Part of the SILENT PRINCESS BLOOMING Series

MAGNETIC
Chapter 1: Anticipation

A/N: Hello everyone, I'm back! If you follow me on Tumblr, or pop in on occasion, you know why I've been away for a while. If not, well, the short of it is my life went kablooey and I've not had the time, energy, or focus to write. I'm hoping to get back on track a bit, as I've really missed it. Magnetic will be the first non-oneshot piece I've finished in a while, so... yaaaay.

And in case you were wondering, work on LIATOC part 3 is still ongoing. I'm hoping to be maybe start publishing by the end of June/early July? Probably July TBH. But I'll be worth the wait, I promise!

In the meantime, enjoy the next installment of the Silent Princess Blooming series! If you are coming to this story for the first time, please note that it is a lemon/smut series, and I strongly recommend you read the first installment, Anger Management, first! You can read this one on its own, but it's way better with context. I'll be updating this story once a week on Tuesdays. As usual, the version I've posted to FFnet is censored. Full versions on Tumblr (spicychestnut123) and AO3 (SpicyChestnut) if you're eager for the saucy bits. Details on my profile. Enjoy, and don't forget to leave me a comment! :3

Note: Minimal changes to this chapter to keep it somewhat more non-explicit. Not much, but enough that you might be interested in reading the full version on AO3 or Tumblr.

She was at the Castle Shrine, and it was late. Silvery moonlight pierced the glass dome ceiling arcing high above the cavern walls, reflecting off the still, ankle-deep water which surrounded the Goddess statue. She stood at the edge of the water's glassy surface, gazing up at the deity's weather worn face, her prayer dress glowing white against the shadows.

Though she often felt far from the Goddess during her prayers, she felt particularly distant this midnight, her mind lingering on thoughts which escaped her grasp. But, as every time before, she would go through the motions—enact the form even if the spirit was absent; such was the least of her duty.

With slow, careful footfalls she stepped off the path at the edge of the water, moving from raised stepping stone to raised stepping stone until she reached the dais at the base of the statue. She took a hesitant step closer, then returned her gaze to Goddess' supposedly benevolent eyes. Inwardly, she shook her head; she must cast off her doubts—at least try to believe. Lifting the front of her gown, she prepared to kneel when the sound of quiet footsteps behind her caught her ear, redirecting her attentions.

Turning quickly in surprise, she was startled to find Link standing directly behind her. She blinked rapidly, feeling her pulse spike at the suddenness of his appearance. What was he doing here? It was forbidden for her prayers to be interrupted, except under threat of death. She had left his company at the entrance to the shrine where he was to stand guard; how did he come to stand before her so quickly and without her notice?

Yet as she continued to stare in confusion, several oddities jumped out at her at once, and she suddenly realized—he was not dressed as he was usually dressed while in her company. His champion's tunic was missing, as were his leather harnesses and the Master Sword. He wore instead a simple tan linen shirt with decorative edging at the collar. But his clothing was not the only difference—so too was his gaze. Gone was the politely vacant stare he often reserved for duty at the castle. Instead, he eyed her figure up and down with hungry eyes, his posture tense and expression just a little bit wild.

She knew, whatever was going on, shouldn't be. None should look at her the way he was; it was highly inappropriate to describe it mildly—an offense otherwise worthy of a stint in the castle lockup. But despite what she knew to be socially expected of those in her company, and despite what she knew she herself should and should not desire—she felt her body flush, felt her core tense with arousal under the heat of his gaze.

"Link?" she breathed, "What are you—"

"Zelda…" his voice was low and rough and full of unspoken promise. She felt her heart leap to her throat. He took a step closer, and though her mind urged her to take a step back, she felt frozen to the spot, pinned beneath the intensity of his gaze.

"Link…?" she whispered breathlessly; yet before she could say or do more, he was upon her. Wrapping one hand behind her neck and the other around her waist, he slowly pulled her into him, his eyes never leaving hers. Her heart thundered, and she felt the warmth of his hand burn through the thin fabric of her prayer dress as he pulled her hips flush against his. Then, slowly, his icy blue eyes boring into her aquamarines, he lowered his face to hers, capturing her lips in a searing kiss.

Despite her shock she found herself melting against him, yielding, perhaps a little too readily, to the passion of his lips as they moved insistently against hers. Slowly he backed them both up until, dimly, she felt her bare shoulders press against the stone of the statue's base; but her mind was far too distracted to take much notice.

His nearness was overwhelming her senses, sending all reason and higher thinking fleeing into the night. The familiar smell of his woody cologne enveloped her, soothed her, his body warm and wanting—flush against hers. His breath ghosted over her cheeks as his lips crashed against her own, his arm tightening possessively around her waist, and her heart jumped in her chest at the motion. His fingers slowly trailed across her scalp, sending shivers down her spine and gooseflesh spreading over her skin. Her body felt set alight, a ferocious want awakening suddenly within her. She needed… more. Just… more—of him, his hands, his kiss; and just as she was about to vocalize this need, his hands began to move.

The hand at her waist traveled slowly over the fine fabric of her gown, along her hips and up her waist, and she felt her skin tingle even despite the barrier between them. As fingertips trailed tortuously over her breast, she gasped against him, and he used the opportunity to claim her mouth, sliding his tongue past her lips. He explored every inch he could reach, angling her head just so and diving deeper. Her body thrilled at the intrusion, a flush spreading across her chest and her limbs trembling under the fervor of his desire. Her hands fisted his shirt, and she began to feel helpless under the flood of her own.

Far too soon, his lips left hers, trailing along her jaw as he left behind burning kisses, his breath bathing her skin in warmth and eliciting another shiver. As he reached her ear, he licked slowly, teasingly, along her lobe. Then, he whispered lowly, and with the barest hint of a growl, "Mine…"

Brrrrriiiiiiiiinnnnnng!

Zelda jolted awake, her heart thundering as she forced herself upright, blinking around in confusion. She was… she was in her room? But the shrine… she took a steadying breath. It had all been a dream—just a dream.

It had all been so vivid. The feel of his imaginary hands still burned her skin; and lifting a hand to her mouth—she could almost feel his lips upon her own. She shut her eyes, grasping at the lingering fragments—but it was fading quickly, like water held between cupped hands. She shook her head, attempting to clear her mind before turning towards the source of the disturbance.

On her bedside table the alarm blared, the mechanical clock repeatedly ringing the small shrill bells attached to it and signaling the time to be 5:00 am—time for her to wake. She groaned, reaching over to still the shrieking device before pulling up her knees and leaning her head against them, taking stock of herself. She felt hot and agitated, her womanhood tingling with sensitivity. It was just a dream—it shouldn't have had such a potent effect on her body; but it had been like this every night, every night since… She felt her cheeks warm at the memory.

Ever since the night they had… lain together.

She really should be used to waking like this by now. She'd been plagued with dreams nightly… sometimes mere memories replaying in her mind, other times outright fantasies of things that could be. Though the first time it had happened she'd felt horrendously embarrassed, she rather quickly found a… private way, to deal with the dreams which had plagued her—even if it didn't quite sate her ultimate desire. It was probably how she would deal with her dream this morning, too. Turning her head to rest her other cheek upon her knees, she let out a soft sigh.

The real problem was that it was more than just her nights which had been plagued. During the day, she could barely look at him without remembering, without feeling the haunting phantom of his hands upon her skin or his body pressed against hers. It was as though something fierce and primal and all-consuming had awoken within her—and now she was at its mercy, every hour of her days.

It was this very thing that had spurred her to send him the book—and to hide within it a clandestine message. The next morning when she saw him, in the brief few minutes they had alone before the day began, she inquired as nonchalantly as she could if he had received her "thank-you" gift. She had wanted to confirm whether he'd found her hidden message or had simply glanced at the dedication she'd left as a diversion for straying eyes—and was prepared to subtly direct him to the appropriate chapter had he not.

And then, in response to her query, his normally stoic expression melted away for the briefest of moments, and a yearning, hungry stare took its place as he nodded, replying in a throaty but firm voice, "Yes."

She found herself weak at the knees, then, unable to turn away from his piercing gaze. But he had been merciful, and soon released her from his hold, turning away and gesturing down the hallway as he said with a surprising amount of composure, "Shall we?"

And now, the day was upon her. It was the night of the new moon—the night she would meet him once again at the tavern where all of this began. Her eyes grew distant as she lingered on this fact, her mind casting back to that fateful night—to his unrestrained passion, his wandering hands and skillful tongue… she shivered.

The agitation within her had not abated, nor had the sublime sensitivity of her core, and she doubted it would anytime soon. She glanced once more at the clock on her bedside table, biting her lip. If she were quick… there would be time.

She lay back on her bed, pushing down her sheets and pulling up her night gown until it pooled around her waist. Closing her eyes, she let her hand wander down past her hip bone and beneath her underwear. She released a breath and let her mind wander—and it led her exactly where she knew it would: to Link's hands spreading her thighs, his lips suckling upon her flesh…

She remembered his lips upon her neck, upon her breasts, his tongue trailing teasingly over her flesh… Tonight they would see each other again. What could come to be? Perhaps he would be forceful with her again, as he had on the side of the bed; whisper all the things he wanted to do to her—how he would bend her body to his will and her pleasure…

She cried out softly, arching her back. s"Link…!" she gasped out, eyes screwed shut as stars burst behind her eyelids.

She came down quickly—the satisfaction never seemed to last, not like it had with him. Still, she felt at least temporary relief as she swung her legs over the side of the bed, careful to keep her wet fingers from dirtying the comforter. She sighed, standing and making for her wash basin. She just had to get through the day. Then… she allowed herself a secret smile. Then… they could be simply Ravio and Hilda once again.

Link arrived, timely as usual, to her chambers by 6:00 am. She was dressed in her prayer gown, shivering faintly in the cool morning air as she stepped into the hall beyond her chamber door. She greeted him where he stood in rigid posture outside her door with a friendly, polite nod as she made her way down the hall and into the bowels of the castle. Though inwardly she was now, and had been all week, an absolute mess around him since their night at the Fang and Bone, to the outside observer it seemed as if nothing between them had changed; and that was how she intended it. None could know about their… affair, if one could call it that, and she would not leave a single clue for curious minds to mull over if she could help it. It had, however, made her days all that much more difficult.

Her first day back at the castle after their night together, still suffering under her lingering hangover and severely sleep-deprived, had been an absolute hell. With every step she took she could feel the sweet ache between her legs—a constant reminder of the glorious heights he had brought her to, but also, unfortunately, a strain on her ability to walk with the grace and posture expected of the Princess of Hyrule. Every time she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye she could feel her heart beat a little faster, feel goosebumps erupt across her skin as she vividly remembered the ghosting of his hands over her body. It was strange… seeing him in his champions tunic, knowing they both were firmly returned to the restrictive confines of their respective duties—juxtaposed in her mind against their night of wild liberation, it had felt almost dirty seeing him so… so normal.

But she had endured. It had been an excruciatingly long week of training, of forcing herself to focus on study and prayer (or at least pretend to focus when she couldn't actually focus) while he stood right there—always just right there, taunting her with how close and yet utterly unattainable he was. But today was the last grueling day she had to get through before she could see him—be with him—once again.

She lifted her head, gazing briefly up at the weather worn face of the Goddess statue, repressing a frustrated groan. Her dream certainly hadn't been much of a boon to her focus this morning. Now being here in the shrine with him, she couldn't help but remember the way he had pressed her up against the stone, devouring her, their breaths hot and heavy and mingling between them.

Attempting to calm her breathing—and her heart, she lowered her head once more, abruptly forcing her mind back to the minutiae of prayer. It wouldn't do to have the priests of Hylia, who circled the periphery of the castle shrine like hawks observing prey—likely at the request of her father—to notice her distraction. Inwardly, though, she couldn't deny: she hadn't really been able to focus on her prayers all week; not now during her sunrise devotionals, nor during her sunset prayers.

It was said that the Goddess' lingering essence in the land could be most keenly felt as the day dawned and set, and so for the next several weeks as she awaited Din's day in mid-summer, she was to be training rigorously under the watchful eye of her father at the castle: sunrise and sunset devotionals every day, with extensive study on the Goddess and the ancient holy texts in between. Then, she would travel to the Spring of Power to offer prayer on Din's day—the day that Din created the land. It wasn't the most ideal of situations. She dreaded being stuck at the castle for any length of time when she could be out exploring her kingdom or doing research with the Sheikah at the Royal Ancient Tech Lab; but it did, at least, give her something else to focus on instead of Link.

But she, it seemed, wasn't the only one distracted. She had caught him stealing glances at her throughout the day, subtle though he tried to be. No one else would likely have noticed, but she knew—could feel his gaze burn into her back whenever watchful eyes were turned away. She had tried to ignore it, to pretend she didn't notice. But as they departed for the library that afternoon, she accidentally caught his eye as he was stealing one of those secretive glances; and as their gazes locked, she felt something pass between them—an electric current that sent a jolt through her and set her heart a-flutter. She had looked away quickly, feeling her cheeks heat and continued on as though nothing had happened. But she knew—he was thinking about tonight as well.

By early evening she once more found herself before the castle shrine, head bowed and mind wandering to places it should not be in such a holy place. Outside the sky was darkening, and so with relief she quickly said her final prayer, forcing herself to focus for at least that long before turning and heading back across the water to the path where Link was waiting. He stood as he usually stood, Master Sword point-down on the dirt, turned away from the shrine to offer her privacy—though at this point the prospect of privacy between them was an odd concept to consider.

As she approached, he turned. She tried not to look at him, tried to avert her eyes lest her inner thoughts show upon her face; but as she stepped onto the dirt path, she stumbled, reaching out blindly for a handhold only to find herself reaching for his extended palm. As their hands met so too did their eyes—and her heart leapt into her throat. She felt that same electric current pass between them, and for a moment she felt glued to the spot, her feet stilling as her heart thundered in her chest. But after a moment Link released her, turned away, clearing his throat as he gestured down the path. She released a slow, heavy breath, grateful for his self-control before continuing on towards the spiral staircase. She still had to return to her chamber and change for dinner so as to join her father in the dining hall with all the courtiers and nobles and council members.

But after that… the night was hers.

Zelda stood before her opened wardrobe, still-damp newly-darkened locks cascading freely down the back of her robe. Earlier in the week she had taken the opportunity of an afternoon off to concoct a large batch of hair dye and had stowed It away in her study—in the hidden chamber at the back of one of her cabinets she had built many years ago to hide her private diaries. It was a simple powderized mixture of dried ironshroom and razorshroom caps, swift violet petals, and ground bokoblin horn. She need only mix it thoroughly into a bowl of chu-chu jelly and let it sit in her hair for ten minutes before washing it out—a task she had just completed; and voila: Zelda was gone, and Hilda stood in her place.

Shaking her hair to encourage a speedier drying, she gazed in consternation at the array of dresses before her. She wanted to look… better, this time. Last time she'd merely been trying to pass for an average commoner, and hadn't put much thought into… well, into sex appeal. Now, though… now she wanted to look attractive—or at least a little more so than she had before. But she couldn't go overboard—she still had to look like a nobody. Which left her with a very vexing problem: how did you dress to impress while still looking like a nobody?

She turned away, biting her lip as she glanced at the clock on her bedside table. 8:50pm. She didn't have much longer to contemplate the issue before she needed to leave. Turning back to her wardrobe, she quickly slid each dress and slip and gown along the bar, eying every one with a disinterested eye. As she came to the row of ball gown slips, she stopped her shuffling halfway through, pausing on a simple creme colored linen gown with short off-the-shoulder sleeves. Fingering the material, she began to smile. This would do nicely. Pulling the gown from its hanger she tossed it onto the bed before crossing the room to her dresser.

She already knew what undergarments she wanted to wear—a simple white cotton set with lace detailing she'd purchased from the same Gerudo Town vendor many months ago. The set had been both extraordinarily comfortable and very pretty, and it had been that very product satisfaction which had prompted her to return and purchase the pink bustier set Link had enjoyed so much. It wasn't quite as head-turning, but it had its own quiet elegance to it. And perhaps… hm. She closed the drawer from which she had pulled out the undergarments, and opened the one next to it. Rifling around with her free hand, she grinned in triumph as she easily located the object of her search: a set of white, sheer, thigh-high stockings. These would spice up the simple set nicely.

Grabbing her gathered garments, she retreated behind her dressing screen and quickly changed, then hurried to her mirror. She glanced up and down at herself, smiling as she turned from side to side. Though she still looked like any ordinary girl, there was just a little bit more… allure, about her. The gown was plain but form-fitting, flaring at her hips and accentuating the narrowness of her waist. There was a slit at the center of the neckline tied together by a small cord which gave a fleeting glimpse at the creamy expanse of breast just out of view. The maroon sash at her hip gave the plain dress just a little more interest, and she grinned at the overall effect.

Returning briefly to her dresser, she retrieved a small hair tie and began a loose braid over her left shoulder. Since she seemed to have lost her pins last time, a simpler hairdo would have to suffice. Tying off the braid, she quickly donned a pair of simple leather slippers, then glanced once more towards the clock beside her bed. The time read 9:05pm—time to get going. Grabbing her dark cloak off the back of her desk chair, she threw it over herself and headed for the spiral staircase.

As she reached her second floor landing, gaze turning toward the door, the reality of what she was about to do suddenly hit her squarely in the chest—and for the first time since she sent Link that message hidden in a book, she felt nervousness begin to creep up on her. What if… what if he didn't show? What if he changed his mind and didn't want this anymore? Did she really want this? Was she acting rashly?

She took a steadying breath. No—she wanted this. She knew she wanted this—her dreams of late were more than enough proof. She was just nervous—she'd never done anything like this before, after all. Up until now she had led a straight-laced life of rule following and propriety and… well, boredom. Swallowing down her nerves, she cracked open the door leading to her study. She first had to make it to the Fang and Bone—then she could debate the wisdom of her choice. Glancing left and right, she crept out and shut the door firmly behind her.