Boy howdy, I asked and y'all sure done DELIVERED. Truly, I am humbled and awed by the quality of trashtacular ideas piling up in my inbox. Never before have I felt so hashtag blessed.

Several people have asked me if I'm going to continue the Voices arc in some form or other, ideally from Zelda's POV. Ask and you shall receive, kinda, although as you'll see, the mechanics are a bit different on her end, and she's got other things on her mind.

I am delighted to introduce our next dumpster fire: what happens when a Certain Princess is determined to have her way, and a Certain Hero is determined to run away?

See for yourself. Here we go!

The General was missing again.

"He might not go missing quite so often if you didn't hound him as much as you do, dear," the king said absently as Zelda huffed and puffed and skulked around her father's office, wringing her hands in frustration.

"I do not hound him, Father," she said. "I merely gently remind him of his duties and obligations."

"You hound him," the king said, totally unmoved (as always). He turned a page, more focused on reading than listening to his daughter (as always). That was probably what had gotten them into the whole king-of-evil mess in the first place. "Give the poor boy some space. It's quite the adjustment he's making."

Zelda grumbled something unflattering about a certain someone never having difficulty rising to the occasion before.

"Yes, yes, dear," the king said, flipping another page.

"Bah!" Zelda flung up her hands and marched out, determined (as always) to rectify the situation.

After all, if one wanted to ensure a thing was done properly, that usually meant that one must see to it oneself.

Zelda checked all of the General's usual hidey-holes, though she strongly doubted she would find him in any of them. As he'd gotten more and more desperate to avoid his duties, he'd become increasingly creative with his escapes— last time, he'd laid a false trail near the courtyard, and then attempted to swim away via the moat. After some searching, some questioning, and the subtle application of a few of her hereditary powers (not to mention the Triforce of Wisdom, which obligingly whispered all sorts of helpful insights as to her counterpart's frankly absurd behavior), she determined that he'd shimmied along the outside of a few balconies, hopped onto the roof of the cooking well, and then gone over a wall in the kitchen garden.

She'd have to have him rectify that hole in the guard patrol once she wrangled him back into performing his duties.

She followed his trail through the outer keep, across the drawbridge, and into the town. He wound through alleyways, and she followed the faint trail he left, guided more by intuition and feeling than anything else. Up fire escapes, down through buildings, through narrow connecting doors, winding through shops and restaurants. She gathered a few surprised gazes, followed by a few amused ones, which as good as confirmed that the General had preceded her on this path.

Out the southern city gates, then east, down and around. Finally, she found him, nearly impossible to see hidden in the branches of a giant tree. She stood down on the ground, hands on her hips as she peered up into the glossy green foliage.

"I found you," she called towards him. "Did you really have to cut through that gambling hell?"

"Thought it might deter you." His voice was half-amused, half-resigned, but still pitched to carry down to her. "Should've known better."

"Yes, you should've." Zelda eyed the branches of the tree critically for a moment, then pulled the back of her skirt through her legs and draped it through her belt to form crude trousers. Ignoring the shocked choking noises issuing from above her head, she wrapped her shawl a little more firmly around her neck and began to climb.

"Wh-what are you doing?!"

"What does it look like I'm doing?" Zelda asked, heaving herself upwards, finding her footing, and grabbing the next branch.

"Princesses don't climb trees," the General spluttered.

"And I'm sure you're the expert on princesses," Zelda observed as she pulled herself up another branch. A silence followed, one of his strange, unique silences, almost like he was having a conversation with himself.

He spoke a moment later, resigned. "You really don't give up, do you?"

"Fortunately for you, I don't," Zelda agreed, straightening. She was eye-level with his booted ankle now, and looked up at him. He'd perched in the vee of two sturdy branches, and she flicked his ankle with her fingers. "Budge over and make room, General."

"Yes, Highness," he said with weary humor.

She clambered the rest of the way up and plopped down beside him in the branches. The angle caused her to slide against him, but she didn't mind. She quite, quite admired the General and would take any excuse to touch him that she could invent.

The fact that it seemed to make him impossibly flustered was only an added boon, really.

"So are you going to tell me why you chased me all the way out here?" The General asked.

"Are you going to tell me why you ran away?" Zelda countered primly as she began to pull twigs and leaves out of her hair.

He was quiet.

"Why do you care?" He finally asked.

"Why shouldn't I?"

"Are you going to answer every question with another question?"

"Are you going to do the same?"

He glared at her, and the intensity in those ice-blue eyes took her breath away, as always. She loved seeing him like this, all determined and fierce. It made something primal within her go flutter and thump-thump. She grinned.

"Do scowl at me some more, General. It is ever so adorable."

He made a pained, frustrated noise, and thunked his head back against the wood behind him.

"You're impossible, Highness."

"Thank you, I should hope so," Zelda replied. She'd found a twig that was particularly tangled, and worried at it now with careful fingers. "So. Why are you hiding? Out with it."

He muttered something inaudible, something about a uniform and impossibly white socks and a dumb floppy hat, and Zelda gave a little "ah!" of understanding.

"Yes, your attire for the Vanquishment ball," she agreed. "Is it not to your liking? It's quite traditional."

"Bung-all and bugger to tradition," the General groused with heat. "Do you know how impossible those white socks are to keep clean?"

"Oh, you poor thing," Zelda said. "Wearing white socks. However will you manage?"

He was silent for a long moment.

"You're laughing at me," he finally said flatly. He sounded almost… wounded? Surely that couldn't be right. Surely the great Hero couldn't be wounded by a light jape.

He's a man, and men have their pride and insecurities, the Triforce whispered in her mind. Even this one.

"I'm laughing at you, but only a little," Zelda admitted. "White knee socks seem such a small thing after facing down something as awful as… Well. As what we've already dealt with." Then she hissed in pain and displeasure as the damned twig she was working at caught in another snarl.

"Speak for yourself." A moment later, gentle fingers reached into her hair, freeing the twig from her grasp. She let him untangle, basking in the warmth of his touch. "Give me a problem I can whack with a sword. I'll take that over sartorial fastidiousness any day. There." He withdrew the twig and presented it to her, a token of his patience. She took it with a smile.

"My hero," she teased. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

One of his hands was still in her hair, but she pretended not to notice the feather-light touch, or the way he rubbed the strands of her locks between his forefinger and thumb. She wasn't even sure he was entirely conscious of the small motion. Still, it sent hope and heat fluttering happily through her.

She knew, just knew, that they were two pieces of the same puzzle, two sides of the same coin— meant to stand side by side not just against darkness, but in the light as well.

Still, there was something niggling at her mind. It was a little like when the Triforce was trying to shed some insight, and a little like when she was putting the answer to a problem together on her own, so she sat and puzzled. After a minute, she spoke.

"It's not really about the socks, is it?"

She felt his fingers still in their toying with her hair.

"No," he finally admitted. "It's not."

He didn't continue, although she waited, and waited, and waited. Finally, she turned to the side and faced him head-on.

"Link," she said, "talk to me."

She didn't use his name all that often— not since this past winter, when he'd agreed to her father's offer of Generalship over the army, anyway, and at the sound of it, those blue eyes widened.

"You said it, y'know," he said, and now that he was muttering (and vulnerable), his country drawl was beginning to show itself. "It's for th' ball. The Vanquishment ball." He was quiet, and so was she, thinking.

It had been a year since they'd stood side by side on the rolling plains of Hyrule Field, a sword in his hand, a bow in hers, facing down the greatest evil imaginable. She remembered the relief in his eyes when the battle had been over— but there had been shadows there, too. She knew there'd been shadows in her eyes as well.

They had each of them seen and lived through nightmares and worse during those dark months with the Calamity reigned.

"I don't like the reminder either," Zelda finally admitted. "I can't pretend to know what you went through in your quests, but what I experienced…" She swallowed, refusing to shudder. These were the things that haunted her at night: memories of captivity, of torture. When she spoke, her voice was hard. "I killed it for what it did to me. I can dance on its death day each year out of spite."

He was still and quiet for a long, long moment. Finally, he fully withdrew his hand from her hair.

"I didn't know you had a vengeful streak." He sounded awed, wondrous.

Zelda tried for prim lightness and failed. "There are plenty of things you don't know about me." She flashed a hopeful smile, but he was studying her face thoughtfully. His hand reached forward and his long fingers plucked a leaf from her hair.

It took everything she had in her not to turn her head to the side just a bit more and lay her cheek against his knuckles.

"Zelda," he said slowly, using her name as he had only a handful of times— just the sound of it sent a delighted tingle racing up and down her spine— "Why were you looking for me?"

"Because nobody had seen you in several hours are there are lots of things to do, like fixing the hole in the patrol around the kitchen garden," she said.

"No," Link said. "I don't think that's it at all. Tell me, really. Why were you looking for me?"

She took a deep breath, then sighed and shook her head. There was no way, not possible way under Nayru's blue sky, that she'd admit that she'd followed him out here because she didn't like being alone in the palace.

Didn't like not knowing if he was near enough to come running, should she call out for his help.

"It doesn't matter," Zelda said. "What matters are your knee socks. I'll even put a spell on them to keep them white. How does that sound?"

Link looked for a moment as though he would argue. Then his eyes narrowed.

"You can do that?"

"Of course I can," she said, dusting off the folds of the skirt that were wrapped around her knees. "How do you think I make it through every day with my own white gowns intact?"

Now he looked thunderous.

"And you've been holding out on me all this time? Do you know how many dress uniforms I've been through?"

Zelda shook her head.

"Four?" She hazarded.

"Ha." He straightened, and looked for a moment as though he was going to start climbing down from the tree, but stopped. His direct gaze heated her, boiling her alive, making her so alight with desire that she almost missed his next question.

"Have you talked with anyone about what happened?"

She rather wished she had missed it, actually.

"Have you?" She responded with as much glibness as she could summon.

"And we're back to the answering-questions-with-questions thing." He reached out and caught her hand with his. Although she was wearing gloves, his touch was warm.

And then, slowly, he began to draw her glove off, finger by finger.

"What are you doing?" She asked, a little panicked.

"Have you talked with anyone about what happened to you?" Link asked her again, his head bowed over her hand as he worked. She had a sudden flash of something— fantasy, certainly, because it was absolutely not a memory— because she vividly, vividly could see what it would look like were he to draw her gloves off with only his teeth. She felt hot and thirsty.

"What was the question?"

"Have you," Link said slowly, timing each word with the freeing of a finger from fabric "unburdened yourself," He drew the fabric away from her thumb and peeled the glove down her arm, leaving her skin bare, "to anyone?"

Goddesses almighty, this was not fair.

"No," she said, her voice a breathy whisper. "I haven't."

He carefully set her glove aside, holding her bare hand in both of his. His callused thumb smoothed over the Triforce mark on the back of her hand, his touch gentle.

"Will you tell me about it?"

"No," She said. When he looked up, a question in his eyes, she made herself look away. She tried to tug her hand back, but his grip was firm, and her efforts were halfhearted. "I don't want you to see me differently."

He turned her hand over and shocked her by pressing a kiss into her palm. It was nothing like the carefully neutral kisses of the courtiers— it was respectful, almost worshipful. She jerked her gaze back to him as he remained bent over her hand, using his broad fingers to curl her own fingers over her palm.

"When you're ready," he said simply, "I'm here."

She had the feeling that he was talking about more than just talking, but she couldn't be sure. She had the sudden absurd urge to fling herself into his arms, but didn't. After all, they were in a tree.

Also, when had the tables turned? She was the one who did the chasing. Him chasing her was definitely not in any of the plans. Not in Plan A, or Plan B, or even Plan Double-Z.

That was not acceptable. Simply unacceptable. It was too much to be borne. Zelda glared at Link and, without further ado, whacked him atop the head with her free hand.

"Do stop it," she told him crossly. "Or I won't enchant your socks for you."

"Of course, highness," Link said, straightening up. He looked oddly smug, and she resisted the urge to smack him a second time. He'd let her, she knew, although he could easily catch her swing in his.

What would it be like if he did that, pulled her towards him…?

"Your plan won't work," Zelda told Link, still very cross indeed. He arched a brow.

"Plan?"

"To distract me," she said. "I came out here to find you because you're derelict in your duties, and now that I have found you, it is time for me to drag you back."

"Ah," Link said. "Of course. You've foiled me yet again, Princess." He sounded more amused and tolerant than anything, and Zelda wondered— not for the first time— if he was playing a game with her for his own amusement.

Was… was he laughing at her?

Unacceptable. Completely, singularly, incontrovertibly unacceptable.

She had to turn the tables back.

"Do make sure you go to the tailor sooner rather than later, General," Zelda told Link, pulling her shawl over her hair and shifting her weight so she could begin the climb down out of the tree. "You'll want to prevent him from doing something untoward, like adding extra tassels."

Link's hot humor began to melt into something a little more confused.

"Tassels?"

"Dear Mr. Vilia sometimes gets carried away," Zelda said, taking her first step down. "You'll want to take him in hand before he can beautiful you overmuch. Which reminds me." She looked up at Link and smiled. "I believe that Papa is inviting some eligible young women to the ball. Be prepared to be pursued by husband-hunters. Ta," she added in farewell, and began slithering down the tree.

"W- wait, Zelda," Link said. He began to climb down opposite from her. "You— your father can't— Husband hunters?" His face appeared in her line of vision, pale and scared. "Surely you remember Midwinter?"

"I do," Zelda agreed with careful breeziness. In truth, watching the women swarm him would have been agony, except he'd so clearly been terrified and out of his depth and hating the attention that she'd been more pityingly amused than jealous. She climbed down another set of branches. "I'm sure that Lady Lana can't wait to dance with you again."

The General gave a definite meep of terror.

"You can't let her get me," he said. "You have to save me."

Aha. Tables, turned. She had the upper hand once more. All was as it ought to be.

"I'll think about it," Zelda said. She clambered down the last few branches, then hopped to the ground, dusted herself off, and untucked her skirt. She looked up at Link as he popped to his feet beside her. "But… Oh, it is oh so very tiresome, how you're always running away."

"This is blackmail," the General said, sounding desperate. "You're blackmailing me."

"Nonsense," Zelda told him. "Princesses don't use blackmail. We use leverage."

In truth, Zelda had already arranged the entire event so that Link wouldn't have to dance with anyone (other than her). Since this was a fete in his (and her) honor, they'd be too busy accepting congratulations from a line of well-wishers.

But he didn't need to know that.

"Do be brave, dear General," Zelda told Link, patting him on the arm bracingly. "I am sure that you'll survive the evening."

"With Lady Lana around? Not bloody likely," he muttered. Then he sighed, resigned, and stuck out his elbow. "Fine. Highness, may I escort you back to the castle?"

"Only if you give your word to stop running away," Zelda responded.

He scowled, but didn't argue. "I promise I won't run away again before the ball," he said grudgingly. It wasn't quite the promise Zelda wanted, but she knew to accept the olive branch when it was offered, so she smiled graciously.

"Very good, General," she said, looping her bare hand through his elbow. "You may escort me. And do be a lamb and give me back my glove, will you?"

"No," Link said mulishly. "It's a consolation prize."

Her heart flip-flopped over in her chest at the thought that he'd want to keep something of hers as consolation, but she didn't show the hope or delight his words sparked in her.

"Fair enough," she conceded. She tapped his arm fondly. "Lead the way home, General."

And, grumbling blackly, Link led her back towards the castle. But she wasn't fooled by his halfhearted performance. He'd shown his hand when he'd kissed hers. He might have turned the tables for a moment or two, but Zelda was still in charge, and her plan— Operation: Chase Down the General— was coming along very, very swimmingly.

The poor man ought to have paid more attention when she'd shot an arrow into the heart of the Calamity, she thought with delighted superiority. Zelda always got what she wanted, and she always, always won her battles.

And when it came to Link, Zelda was playing for keeps.

HOORAY. I did it. What a silly one. Tell me what y'all thought in the reviews!

Next time, we'll have… oh, I don't know, some EXTREMELY trashy trash where Link takes an inventory of all of Zelda's scars and does what he can to make them all better. It'll be one of our higher-rated chapters, but I'm not apologizing. Everyone needs a little steam now and then. Keeps the blood going!

We'll plan to have that out this weekend, although the caveat remains that my life is bananas right now and my schedule is unreliable. So I suppose we'll get that trash when I get to it. Until then, stay safe, stay inside, and WASH YOUR HANDS! Air smoochies to all, and to all a good night.