"As the water rises, the evil vanishes from the lake…" Zelda whispered beneath her breath. "Link," she sighed, "you did it…"
As from the ethereal nothingness, the waters flowed. Lake Hylia teemed with life which had long ago ceased to pulse throughout. Zelda crossed her arms. Indeed, he is the Hero of Time, she brooded. My vision is true. She frowned beneath her Sheikah veil, her expression of bother hidden behind the white cloth. She had spent years waiting for these moments, these battles of retribution—hiding beneath the identity of her caretakers people, and a gender not her own. And, she knew this sealed her emotions behind doors which could not be opened, no song to free them. She had a fate with destiny, and Link his.
If they and the sages were successful, Link would leave her in the end, and they would never again speak of their bond forged by the goddesses. Zelda shifted, her mind momentarily forgetting the divines, quite quickly feeling sorry for herself. She knew had this great chaos not befallen Hyrule, she may have been able to rule in relative peace. She may have even found joy in her life, and to experience the full range that Farore gifted her. And yet, she knew that these thoughts, these dreams were all too unreal. She was but a part in a grand balance, and was destined only to destroy the chaos which Nayru had long ago settled. There, upon the land which Din sculpted, she felt alone. Even with the spirit of vengeance for her people, she was still Hylian—she was mortal, and thus had mortal flaws.
Her flaws were apparent the last she saw the Hero. She spoke of young love, and grown affection, and did her duty as Sheik, the guide of the Hero of Time. They would ensure the Hero had all the magics and tools he needed to see through his daring mission. None else. As Sheik, "he" would always be there to make sure Link was ready for what lay ahead. Nothing else was she meant to do. And yet…
At each juncture they crossed she increasingly felt the tension in Links gaze. At their first reunification, he was but a young boy in a man's body—but as each passing moment advanced, he grew into the man he was. And what a man he had become. She was continually awed by his courage, and increasingly found that he was more than just the divinity he must eventually become. He too was mortal, as she was. As he grew more and more with each trial, so did his will, and so did his drive for an end to all...this. But she knew when she… when Sheik arrived to speak with him, Link was suddenly flush with boyish wonder again. And in those moments, she too found herself again in the Castle Courtyards, dreaming of adventure and glory—of a prophecy long since fulfilled over and over.
At last they met, she nearly failed her crusade. He made a daring move—he made an awkward push toward her—toward Sheik—hoping to learn more of this man who had trailed and aided him for weeks, coming and going with riddles and songs. She saw in that moment, these fleeting seconds of courage, those eyes which had enchanted her so long ago due to the pure and true nature of the boy who saw the world through them. He caught hold of her—of Sheik. She froze. She flushed reminiscing as her gaze met his, locked to his eyes as his hand had become around her wrist. When she came to her senses, she pushed it away and made her escape in a flash.
Her heart fluttered with embarrassment, so she breathed in deeply to clear her thoughts, refocus...but still she lingered. Could he see through her identity? Through her guise? He was not a weak minded one, no...he sensed something in that moment that she feared someone, or something, may have tapped into for these long, arduous years. Now, she could not clear his gaze from her senses—it had stunned her to her core.
The ground around her began to crackle and pop, and she tasted the dissolution and rebuilding of matter in the atmosphere as a tear in the chaotic void opened, and let down the Hero. She need not turn to know it was him, for again and again he triumphed. She turned, and she made ready her magic of deception, tuning her voice octaves lower using ancient Sheikah techniques which had thus far proved to be enough to steer clear of Ganondorf's toadys.
As Link's descent slowed, his quizzing look again met hers as he parted his golden hair from his eyes. Her heart jumped to her throat, and she cleared it to avoid choking when she spoke.
"Did Ruto want to thank me?" She asked confidently, as Link approached her. He let his shield slide off his shoulder, as well as his scabbard which held the Master Sword. He set them against the edge of the Warp Stone, before turning to her and nodding in confirmation.
"I see…" she responded reflectively. Even Ruto, one of Sheik's closest confidants did not know of the secrets carried with the shadow warrior. Ruto too had awaited Link's return, albeit for different reasons. She had, apparently, given Link the Zora's Ruby after having him swear to marry her when they were older. The thought made her squirm… but it was all talk, now. Ruto had made the greatest sacrifice, now a Sage serving as a Guardian to the Sacred Realm for all eternity. She did not know how this news had affected Link, but…
He stood back up and marched toward the edge of the now full Lake, suddenly a deep wonderful blue. He walked past her side, as if she wasn't there. She continued on, speaking as Sheik.
"We have to return peace to Hyrule for her sake as well, too. Don't we?" She paused as Link stood contemplatively across calm waters, turning to face him as he meditatively took in the work he had done. Zelda daren't speak up, for he seemed strangely distant in that moment. She thought of pointing out what he already knew, if not just to speak to the prophetic nature of his deeds, but so that she too could convince herself he indeed was the one destined to save Hyrule. As she opened her mouth, words failed her.
They stood in silence. Zelda felt her guard fade away. She had to leave, but she remained. She desired to be there, in that moment, as long as she could muster. If destiny called out across the eons, no prophecy could forestall this moment. She wanted to remain lingering for all time, even if they would turn to stone, and she never again met the crystalline blue of his caring, courageous gaze again. Time stood still.
He turned. She did not meet his eyes as she had dreamed, but instead she looked about. The swaying grass was paused, sparrows overhead had frozen in place, and the lightly lapping shore of the Lake was now as still as ice. Time literally stood still. She bounced from bird, to water, to tree, and finally to Link. He too looked a bit confused, but expected fully for Sheik to have the answers as if this were the latest magic in his bag of Sheikah tricks. But her eyes had betrayed her guise. He saw that this was as curious to her as it was to him. But, the longer he looked to her, to Sheik, the more he seemed resolved. Zelda's throat dried.
There again, she was frozen, stunned by his presence. Before she recognized what was happening, again his hands locked around hers. Again she didn't pull away in time. But, now...now Zelda did not leave—she wanted to stay. Link did not return the look from Sheik's red eyes, but instead was enraptured with her calloused hands. He did not study the curves of her body, but gently began to unbandage the cut and torn fingers of the man who she hid behind—a male persona to keep her distant and protected from those who might seek out the missing Princess of Hyrule. He studied the thin fingers, the battleworn knuckles which she hoped would mask her yet more than gloves hands may ever accomplish. Gently her turn them over, studying her wrists, glancing up the forearm, and then up and down her torso. Finally he locked his entrancing sight with hers and Zelda could sense apprehension. She nodded ever-so slightly, silently affirming. He let go of her hands calmly.
Link removed his leather gauntlets revealing the strength he bore in his forearms. As close as she had ever been, she could see now the cuts, bruises, burns, and gashes which was strewn along his arm. And from there, she studied up his arms, to his shoulders the sculpted body of a warrior. From arms length, she could hear him breathe, she could see the contours of his body through his clothes. She could feel his internal conflict radiate out, and wash over her. She remained still. Does he know who I am? Does he care? She still didn't dare let down all of her defenses—if he wanted Sheik, she would let him have Sheik. But Zelda had to remain in hiding; the Hero must love her, after all, for her visions to become as prophesized.
Be she still wanted him.
Subconsciously she reached out when he brought his gloveless hand up again, and their toiled skin locked between digits. She could feel the rough, leathery grasp of the hands which had slain hundreds in her name. He let go, and held her palms in his, so that his thumbs lay upon hers, massaging them gently. She had not noticed how close their bodies had come to each other, their breathing growing more drawn. They did not speak a word as they pressed close to one another until their foreheads rested upon the other, and Zelda could feel Link's blood pulse with each beat of his heart. Man, woman, or otherwise: Link desired her. Sheik would let him have him. Zelda wanted him to love her.
His hands released her palms, and he grasped her torso. Immediately she placed her hands over his, confirming that which they subconsciously had been working towards, and she let him guide her to her knees. Link let go of her torso, and reached around her head. He took hold of her mask and the hair beneath it, and turned her away from him, sternly, but carefully. She lost control of her breathing, panting in anticipation, her hands upon the grass as she remained upon her knees as Link placed his hand on her bottom and gripped teasingly. She could not think of anything else: no missions, no vengeance, no songs or magic. She thought only of the man as he held her hair, and with his free hand removed a shuriken from her tool pouch so he could cut away at the fabric of her trousers.
He let go, the knife thudding in a dull clink on the ground. Zelda remained upon her hands and knees. She inhaled in anticipation as Link silently, caressed her back. She could barely help but shake from the excitement of the moment, and she thought she might even pass out from the anticipation as Link's massage reached her rectum, poking and pulling with his thumb as he too tried to shake away his excitement.
Zelda closed her eyes and listened as Link removed his belt, clinking on the ground to his side. Then came the rustle of his tunic as he doffed it on the ground beside them. She felt the slight cold, her trousers only ripped in a manner for access to that which both she and Sheik shared. She still wondered what pulsed through Links mind as he neared this moment. Who did he think he was about to lie with? Before she could break her silence and tell him, in her own voice, to go farther, to make her womanhood his refuge, she felt it drop upon her buttock. She glanced back, surprised at the gravity of it all, and immediately he guided her gaze away, and she dropped to her elbows as he placed his hands upon her hips.
She stared into the grass before her, her body hypersensitive to touch. She felt every minutia of movement as Link continued to finger gently along the edges of her rectum. Playfully, he brought his cock to the edge, only to poke and prod lightly, careful to not penetrate fully. She moaned, and gripped the grass, her voice dancing across the scales which she could produce. Even then, holding onto everything she had worked for, even in the face of such undoing.
She gasped, and all ruse and guise left her in one gentle push.
Link paused, she knew he heard her. He grasped her thighs, and she shivered and bent wincing and gasping, a mixture of odd comfort and alien pleasure. She rocked with him, and he pulsed with her. Gentle, slowly, carefully. His salvia ensured a sleek movement, and his caring, mindful lover's touch let Zelda unfold from her masculine role, if but for these tender moments. There, upon the grass, she felt wanted—she wanted him. She did not care if her ambivalent gender had made her but a vessel of pleasure, if only for a few minutes, taking away chance for a more feminine joy which she truly wanted and what dreams had prophesized. For once, she wanted indulgence.
And, as he pulled out and away, she knew he had sensed her emotions.
He pushed her down, her face in the ground, and her body prone. He allowed her to turn her head to the side, and then he pulled her mask from her head to see her face. Her braided hair fell to the side in a tail which he grabbed as his pommel to guide her body. She could sense the confidence in his wrist, the control of a swordsman. In those moments where she caught her breath, she had gained the touch of a man who wished her nothing but care. His free hand explored the curves of her spine, and down her body. She sighed as she felt him find that which he looked for, the hole in her trousers torn slightly further, exposing reality. He made haste.
She shivered in pleasure as he tugged gently at her whilst rubbing the head of his cock against her clit, up and down the lips of her labia tantalizingly. She cooed as he slid his way into her, and she slowly drained of senses until her face met the grass, focusing only on the steady throb inside. As she was splayed, his hands guided her to him again, and again. It was mere seconds before she fell nearly unconscious with flushed excitement, and she gave him her body fully—he controlled their movements as she could barely do but to burst at the seams. Only him she could sense, the frozen void now but an empty vase containing only their bodies and their pleasure. He edged closer and closer with each thrust, his heart racing in each pulse, his breath more heavy with each minor twitch which quaked through their bodies. It was all she ever imagined this would be, what they could be.
He moaned, but once, and arched over her, his hands upon hers. Her eyes rolled, and her body quaked. As he crashed upon her in these final waves, she felt her hand burn, and she opened one eye to sneak a look to her side. As Link's fingers locked over hers, the golden glow of a Sacred Triangle appeared upon his hand, and Zelda could feel the outline on hers pulse deep from within. She gasped and felt her mind disconnect from all else—the sense of the magic which swirled about them plunged her eyes into deep voids of white, and her muscles tensed in rigid, wanting acceptance. Link called out, and she answered.
When it was over he plunged and he gasped in pure ecstasy, grasping around her bosom and remaining within her, each pulse of his orgasm draining him again, and again. Yes, she joyfully let resound about her mind, this vision too was true. She had no doubts now, for her prophetic script called for such a thing: she was to love the Hero of Time, and he was to love her. But her pleasure faded away, and in its place came dismay. In the end, she knew now, that tragedy would befall them. He would still need to return to his time—and she would remain in hers. He would leave her, as she had dragged him into this mess to begin with, and the greatest tragedy would be his absence in her life. He was destined to close the doors of time, and seal away the darkness. He was destined to leave her.
As he fell to her side, and she turned over in the grass, he remained still and silent. The timeless bubble which her desire created remained. They could continue, if she pleased, and if he was able to find strength to love her again. But, as she lay still, contemplating the visions she saw, the magic field began to dissolve and dissipate. It was time, she concluded, to let desires leave her, and her mission to take hold again. As the world released from it's ghostly pause, she felt suddenly, his hand upon her cheek. She looked over again into the disarming look of his, and she took his hand and brought it to her heart. He focused upon the rise and fall of her breath, letting Zelda guide him how she pleased.
"Know this, Link. You pulse within me, now, for whatever befalls us. Our fates are but certain..."
And in a moment, it was gone. The magic dissolved, and her eyes burned white in a blinding fashion. And there again she was again standing behind him, as he gazed out across the Lake, gently flowing to-and-fro, marveling in the sights of the restored waters. All was as it was before her spell befell the world.
Before he could turn to meet her, she was away—gone without a trace. He would know nothing of their embrace, her bending of time saw to that. Truth remained secure, and their greatest battle was still to come. Zelda glanced back across the chasm between them, as the distant figure readied himself, again, for the next leg of his adventure.
But now there was a hope. Her power could only reach its full potential when love filled her heart to the point where it overflowed. She was ready, now, to destroy the chaos which had destroyed her homeland. And, greater still, she would know the truth in the enduring love she felt for him for all her days, if just for those fleeting timeless moments. Their Legend would be sung in songs throughout all time, and she would ensure they would be written by her—for the world would know her love for him eternally, even if he never would.
