I hope you peeps like it so far! Lemme know what you think :)

And now, without further ado, another chapter where I do sad, unfair things to Link.

Yay!

Chapter Six: A Game of Cards

That night, it was at a table.

The table was unfathomably tall and completely carved from the whitest, smoothest marble. It sat in the middle of a lake, its grand surface rising up like a temple from the glistening, colorful waters. But the lake had no bottom, no depth, no width. It simply spread out with its rainbow ripples and large marble table. The table was cold, but the water was warm, both dark and light and bright with reflections of the world.

He sat in a dramatic chair, red velvet, on one side of the table, and she sat across from him. Even across the table, which seemed to span for miles and miles and miles, she was so close that he could feel her breath. Their reflections in the marble smiled up at each other. Each of them held six hand-painted, beautiful cards in their hands from a single deck in the center of the table. But he wasn't paying attention to the cards. His eyes stared straight ahead. Her hair brushed over her shoulder, her delicate fingers gripping the cards, her porcelain skin glimmering, she smiled over at him from behind the cards.

"Your turn," she said.

Without even looking at the card, he laid it down face up in front of him.

"Now it's your turn."

She sat and pondered her hand while he pondered her absolute perfection. Then, with a calculating expression, she laid down one of her own cards.

"I have news," he said, giving up another card.

"Tell me."

"I found someone who's going to help me."

She grinned and put down a card. It had a joker on it, with its face painted completely white and its lips almost as red as hers.

"Help with what?"

"You know what."

"I wish you would just drop this, darling."

His hand was trembling when he put down the next card. But before he could lift it again, she reached forward and began caressing his hand, just as she caressed him every single night with that angelic touch. He closed his eyes and wondered why he had put down that specific card.

"You lose," she murmured.

"I miss you so much."

"I'm sorry."

"More and more every day."

"Letting go is hard, but it might make it better."

"I can't. I won't."

He bent forward over the edge of the table, let the cards float down into the lake, held her face in both hands. Kissed her with desperation heavy on his mouth. He pulled away and let his lips move down her neck, swaying with her deep breaths.

"Please let me make my own sacrifices," he murmured, "just like you made yours."

"I think that defeats the purpose." She closed her eyes and began running her fingers through his hair.

"Well then, what if I told you that I don't accept it?"

"What, destiny?"

"Your sacrifice."

"I would tell you that it's not your decision to reject. It's mine. And I already made it and accepted it willingly. It's in the past."

"But the past is happening right now," he said. At that moment, it seemed as if she stopped breathing. Her skin became cold beneath his breath. "The future is happening right now. It's all happening right now."

"Sometimes I question if I ever really understood you."

"Maybe you didn't."

"You can't change the past."

"I did it before. Centuries ago. When I saved Hyrule then. I did it."

"Well then I'll change my argument," she sighed. "I don't want you to change the past."

He lifted his face so that he could look into her eyes. They were steely.

"Let me tell you why I made my sacrifice. I made my sacrifice so that you wouldn't have to, Link. Can't you understand that?" she whispered. "Can't you accept that? Please?"

It was the first time that he had seen her crying in his dreams.

"No," he shook his head. "I can't."

The chair he was sitting on disappeared, and he fell down into the lake while she slipped from his grasp.

There were tears on his pillow when he woke up, even though his eyes had been dry in the dream. He stared in silence at the wet marks and wondered how long it had been since he had truly cried.

Not since the day she died.

The strangest part was that he didn't feel as sad as his tears portrayed. When his eyes opened, they were dry again, and he wasn't holding back any tears. His lips weren't trembling, his jaw wasn't clenched, his head wasn't aching in sadness. He simply woke up and felt himself there. And then he remembered that he had somewhere to be.

When he stood up, something changed inside of him. A dagger, sharp and already dripping with blood, plunged itself deep into his heart. He crumbled to his knees and clawed at his chest, suppressing his screams. Someone was taking the dagger and pushing it further and further in, twisting, eager to hear him scream. He thought for a moment that he was still dreaming and in a few moments, he would wake up. But that moment never came. He just knelt beside his bed, panting, trying in vain to rid himself of this terrible inner pain.

This hasn't happened for months. Why now?

He closed his eyes and as soon as he did, her face appeared in the darkness. Her tears were like waterfalls and he had never seen such an expression of sorrow. Not even on his own face when he looked in the mirror. She was speaking to him, saying something, but he couldn't hear anything. She was reaching out to him and drawing further away at the same time. Finally, he heard himself scream. He was screaming for her to come back.

A few minutes later, guards burst into the room. They found him kneeling, clutching his chest, doubled over and screaming as if there actually were someone stabbing him.

"Don't leave!" he cried. "You can't leave me!"

The guards crouched down and called his name. Their voices were harsh and made him scream louder. When they reached out to help him, their touches were like fire and made him flinch. Then, as quickly as it had come, the blinding pain subsided. Link slumped forward into the shaking, opening arms of one of the guards. He opened his eyes and closed them again, trying to make his surroundings clear. But he could barely find the strength to breathe.

"Master Link, what happened?" they asked. "Are you okay?"

"I don't know."

"We'll send for the doctor—"

A voice, familiar, that Link knew only he could hear, rang out above them.

"Love me in the way that I want you to love me.

Don't make my sacrifice meaningless.

Step forward, not backward.

Stop making me cry."

"No, don't get the doctor." Link stumbled to his feet, pressed his palms against his forehead. "Just leave."

"But—"

"Don't make me say it again."

"Of course, Master Link."

They scurried out, leaving him alone to drown in his agony. He sat back down on his bed and tried to forget about hearing that voice. Usually, he wanted to hear it more than anything because the truth was that he was afraid of forgetting it. Each chance he had, he took. But the way she had sounded when she had said those words...hurt, betrayed, dying. It made his stomach churn and his skin clammy.

He knew that he had a million things to do. More fittings, the portrait, the Royal Council meeting, the rendezvous at the café, mental preparation for taking the fate of an entire kingdom in his hands. But he just couldn't think clearly enough at that moment to even stand up. So he sat. And he stared at the tears staining his pillow. Tears that he was absolutely certain he hadn't cried. But if he hadn't cried them, whose tears were they?

He thought that maybe responding to her might help him breathe again.

"I'll love you in the way that I have always loved you.

Your sacrifices are now and forever my sacrifices.

To step forward I need to step backward.

You're not here to cry."

Then he stood up and prepared for his first meeting.

He had always like the café because of its tea. It was always warm and had a hint of mint in it. Serenity flowed into him with each sip, and he liked the seating, too. It gave him a nice chance to people-watch. Something he had found himself doing more and more lately. Perhaps he was making up for all the years he had spent watching only goats. That afternoon he sat with his cup of tea, breathed in the scent of the mint, let the liquid burn his tongue, listened to the classical Hylian music and watched the people walk by. He was trying so hard to distract himself from the fear of hearing her voice again, the fear of feeling that pain in his chest again. In the weeks after she had died, the pain had come almost nightly. He would wake up with his voice hoarse from screaming. Gradually, the pain had come less and less often, until it disappeared completely.

Until that morning.

"And here I was, hoping you wouldn't show up."

Tara was suddenly there, taking a seat at his table. Her eyes seemed brighter, even more violent, in the raw sunlight. Everything about her was shimmering and loud and seeing her almost instantly gave him a headache.

"Good afternoon to you, too," he sighed.

"I guess my warnings didn't work. You look as determined as ever."

As the waiter came around, she crossed her legs and leaned her forearms on the table. It was small enough that he felt uncomfortable with her face so close to his.

"What can I get for you, mademoiselle?"

"Chocolate ice cream."

"Anything else?"

"If I wanted anything else I would've said so."

"Of course."

She began tapping her nails on the table in a rhythm that Link thought was much too similar to the rhythm of a ticking clock. Her eyes scrutinized his face for a couple of moments, drinking in every single detail and making his heart beat just a little bit faster. And then her lips turned up into a crooked smile.

"I intimidate you, don't I?" she said.

"To the point that I shake."

"Don't worry. I won't bother you with my concepts of time today. We can do it your way and talk about the temple for now."

She began playing with the braid that had fallen over her shoulder. And he wasn't sure how he hadn't noticed that small diamond in her nose yesterday. Her lips were still full and red, always adorned with that mischievous smile. Confidence emanated from her just as he felt discomfort emanating from him.

"First thing's first," she continued. "What is it like?"

She looked a child waiting for a birthday present.

"There are two parts. There's the temple itself, but there's a way to go deeper."

"Deeper?"

"There's a pedestal—"

"Yes, yes, I know about the Pedestal of Time, go on."

"When I put my sword in...I can go deeper into the temple."

"You're telling me that your sword—"

"Is the Master Sword. Yes."

"So that's what it's called," she smiled. "The Master Sword. The key to time itself."

At that point, she was restless. Every few moments, she shifted her position in her seat and tinkered with her necklaces.

"Tell me more about the temple."

"It's huge, elaborate, difficult to navigate," he said. "To be honest, it gives me an eerie feeling."

"Yesterday you said you had a map. Do you have it with you?"

At that point, the waiter returned and placed a bowl of chocolate ice cream on the table. As she dipped her spoon into the cream, brought it to her lips, watched him with hungry eyes, he reached into his bag and pulled out the map. He wasn't sure why, but he had never managed to convince himself to clear his bag of them. He still had every map from every dungeon he'd ever visited. When he spread it out on the table, Tara sucked in a sharp breath. The map was tattered, the ink was smudged, and his incoherent notes were all over it. Just looking at it reminded him of the struggles he went through, the maze he had been forced to figure out, the monsters he'd fought. His headache became worse.

"This is incredible. You really meant it," she laughed. "This is the real deal."

She let her finger move along the page, hovering from room to room, her eyes drinking it all in. Every few moments, she would mumble to herself. Something about the layout, the mechanisms, the silly scribbles he'd made. And then, she stared straight into his eyes and took another spoonful of ice cream into her mouth.

"Was it beautiful?"

Link furrowed his brow. He had never been asked anything like that about his journeys. And he'd never thought about it. Beauty wasn't what came to mind when he thought of everything that he'd done to get to this point. But she was so eager, the question was so sincere. He just didn't know how to answer.

"What do you mean, beautiful?"

"You do know what that word means, don't you?"

"Not in that context, no."

"How did you feel? When you were in there?" she persisted.

Link paused. Another question he had rarely ever been asked. How he felt had never really factored into the equation. Not even for him.

"I felt...ancient."

"Yeah, you look it, too."

"Thanks."

Tara leaned back in her chair, the spoon in her fingers, and stared up at the sky. Silence hung between them, as heavy as bricks. Frustration and impatience settled in his mind to the point that he didn't even know where to look. She seemed as if she were thinking, mulling everything over in her mind. But he didn't know how long he could wait before he just burst. He grasped the ring tightly. It was burning.

"Well, at least you can say you've already done it," she shrugged. "Manipulated the temple of time, that is."

He narrowed his eyes.

"That's what you want, isn't it? You told me yesterday you wanted to 'manipulate' it. But you've already done that."

"I don't understand."

"Ha, why would you?"

It had only been a few minutes, but the entire bowl was empty. It almost made him smile. She pulled out her pipe and lit it before continuing. Link listened, watched the people walk by, let himself inhale the smoke.

"Just going through the door is manipulation," Tara explained. "Not to mention this whole area here. I have no idea how far back you must have gone—I intend to figure it out, of course, but the point is that you've already traveled to the past and you've already manipulated the temple."

"I need to go further."

"How do you mean?"

"I want to travel back."

"Are you even listening to me? You have."

"Outside of the temple."

"You're even crazier than I thought, Mr. Hero."

"Don't act like it's impossible."

"I don't know if it is or not," she cried.

"What do you know about the temple that a book in the castle library can't tell me?" he raised his eyebrows.

Tara scoffed and sucked on her pipe. Now he was determined to get answers, because he could see her hiding them behind the glimmer in her eyes. After all he'd been through, Link had almost perfected the art of reading people. And Tara was like an open book for him. He lifted his finger and let it fall onto the map, in the very center. Then he repeated his question.

"What do you know about this place?"

Beneath his scrutinizing gaze, the ferocity in his voice, the way he was leaning forward on the edge of desperation, Tara finally squirmed. Something—uncertainty, doubt, sadness, fear—flashed across her face. He wasn't exactly sure what it was. But it was something. He had made her uncomfortable and she couldn't sit still. Then, slowly, she began shaking her head as streams of smoke shot out from her nostrils.

"More than any sane person should know," she replied. "Let me tell you the most important thing."

As she leaned forward, she grabbed his collar in one hand and pulled him down, so that he could feel her whispers. His skin began to crawl.

"There's more to this temple than even you know. It will drag you in, rip you apart, spit you back out and laugh in your mangled, unrecognizable face."

"I've already been through that."

"No. No, you haven't."

She paused.

"There's a reason I keep my studies to myself," Tara breathed. Then, she smiled, and his heart skipped a beat in pure fear. "If I told people about the secrets hidden in the Temple of Time, nobody would believe me."

"Tell me."

"First, you tell me."

Finally, she let go of his collar, and his felt as if he could breathe again. She glanced up at the sky once more.

"Tell me about what you saw in the temple."

"That would take a very long time."

"Do you want my help or not?"

They stared at each other evenly, challengingly.

"Fine."

And then, Link told Tara the story of what he had experienced in the Temple of Time. From conversations with strange statues, to crushing giant spiders.