Every Shard of My Heart Belongs to You: A Naked Rose

Zelda raised the scarlet flower to her lips and inhaled as deeply as a diver would before leaping into Lake Hylia, but to her chagrin, smelled nothing. No sweet or even acrid fragrance teased her senses. Either there was something wrong with her roses or... with her nose. The Princess held up the rose to examine it. There was no sign of disease or parasite so she quickly dismissed it and snipped the stem. She traced her finger along its petals, permitting the dewdrops to slide down her fingers. She was gathering roses that would be dried and used to make a wreath for her mother's grave. It was an annual tradition to lay a wreath on her tomb on what would have been her mother's birthday.

"Ow!" Zelda dropped a handful of roses and examined her index finger.

Iain, who was never too far away, rushed to the aid of his princess. "Are you all right, milady?"

Zelda nursed her wounded finger. "I just pricked my finger is all, Iain."

"Let me..." he whispered, gently pressing her finger to his lips and then stroking it between his own fingers, wiping away any traces of blood. She smiled at his gesture. "I think you should leave the cutting to the gardeners next time, milady." The princess smiled at his concern, though sometimes an annoyance, it was rather sweet.

"I'll be fine, though next time remind me to bring my gloves. These sweetbriers have grown more beastly than your average garden variety. You'd think that if anything they should have grown more tamely what with less danger of being eaten." She laughed softly at herself.

"Aw, but milady, perhaps some things are so lovely and well-preserved because they have such beastly thorns." He winked at her.

"Iain, are you implying that I am a like beastly-thorned flower? Has your protection allowed me to grow lovely, is that it?"

"I said no such thing," he teased. She slapped him playfully on the shoulder.

She smirked, "I'm sure—" She paused. "Do hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"Shh, listen..."

Both grew silent and could distinctly hear the soft tune of an ocarina, a tune that was hauntingly familiar to Zelda.

"He must be awake," she whispered to herself.

"Who?" Iain asked, puzzled.

"Link. Do you not hear the music?"

"I hear it, milady," he answered, though he did not recognize the tune or immediately identify the player as Link, and thus, did not understand his lady's change in mood. She sighed a frustrated sigh and left wordlessly.

Link sat dangerously close to the edge of his open window, fingering the notes of the Royal Family's sacred melody on his ocarina, the Ocarina of Time, which Zelda had entrusted to him. He stopped momentarily to dust a smudge from its glossy exterior and then resumed playing. He was so engrossed in his song that he did not hear the door open.

A voice called to him from across the room, "Link!"

Startled by the present knowledge that he was no longer alone, he fumbled the ocarina in his hands. At last, it escaped his fingers and was thus claimed by the cold stone floor. He looked up to find two remarkably violet eyes staring back at him.

"Zelda...?"

"Oh, Link!" she exclaimed, pulling him into an embrace that could only rival that of the Goron clan. "I am so glad to see you awake."

"Milady, you are hurting me."

"Oh, forgive me. It's just that I— " She froze and exclaimed, "Goddesses!" Zelda stepped back in horror and observed his bandaged forehead. "That's new. What happened?"

"Uh, this," he said, motioning towards his face, "This is how I found out that I have several broken toes." He did not look her in the eyes as if he were embarrassed. "I took a bad step getting up. I upset the nightstand; my head struck the post and my elbow kissed side of the bed frame." Zelda visibly cringed as he retold the tale.

"Is it... broken? —Your arm, I mean."

He shook his head. "The physician didn't think so, but he advised against using it."

"And here I have only made it worse. I'm so sorry, I should let you rest." She took a step towards the door, but was abruptly halted by a tug at her dress.

"Please don't go, milady, unless you mean to grieve me," he humbly said. "No one has come to see me except for the ladies who change my bandages. They won't let me go out, and all there is to do here is stare at the walls." He looked at her pleadingly. "Counting the wood grains in the ceiling beams has become awfully dull, and I do wish you would stay with me. Perhaps we can count them together?"

He meant to make her smile, but she did not. She looked away from him. He wondered if he had somehow offended her. "You need not address me so formally, Link. We are friends, are we not? It pains me that you do not recognize our formal intimacy." She was not angry, but wounded.

Link was unsure how to explain to Zelda that she could not be more wrong about his feelings for her. "I didn't mean to... I—I'm sorry, Zelda," he stammered, "It has been so long since you—since I... have spoken with you—or anyone—intimately."

Several moments of uncomfortable silence passed before he exhaled a lengthy sigh, expecting her to speak. She wouldn't disappoint him. "I... I brought your cap."

"My cap?" he asked, surprised. He hadn't worn it in so long he nearly forgot what had happened to it.

"Aye, the one you left, remember?" She placed it in his hands and curled his fingers around her own. "It must be too small for you now, but I just thought... Link, I have missed you so much and... I want to know where you have been. Whatever happened to you?" She stared down at her hands.

He leaned back against the wall, exhaling inaudibly and looking at her with glassy eyes in such a way that any onlooker would have sworn that by asking him to speak, she was putting him through a terrible and unparalleled pain.

His look did not go unnoticed by the princess. "It would be better to talk of that later, I suppose."

They sat in silence.