notes 1: I don't really like how this turned out? I just...don't. It went through, like, three drafts before I gave up and decided to post it.

notes 2: I have no intention of writing Princess Zelda as a damsel in distress. None whatsoever.

notes 3: so...reviews? *heavily suggestive eyebrow wiggling*

disclaimer: yeah, not mine.

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Zelda dipped the cloth in the bucket of water once again, watching as the blood on her hands dissipated into the liquid in red wisps. The late afternoon sun sent rays of orange through the sickroom's window; they dappled the carpet and gave her enough light to work by. Her gaze shifted to the object lying on the nightstand—the arrow Malon had placed in her hands the previous night. She glared at the tip, coated with a vibrant green liquid that none of her apothecaries had been able to identify. It was this poison that had caused Link so much torment.

He stirred under the blankets, his sleep restless and breathing labored. Death was no longer a threat to him—it rarely ever was—but the poison wracking his body kept him unconscious. There was a broken wrist, a heavily bruised leg, claw marks running down his side, and a bite mark on his shoulder. Then there was the arrow wound. Zelda thanked the Goddesses for Malon; if the farm girl hadn't removed the arrow when she did, infection surely would have set in.

She brought the damp cloth to Link's arm, cleaning his bloodstained skin without jostling his injuries. Impa had woken her late in the night as they brought him in, saying that Malon and her father had rushed to the castle with Link in a wagon, his life dangling by a thread. He had been covered in blood—his own blood, but also the green and yellow blood of monsters. For hours, Link had struggled through delirium and pain, thrashing and screaming on the bed until he finally slipped into a deep sleep. Even now, after his wounds were stitched shut and bandaged, he tossed his head from side to side, mumbling incoherently.

What had happened to him? Malon had said he rode into the ranch barely conscious; even Epona had been injured. It was not at all the first time Zelda had seen him hurt, but never this badly before, and he had certainly never allowed his beloved horse to get injured. She had not left her spot on this stool at his bedside since the healers allowed her in to see him.

Her thoughts screeched to a halt when she heard the change in Link's breathing. He turned his head to the side, his brow furrowing and his breath hitching as he registered the pain. A groan slipped through his clenched teeth. Zelda dropped the cloth immediately and took his hand in hers, brushing back the hair in his eyes.

"Link?" she encouraged, hope tight and searing in her throat. "I'm here."

His eyes opened slowly. He blinked against the light, glancing around the room before his gaze fell on her face. "Princess," he breathed, voice hoarse and barely above a whisper. "You're…a beautiful sight to wake up to."

Tears came; Zelda blinked them back. "I would hit you if you weren't an infirm," she said crossly, but her voice was heavy. "I was worried." Link chuckled, then winced. She noticed.

"Are you hurting a lot?" she asked. Chills ran up her spine as his screams before they had subdued him echoed in her ears. She knew he would be in pain, but Link had always concealed both physical and emotional traumas; it was hard to tell how ill he truly felt. "The healers gave you something a few hours ago, but I can call them back if you need more."

His eyes fell shut. The longer he was awake, the more prominent it became—the same burning sensation that had tormented him before, though it was not as severe yet. He tried to breathe through it, but even speaking seemed like a challenge. There were few things Link hated more than appearing weak.

"Link?" she prompted softly.

He was silent. She sighed.

"I know you don't like showing pain to others," Zelda murmured, smoothing a gentle hand over his hair. "There is nothing to be ashamed of, Link. Just tell me how you're feeling."

He grimaced and opened his eyes; there had never been any point in trying to lie to Zelda. "It…feels like my blood is on fire," he admitted finally, speaking in halting, strained sentences. "I—I think that poison is still in my system."

Zelda pressed her lips together in sympathy, but she didn't let the feeling reach her expression. She knew how much he despised pity. She stood and left the room temporarily to send for one of the healers, who she had sent to get some rest.

"Where's Epona?" Link asked worriedly when she sat back down.

"She's back at Lon Lon Ranch," Zelda reassured, reaching for a glass of water and helping him lift his head to drink it. "Malon sent us a messenger this afternoon. Epona is fine; the poison didn't seem to affect her. It will be a while before you can ride, but she will heal just as you will."

Link let out a relieved sigh. There was silence for a moment. "What happened?" she inquired hesitantly.

He bit his lip and looked away, then parted his lips to speak. "I...was in Kokiri Forest," he began slowly. "I went to—to a cave, and—" he stopped, his face twisted in anguish, his breaths coming quickly. The pain was getting worse, so much worse; like molten lava simmering in his veins. "S-sorry—"

"Don't tell me now," Zelda interrupted gently, her heart clenched tight in her chest—deep sorrow for him, unadulterated rage towards the ones who did this. She took Link's hand in both of hers to anchor him; his fingernails dug into her palms unconsciously. She didn't mind. It was only a fraction of what he had to be feeling. "We can wait for the potion to get here. And don't apologize, either. You have nothing to be sorry for."

She talked to him while they waited. She talked about irrelevant things, unimportant things, but it seemed to give him something to focus on other than how much he was hurting. It had been too long since the two of them had spent time together. Link rarely stayed in one place for long—she knew that traveling had become ingrained into his soul during his quest to save the world, and that had never gone away—but he had been gone for an especially long period this time. Zelda had never desired to tie him down; she knew that he sometimes looked at her and saw another Zelda from another time, but that didn't stop her from counting (it had been two months, a week and five days of waiting) the time they spent apart.

The healer finally arrived and gave Link a red potion; he drank it greedily. Almost immediately, the burning in his blood began to subdue, receding to a dull throb. It wasn't pleasant, but it was still an immense relief. Link told Zelda everything that had happened after the healer left, omitting no small detail. She listened through the whole thing without interrupting once. When he was finally done, she stared out the window absently, chewing on her lower lip and thinking hard.

"What do you think they want?" she wondered.

He shook his head. "It's not about what they want. It's about what whoever is controlling them wants. They're just…pawns. That's all they've ever been."

Zelda knew how he felt about killing. She was always the first one who woke up in the dead of night during his stays at the palace to hear screams echoing through the castle halls. She would rush in to find Link fighting against the sheets with his fingernails digging gouges into his palms, yelling that the blood was drowning him, that he didn't want to kill them—it happened far, far too often. It had frightened her as a child of ten years old, and it still frightened her now, but despite her fear she would always wake him up and bandage his bleeding hands and stay with him until the horror in his eyes faded.

(And it did fade eventually, but it never disappeared. Not even now.)

"Are you all right?" Zelda found herself asking. She knew she should be finding her father and preparing Hyrule for a siege; but this was more important to her at the moment.

He knew she was not asking about wounds of the flesh. She knew that he knew, too. And he wanted to tell her that he was afraid—that fear sat coiled in his stomach like a snake constricting his inside, that it had always been there, that he could hardly remember what life was like without it. He wanted to tell her that he dreaded falling back to sleep, because sleep only brought nightmares. He wanted to tell her that he was sorry it had been so long since he had returned.

But Link didn't say any of those things.

All he said was, "I'm fine. Don't worry about me, okay? I'll be fine."

"Are you sure?"

Link exhaled, hearing the hurt in her voice. She didn't believe him for a second. "I missed you," he offered weakly. That, at least, was not a lie.

Before she could answer, the door opened to admit the healer, who had returned to change Link's bandages. "Zelda, you should go," Link said. "You won't want to see this."

She looked at the healer, who shrugged. "It…would be easier to treat him in solitude, Princess," he admitted.

Zelda nodded at him, then looked at Link. "Rest well," she said softly, and swept out of the room. She had much to do, and she wasn't sure how much time there was to do it. The door closed behind her, but not before she heard Link's sharp cry as the healer began cleaning his wounds.

And she swore that she would find whoever had caused this, wherever they were, and make them pay.

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