A/N: First of all, WOW. Really guys?! The outpouring of reviews last chapter was amaaaazing! From those who've been faithfully reviewing for a while (Nic, your review made me laugh aloud), to those who've been reading this for a bit but took the time to write their first review for it (and went back and reviewed the previous chapters too?! Lady Z, you're spoiling me!), to those who just discovered it recently (FrozenFire, I'm so glad it made you happy that I published a new chapter the day you found it), everyone was so kind and awesome and YOU GUYS TOTALLY ROCK! I have read and reread every single review, and I am so tickled pink and grateful that you took the time to write them.

So I don't usually do this BUT LET'S DO THIS! A huge thank you to Katia, Delta (I did give Zelda a goldfish named Mipha in one draft, does that count?), Ednae (Super thoughtful, thank you for taking the time to write out the details of your impressions for me), Lady Z, Forte, Sausage, Wendy, FrozenFire, Gnote, and my anon reviewers, as well as everybody else who took the time to review for previous chapters. You're all awesome!

Oh, right, the story, yeah it's around here somewhere…

Not My First Dinner, Again

This isn't my first time going to dinner at Zora's Domain. Which is precisely why I'm dreading it so much. And though I'm putting up as much of a fuss as is societally appropriate, my date tonight doesn't seem bothered.

"I really don't think it will be a problem, Zelda," he tries to placate me after I've tried for the umpteenth time to talk him into going somewhere else. "When's the last time you went to a restaurant and the chef waltzed out of the kitchen into the dining room?"

"I suppose," I manage with a halfhearted shrug, but though my exterior is collected as ever my stomach is turning to knots and I'm swiftly losing my appetite.

I wish he would just listen. I mentally add inattentive to the list of cons I'm composing based on tonight's interactions. He has some good points too, of course, or we wouldn't even be here. He's got the education my parents will love and the financial security they'll insist on. He's well-liked in all the right social circles and handsome in an exotic way, with his tall build, olive skin, burning tawny eyes, and flaming red hair. He's the sole heir of a multibillion rupee corporation and considered one of the most eligible bachelors this side of the desert.

Who wouldn't be interested in an evening out with Ganondorf Dragmire?

Most girls would fawn over the sleek black Ferrari he drove up in or the confident gleam in his eyes when he complimented my outfit, but there is something very plastic about it all that I can't seem to overlook.

Very plastic, but very practical. It's unpleasantly familiar.

"This will be a night to remember," he purrs, a satisfied grin playing on his features. "I promise."

I retreat into an anxious silence, and a few minutes later we pull up to the familiar building with the aquarium walls. We entrust the car to the valet and walk to the reception, where the maître d' briefly locks eyes with me, flickering with recognition, and I wish I could just disappear. A split second later, they're glazed again with professional dispassion, but it's too late to dowse the shame burning a hole in my chest.

"The name on the reservation?" he inquires politely.

"Dragmire," Ganondorf smiles. But beneath the veneer I can tell he's irked that he had to identify himself.

"Yes, of course. We're delighted to have you and your guest this evening, Mr. Dragmire," he smiles tautly. "Please follow me."

The walk to the table is more hellish than I'd imagined. Ganondorf insists on offering me his arm and parading me the whole way, and Mikau nearly drops his tray when he sees me. I imagine I look completely miserable as we take our seats at the lovely table beside the aquarium, but if I am, Ganon gives no indication that he notices. I'm staring numbly at the menu, terrible, wonderful memories tormenting me as they stir awake, and it takes me a while to realize he's talking.

"—and they were doing so well my cousin just bought the vineyard. Shall we order a bottle?"

I blink away a flurry of scales and lights playing in my mind's eye and the phantom sensation of lips, hands, and water, trying to wrap my head around his suggestion. I manage a meager, "Sure."

"Excellent," he murmurs, smiling privately, and his eyes scan me once. "I can't tell you how pleased I am that we were finally able to do this."

I try to smile politely, but the expression feels tight across my mouth. "So am I."

I reach for my glass and sip the water, trying to distract myself from the unpleasantness of my insincerity. The ice cubes clink against the crystal when I set it down, tinkling softly against the harp and piano echoing overhead, and my mind starts wandering again at the familiarity of it. My hands fist in my lap. I should never have agreed to this. I try to blink away the frustration and focus as he lays a token on the center of the table between us.

"I got you something to commemorate the evening," he says, opening the box. The bracelet within is stunning, delicate and strung with genuine opals encrusted in sapphires, arranged in branching clusters that look like the feathery spokes of a snowflake.

"Oh," I breathe, filled with dread, and he takes my hand, trying to draw my wrist closer. "Ganondorf, I couldn't possibly accept this—"

"Nonsense," he chuckles. "It'll bring out your eyes."

"I just wouldn't be comfortable—"

"Zelda, please," he barges on, draping it across my wrist and turning my arm over. "It's just a little gift to let you know how much I'm looking forward to tonight."

A little gift that definitely cost more than my car. "But—"

"Ah ah!" he interrupts again, fastening the clasp. "There. What did I tell you?" He smirks again, a satisfied glint in his gaze. "It suits you perfectly."

Before I can marshal a reply the waiter arrives, clearing his throat gently to get our attention. Mikau, of course. The gods wouldn't be content with sending anyone else. Ganondorf orders the wine I obliviously agreed to earlier and his own meal. Then Mikau turns to me.

"And do you know what you would like this evening, Miss?"

"Umm," I manage, my voice barely a whisper. I try desperately not to look at him, or my wrist, and fixate on Ganondorf instead. I hadn't even looked at the menu in earnest.

"You said you liked what you had the last time you were here, didn't you?" Ganondorf asked, being the exact opposite of helpful.

"I don't remember which dish it was," I answer lamely.

"Perhaps if you could describe your previous meal for me…?" Mikau offers, playing the perfect, clueless waiter.

I can't help it; I sigh aloud and roll my eyes, handing him the menu. "You know which one it was."

"Very good, Miss," he says, wearing a poorly disguised smirk as he takes our menus and leaves.

I lean my forehead into my hand, only to recoil when I catch sight of the bracelet in my peripheral vision and shove my hands under the table.

I'm a mess. An absolute mess. How am I supposed to forget him when there are reminders of him everywhere I look?

An unwelcome, sodden knot rises in my throat. I knew letting him go would be awful, but I didn't know it would be this bad. The worst part had been the look in his eyes, so honest and tempestuous and blue: the unmistakable, unforgiving burn of betrayal.

"So, Zelda," Ganondorf starts again, oblivious to my misery. "After dinner, I thought I might give you a tour of the estate."

I furrow my brow as I try to reconcile his proposal with the hour, swallowing my discomfort as I turn my attention to the task at hand. "In the desert? Isn't that rather far?"

"Villainous has a helipad not far from here," he explains, giving me another smile. He certainly loves flaunting his toys. "All the corporate transportation is at our disposal. The grounds are quite magnificent from the air; they call it the Goddess of the Sand for a reason."

Somehow I get the feeling he isn't going to take no for an answer. I take a drink of water, opting not to respond. The sommelier arrives with our bottle of wine, pours him a taste, and then fills our glasses after Ganondorf nods in approval. He takes another drink and then laces his fingers around the hips of his chalice, swirling it lazily as he watches me.

"You're not at all like I'd imagined you'd be," he tells me quietly.

He hasn't given me the opportunity to tell him anything about myself other than my objection to coming here tonight, which he ignored, so I can't imagine what that's supposed to mean. "In what way?"

"Well, you know," he shrugs. "Scientists have a reputation for being terribly dull, and either painfully awkward or needlessly chatty. But not you. You're elegant and fascinating; there's not a man in this room who wouldn't love to be seen with you."

I would love to not be seen at all right about now. I smile plastically. "You're too kind."

"Zelda," he says, placing his hand over mine. I go rigid at his unexpected touch, but don't move otherwise. "I know billionaires like me have a reputation, too. But I don't want you to think I'm after some fling; you're a woman of quality, and I would never treat our relationship so lightly."

I slide my hand out from under his and take my wineglass with it, trying not to betray my revulsion. He's so transparently rehearsed that it only reinforces the idea that his ability to show me genuine interest is meager at best. I stare at the swaying burgundy liquid, misgiving knotting itself in the pit of my stomach.

I can't do this. I can't fake another smile. I can't pretend that there's even the smallest possibility that this shallow, arrogant man could ever make me happy, no matter how rich and educated and well-connected he is. I set the glass down and fiddle with the clasp of the bracelet, shaking my head gently as I try to work the tiny piece into submission.

"Ganondorf—"

"Excellent," he interrupts as the food begins to arrive. I recognize his dish as the first one I ever tried here: fatty and sugary and hard not to like. He takes a forkful and sighs minutely over it. "Exquisite."

The nutty aroma wafting off my plate momentarily distracts me from my urge to terminate the evening, and I slowly reach for my utensil. I suppose I can tolerate him a bit longer. No sense in letting the meal go to waste.

I take a bite and it's perfect. Complex and earthy, aromatic, tantalizing in its newness and in the way it defies conventions. I can taste him in it, the reflection of his personality in its construction; rebellious and sultry and teasing.

I'm loath to share, but I can't help myself. "Would you like a bite?" I offer.

His mouth quirks up into a smirk as he reaches over to take some on his fork. His expression shifts as he tastes it; his brow furrows a little, his eyes misting over in sensation and thought. Almost instantly it's gone, and he makes a noncommittal sound. "Not crazy about that one."

I nearly laugh.

Mikau reappears, approaching the table hesitantly. "Is everything to your liking this evening?"

"Absolutely," Ganondorf smiles hugely. "Please give my compliments to the chef."

There's a sizable thud in my mind as realization drops from its unpleasant height into my awareness, and my eyes widen in alarm. But it's too late.

"Thank you. I'll be certain to pass that along," Mikau says, all but serenading us with his delight, and disappears before I can stop him in my shock.

I turn back to Ganondorf, alarmed and furious. "Why would you say that?!"

His brow furrows again in confusion. "Why would I say what?"

"'Compliments to the chef'? Are you out of your mind?"

"Oh, that's right," he chuckles. "I'd forgotten. Well, don't worry. I doubt he'll come out to greet us personally."

"You're Ganondorf Dragmire!" I shriek in a frantic whisper. "You're a billionaire and the sole heir of one of the largest corporations in the world! He'll be obligated to come see you himself!"

"Hmm," he agrees, taking another sip of wine. "Well, I'm sure I can handle him. Don't worry, Zelda, I'll take care of it."

Panic. Complete and utter panic. Din, Farore, and Nayru shroud us all in eternal shadow, this is a nightmare. I bury my face in my hands for an instant, gripped by despair, and then slam them down on the table.

"This is exactly what I said would happen!" I hiss.

"Zelda, please, calm down," he scoffs.

I am way beyond calm down. This is the most humiliating, horrifying, agonizing thing that's ever happened to me, and I want to die. Or, at least, I thought I wanted to die. I thought I was miserable enough to want that. But a few moments later, Link steps out of the kitchen, his startled blue eyes darkening as they lock with mine, and then I'm miserable enough to want to die.

Link crosses the room to our table, looking stately and confident in his chef's tunic. It suits him, removing any doubt that this place is his and he belongs here. I would've loved to be able to feel pride; I think that's what I would've felt if things were different. But as it is, I can't find it in myself to appreciate his appearance. I'm still fixated on my insistent death craving.

"Well, well, Ganondorf Dragmire," he smiles amicably. "It's not every day we have the heir of Villainous himself in our dining room. I hope your meal is to your liking."

Ganondorf passes me a subdued smirk. An 'I told you so' if I've ever seen one. "Delicious as always."

"Interesting pairing," Link mutters, his brow quirking as he reaches across the table and turns the bottle to see the label more clearly. "Did my sommelier recommend this?"

"No," Ganondorf chuckles. "My cousin owns the vineyard. I thought we should give it a try."

"Ah, I see," he smiles again. It's more plastic than mine and humorless; it doesn't suit him at all. He still hasn't looked my way, and I'm nursing a tiny ember of hope that he'll just walk away without acknowledging me. "And speaking of pairings—"

Nope.

His blue eyes, flickering with dark humor, slide gently to me. "I see you've brought the lovely Zelda Nohansen with you tonight. A nice choice; complements pretty much any bouquet and works for any occasion. A word to the wise, though," he murmurs, leaning in closer, "she gets bored easily. Try to keep her entertained if you want her to stick around for more than a couple weeks."

"Link, please," I reprimand him in hushed tones. "Don't make a scene."

"It's just a piece of friendly advice," he deflects placatingly, and then his azure eyes meet mine, depthless and daring as ever. "And don't worry—I won't take that as some sort of indication that you care at all for my opinion. I know it's just that you have your dignity to think of."

I can feel my cheeks burning as I mutter my exasperated retort. "You are being such a child."

"And is that better or worse than being like one of your overbearing parents?"

I roll my eyes with a scoff. Ganondorf is watching us bicker unhelpfully; he doesn't seem particularly riled at all, just confused that he isn't the center of attention for once. "Everything is a joke to you!"

"On the contrary, I don't think this is funny at all. Your standards are so convoluted, even you can't keep them straight. Have you warned him about that yet—" he turns quickly to my date, "—what was your name again? Ganondrag Dorfmire?"

"Link!" I hiss, mortified. "You are embarrassing me!"

"You should be embarrassed," he retorts, his expression bland. "If I was caught rebounding this badly by my ex at his restaurant, I would be too."

"Now, listen—" Ganon tries to interject, about to rise from his seat and probably launch into some noble defense of my character (or perhaps the correct pronunciation of his name), but Link doesn't give him the chance.

"No, no, don't get up," he insists. "Far be it from me to intrude on your romantic evening. You are paying customers after all. Unless—you weren't expecting me to pay for your dinner tonight, too, were you Zel?" He shoots Ganon a charming smile before I can overcome my flush and says, just before he walks away, "Enjoy your meal."

He's half way to the kitchen before I can react.

"I cannot believe him!" I growl, throwing my cloth napkin on the ground in as pure a tantrum as I have ever thrown and stomping after him before Ganondorf can calm me down. I burst through the in door and storm up to his station where he's about to compose a plate. He doesn't even have the decency to look my way. I narrow my eyes at him and bite out, "You've got some nerve, Link."

"Pfft," he counters unceremoniously, rolling his eyes, and is about to taste test one of the sauces when I rip the spoon out of his hand and toss it over my shoulder. "What the—?! Zelda! What is your problem?!"

"You are my problem!" I shout back, oblivious to the chaos of the kitchen around me. Fires are blazing, waiters are rushing, cooks are shouting; but I'm not about to let anything distract me from winning this argument. "I have never met anyone in my entire life who could be so immature and narcissistic!"

"Says the girl who just grabbed the spoon right out of my mouth and threw it on the floor like a Kokiri throwing a tantrum," he lobs back, pointedly grabbing another utensil and tasting the sauce without my interference. Satisfied, he dresses the plate with it and moves off to another station, forcing me to follow amidst a flurry of kitchen staff carrying hot pans and frighteningly sharp knives. He sighs as I join him at the next counter. "Do you mind? I'm trying to work here."

"As a matter of fact, I do mind," I say, reining myself in as much as I can. "This is exactly why it could never work out between us. You don't know how to take anything seriously!"

"Not that you ever gave me a chance," he bites back, giving me his full attention for an entire half second before he whips back to his cutting board where some prepped vegetables are about to suffer the brunt of his irritation. "You always knew I wouldn't be good enough for you and that this would never go anywhere. You said so yourself. But did you have the decency to tell me that? No. You just strung me along until you got bored. If you ask me, it sounds like you're the one who doesn't take anything seriously."

"Don't put words in my mouth. I never said you weren't good enough for me. I said my parents—"

He scrapes the minced vegetables off the cutting board into a roasting pan and smacks the knife down on the counter, startling me into silence. "Your parents would love me."

"Your cockiness was a lot cuter before I realized how much you actually believe it," I snap.

"There's a difference between being cocky and being confident, Princess," he corrects me harshly. "I would've won them over."

"You are being so incredibly obtuse! You don't even know them!"

"No, you're the one being obtuse, as usual! It doesn't matter that I don't know them, Zelda! I would've fought for you! You just don't know what that's like because you've never been in a genuine relationship in your life!"

That stung.

It stung because he was right. I had gotten so used to keeping people at arm's length that I probably hadn't ever experienced a real, vulnerable, sincere relationship before. But the worst part was hearing him say he would've fought for me, and realizing how badly I would've wanted that.

But I screwed it up before he got the chance.

His eyes are alight with fire and intensity, and suddenly I can't hold his gaze anymore. I let my eyes drop to the tile floor; angry tears are budding in them, but I refuse to let them go.

So much for winning this argument.

I can't think of anything to say and I hate it. I turn wordlessly and wander back to where I had thrown the spoon, picking it up off the floor and dropping it in one of the sinks. When I turn around he's standing right behind me.

"Why are you being so stubborn?" he mutters.

I sigh, exasperated. "I'm not being any more stubborn than usual."

"You are," he disagrees, but not in such a way as to pick a fight. He's just stating a fact, and wondering at it. "Why did you back down just now?"

I shrug tersely, furrowing my brow. "It doesn't matter."

"Just answer the question."

"Because you were right."

"That's never stopped you before."

I toss my eyes as disdainfully as I can muster and make to brush past him, but he grabs my wrist before I can get far, forcing me to face him again.

"Would it kill you to be honest with me for once in your life?" he demands.

"You are so conceited," I rant, snatching my wrist back. "You think you know everything!"

"You keep trying to make this about me, but we both know it's about you," he deflects, slicing through my barricades. "I'm not the one who decided for both of us that we couldn't make it work. I'm not the one who stormed in here in the middle of the dinner rush to pick a fight. I'm not the one who was about to turn tail and run without admitting why."

"There's no point!" I counter shrilly. "It's over! It's not like I can just backpedal on all of it and expect you to be there waiting for me with a smile and open arms!"

"There you go, making decisions for both of us again!" he bickers loudly. "Goddesses, Zelda, just get over yourself and stop trying to control everything for five seconds!"

"Fine!" I shout back, so propelled by anger that I'm willing to throw all caution to the wind just to spite him. "You're right! I've never been in a genuine relationship in my life! And I'm furious with myself because I realize I was in one with you, but I sabotaged it before it could go anywhere! And hearing you say that you would've fought for me is just pouring salt into the wound, because I would've given anything to see what that looks like just once!"

"Well I've got news for you, Zelda, this is what it looks like!"

I blink. My heart melts and I suddenly want to burst into tears, but he's still shouting at me so I instinctively stay in combat mode and it keeps me from falling to a complete mess on the kitchen floor.

"Me not letting you walk out that door when I know the only thing keeping us apart is your own pride is me fighting for you! And don't you try to tell me if I'd have you back or not; that is entirely my decision, and I'm not so spineless and egotistical that I'd let go of the best thing that ever happened to me without giving it another shot just because she's moody and has commitment issues!"

"Well, fine!" I blurt out, so confused I can't manage anything else.

"Good!" he shouts.

Two seconds later he closes the distance between us and crushes his lips against mine, kissing me so passionately that it seems like every roaring fire and billow of steam in the kitchen explodes at once, blowing the chaos away and thoroughly entangling us in each other until the argument and the world melt into an irrelevant blur and there's nothing in all of Hyrule that I want more than this.

Somewhere in the haze of it all, I hear Mikau pop his head out the out door and his voice carrying across the dining room.

"Hey, Gan-Man, your girlfriend is making out with my boss. I don't think she's coming back."