Note: I wasn't intending on having a second Gerudo themed chapter, but I was enjoying this idea far too much! And honestly, I'd totally consider writing an M version this chapter...but I'm going to leave it at a T for now. :)

Ludus

[ludus: a playful, teasing kind of love-focused on fun and sometimes on conquest.]

The room is spinning.

And it isn't because of the drink. Not entirely.

A wash of colors and sounds buoy her through the night, encapsulating her in a swirl of novel cathexis. Someone far taller than her has taken her and eases her into a twirl, holding a steady hand at the small of her back to keep her from toppling. Every rotation reveals another face that's either contorted in laughter or assiduous in song. With flushed cheeks, she laughs divinely, adorned in fabrics of deep violets and rich bronze with a thin, golden trim around the crown of her head. The hem of the sirwal rests comfortably along the curve of her hips, enhancing her femininity in ways that the deep, full bodied skirts from back home do not permit. Golden hair is gathered back, spilling from the glinting band in the gentlest of corkscrews.

Zelda has never looked more beautiful.

And Link loves to see her so.

Stylish lanterns, strung along ceilings or stationed between wine filled glasses on tabletops, cast a pale glow against the sturdy, stone walls of the voluminous room. Beyond the walls of the chambers, the moon ascends further across the desert sky, and though the hour grows late, the festivities show no sign of waning.

Link's eyes study the girl as she taps a sandaled foot to the sonorous swell of desert woodwinds while knuckling percussion mutes conversations across the dimly lit room. Wrapped up in the frisson that the evening provides, he dares to let his eyes linger on her for longer than he normally might back home, fully aware that he has never been so distracted by the sight of her skin before.

He finds himself in a rather peculiar situation, sunken into a violet cushion with a young woman stationed on either side of him; one has curled up beneath an arm while another has ensconced herself up against the crook of his neck; it is a Gerudo party, after all-but his eyes see her, and only her.

Despite the efficacy of his veiled disguise, he is convinced that the women beside him must surely know; they must be aware of the smooth flatness of his toned chest, must notice the lack of feminine curves along his thighs, one of which sits beneath a caressing hand. He lets himself pretend-if only for a sweet, fleeting moment- that it's Zelda's delicate fingers grazing across his leg; they're an effusive people, the Gerudo.

"I see you have your eye on someone," the woman at his neck, whispers up into his ear. He's fairly certain that her name is Yarna. Her sensuous gaze follows Zelda as she moves. "That cute little vai over there."

Link doesn't speak, only offering a noncommittal chortle in response as he snuffs a smile. Yarna notices the stifled laugh that catches in his throat.

"What is stopping you?" she purrs into his ear.

Link watches Zelda stumble to the side slightly as she unfurls from another spin, her eyes instinctively searching for him as they always do when she's gathering her bearings. A flush dawns in his chest and begins to spread upwards towards his neck, his face, the tips of his ears once their gazes lock. Zelda gives a small wave, though something in her glance seems to shift as her eyes register the women who have appeared on either side of him. In any case, she bashfully averts her gaze.

The other feminine attachment, Ashara, presses her head to his shoulder. He can barely hear her voice over the swell of the music.

"Oh, she seems to like you, too."

Link feels his chest tighten at the electricity in her tone.

"I hear the Princess and her handmaiden are sharing a particularly nice guest suite," Ashara says, leaning across Link's frame to speak directly to her confidante.

"Yes, I've heard that too... it's a good thing the two of them seem to be close," Yarna muses.

Zelda is now being drawn away by another Gerudo woman who is dressed far more provocatively than most of the others. The princess raises her hand to signal that, yes, she is handling herself quite well, and her companion raises his own in acknowledgement. Link feels a pang of longing as Zelda dips out of view.

"Have you not claimed her for yourself yet, little vai?" Yarna's voice lingers far too long on the final word.

"No. And I don't intend to." Link finally answers with a firm tone edged into his voice.

"Ah, she speaks!" Ashara raises her head to look at him, gently pawing at tufts of hair that protrude from beneath the veil. Both women giggle.

"And why not?"

"My job is to... keep her safe." Link states, his voice rising slightly to combat the music. He's fully aware that he's playing with fire, but he can't help himself: he desperately wants to speak of her. Inexplicably, he wants someone else to hear him speak of her.

"But surely there is no safer place than in your arms, hmm?" Ashara says. "I can think of several ways you might really take care of her."

"It would be dishonorable of me to do so." He states, immensely grateful that his veil conceals the hellacious bloom that's splattered across his face.

Both women give audible groans before muttering to each other in their native tongue. Link cannot decipher a translation, but their tones lead him to believe that they're teasing his noble intentions.

"So then..." Yarna begins playfully. "...would you consider giving yourself to another this evening?"

"Perhaps more than just one-" Ashara interjects, craning her neck so that her lips graze the soft fabric of his veil.

"We're more than content to share," Yarna notes, her voice laced with so much alacrity that it practically seeps into him. "You're simply far too...beautiful to spend the evening by your lonesome. It would be a honor." She leans in to him once more.

Link is silent. They're both unquestionably alluring women. They're perhaps only slightly older than him; strong and confident, both possessing incandescent hair that shimmers in the soft glow of the festivities. They've brushed up against him sensually more times than he can recall, and they speak so authentically as they proposition him. Link finds that their confidence, pooled with their enthralling desire to see Zelda into his arms, makes them all the more attractive. He can also tell, without a shadow of a doubt, that they'd know exactly how to please him; that they'd know the precise locations to place their hands and painted lips.

But he won't.

He can't.

A breathless Zelda has fumbled back into view. The woman who has guided her to dance, whose outfit leaves very little to the imagination, is running her hands up and down Zelda's form, and Link swears he sees her hands brush up against the princess' clothed breasts. He leans forward in his seat instinctively, ready to intervene if need be, but he hears a scream of a giggle and sees Zelda's eyes crinkling in amusement before the pair is dancing once more.

Suddenly, Zelda has turned again, seeking his face. Blistering disappointment grapples him when he notices the elation in her expression quell. A deep frown forms beneath the veil as Link considers that maybe his presence, and his watchful eye, is dampening her evening. He sinks back into his seat.

"Oh, Ashara, there is most certainly no hope for us," Yarna playfully whimpers. "He only has eyes for one person in here tonight."

He.

Link's jaw tenses, and they must feel the tension constricting his limbs because both women emit melodious, full throated laughs. The music, an irresistible dance pattern that has every foot in the room tapping, has grown so loud that the word has certainly gone unheard by unaffiliated ears.

"Come now, your secret is safe with us."

Yarna pulls away from Link's neck slightly to speak more directly.

"At the very least, you should dance with her."

And suddenly, without any consultation, they're both on their feet, urging him up, each one taking a limb and dragging him across the room in tandem. His body reluctantly slackens, and he's suddenly pushing past forms that are much taller than him, wading through a sea of clothed breasts and dark-skinned curves; arms and legs and hips that radiate with festive warmth. He doesn't mind, not really, but before he can regain his senses, he's suddenly spouted out from the river of bodies, and he finds himself face to face with his princess.

"Princess Zelda," both women sing her name in similar, impish tones.

The resuscitated merriment in Zelda's eyes transforms into bemusement as she registers Link's presence between the women.

"Your vai here needs to loosen up a bit." Ashara chimes in her higher pitched voice. "Perhaps you would be willing to show her a nice evening."

"She certainly hasn't had enough to drink," Yarna says, circling a finger around Link's exposed shoulder.

Link's eyes are so uncharacteristically unsure, and Zelda seems amused at how little confidence there is within them. She's certainly never seen him so completely apprehensive before, and her lips pull back into a demure smile.

"Dance with me, sweet vai," she says, reaching for his wrist and pulling him close. He can't be sure over the pounding in his ears, but he thinks that Yarna and Ashara are celebrating his small victory as they release him into her custody. Without hesitation, Zelda raises his arm and spins herself beneath it just as he had seen her do previously. As she turns, her head snaps around to keep her eyes locked onto him as much as possible, her face practically euphoric in his grasp. She's been there before, in the elegant and refined numbers during the balls at Hyrule Castle, but none of those soirees have emblazoned her soul quite like this one.

Zelda comes out of her spin once more to place her hands on his hips.

"Oh, come now, where is your sense of rhythm?" she asks in a delightfully giddy voice. She guides his body, instructing him to move as she has done, and Link, with his face twisted in a wildly embarrassed flush, reluctantly emulates her as she wishes.

"That's it!" she cries out, hopping up and down. Zelda rushes forward, giggling as she laces her fingers through his, raising their joined hands and rocking her hips side to side. Her eyes, glazed and exuberant, are glancing down her feet, perhaps trying to avoid tripping over her own limbs. Link is watching her face, praying that she will grace him with another glance.

And then, Hylia be praised, she does.

He can practically hear her breath catching in her throat, and she gives another giggle that's far more flustered than her last.

Dangerously-foolishly- he guides her closer, and she relents, moving rhythmically into him. Her hands release themselves from his and work their way up his arms, moving from the crooks of his elbows to the sides of his arms, pulling him impossibly closer. Their forms are touching now, the bare skin of his stomach grazing blissfully upon hers, and he sees her eyes flutter close.

Link wonders if Zelda can feel the way he strains against pulling her in further. He wonders what it would be like to run the bow of his lips across her collarbone. He wonders about the sort of sounds she'd emit beneath his capable hands.

She's grown so close that he could have the answers to such torturous questions in a matter of seconds.

With electricity thrumming through his veins, Link removes Zelda's hands from his body and collects them above their heads so that her hips sway far beneath them. She soon closes the hint of a gap between them and collapses in the bend of his arm, laughing. As he catches her, he suddenly finds himself laughing too; she's practically hysterical, and he realizes that he's never seen a fraction of this sort of joy from her.

"I think you're a bit drunk," he calls out.

"You're muffled!" She replants her feet and leans forward onto him, pressing their cheeks together. "What's that? I couldn't hear you."

It's the closest she's ever been to him.

It's a frightening sensation.

And he revels in it.

"I said that I think you've had a little too much to drink tonight. Would you like to retire soon?"

"Ohhh," she groans. "How can you ask me that...the night is so young!"

"It's almost midnight," he says, weakened by the unbroken contact.

Zelda pulls away, though her palms remained pressed up against his chest. She looks at him squarely in the face.

"Are you having fun?"

He nods absentmindedly. Zelda reaches out to trace a finger along the cloth against his face, daring to slip it under the veil so that she can gently press at his jawline, sending a blissful shiver down his spine.

"It certainly looked like you were having fun," she says, her voice suddenly shaded with a new hue of subtle disappointment as her gaze hones in on his hidden mouth. Link's brow creases, either perplexed by the tonal shift or bewitched by the gesture: a combination of both, to be sure.

Zelda quickly shakes her head. "Never mind. Can I have ten more minutes? Please...?" she whines with half-lidded eyes. "After that you can take me straight to bed."

He knows she's just worded her thought poorly, but his stomach still somersaults at the images that it generates.

"...fine. 10 more minutes."

She glows, wrapping her arms around his neck clumsily while her body continues to sway. She's so close that she's practically grinding herself up against him, and his clothes are suddenly tighter than ever before; if one looks at him too closely, his secret will be miserably obvious. Thankfully, she pulls away to resume her solo dance.

More bodies are piling out onto the dance floor, and Link soon feels a woman's strong back up push up against his, propelling him forwards. Zelda is mid-rotation when they make contact; he finds that her entire backside is suddenly pressed up to his front. She's still dancing, stepping from side to side, and he squeezes his eyes tightly, praying that she cannot detect the subtle action occurring in his southern region. If Zelda notices, she doesn't mind; she raises a hand and leans back into him, drawing the back of her hand across his cheek.

Link is fully aware that something has roared to life within him; concupiscent joy overwhelms him, full and feverish. But languishing in her presence is more than enough for him. He decides that he will cherish any bit of her that he can have. He closes his eyes to savor the moment, committing the sensations of her hand against his face to memory. Only trace amounts of alcohol have passed his lips, but he feels as though intoxication that saturates the room has found its way into his body. Fleeting, preposterous, simply delectable thoughts ravage him- abandoning their divine duties, dancing the days away with her in his arms, kissing her until the dawn each night.

More than once, he has to stop himself from leaning forward to place his lips upon her neck.

The minutes pass, far more than the allotted ten, and eventually Zelda falls onto him. The contact hums with somnolent warmth.

"Bed time?" he asks, stifling a yawn of his own. Link anticipates a long night of restless sleep on a blanket at the foot of her bed while his blood boils.

"I think so," she says. He nods against her.

Zelda proceeds to bid her farewells, though it takes a few extra moments to pry her from doting guests. As Link guides her to the exit, his eyes scan the room to find Yarna and Ashara, both of whom are now cuddled up to one another, excitedly waving him off. One of them makes an obscene gesture that Link reddens at, knowing precisely what they're advocating for. He shakes his head embarrassedly, and they howl with liquor fueled laughter that echoes even once they're out of sight.

A sudden draft of cool air whips around the pair as they extract themselves from the torridity of the crowded room. With her arm linked through his, Zelda murmurs all the way back to their quarters. She clings to him tightly, curling her fingers around the bend of his elbow.

"Oh Link, I don't think I've ever had so much fun before. Why can't our parties back home be like this?" she pouts, though it's a more refined pout-still far more endearing than the juvenile whines she'd lambaste him with in the dawn of their relationship.

"Different cultures, Princess."

She glares slightly, as though the fault lies with him. "Well, I'd much rather live with the Gerudo, then. And my name is Zelda. Zel-da. Stop calling me Princess."

He chuckles warmly as he watches her out of the corner of his eye, though she seems to be looking every which way. He swears there is still a dance in her step as she moves.

"Stop laughing at me," Zelda whispers indignantly. She tears herself away from him to lower herself onto a small step that brands the entrance to their quarters.

"I'm not laughing at you!" he hastily exclaims, knowing full well that he is, in fact, still laughing at her. Her pout deepens and he leans over. "I just find drunk Zel-da amusing."

"But I don't want to amuse you," she says with a slight huff.

Link can't resist smiling, and he sinks down to her level to kneel beside her.

"Don't worry. It's not a bad thing."

Zelda doesn't seem convinced. Her glossy viridian gaze flits back and forth across the stone beneath her, and after so much time spent in her company, Link can tell that her mind is calculating a response.

"What will you do next?" she asks softly.

"How do you mean?"

"Tonight. What are you doing to do next?"

The question puzzles him.

"I'm going to wait out here until you finish changing..?" It's posed as a question; he's not sure what information she's trying to gather from him.

"No...after that. After I fall asleep." He swears he can detect the subtle hint of a blush on her cheeks. "Will you go back to the party?"

Link can only stare at her, puzzled. He's well aware that she's not operating with the full extent of her cognitive abilities; he'll forgive her, but he struggles to follow her train of thought.

"No...I'm going to put some blankets on your floor and fall asleep. Why would I do that?"

Zelda's lips twist uncharacteristically in thought. The pink of her lips, in such close proximity, is unbearably tempting.

"Are you sure that you aren't going to go find those two women?" she asks, the question almost imperceptible in such a feeble voice. Her blush is much more apparent now. "Will you spend the night with them?"

And suddenly Link is drowning in a sea of total bewilderment.

"Of course not!" he sputters with widened eyes, reddening.

Zelda is quiet, her sleepy eyes still fixated elsewhere. A significant silence settles upon them, and Link finds himself positively tongue tied.

"I saw they way they looked at you," she whispers reluctantly. "They seemed so enamored with you."

He gives a nervous chortle. "Yeah. I, uh...I kind of noticed that too. They were...nice."

Zelda closes her eyes. "Well, I didn't like it very much."

As soon as the words fall from her mouth, she immediately covers her face with her hands, peering at him between thinly spread fingers.

Link's heart begins to thunder in his chest.

"Why not?" He wonders if she can hear the palpable yearning in his voice.

Zelda's hands fall from her face, seeking repose in her lap, though she remains fixated on him. When she speaks, her voice trembles, and the amused light that has danced in her eyes all night has vanished. She sounds so forlorn, so distant, so achingly honest.

"Because...because I'm not allowed to look at you like that."

Oh.

Oh.

Link slowly lowers himself fully beside her on the step, unsure of just how to respond, reminding himself that she won't remember most of their conversation in the morning. But he runs her words over in his mind, again and again, etching them across his heart so that he can cherish them every night for the rest of his life. His throat has run dry and the pounding in his chest is drowning the muddled, unbecoming thoughts that cross his mind.

"I'll never judge you if you choose to look at me so."

It's the safest thing he can manage. He's terrified of what he might reveal if he tries to say anything further. He decides against tucking a lone strand of hair behind the elegant point of her ear. He denies himself the small joy of placing a hand across hers comfortingly.

Jade rises to search azure as she ponders his words. Zelda raises her hand, and her index finger finds its way beneath his veil once more, running delicately along his jaw. Except this time, her thumb moves to brush across his bottom lip. His body gives a violent shiver in aching desire.

"You're drunk, Princess. You aren't thinking clearly," he barely manages to choke out.

Her brow furrows, and her face wrenches with longing.

"Then so be it."

With delicate fingers locked at his chin, she pulls him towards her while her free hand brushes the veil away, just enough to expose his mouth, and her lips soon find his. It's a small kiss, delicate and sensual, and nothing like he could have expected from her in such a state. He can taste hints of the delectable voltfruit wine she's nursed all evening, and every inhalation brings more of her scent into him, magnified beyond comparison; the smell of her hair after a wash, of her skin that's now tinged with sweat and spices. He tries to not imagine her flaxen locks cascading down his cheeks from above; to avoid pondering the feeling of her thighs against his as she straddles him.

And he realizes that he simply can't deny himself those additional abstractions because she's suddenly there, stretched across his lap, kissing him from above, her golden locks shrouding his face. She deepens the kiss ever so slightly, and Link is positive that she's done it in an effort to torture him. And it sets him positively ablaze.

"I'm not that drunk, you know." she mumbles against the curve of his top lip.

Suddenly, Zelda pulls away from him, rising from his lap and leaving a stupefied Link far below. She glides towards the entrance of the room and turns to catch his glance, muted in the limited light.

"Even if nothing ever comes of it...I hope you'll look at me that way sometimes, too."

There's a sudden spark of something in her eye, like an ember that refuses to die out among the ashes. He feels like someone has taken a closed fist to his gut, like a violently delightful punch in his abdomen. All thoughts of maintaining composure are quickly dashed. Assignment be damned-if he can't say something, anything, he'll burst from his skin right then and there. She's already beginning to turn away when he gathers his composure, and he quickly stumbles to his feet, silently reaching to take her hand before she can disappear.

"If you're still only hoping to see it, then perhaps you haven't been looking closely enough."

And suddenly his whole heart is there, spoken into existence, brazenly yearning for her acceptance.

He hopes he won't regret it in the morning.

Zelda's head snaps around to survey him. As she mulls over his words, he sees the familiar light blaze its way back into her eyes, and he detects her calibrating mind at work once more. Silently, she drops her gaze, but it takes a few agonizingly long moments before she speaks again.

"You know...sweet vai..." she slowly considers her words while she studies their clasped hands. "...there's quite a chill in the air this evening. Wouldn't you say?"

Link nods instinctually as the words wash over him, mirroring her actions; savoring the sight of her hand in his. Her voice grows impossibly small.

"...perhaps you... might be interested in helping your princess keep warm for a bit until it passes."

Atop the rosiest of blooms, her soaring eyes capture his gaze. Quietly, Zelda begins to move, and without another word, Link surrenders. He lets her guide him through the doorway, uncertain that he isn't dreaming.

Stars dance in both of their eyes.

And, no, they aren't from the drinks.

Note: I've been going back and forth on this one for quite some time. I'm still not entirely convinced by it, but it was fun! Thanks for reading.