He was trembling.
She had known that something was off. The was something unsettling about his silence, which was strange, considering that he was normally this quiet. He didn't eat his dinner that night, and not even his lunch, come to think of it. But what caught her attention the most was his eyes.
They were usually unreadable. Staring straight ahead, with nothing hiding behind them. But now…
They were sad. So sad. He was trying but failing to hide some sort of pain. They were clouded over, but at the same time, crystal clear.
She was reminded of the day that he finally spoke to her for the first time. What he said. Perhaps this pain had something to do with it?
She had had enough watching him be like this.
She knocked on the door of his tiny room among the knights' quarters. No reply. She knocked again before reaching for the knob and pushing the door open.
She saw him. He was sitting on the edge of his sorry-excuse-for-a-bed. His head was lowered, and his hair draped over most of his face, concealing it.
He was trembling.
Before she could stop herself, she wandered over to his side and crouched so that she could look up his curtain of hair. His eyes snapped open and looked in her direction. He made no other move.
She did nothing but stare up at his face, mouth frowning slightly in concern. Then she took her hand, and placed it gently over his. His hand felt rough, covered in scars and calluses.
The hand of a knight.
"What's wrong?" She finally asked, her voice low, as if speaking to loudly would shatter him.
He just stared at her with those sad, beautiful eyes. He said nothing.
She kept her eyes on him, begging, pleading him to speak.
Finally, he did.
"Too much…" he said at an equal volume, if not quieter. His voice cracked. "It's too much….it...h-...hurts…" her swallowed and looked down. His eyes squeezed shut as he took a shaky breath.
She stared. "Link…" she whispered. She removed her hand from his, and instead placed it on his chest.
Thump thump, thump thump, thump thump, thump thump.
His heart was alarmingly quick.
She stood to sit on the bed next to him, her hand never leaving his heart. Her fingers then began to trail up his neck and along his sharp jawline. She gently cupped his face, lightly stroking his cheek.
What was she doing?
He looked over at her. His shaking body sat for a few moments before he collapsed altogether. He turned his entire body towards her, slumped over, and buried his face into the crook of her neck. He released his burdens, felt them lift from his exhausted form.
And he felt safe.
It was ironic. He was meant to keep the princess safe. Who would have thought that it might eventually work the other way around?
The princess said nothing. She wrapped her arms around him and stroked his soft hair.
At last, she felt like she was doing something useful.