'd use to enter you. I ran my finger around the ring of muscle a few times before my mouth traversed the path my fingers had taken and my lips and tongue joined that gently probing finger.

I made sure you were good and wet and open and undone before I took my tongue and fingers out of you. I didn't waste a great deal of time before I got round to fucking you after that. I swear we moved in sweet synchronicity, your hips moving in tandem with mine. You gave me everything that night, and I took it all, but I'm not sure what I gave you in return. Once I'd gotten you to come, spilling over yourself with a broken moan, I let myself go. You became a frequent fuck after that, always a willing body to spend the night with, or a quiet afternoon, or whenever really. Except it was more than that to you. You did sweet things for me, little gestures and words of affection. You told me you loved me. I lied right back to you.

I held you the night before I fought Ganondorf. You took my face in your hands and made me promise I wouldn't die, that I'd come back to you. Shyly you told me that you'd thought of what we might do after the battle was over and Hyrule was safe. A house somewhere near the water, a lake or the sea you didn't mind, somewhere where we could finally spend some time in peace. We could live off of what we could grow and the animals we could raise, and make money selling what we didn't need or by doing odd jobs. It was so beautifully simple, you were asking for so little, just some land, and some peace and me, but just the idea of it all made you so happy. I am so ashamed of myself.

I did come back to you alive, but we never lived together the way you hoped we would. Instead, I pushed you aside when you came to congratulate me, and confessed my undying and everlasting love to the princess, to Zelda, right in front of you. Because who would choose a simple life with the man who loved them over the chance to be a prince? The answer is anyone in their right mind, anyone who was really in love and that had meant all the things they'd said. But I wasn't that person, I was cruel and self-serving, and I broke your heart, and I will be sorry for that until the day I die. I think it was you that reset us all that time, to make the pain stop and in the hope that next time things would be better.

I had to wait a few cycles for my chance to make things right, to atone for the things I'd done to you. In a lot of ways things were better, I was better, but that doesn't mean everything went well. You wooed me this time, and fuck me, did you sweep me off my feet. It was all in the way you cared, the way you understood me. You fixed me when I was hurt almost beyond repair. You held me when I cried. You laughed with me to chase the darkness away. You damn near killed yourself doing everything you could to help me. This time when we made plans to settle somewhere and just live after we'd done our duty I meant it. I wanted it too, and I wanted it so badly. I wanted you so badly.

I didn't hide how I felt, I wore my love like armour during the day and fed it, with passion, like a fire at night while your skin moved over mine. We gasped and keened into kisses, caught in ecstasy between the solid, unyielding earth beneath us and the ethereal expanse of star wrought sky above. But my world started and ended with you, and nothing felt more right than that. Which is why, it's no surprise that, when I found myself facing the rest of eternity without you, I fell apart.

I've lost you before, and you me, and, I can only speak for myself, coped with a variety of success. It doesn't make it any better though, it doesn't make it not hurt. It doesn't mean that watching you die is something I can bear. Because I can't. How could I when you carry my heart, all my hope, all the best bits of me with you? What am I without you? An empty hero with a broken heart doing his duty so that he may be done. And I did do my duty. I gathered your body from where it was left strewn by whatever came out of that well. I held you and rained salt water on your face. I begged for whatever deity who might hear me to give you back. I cried louder than any storm until I had no voice left to cry with.

Then, I dug your grave, and I washed the blood from your body so that it looked like you might just be sleeping. I buried you and sang your wake and I told you that I still loved you. I said your name over and over again so that world wouldn't forget. I told myself that I would spend one last night beside you, and I so nearly, oh so nearly, followed you. Because if I did then perhaps I would be with you again, or if not, if I wasn't granted that, my elysium, then at least it wouldn't hurt anymore. But I didn't, I had promised you I would end this so that we could have the life we wanted, and even though that wasn't possible anymore, a promise is a promise. I did my duty, as empty as I was, I did do my duty. I kept my promise. Then, and only then, did I go looking for you.

That's the last thing I can remember. Zelda must have taken us back, started the fall again, through time until we're back at the beginning. I can't help praying that this time, this time we'll get what we want. That we will bear our burden as best we can and finally find our peace, together, the way I have no doubt that we were always meant to be.


This is largely the result of me having fun with wibbly wobbly timey-wimey stuff (with a healthy added dose of angst and dicks) so apologies if the idea isn't as fleshed out or as well written as it could be. I hope you have enjoyed/will enjoy reading it as much as I have writing it.
Thanks, Freckles