she was,
to be frank,
a little jealous of him.
a little afraid that
the world would love him more than she knew how,
and that he'd
let it.
.
.
.
all she wanted
was to get her kingdom back.
he can't believe he once wanted
only to herd goats.
what she got was:
a dog who was also a hero
a princess in a tower
another world to save
he still remembers:
a shackle on his paw
her heels in his ribs
the taste of wet rat in his teeth
she wanted to hate him.
it was her fault his world was this way.
but hating him came harder
than she ever imagined.
he never thought she was ugly,
even though he wanted to, sometimes.
now it would almost be easier
to hate him.
he looks at her and he almost despises
how beautiful she looks to him.
she hates how afraid she gets
every time an enemy swings a sword.
he would die to keep her safe.
she sees him bleed,
and wishes only to destroy
everything that ever scared him.
fear is as nothing
compared to the way he feels
when he thinks of losing her.
looking at him, she realizes:
he is glorious, glowing
with all the light of the sun.
her skin speaks of the deepest shadows,
but her eyes are glowing coals
to fend off the worst of the dark in his heart.
loving him is forbidden.
when have they ever cared about rules?
loving him is crazy.
is it?
loving him is
all she is certain of,
these days.
if it weren't for her,
he would be lost
beyond all hope of saving.
but who could love an imp?
dogs are very loving, they say.
she is afraid:
keeps one eye hidden
under a mask.
when she was dying on his back,
he had never been more
terrified.
she cannot fight like this:
tiny fists, tiny feet,
hiding in a shadow.
her words in his ear,
sharp, impatient, worried,
make him pick up his sword
even when he is sure he cannot fight anymore.
what does she know of love,
anyway?
it is an easy language to learn:
a smile, sharp with laughter,
speaks a thousand words.
she wishes for hands
that are raw, beaten, blistered.
hers are too soft.
it embarrasses him to think
how much he would like
to kiss those hands.
she is not beautiful.
but neither is he.
she is small, misshapen, ugly.
he has dirt all over him:
feet, wrists, nose.
she hates the rain, the moon.
hatred does not make her ugly.
he marvels at her,
a tiny bundle of so much anger,
her eyes alight with fire.
these things she hates, but
she loves the sun
for the way it sings on his skin.
he loves to watch her when she is happy,
staring in awe at a flower
unfurling its petals in the morning light.
this world is an enigma.
he wonders what it is like
to live in the twilight.
but it is his world.
it belongs no more to him
than she does.
she is bound to love it,
as she loves him.
he loves her.
he can no longer deny it.
but there is a saying here.
she smiles at him from her true face
and there are no words left.
if you love something,
she glows in the desert sun
you let it go.
and she is gone.
.
.
.
she wanted so much to be selfish,
to let him take her in his arms,
to feel his hair against her cheek,
his fingers tangled in hers.
but she was not the same, selfish little imp
she once was.
standing there,
she looked at zelda and saw only
dots of light on her own skin.
looked at link and saw a frantic wolf
charging across a field to save her,
a boy with anguish in his eyes
when she warped him away,
to save him from ganondorf's wrath.
she looked out one last time
at the world of light she'd come to love
and knew love was the only option,
if she was going to save him again.
so she took a tear and let it go,
and looked only at him,
at him, right at him,
his picture burning into her mind,
so she'd never forget what he once was
to her.
and,
"see you later,"
she said
.
.
.
knowing full well
she never kept her promises.
.
.
.
A/N: They were cursed, not because he was a dog and she was an imp, but because they loved each other more than they could afford.
If only she had chosen differently... maybe then I'd stop writing Midlink angst.
But you and I both know that didn't happen, and never will.
.
Reviews are much appreciated!
Love,
godtierGrammarian