A/N: This story was inspired by the amazing and beautiful art of HollyFig (whom you can find on Twitter and Tumblr if you don't already know who she is). I would link them if I could, but since I cannot, here are their loose titles: "And a Song Someone Sings", "The Champions Ball", "Curly Zelda". I do have them linked at the top of the posting for this story on AO3 and Tumblr, and I would encourage you to go check them out! Enjoy the fic, and don't forget to leave a review!

I encourage you to go check out her work because it is just fantastic! Enjoy the fic, and don't forget to leave a review!

Link eyed his reflection with a slight frown, leaning closer to the mirror above his dresser as he tucked a stray strand of hair beneath his cap. He had never particularly liked his royal guard uniform for this very reason. He didn't like hats generally, but this cap was a particular bother; he found his bangs consistently coming loose, and it never felt quite settled atop his head. It was one of the reasons he appreciated his uniform as champion: it was hat-free.

Finally securing the stubborn strand he leaned back, taking in his appearance. Collar buttoned, gloves pulled taut, belt straight and secure… he was ready. Whether the Princess was… well, that was to be determined.

She had dismissed him at twelve in the afternoon to begin preparing. Noon! The Midsummer Solstice ball didn't even begin until almost sunset. What on earth could she be doing that would require over six hours of prep time?

He was certainly aware of the oft-mocked stereotype that women always seemed to need a good deal more time to prepare for such events (though he wasn't exactly clear what it was they might do so differently that would require so much more time), but he'd never given it too much credence. The only time he'd ever witnessed anything of the sort had been a number of years ago when his younger sister became old enough to attend the village apple blossom festival. She had taken a good two hours to "beautify" herself, as she so eloquently put it; and certainly she had looked very pretty when he escorted her down to the Hateno Village square later that night. And though two hours seemed a bit excessive—he, after all, had taken a mere half hour, shower included—he could understand her desire to look her best for such a special night.

But six hours? Link couldn't fathom it.

Absently he glanced to the clock—6:45pm. She had instructed him to return to her chamber around 7:00pm to resume his duties; it was about time to get going.

He reached for the Master sword lying atop his dresser, securing it nimbly to his back before turning for the door of his private chamber. As he exited his room and entered the common area of the southern wing guards' station, many of the other soldiers turned to greet him. A few waved lazily from where they lounged upon the worn leather sofas, and others turned from a game of blackjack taking place at the table to offer brief acknowledgment. Like him, most were already dressed in their royal guard uniforms and ready to begin the evening's duties.

As he passed by the back of the sofa, Albrecht—one of the younger soldiers with whom he was friendly, turned and smiled.

"Heading off, Link?"

Link paused behind the sofa, nodding.

"You're a lucky man, Link!" shouted one of the veterans from across the room, a raven-haired man in his late thirties by the name of Soren. "You'll be the first to see the Princess in all her finery, fresh and at her most beautiful."

Link turned, eying the man thoughtfully. He rather expected so—she had spent six hours preparing, after all. Doing what, though, he wasn't quite sure. Although… He chewed the inside of his cheek briefly before deciding to ask the question burning in his mind. Soren had been a part of Zelda's personal guard for years, and before that, her mother's—perhaps the older man would know.

"She dismissed me at noon to get ready. You've been through a dozen or more Midsummer Solstice balls—what on earth could take six hours? Surely there is only so much jewelry her handmaids can drape upon her."

Though some of the newer men's eyes popped at mention of the outrageous number of hours the Princess had been sequestered within her chambers, Soren and the other veterans merely chuckled. Rising from his seat in a nearby armchair, he clapped Link on the shoulder.

"This is your first royal ball, is it not?"

Link nodded.

"Well… you'll find out shortly. Trust me—its worth waiting for."

With a friendly smile he nudged Link in the shoulder towards the door. He eyed the older man curiously only a moment before deciding to simply take him at his word. With a nod to the men in the room he departed, making his way down the hall to her chamber.

He arrived timely at 6:59pm. With a quick, firm knock he rapped upon the door—and her voice called to him swiftly in response.

"Just a moment, Link!"

She sounded distracted. Could she truly STILL be getting ready?

He stood patiently outside her door, but to his relief it didn't take long before the hinges squeaked and the door creaked inward. However it was not Zelda who greeted him, but instead a veritable army of handmaids, each bowing politely as they departed the chamber one after the other. When finally the last maid exited the room but the Princess did not appear, he called for her uncertainly from the threshold.

"… Princess?"

"Yes, sorry, come in, Link!"

With a slightly furrowed brow Link entered, shutting the door quietly behind him. He walked into the center of her room, and as his eyes swept her chamber they fell upon her, just as she was turning from her vanity mirror.

His jaw almost, very nearly dropped at the sight which greeted him.

Gone were the long, straight locks he was so familiar with. Instead, voluminous curls framed her face, large and loose yet elegant and neat, cascading over her shoulders and shining like gold in the amber evening light. Long, dark lashes curled with subtly suggestive intent, drawing emphasis to her sparkling, turquoise eyes. Her cheeks looked delicately flushed—or perhaps that was merely the work of rouge; and her lips were dark—an enchanting shade of light plum, curved at the edges with her smile—such a beautiful smile, with lips so full and lovely and pursed just so, and… and perhaps… he had been staring at her lips just a bit too long.

She sat upon her vanity stool, swiveled to face where he stood by her sofa, head tilted in greeting

"I'm sorry, the curls took a tad longer than expected. What do you think?"

She gestured to her hair, lifting a gloved hand as she gently pushed the curls back behind one shoulder.

Her shoulders… his eyes were suddenly drawn to what her hair had so effectively hidden: both of her shoulders were bare. Two thin, delicately beaded straps draped across each arm, connected to the edge of an elaborately beaded cross-rouched sweetheart bodice—a bodice which provided a hint of lift, creating just enough cleavage for her teardrop diamond pendant necklace to rest between.

He had seen this much, if not more, of her skin before—many a time when she had prayed at the castle shrine and at holy sites around Hyrule, wearing the traditional prayer gown; and it had never much drawn his eye, nor his attention.

But this… this was different. Somehow, this was very, distinctly… not the same.

It was as though now, her skin were on display; smooth, soft, inviting flesh—decorated and accentuated, leading one's imagination lovingly by the hand to… highly inappropriate places.

Link blinked rapidly, feeling his heart pound unsteadily in his chest as he struggled to remain focused.

"…Link?"

Her brow furrowed just slightly as she watched him, awaiting an answer. Link quickly forced himself to speak.

"You look… lovely," he managed to rasp, hand tightening to a fist behind his back as he struggled to regain his composure.

She smiled.

"You don't think it's too much? I usually keep it simple, but Viera was insistent about changing it up this year, and I didn't have any particular objection…"

She looked down at her lap, gently smoothing her voluminous silk skirt with gloved hands, a delicate diamond bracelet clasped loosely around her wrist dragging along the material. When she glanced back up, Link vigorously shook his head, not trusting himself to speak.

Her smiled broadened as she stood. "I'm glad. I rather thought she did a wonderful job." Briefly she paused to secure her diadem before murmuring a quiet "Shall we?" and turning for the door.

As she walked across the room he turned to follow; and his heart nearly stopped at the sight before him. Now that he stood behind her, he could see that which he couldn't while she'd been seated at her vanity—her back. The bodice of her gown swooped low, and with the curls shortening the length of her hair, the smooth, inviting flesh was quite clear to his view. And with each step her hips—accented by the hourglass shape of her bodice, noticeably swayed, shifting the skirt of her gown back and forth with a soft swish.

Oh dear GODS…

He took a very deep, very shaky breath before collecting what little of his wits he had left to follow behind her.

-:-:-:-:-

The ballroom was lavishly decorated in rich velvet banners and elaborate flower arrangements, crystal chandeliers glittering from the towering cross-vaulted ceiling. But Link had a rather difficult time paying any attention to the decorations.

He had never been more grateful nor more disappointed to part from her than he had been at the top of the ballroom balcony stairs. He watched, transfixed, as she descended, making her formal entrance with the King before he reluctantly turned for the servant's entrance leading down to the ballroom floor. Once safely inside the short passage Link leaned heavily against the wall, taking a steadying breath.

What had happened? In the span of an hour he had become like a quivering adolescent boy fawning over the village beauty. He had been assigned to her guard for almost six months. After their rocky start they'd become quite friendly and comfortable around one another; he'd seen her in her prayer gown countless times—had seen her bare shoulders and ankles and calves before. They'd bandaged each other up, slept beside each other on the road… they were, by all accounts, quite familiar with one another.

So why, now, was he being overwhelmed by all these… feelings? Why had he been unable to tear his eyes from her since the moment they fell upon her figure seated at her vanity table?

"Link? You alright, buddy?"

Link quickly straightened, turning his head with a start towards the speaker only to find Albrecht walking up behind him. He hadn't even noticed him enter the passageway. Schooling his expression and clearing his throat he offered a nod of greeting and a simple but clipped, "Yes, fine." Albrecht gave him a quick once-over before shrugging, gesturing towards the end of the hall.

"Ready to go?"

Attempting to clear his head Link let out a quiet breath, gathering his courage and turning to follow the other soldier out into the grand ballroom.

They parted ways shortly after exiting the passage—the other being assigned a patrol duty out in the gardens beneath the ballroom's outdoor balcony. As Zelda's personal knight-attendant, he took up position next to the King's guard at the head of the ballroom, where their position afforded a clear view of their charges at all times.

It was both a relief to be separated from her, and a silent torture to track her movements through the ballroom. She greeted the nobility with the polite, formal smile he was quite familiar with from their time at court; but with elegant curls framing her face and a stunning ball gown hugging her figure, every gesture and movement seemed to contain some hitherto unexpressed elegance and charm. He watched raptly as her full, plum lips graced the rim of her champagne glass as she sipped slowly on the effervescent beverage; and when she began her first dance, dipping and swaying and spinning, her bare back arching just so, he had to bite the inside of his cheek hard to make the uncomfortable tightness in his pants go away.

Over an hour passed in this fashion, with him standing resolutely and rigidly still at his post, waging a silent internal war for his self control as he watched her dance and drink and socialize. After an hour and a half of disciplined effort he felt he was, perhaps, finally starting to get the hang of it—of how to observe her without actually looking—so he wouldn't notice the way the bodice of her dress accentuated the rise of her bosom and narrowness of her waist, or the way her skirt swayed seductively with the roll of her hips when she moved. He felt that maybe he could make it through this ball alive after all, if he could just… keep this distance.

But that hope was short-lived. Two hours in—with yet another two hours to go—he noticed a group of excitable courtiers with reddened cheeks and drinks in hand slowly shepherding her closer and closer towards him. His heart began to quicken and he reluctantly focused his gaze upon her quickly nearing figure, noticing the light flush to her cheeks as she politely, if awkwardly, attempted to decline whatever the courtiers were speaking so insistently about. As they came into earshot, he soon learned what polite argument was being had, and his heart leapt into his throat.

"It would be just charming, Princess!"

"Oh, and wouldn't the Goddess smile upon us as her chosen shared a dance on this most auspicious night!"

"Oh, that's—I'm sure he has more important—" she stuttered, before being quickly interrupted.

"Just one, Princess, it is the poor boy's first ball, after all!"

Before he had managed to calm the butterflies in his stomach she stood before him, resplendent in her gown—flushed of face and a tad embarrassed as the courtiers continued to croon.

"Oh Princess, just look at that posture! The lad needs to loosen up—this is a celebration, after all!"

Link felt his face heat, as well as the amused side-long glance of the King's personal guard fall upon him. When it became clear there was no escaping the conversation, he finally let his gaze rise to the Princess's own, ready to reassure her and the cadre of courtiers that he was quite content at his post; but when his eyes met with hers, accentuated with just a touch of kohl, he felt any words die on his tongue.

As one of the courtiers gave the Princess a gentle nudge she finally relented, offering him an apologetic smile as she curtsied before him.

"Master Link, would you care to share a dance?"

The butterflies once more fluttered madly in his stomach, but he forced himself to respond as neutrally as he could.

"Of course, Princess."

With effort he bowed and stepped forward, offering her his hand as he steeled his nerves. She took it gently, resting her gloved palm atop his—thank the Goddess for that at least—and turned to lead her out onto the dance floor. He pointedly ignored the excited crowing of the drunken courtiers they'd left behind.

As they reached the edge of the dance floor Zelda turned to him, taking up position. One arm elegantly rose to rest her hand upon his shoulder, while she brought their joined hands shoulder-height between them. Link felt his heart begin to pound as he wrapped his free hand around her low back, feeling the warmth of her skin even through his glove.

She turned her gaze to him, cheeks still pink with embarrassment as she murmured, "I'm sorry. The courtiers tend to get a bit… carried away with themselves at these kinds of affairs."

This close, Link could smell the faint aroma of her perfume wafting from her neck—sweet and flowery; honeysuckle—or orange blossom, perhaps? Like some potent drug it muddled his senses, and he found his mind once more drifting to those highly inappropriate places.

"Don't worry it's—a dance with you is… far from a burden."

She smiled, dark lashes fluttering as she replied, "Well that is… quite sweet, actually. Thank you."

Link felt his cheeks heat, not having intended on being quite so honest. He forced his ear to the music, using every ounce of effort and restraint to ignore the pull of the beautiful woman in his arms as he counted out the rhythm of the waltz in his head; and at the start of the next beat he turned into the line of dance, pulling her along with him.

As he fell into the rhythm of the violins and cellos his muscle memory took over, the movements becoming less of a conscious effort. And it was good too, for he quickly found himself unable to ignore the effect she was having on him. As they glided across the parquet floor she gazed at him with a sort of quiet intensity, eyes sparkling beneath her dark lashes; and likewise he found himself transfixed. Though nothing between them was spoken, volumes seemed to be shared between their eyes.

So slowly he didn't notice their bodies grew closer, inches between them lost after every spin. He could almost feel the warmth radiating from her, the sweet scent of her perfume intoxicating his senses as something heady and electric built in the air between them. More than once he found his eyes drifting down to her lips before he forced his gaze back to her eyes—only to become lost in a sea of stunning green, ensnaring and entrancing.

As the final triumphant notes of the waltz rang out, he was seized by a sudden boldness; and he dipped her, her back arching swan-like against his hand and her lips falling open in a small 'o' as her eyes widened in surprise. He met her gaze only briefly, his eyes drifting of their own accord—south once more, to her lips, feeling the irresistible urge to lean in and find out what they tasted like; and he may well have, had the polite clapping of the guests applauding the end of the musicians' set not brought him crashing back to reality. With a start he quickly pulled them both upright, clearing his throat as he released her, taking several steps back to offer a rigid bow.

"Thank you for the dance, Princess."

His voice was tight and he kept his face pointed firmly at the parquet floor as he attempted to shake himself of the trance he had unwittingly fallen into. It was several moments before she responded.

"Thank you as well, Link."

She curtsied in reply, and as he rose he noticed her reach for her fan, opening it and fanning her flushed face with delicate vigor, eyes distracted despite the smile upon her lips.

"I… think I would rather like some air. Would you mind accompanying me outside?"

She turned before he could answer—not that she was really asking him a question; given that he was her personal guard he would be required to accompany her regardless.

He had rather been relying on parting from her to clear his head—but it seemed the Goddess was not on his side, tonight. Perhaps the cool evening air might provide the same benefit as distance; or at least, he sincerely hoped it would since he didn't have any alternative. And so once more, he steeled himself to her company. He would simply have to hold it together until he could reach the evening air's rejuvenating embrace.

He followed behind her swaying figure, hand tightened in a fist at his side as he struggled not to let his eyes drift south of her waist, lest he be accused of bestowing upon the Princess a salacious gaze (which… was exactly what his traitorous eyes were attempting). As they passed through the large archway leading to the outdoor balcony he felt a modicum of relief as the cooler outdoor air hit his face.

The balcony was heavily occupied with other courtiers and couples likewise enjoying the evening breeze; and as they stepped out onto the smooth stonework, Zelda's eyes did a quick, critical sweep before she made a decisive turn for the stairs leading down to the gardens below. She remained unusually quiet as they reached the ground level, continuing to gently fan herself, her free hand lifting her dress off the ground as she navigated the manicured path through the rose garden. Fountains burbled quietly, the sound harmonizing with the crackle of lit braziers spaced evenly along the cobblestone pathway. She put quite a distance between herself and the ballroom, only slowing as she reached a willow just off the main path overhanging a small pond. She came to a standstill beneath its long vine-like branches swaying imperceptibly in the slight breeze, her gaze faraway as she looked out across the water.

"I think perhaps… a bit too much dancing and champagne," she laughed softly as she turned to him, her eyes and the beaded bodice of her gown sparkling like diamonds in the rising moonlight reflected off the pond's still waters. His breath caught. "I find myself rather a bit too warm, though the evening air is helping." She eyed him with a smile, tilting her head just so and causing the curls to shift and slide off her shoulder as she inquired, "What do you think of the Midsummer Solstice ball? You have never attended one before, correct?"

Link shook his head, once more unwilling to trust his tongue. When he did not speak further, however, she prompted him.

"And what are your thoughts?"

"It is… nice, to see the Kingdom celebrating," he managed quietly.

She nodded in agreement. "It is. And the planner did a wonderful job with the decorations this year—they look lovely." She offered him a small smile before turning her gaze back to the water thoughtfully, watching the fireflies as they began to dance upon the opposite shore.

Lovely…

Silence fell between them as she contemplated the scene, absently folding her fan; but after a while she abruptly turned, gaze lingering upon him as she bit her lip lightly, eyes sweeping over his figure. He felt himself go just a little bit weak at the knees.

"It is… nice to see you in this uniform again. I've always thought…" she blushed. "Well, I've always thought you looked rather handsome in it."

Link felt his heart skip several beats, blinking rapidly as he questioned whether he had heard her correctly. But at his silence her blush deepened and she turned, surreptitiously smoothing out her skirt in embarrassment.

"I'm sorry, that was… inappropriate. I didn't mean… never mind. I… I should probably return to the ball…"

She lifted her skirt and quickly turned toward the castle; but in her haste she did not see the tree root sticking up out of the earth by her feet. With a sudden gasp she tripped, falling forward; but Link moved quickly, catching her before she could hit the earth. His arms wrapped securely around her bare shoulders, her gloved hands pressed against his chest for support. She lifted her head to meet his gaze, eyes wide and cheeks peppered pink. The sweet smell of her perfume once more washed over him, effectively muddling his better sense; and as she blinked at him in surprise, dark lashes fluttering, the words left his mouth before he could register the foolishness of them.

"Thank you," he murmured sincerely, "You look… You look so beautiful."

He uttered the last word in a low timbre, unable to hide the barren want which laced his voice. Her cheeks turned scarlet, but despite the suggestiveness of his tone she did not turn from him. His heart was pounding as he held her gaze, feeling something stir within him at the sight of her dark blush and feel of her body so close against his own. Just as during their dance he felt something potent and heady build between them; and soon he found his eyes once more wandering down to her lips, still parted slightly in her surprise. In a moment of thoughtless selfishness—lured by the call of his own desire, he leaned forward, her breath catching and eyes widening further as his face neared. Slowly he slid his hand over the smooth skin of her shoulder, up her neck to her cheek, gently pulling her closer before capturing her lips in a kiss.

She was soft—so soft, the press of their lips gentle and infinitely sweet. For a brief moment the world around them disappeared, and he savored the feel and taste of her. Yet despite the want growing within him, he was unwilling to steal more than a simple, chaste kiss. As he slowly, reluctantly pulled away, however, she followed after, pressing her lips to his once more.

Her action caught him by surprise and it took a moment for his sluggish brain to catch up; but once it did he found insurmountable difficulty restraining himself to his earlier commitment to chastity. He moved his lips gently but fervently against hers, thumb brushing her cheek as her long, dark lashes fluttered shut. The hand still wrapped around her shoulder moved lower to her waist, pulling her closer until she was flush against him. He angled her head to deepen the kiss, his lips moving more boldly—and she met his urgency in kind. Her still hands slid up his chest, wrapping around his neck to pull herself closer; and he felt a fire erupt within him. He let his his hand roam up and down her bare back, reveling in her every dip and curve as the hand at her cheek moved to tangle in her hair, brushing gently along her scalp and eliciting from her a shuddering sigh.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew—there would be consequences to this. But at the moment, nothing but the moment seemed to matter. Thoughts of anything other than her soft lips, the smell of her perfume, and the sound of her breathy sighs were so very, very far away. In the heat of mid-summer beneath a moonlit willow, a heat of an altogether different kind was smoldering.

And now that the fire had been lit, there would be no stopping it.