Chapter Thirty-Six: Her Name
They read the second chapter that night, about the Deku Tree's curse.
There was something strange in the air while they read. Words that were hanging between them, unsaid but perfectly clear. Link looked at Zelda's face and saw her hiding something, carrying something heavy on her shoulders. And he himself felt something heavy—he wanted to tell her about it, but he wasn't sure what he would say.
Hey so last night my hand was hurting so badly I nearly passed out. Do you know why?
That would sound absurd.
This book gives me chills. Really weird chills.
What kind of answer would she be able to give him?
...You're beautiful when you sleep.
That was the most reasonable thing he could've said, but he couldn't bring the words out. So Link tried to forget about the burden and the odd feelings that had begun sinking into his skin ever since their conversation; he wanted to know about her dreams, because he felt in some strange way, that he was a part of them. But he tried to forget about that all for one night. Because on that night, he just wanted to look at her—really look at her.
Link watched her with an unwavering gaze. The princess was oblivious to his deep, almost glazed expression. His eyes never left her face. Her lips were moving, reading the words spread out on the page in her lap, but he didn't hear a single thing. They were perfectly sculpted and red, and the corners tilted up and down with every syllable. She paused and licked them for a moment before continuing. Link felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. Her eyes scoured the page, narrow and determined as she read. Each word, each sentence, each letter held a new twinkle. He wanted so badly for her to look up from her book...to turn and stare into his eyes just as intensely as he was staring into hers. Her hair was like gold, falling in perfect strands on her back and shimmering in the little light provided by the one, declining candle in front of her.
The shadows that played on her face were distracting. Each time the flame of the candle flickered, there was another dramatic shift of light in her cheeks and in her fair eyes. Never once, as Link watched her with the eyes of a feral beast, did she falter in her reading. She read on and on, oblivious to her own beauty, which captivated the very one she was trying to teach. He decided to try saying her name.
"Zelda."
She finally lifted her eyes, wide from hearing him actually say her name. His leg brushed hers, and he was finally able to get lost in her eyes for a few seconds. His pulse quickened, and for a moment, he was afraid that he was going to get dizzy. The connection their eyes held silenced her, though she had opened her mouth to respond. Her lips had stopped moving, and she was now a still and perfect porcelain image in front of him. He had reached the edge, and was ready to jump. He inched closer. After this giant leap, this final ultimatum, there would be no going back. Closer, and closer...he teetered on the edge for a moment, thought...and then plunged headfirst.
His lips thirstily reached for hers. At the beginning, he was gentle. Her mouth was soft and inviting against his, and his entire body was suddenly filled with the sweetness of her lips. There was something so ideal, so beautiful about that initial touch. He pulled away, forcing himself to let go just for a bit. The moment the contact was broken, his mind and heart and soul felt propulsion of desire. He wanted more...he needed it. Insanity threatened to permeate his entire being. But he needed to see her face.
Zelda's eyes were closed, and her mouth was slightly open. His face was inches from hers, and the urge to let instincts take over was almost impossible to bear. Finally, her eyes fluttered open. She breathed out, the corners of her mouth twitching upward in pleasure. He could see it in her eyes, and in the reflection of his own; there was want. There was more want within them at that moment than any he had ever felt. Her finger was placed right in between the pages of the book, ready to turn to the next page. Slowly and deliberately, he reached over. His fingers intertwined with hers and forced them from the parchment and, with as much subtlety as possible, pushed the book from her lap.
He said her name again. "Zelda." There was an orange glow throughout the tent and the familiar, warm mixture of evening darkness and a flickering flame. It made him comfortable...but his muscles never eased. They remained tense, as hard as he tried to relax them. "Zelda."
"Kiss me again."
And so he obeyed. At the very moment she faintly squeezed his hand, the control slipped away. As he came even closer, he pulled her towards him, placing his hand on the small of her back. There was that sweet taste again, coursing through his veins as if it were a part of his own blood. As if Zelda was a part of him. The gentleness he had managed to maintain at the beginning faded with the speed of light. All he wanted was this princess: every inch of her smooth porcelain skin, every strand of her golden hair in his fingers, ever dent and dip of her soft red lips, every detail of her elegant hands, every curve and ridge of her graceful body, every beautiful word and captivating smile, every day, every minute, every second. He wanted her.
Link's hand was steadily moving higher, tracing the curve of her back, until he was finally able to let his fingers brush her collar. He felt her shudder beneath his lips, and as if by reflex, pressed his palm against the back of her neck. Hair mingled with fingers and sweaty skin, and there was an overwhelming sense of desire in the air. The princess pulled back, far enough to breathe, but close enough to brush her lips against his in the most alluring way. His goose bumps had yet to disappear. One hand brushed her hair...the other hand desperately clung to hers, as if afraid she was going to wither away. She breathed out in a smooth, heavy way. Link squeezed her fingers harder. A single thread of shimmering silk fell across her face.
He didn't give her a chance to say anything; he kissed her again, with more force than he had been intending, and moved both hands to the sides of her neck. For a moment, he was afraid that this was a mistake he was going to greatly regret...but Zelda pressed her hands against his chest and closed out any space left between them, wrinkling the fabric in her hands. There was a second, a single second within the chaos that ensued, when Link heard doubt.
"What are you doing, Link? Are you really doing this...to me? She's not me. You know she's not. She never will be. So why are you doing this? STOP."
No, Damita.
Link could feel the uneven rising and falling of Zelda's chest as she lay down on the thin mat of the tent, and he eagerly followed. Never once did they let the space between them increase. Her slender, nimble fingers ran along his back in chilling patterns, and he could not suppress a shiver. His open lips lingered above hers, and then moved to her jawbone...her neck...her collarbone...and his hands rubbed her curves and the nape of her neck. Her hands slipped beneath the collar of his tunic just as he slid the edge of her dress down her shoulder, and let his lips sit on it earnestly. He could feel his tunic coming further and further up his back, and her warm hands sitting beautifully on the surface of his body. She turned her cheek, just enough so that when she breathed, it was right in his ear.
More chills.
His tunic lay in a crumpled pile on the floor of the tent. He could feel the droplets of sweat beginning to appear on his back as Zelda ran her hands up and down...up and down...
Her dress was falling lower. But he sensed just one moment of hesitation as his hand sat in the space between her neck and collarbone. That beautiful space, which he kissed so gently, and then, paused. His finger played with a loose thread on the lapel of her clothing.
Her fingers dug into his skin...the endless strands of her hair flattened like a pillow beneath her head. He felt himself slip deeper down into the abyss...when he looked up, he could not even see the edge from which he had jumped.
"Link, please. You can't do this. Forever, remember?"
Go. Away.
"LINK!"
GO AWAY!
Link could feel Zelda's heart beating to the unsteady rhythm of their movements. Yet her skin felt alien, salty and unfamiliar as it mixed with his. His curiosity drove him further; it fed the flame of passion sparkling inside of him, and was the very force that pushed him forward. There was something, a subtle beauty, underlying their every move. His mind began to transcend the solidity of his world. It was a blur of intensity and passion and fire...of fingers and lips and skin and deep breaths...and that golden hair. As radiant as the sun, as soft as a feather. In silence and in profundity, they released their bodies and swam in the glow of the orange candlelight.
Chaos. Turmoil. It invaded, unexpected, like a virus. Everything was changing into darkness. Voices in his head. Clear, silky, familiar, unfamiliar...whispers, screaming.
Zelda.
Link.
Zelda.
Damita.
Damita.
Zelda.
LINK.
DAMITA.
ZELDA.
Love me.
Do you love me?
I love you.
Who?
You.
ME?
You...who are you? I love you?
Yes. Me.
WHO?
ME!
YOU.
YES.
NO.
Me.
Her.
WHO?
YOU!
ME!
YES. YOU.
You love me. You love her. Me. Her. Her. Me. Damita. Zelda. Damita. Damita. Zelda.
I love YOU.
WHO?
"Link."
The voice, too loud for comfort, broke Link from his trance. He realized almost instantly from the jarring pain in his jaw that he was tightly gritting his teeth, and his entire body felt tense. His muscles were flexed, and sweat poured down his face. Zelda looked up at him with that familiar twinkle of concern in her eyes. Her pale face was now red, her breathing heavy, her brow furrowed in worry.
"You're shaking."
Only when the princess brought that fact to Link's attention did he realize that his limbs were trembling, as if the weight of his body was causing them to crumble from the inside out. He closed his eyes, let out a deep breath, tried to replace the flashing colors behind his eyelids with pure darkness. Zelda reached up and gently rested her hand on his gaunt cheek; her fingers were shaking, too. Her touch never lost its comforting texture as she brushed dark, wet, matted strands of hair from his forehead, letting her thumb drift across his eyelid and slowly regaining steadiness in her breathing. Link drowned everything else out: he just listened to her breathing. It was slightly raspy, but with each moment, its regularity returned.
Before his elbows had the chance to give out on him, Link rolled over onto his back and covered his face with his hands. His own flesh felt unfamiliar. He heard the movement of Zelda's body beside him, and was still completely tuned into her breathing. If thunder had cracked through the sky, loud and clear, at that very moment, the only thing he would've heard was Zelda's breathing. It lulled him back to sanity, at least to the point that his thoughts were becoming coherent. He lifted his hands when he felt Zelda's head cradling against his shoulder and got chills from the strands of hair tickling his shoulder. She let her hand sit on his chest, and when he felt how cold her hand was, he realized just how hot his body was in comparison.
"You're burning up," she observed. Her breath was fiery against his neck. He still said nothing, but felt calmer at the sound of her voice. "Are you okay?" Link wasn't completely sure how to respond, because he wasn't completely sure about whether he was okay. So he stayed quiet, letting Zelda breathe on his shoulder and run her fingers along his chest.
"Link, please talk to me."
"I..." There were no words inside of him, no single thought itching to flow from his open lips. Zelda sat up on her elbow, staring at him with a disappointed set of eyes. He could barely stand to look into them.
"Why do you insist on closing yourself off?" she cried. "How am I supposed to help you if you never tell me what's wrong? Link, I am here to help you. I wish you could understand that."
Link finally forced himself to meet her gaze. He felt an odd, guilty kind of pain surge through him, and he cringed at the feeling. Zelda narrowed her eyes and continued to stare, almost in disbelief. Without another word, she stood up and grabbed her dress, which lay in a dismissed heap at her feet. Link watched emptily as she slipped it over her head and began running her fingers through the knots in her hair, flinching at every blonde tangle. Then, in the increasing darkness, Zelda spoke.
"I wish you would trust me."
She blew out the candle.
That night, while Zelda sat curled at the entrance of the tent, Link dreamt of the same thing he dreamt of every night: Damita. Another memory, so vivid it could have happened yesterday. A clear, ridiculously detailed memory...