Wow
I really don't have an excuse tbh. Just. . . Distractions all day. Sorry ;(
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Sheik stared at the massive cases, horror growing like a slow climb up her spine. Monsters. She took a step back involuntarily.
"How?" Ilayen whispered. "Monsters haven't been seen in--in centuries. How could he--?"
"They're on the rise." Sheik cut him off, swallowing hard. "For a few years now. Not often, and not in large groups, but . . . they're returning." They shared a look.
"But the war . . ." Ilayen trailed off. Link hadn't spoken; when Sheik took her attention from a short, grotesque . . . glob, she found Link's face bone-white. He looked like he was going to be sick. "Link?"
He didn't respond immediately; for a long moment, he just stared at her, his chest hitching as he breathed in. "I-I'm fine," he whispered hoarsely.
He obviously wasn't, but he didn't give her a chance to argue. He strode off, a little wobbly, to join Ilayen at the desk. Sheik wandered over, studying the cases as she went. None of them had labels. Ganondorf must know them by heart, then.
Sheik felt sick. The war was supposed to have wiped out the monsters--they'd been declared extinct, one after another after another. It had been waged three hundred years ago, some five centuries after the Era of the Wild. That first battle had been the unifying of the lands, that brutal and bloody assault by the Hylian Army finally bringing home the hard truth: monsters were a threat to everyone.
The war had raged across all the lands, but the finishing battle, according to history, had taken place on the very Hyrule Fields that Sheik and Link had crossed so many weeks ago. It had lasted for a month--the bloodiest battle of the entire war, each side pouring every last man and beast they had into the fight, with more than a hundred thousand Alliance deaths.
But at least the Hylians had walked away.
Sheik shivered. A conflict on that scale hadn't been seen since--and she wanted to keep it that way. She'd heard stories, of the creatures that used to roam freely across the empire.
Bokoblins, short stubby creatures with a jabbering speech and brutal swings. Moblins, standing ten feet tall easily, wielding clubs and fine swords alike. Hinoxes, mammoth things that wore their prizes from past battles around their necks. Keese, annoying but quick to turn deadly if left unaccounted for. And so many more.
But the ones that gave Sheik nightmares . . .
Lizalfos, swift and lighting fast, and deadly in water, wielding their spiked boomerangs--
"Sheik."
Ilayen's voice was strained. Sheik was there instantly. "What is it?"
Wordlessly he handed her a book. A journal, it looked like. She took it, holding it to one of the luminous stone deposits for light.
"'I've managed to awaken one of the Wind Era's bokoblins, but it attacked me immediately,'" Sheik read aloud, the words nearly catching in her throat. She swallowed. "'It did not recognize me as its master. Unfortunately, I had to exterminate it. I will try again, but my methods are incomplete. I will have to reconfer with my contact.'"
"'June 2nd. The Summit has officially begun. Experiments will be limited, unfortunately, but I have found a way to keep the live ones hidden. These palace fools have no idea what they have unleashed . . . what I will unleash.'"
"'June 18th,'" Sheik whispered. Her hands shook violently. "'I . . . I have met with my contact, who has assured me that this is the most efficient way. Soon it will be ready. S-soon . . . I shall--'"
A clang on the glass made her drop the book. She whirled against the table, her sword raised. But the room was empty.
Her heart threatened to give out, but Sheik made herself take several calming deep breaths. They didn't help. Beside her, Link and Ilayen were staring around the room, eyes wide.
The clang came again, from the center table. Forcing her hand not to shake, she stepped forward slowly, searching each case. The floating monsters were still, but--but Ganondorf had mentioned live ones.
Were they in here? He'd said they were hidden--where? In this room? In the palace? Sheik blanched, imagining the chaos, the death--
She closed her eyes for a moment. She couldn't think like that, or she'd never get any sleep. As if that night's memories weren't enough. Taking a deep breath, she came face to face with a case. The monster inside stared back at her with sightless, bulbous eyes. It was large--taller than her. She didn't have to guess. It had a long tail and narrow snout. Its bared fangs could rip her in half.
Sheik tilted her head, banishing the sound of pounding rain and the smell of blood to the back of her mind. There was something about the eyes, something--
She froze, fear rippling through her body. She pushed it back enough to take another step, this time to the left.
One eye followed.
She passed a hand in front of the case. The head followed--slowly, like it was traveling through mud. As Sheik stumbled back, a gasp escaping her lips, she banged into another table of cases. A tap made her whirl. A short, stubby creature blinked at her, wide mouth displaying brown teeth.
Sheik fought down the urge to run out of there--she begged the goddesses to give her strength, in that moment, and courage. Just like the old hero.
Just like the heroes, she thought desperately, making her way to the other wall, where smaller cases crowded together. They faced these things a thousand times over--if they could do it, then so can--
A low growl broke through her thoughts, her fear, and she looked up, into a smaller case, hardly more than a bowl.
Sheik covered her mouth, muffling the scream, tripping backwards. Link--Link and Ilayen were still reading the journal, they didn't see--
The severed head, snarling at her, snapping its jaws through the thick substance, long, ridged horns protruding from its skull, red eyes burning--
Tears sprang to her eyes, and she tried to keep her gasps muffled, but Link heard and came over, Ilayen on his heels. "Sheik, what is it, what's--"
She pointed a shaking finger, unable to speak for fear they might hear her, might sense her terror and break out of their cases--
"Holy gods," Ilayen whispered. The journal very nearly fell from his hands, but Sheik looked at it and saw a lifeline, a light through the black fear. She took three trembling steps and held it to the light, reading the next entry, forcing strength into her voice.
"'June 20th.'" Sheik looked up, her head clearing just a tiny bit. "Today. 'My contact still refuses to tell me the boy's whereabouts. H . . . he says only that he is safe, and will remain that way. I must find him. He is too important to let roam as he wishes. I must find him.'"
Sheik closed the journal; where fear had almost taken her before, now her mind was dulled, numbed. So he knew. Ganondorf knew, she had been right--
"Sheik . . ."
She turned to see Ilayen lifting something from beneath the table. Her heart seized, but it was Link who stepped forward, his face an open mask of shock, disbelief, and a desperate, desperate hope.
A ripped, leather band, metal studs catching the eerie light. Blood stained it.
From beyond the room, outside, there was a knock. The three of them stared at each other for a split second before launching into action. Sheik replaced the journal, making sure everything was as immaculate as they had found it, then sprinted from the room. Just as the secret door clicked shut, the door to Ganondorf's rooms opened and he stepped in, grumbling under his breath.
He froze, then, scanning the room, his golden eyes squinting suspiciously. But all he saw was an empty room, exactly as he had left it, the breeze from the open windows cooling his desert-seared skin.
/
Sheik, Ilayen and Link sprinted down the hall, the torches flickering as they passed. Almost there. As they turned a corner, hardly breaking pace, they dashed down to the singular door at the end of the short hall.
Sheik pounded on the door, fear driving her. That had been close. Way too close. If he'd caught them . . . she had no doubt they would all be dead.
The door opened under her assault, and she nearly fell through. "What in the name of the goddesses is going on?" Impa demanded, quickly sheathing her blade so she didn't impale Sheik.
She didn't answer, just yanked the other two inside by their coats and slammed the door, locking in all three different places, then leaning against the table in the corner.
Link and Ilayen had fallen to the floor and just lay there, with Impa staring at the three of them, all gasping for breath and looking like they'd seen a ghost. She decided she'd had enough.
"Your Highness, pardon me, but I demand to know what is going on!"
"We found him," they said at once.
They used Impa's dumbfounded silence to catch their breath and explain. But by the end of it, they were still gasping for air. Impa rubbed her forehead, a long-suffering sigh escaping her lips. "And you couldn't find a better way to do this?" she demanded. "You decided that sneaking into his rooms was the best way--"
"Did you even hear what we said?" Ilayen interrupted, struggling to his feet. Impa glared at him. "I heard very clearly what you said, Ilayen. And I am worried, but not just about that. You three could have been killed tonight."
"You," she pointed at Sheik, eyes narrowed, "would have gotten off rather light. With the evidence against him, your case would be much easier to handle. But you two . . ." She shook her head. "You two could have been hanged as traitors. Breaking and entering, violating privacy--the evidence doesn't matter, Ilayen," she snapped, as her nephew opened his mouth. "Evidence or not, you committed a crime."
"And Ganondorf?" Link demanded, his sword drawn, just in case. "What about his crimes? Will they go unpunished?"
"They'll have to," Sheik said, surprising them all. She answered Link's and Ilayen's incredulous looks. "How would we prove what we saw without incriminating ourselves along the way?"
"You can't," Impa said flatly, driving home the point. "Which is why this was one of the most foolish things you could have done."
Sheik could tell the boys wanted to argue, and she did too, but she also knew Impa was correct. But that didn't mean she couldn't defend them.
She stood up straight. "It was my idea, Commander," she said. Impa turned to her in the middle of reprimanding her subordinates, a brow raised. "I brought them into it."
Impa stared at her. "Well thank you for your honesty, Your Highness. Won't you join us, then?" She swept a hand to where Link and Ilayen knelt, heads bowed. Sheik understood immediately, hiding a wince.
For the next hour, Impa reprimanded them thoroughly--almost comically. Sheik hardly heard it. All she could see was those cases, those monsters, watching her, following her movements, that head snarling at her--
She closed her eyes, fighting back that fear.
Instead, she focused on the horrible realization: Ganondorf, somehow, through some . . . contact, was resurrecting them. Monsters. Storing them in his rooms. What was he doing with the live ones? Were they here as well? Or were they somewhere else, shipped off to await orders?
When would those orders come? What would they be? Who would give them--Ganondorf, or his mysterious contact? And what about the warrior?
Impa sent them off with a heavy guard, with orders that they were not to leave the princess's side for anything. Link and Ilayen themselves were to stay in Sheik's rooms--one in her bedroom, one in the living room.
By now it was still dark, but dawn was a ways off yet. Sheik tossed and turned, sleeping fitfully if at all. Finally she gave up, throwing the sheets off. Her hair was drying from her bath; as she'd lain in the hot water, she'd let the steam melt away her fear until she'd nearly passed out right there.
Now, she found herself entirely too hot. She thrust the curtains aside and stood, relishing the coolness movement lent her. The room was still candlelit--Link had insisted on it. She looked around for him, a flare of worry sparking when she didn't see him at first.
But there he was, standing in front of a round mirror. Sheik stopped abruptly, swallowing. He was shirtless, his back to her, but he turned at her stunted approach. His face didn't change, but she could see the war in his eyes.
Taking a deep breath, she approached again, stopping just before him. She couldn't speak. Neither did he.
His back . . .
She raised a hand, but hesitated, glancing up at Link. His blue eyes were on her, softer than she'd ever seen them, and all of a sudden she was reminded of how he'd looked when she told him she'd try to find his warrior. Like he couldn't decide if he was happy or afraid.
He looked that way now. He turned from her, his back muscles stretching as he inhaled. "Go ahead."
Swallowing, Sheik reached out and touched his shoulder. The expanse of his back was covered with scars, large and small, some so faded she could hardly see them. One stretched across his shoulder, wide and jagged. She traced its outline, following it down to his spine.
She felt tears spring to her eyes. Most of the damage had been inflicted here. Long, thin lines crisscrossed each other, indicating the use of a whip. Sheik felt sick.
"Who did this?" she whispered. Link turned. He tried for a smile, but it was more of a grimace.
"It happened when I was younger. Before I was officially in the guard. I was just a page, but I was the best page in my group," he said. "I'd heard there were some stray monsters around . . . a village. I wanted to take them out." He took her hands gently. "It didn't go as . . . smoothly as planned."
Sheik suppressed a jolt of surprise. So he knew monsters were around before now, as well . . .
"I ran into a small group of monsters, right on the outskirts," he said quietly, watching as Sheik ran a finger along a mark on his arm. She was almost fascinated by the horror of it all, and found herself wanting to know the stories. His story. "There were only a few bokoblins, so I went in. I figured I could handle it. After all, they were small fries. Easy. I could be in and out without anyone knowing. Or so I thought at the time." He laughed bitterly.
"I was on the last bokoblin when the moblins showed up."
Sheik sucked in a breath. "They captured me immediately. While they're not the smartest, they were intelligent enough to know how to inflict pain. I was in those village ruins for three days. After, they threw me at the gates of the Town and left me for dead. I thought I would die. When I woke, I was in the infirmary."
"That's when I knew," Link murmured, sucking in a shallow breath when Sheik's finger traced a scar over his wrist. Her heartbeat picked up at the sound. She met his gaze. "I was in over my head. I was totally unprepared for what I had been trying to do."
"What were you trying to do?" Sheik asked, before she could stop herself. Link's lips twitched in a smile.
Was it just her, or was his heart pounding as hard as hers was? They were standing close enough to feel each other's breaths, close enough that Sheik could see the strands of gold in his hair, the way his pulse jumped in his neck.
She felt lightheaded. She needed air, but she didn't want to leave, not now, when Link's hand raised to brush her cheek. Her eyelids fluttered as she recalled the scrape of his callouses on her bare shoulder, in Twilight--
"Get some rest, Princess," he murmured. He smiled again. "More scary stories aren't going to help your beauty sleep."
Sheik didn't want to sleep--she wanted Link to keep touching her and listen to the soft timbre of his voice. But she let him lead her to her bed anyway, crawling beneath the covers. As soon as her head the pillow, she was out.
Link gazed down at her, hesitating just a second before leaning down and kissing her forehead softly. "Someday I'll tell you the rest," he murmured, and closed her curtains.
/
Sheik counted down the days until the coronation, feeling one moment as if they were flying by, and the next like every minute was a lifetime.
It was during those times that her mind circled back to the night in Ganondorf's secret room. She kept the hitch out as she took a deep breath. It seemed she couldn't go a day without remembering what she'd seen, what she'd read in that journal.
At least there was some good that came out of that--that's what she told herself, anyway. They'd confirmed Ganondorf's involvement in the warrior's disappearance and the slaughter in the old Palace of Twilight, and Ganondorf himself didn't suspect a thing.
Of course, Sheik thought, slipping a look at him through the corner of her eye, the man was an impressive liar. They were in the middle of the morning council, and Sheik was barely listening, her mind consumed. Ganondorf had explained away his disappearance early last night expertly, though Sheik was convinced he hadn't really been visiting family.
She returned her attention enough to answer a question from Rauru, then drifted off again. Her ponytail was beginning to hurt. A glance at the clock on the wall told her there were only ten minutes left. She resisted the urge to sigh.
A knock at the door sounded, and a page stuck his head in, interrupting a budding argument between Mipha and Rudania. "Excuse the interruption, my lords, my ladies, but the Imperial Princess has a fitting in ten minutes."
Sheik tried not to look too relieved. She stood, collected her papers, and inclined her head to everyone. Ganondorf barely acknowledged it. Sheik left, and as soon as she was through the doors, she thrust her things into Link's arms and took her hair out of its bindings, sighing deeply when it flowed down her back, brushing her shoulder blades. "So much better," she sighed.
She accepted her things back, ignoring the silly smile on Link's face. "You could have just done that in the council room," he said.
Sheik ignored him, if only because seeing his smile brought back memories of three nights ago. It made heat rise in her face.
It seemed, lately, that she couldn't look him in the eye anymore without remembering that night. Nothing had even happened, so what was wrong with her? Was she just embarrassed by her own thoughts? How she'd felt his callouses on her cheek and imagined them on her neck, on her hips--
Stop, stop, stop! No more of that, she told herself firmly. She kept her gaze ahead, ignoring his laugh, and focused on getting to the royal tailor. Climbing the stairs, she hefted her skirts with one hand, struggling to keep her balance. She was almost at the top, vaguely listening to Link chatter.
"--don't understand why they teach archery last, it's one of the most--"
Sheik slipped on her dress on the top step and tipped backwards, a gasp bursting free. She shut her eyes, landing smack into a hard chest. One arm snaked around her waist tightly while the other grasped the rail.
"Are you all right?" Link asked. His lips were so close to her ear that she shivered, squeezing her eyes shut. "I'm fine."
He helped her find her balance, and as his arm retracted, his fingers drifted across the skin of her back, exposed by her dress. Sheik resisted the urge to shift as he frowned at her. "Are you sure? That's the third time this week you've tripped on that step."
Once for every day since that night. Sheik rolled her neck, wincing at the tightness in the nerves. "I'm fine, really," she insisted, and though Link didn't look convinced, he didn't press her further, either.
They continued to walk in silence until they reached the white, double doors of the tailor. Sheik let herself in, settling into a chair while she waited for the small woman to finish with her patient.
"Be right with you, Your Highness," she called through a mouthful of pins, whirling around the other lady, who looked incredibly uncomfortable at holding up the princess's appointment.
"No hurry," Sheik responded, flipping through a magazine. Link peered over her shoulder. "That one's nice," he commented.
"Ech," Sheik muttered. Link chuckled. "Okay, how about that one there?"
"Cut's wrong."
"It's a sweetheart. I thought you liked those."
"Well, you thought wrong," Sheik said loftily, flipping the page.
"Ah, I see. You like either long sleeves or none at all."
For whatever reason, that made her blush. "I have a very specific sense of fashion."
"So, not sweetheart neckline."
"Exactly."
"I'll keep that in mind. What about that one?"
Sheik stared up at him, eyebrows pulled down. "It's brown."
Link put his hands up. "Sorry." He grinned. "Is this one better?"
"Hmm. Open back."
"You've worn open backs before."
"Not because I like them."
"What have you got against them? You look nice in open-backed dresses."
Sheik just caught his eyes flickering over her and quickly turned back to the magazine. "I just don't like them," she said testily, suddenly not wanting to talk about her wardrobe anymore.
"But you're wearing one right now," Link argued.
The tailor appeared right at that moment, sparing Sheik from snapping at Link. She quickly summoned a smile, waiting for the other noble girl to finish her apologies. "It's all right, really," Sheik said. "I was waiting for an excuse to escape that meeting."
"Off you go, then." The tailor, a talented young lady named Styla, shooed the lady out and turned to Sheik with a critical eye. Sheik liked her immediately.
"What's the occasion, Your Highness? Haven't got enough fancy gowns already?" She turned as she walked to the center of the room, shooting a wink. Sheik shrugged. "Oh, just a coronation. And a little something for after."
"Oh? A little something, eh?" Styla grinned, unraveling a roll of tape measure. Sheik realized exactly where Styla's mind had gone and fought down a blush. Thankfully, Link was wandering around, not listening. "It's, ah, for the Waker incident."
Styla's grin withered, her hands slowing. "Oh, yes. Of course."
At her gesture, Sheik stood on the raised bit of floor. Styla circled her, tying the tape measure around her and making notations. "A right misfortune," she murmured. "A thousand people gone--just like that."
"It was difficult to talk about," Sheik agreed. "For King Valoo especially."
"No doubt. The Prince must be devastated."
"He had family there, correct?"
Styla nodded, brows drawn down. She motioned for Sheik to step into a changing room. "Two aunts and an uncle. Luckily his cousins were in Greatfish on vacation, but . . . There's a shift in there for you," she added.
Sheik closed the curtain and changed. For a long moment there was only the rustle of clothing, then she said quietly, "Many in the castle did."
She stepped out, finding Styla staring off into space. She nodded faintly. Taking a deep breath, she collected herself and directed Sheik to stand on the center rise again. "What color were we thinking?"
Sheik had to stop herself from shrugging. Enough solemnity, she told herself. There was time enough for that later. "I was hoping you would know best."
Styla's smile was sharp as the pins in her hand. "A princess with brains," she said. "I like that."
She poked and prodded a few more times, made some more notations, then stepped back, squinting at Sheik. "White," she declared.
For the next three hours, with Link having been banished to the outside hall, Styla brought out dozens of prints, materials, cuts, styles and colors, despite her decision on white. Everything was an option, she'd said, and a coronation only happened once.
When it was done, Styla scheduled Sheik for three more fittings, the final of which would be the morning of the coronation itself. As Sheik headed for the door, she hesitated, turning back.
Styla was already busy clearing up the floor of cuts, floofing out the skirt of the unfinished gown. "Styla, I have one more request. If it's all right."
The tailor turned, raised a brow. "Yes?"
/
Sheik stepped through the doors and headed down the hall without a word. Her hair swished against her back, just long enough to brush the bottom of her shoulder blades.
Link's words hung in her mind. But you're wearing one right now.
What have you got against open-backed dresses?
You've worn them before.
She stifled the words, pushing them down deep. What use were they here? What use were those memories?
She tried to focus on the task currently at hand. Today was her meeting with Mayor Ruul. She'd called for a representative of the Hyrule Railroad to attend as well, along with the head of Bolson Construction. Best to get it all in one sitting.
She entered the Sanctum and climbed the stairs to the balcony. She'd decided to have the private meetings in the quiet alcoves, tucked away and lit by tall windows. As she entered the circular ring above the Sanctum, she found all three of them already there. They stood at her approach.
Bolson reached for her hand. "Your Highness! How fabulous to finally meet you. I am positive today will not disappoint you in the least."
Sheik sat, feeling her gown pull. It had been a gift from Laruto, as thanks. A striking dark blue, shining gold thread winding in aimless swirling, it was cut in the traditional Zora style, akin to what Lulu had been wearing at the first Summit meeting. It tied at the right shoulder and left Sheik's back open.
You look nice in open-backed dresses.
Shut up, Link, she growled in her head, struggling not to grit her teeth. She settled into a chair, summoning a smile. Link grasped her arm gently, helping. Unbidden, the memory of his fingers drifting over her skin, of hers on his back, mottled with scars--
Sheik closed her eyes, heart pounding. No time for this. She quickly met the gazes of her audience, who had gone from chatting amiably to blinking confusedly. "Are you all right, Princess?" Ruul asked, concerned.
Sheik mentally shook herself. "Perfectly, Mayor. Let us begin."
So they did, and she thanked the goddesses that they didn't question her further. This wasn't a medical appointment, this was business. At least some people know that, she thought, shooting a mental glare at Link, hovering, as usual, behind her couch.
Adjacent to her was Ruul, who got down to it almost immediately, outlining the geography of Holodrum with a map he provided. He may be small and diminutive, but he knew his land like the back of his hand--down to every knoll and plain. The representative of Spirit Tracks, the fastest train Hyrule Railroads had to offer, outlined with Ruul's help the best path for the railroad to take, bypassing Horon Village and the Ancient Maku Tree. It would branch off and skirt the entirety of the Holodrum Plains before joining the original line, which would have continued its course beyond the Tree on the way to Lorule. Water would be stored in the last three freight cars, and as the train made regular stops on the outskirts of the plains, carts would be loaded with the water and distributed among the farmland.
At the same time, Bolson would begin construction on the aqueduct. It was a rather simple design, Sheik thought, studying it. Efficient, sturdy, durable. It would work well.
After a few hours, they were brought up lunch. Sheik got wrapped into a heated conversation with Bolson, discussing construction techniques and the like, while Link and Ruul chatted here and there. It turned out that Link had actually met Ruul before, on a training expedition to Holodrum to practice maneuvers in a strange land. The purpose, Link explained, was to learn how to fight a battle in uncharted territory, while doing as little damage to the land as possible. Just because it wasn't inhabited by people didn't mean it wasn't inhabited.
Sheik laughed at something Bolson said, reaching for a flute of champagne, but the thought of fighting brought the discoveries she, Link and Ilayen had made forward. If they ever had to fight another war like that one, if Link was sent out on a battlefield with those things . . .
The champagne was foul in her mouth as she swallowed. Monsters returning . . . the thought wasn't so horrifying as much as seeing them. Floating in glass cases, their eyes following her every move, waiting for a chance to tear her apart just like that night--
Bile rose in her throat. She swallowed several times, forcing it down, and it simmered in her gut. Her smile wilted, eyes watered, and while Bolson and Ruul engaged in an animated discussion, she discreetly wiped her face.
It was too hot. Her throat dry, she stood, desperately trying to push those memories down deep, but they wouldn't stay--why wouldn't they stay?! "I'm terribly sorry," she said, hiding her shaking hands on the folds of her gown. "I'm afraid I must leave you. I don't think I'm feeling quite well."
Every word was an effort. She wanted to run from the room, but she forced herself to wait for their well wishes to end before leaving. Once she was free, though, she turned the corner and slumped against the wall, her breaths coming in gasps, sweat slicking her hair to her skin.
Leathery skin, bulbous eyes, hissing fangs--
"Sheik! What's--"
/
Link grabbed her arm before she fell, but had to lunge to catch the rest of her. She tipped over his arm, limp as a doll. Grunting, Link hauled her up and carried her from the hall, heading around the balcony, trying to keep silent. Finding a curtained alcove, brightened by the sun, he laid her on a couch and shut the curtains.
She was black-out unconscious, her light-golden tone faded till she was pale as death. Her breath came in short gasps, her arm hanging limply over the couch. Tiny whimpers broke through dry lips.
Link's heart cracked. What happened? She was perfectly fine before, but now . . . had their talk of battlefields bothered her that much? But she'd never been afraid to fight--she relished it, actually. He could tell from one glance at her blue eyes, lit by some inner fire, by her lightning quick reflexes.
He swallowed, remembering three nights ago. She'd caught him in a moment of vulnerability; few people had ever seen his scars, and he'd wanted to keep it that way. He'd never told anyone what he'd been doing, why he'd gotten them in the first place, but she'd looked at him, tears budding in her blue eyes, and he'd found himself wanting her to know. He'd almost spilled the whole thing to her.
She was dangerous. She made him talk about things, made him forget himself around her, made him wish she wasn't the princess. She was bad for him, but worse for herself, because if she wasn't who she was, the empire would fall apart, and then where would they be?
Link stroked her hair out of her face; she turned her cheek into his touch, another whimper slipping out. She was shaking. Hesitating a split second, he lifted her up as gently as he could, hugging her to him. His heart pounded.
She was bad for him, but how could something bad make him want more? He'd never wanted something as much as he wanted her. Every word from her mouth was enough and somehow not. Every quirky twitch of her brow and cheeky comment and roll of her eyes was perfect. He clung to them like he clung to her now, his fingers brushing her back, grazing the scar from Zant's attack.
Link's brows pulled together. That scar . . . was on her left shoulder. Pulling back, he swept her damp hair away and peered over her shoulder. His heart stopped.
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Whoo holy hell.
Again sorry for the super late chapter, I promise I'll try to get my shit together. For now, enjoy~
REVIEW REPLIES
To Ultimate blazer: we love a wise girl ;) *gasp* . . . I say nothing. MUAHA. as always, you're welcome!
To Generala: hmmm, I wonder? It's certainly a possibility; given this chapter, we know he's definitely a baddie
To thelinkmaster001: Oh :)) thank you, I'm glad you have it a shot too! And well, answers await. ;). I hope you enjoy the story (it's a long one haha).
As always, please review and thank you to those who have so far, y'all are precious. See you Thursday (I swear I won't be late) later~