Every Shard of My Heart Belongs to You: Picking Up the Shards

Link tiptoed, stopped abruptly, listened, and resumed as quietly as he could. Not even the crickets had stayed up this late. Only one light was still burning.

It was hers.

For hours he had sat in his room. He entertained himself with several melodies on his ocarina, praying to the goddesses for inspiration. He mused over the proper words in his head repeatedly, until at last he found the courage to express them. It had grown late in the evening, maybe even morning, but he could not wait until sunrise to see her.

He placed a shaking hand over the brass handle, breathed, smoothed his other hand over the sanded panels of her door, and breathed once more. He breathed as if he were about to leap into Lake Hylia in his iron boots.

He knocked timidly, half-expecting no answer, and was surprised to hear soft footsteps from within. The door's hinges screeched dryly until the wooden frame was replaced by a pair of violet eyes.

She touched him with her eyes, reaching beyond his flesh and into his very soul.

"Zelda."

She wiped her eyes groggily. "Why do you call on me so late?"

"Did I wake you?"

"No, I was—well, yes. I had fallen asleep over a book."

"I'm sorry. I just..." The touch of her eyes had rendered him speechless. "May I..."

"Come in." she finished. She held the door open, issuing for him to come inside and nonchalantly checking the hall for curious eyes. Seeing none, she shut the door behind her.

"Zelda, this cannot wait. I had to speak with you."

"Well, I could only assume," she teased, but with humor absent in her voice.

He grasped her gently by the arms, keeping his eyes locked on hers. But as soon as he opened his mouth to speak he could no longer hold them there. "I cannot keep this from you any longer," he began, "I think I understand now why you have been treating me so strangely. I thought at first you suspected I had feelings for you, but you already had replaced your feelings for me with someone else."

"What?" she asked, surprised by his frankness,"No, I—"

"I know, Zelda. I know I was wrong, but the truth is, I do have feelings for you. I always have." He bowed his head so that it was nearly level with hers. "If my intentions have ever been unclear to you, know now that it is you whom I love."

She looked up from her hand and gazed incredulously into his eyes, searching for any flaw in his expression that might display insincerity, but she could find none.

"Don't say that," she pleaded, taking her hand from him. She was afraid his statement would be followed by a nullifying conjunction.

"I can't not say it. I must, even if you don't return those feelings—though if I didn't at least suspect you did, I doubt I would have the courage to tell you—but if I didn't tell you, I would be stuck in this game of being drawn to you and then having you push me away because you're afraid I would get too close and eventually hurt you again." He exhaled. "Correct me if I'm wrong."

The Princess was without words.

Link continued, "I don't expect anything from you, but I thought about what you said—about being honest, and you were right. I thought if I left the decision in your hands—if I left it up to you whether I should go or stay—then I wouldn't have the responsibility of hurting either of us, and I wouldn't have to ask myself what I really wanted. I'm so very sorry. It was unfair of me to put so much on you. I was afraid you would reject me again, especially since you ran off after we kissed." He sighed. "I'm sorry, I didn't want that to sound like an excuse. Believe me, I know it's not. That's why I'm here."

Zelda stared at him tearfully. Neither knew what more to say. She embraced him and wept against his chest. She didn't want to speak; she just wanted to be held. He stroked her hair.

"Oh Zelda... Those five years ago, I had to leave. There was nothing here to fulfill me. I was your favorite, and that was the only reason why your father took pity on me. I did not feel as though I earned my place of honor. I did not fit my armor. I had to grow up first... and that is why I had to go. We were so young I could not even fathom the consequences of my actions. I was a fool to leave you like that. Forgive me. I should have at least said goodbye. I wish I could undo it... but I am merely a man, Zelda, capable of and often subject to folly."

He held her tighter.

She looked up from his shoulder. "I... forgive you," she spoke quietly, "I guess I was afraid to need you again."

"You're not at fault for that."

"Aye, I don't imagine there is a fault. I guess you leaving gave us both the time to grow into our armor." She smiled weakly. "It made me realize how I had taken you for granted, an error I shall not make twice." She brushed the stray strands of hair from his eyes. "I love you, Link."

He placed his worn hands against her shoulders. "Let me kiss you again," he muttered.

He took her chin in his hand and caressed her unyielding lips with his own. Her gentle mouth was crushed by his demanding lips, and his calloused hands were coarse against her face, but she returned his kiss with the same desire.

And it was in this one moment, when no other thoughts or feelings existed outside that room, that two hearts began to heal. They could forget yesterday, tomorrow was intangible, and all that subsisted, all that mattered, was now.

Slowly, reluctantly, she pulled away. She opened her eyes and exhaled, resting her forehead against his as he thumbed away the tears that threatened to defile her flawless face.

Outside Zelda's room there was darkness. Darkness isn't generally thought of an object in itself, but more like an absence thereof. There was something different about this kind of darkness. It seemed to be alive.

The two figures stood, silent as the stone upon which they leaned. They waited for the candles to be extinguished, for the voices to cease. Whispering with their eyes rather than their lips, they inched towards the window with nimble feet along a thin border of stone that protruded from the castle's defenses. The voices became hushed until only silence was left to toil with the paling candles' shadows. The click of a door and the patter of footsteps suggested that they should prepare themselves. The candle flickered once more before it extinguished into nothingness, resigning to absolute darkness.

Now all they could do was wait. In this time of night ten minutes may seem like ten hours, or in the blink of an eye it could be morning. An unknown amount of time passed. The hazy grayness revealed that it was not but a few hours before dawn.

The female figure, slender and clothed in midnight, peered with a circumspect eye around the corner of the window and through a rift in its thick drapery. Her gaze fell upon the four-poster bed with translucent curtains drawn around an elaborate canopy and the motionless silhouette within. She dropped a pebble on the floor and listened. There was no movement. She nodded to the man next her, motioning for him to edge closer.

She looked at her partner, at his expressionless face. He seemed lost in thought, or perhaps lost in doubt. She brushed his dark brown hair from his face, causing him to glance up at her. His skin was scarred, but still smooth. She leaned to whisper in his ear but let her breath tickle his neck before speaking.

"Remember why we are here," she whispered. She stepped soundlessly over the windowsill with the help of two strong arms that held fast to her waist. She in turn helped him through the three-foot opening, dragging him by the shirt. They crept closer, embracing the disguising night. The thin curtain of Zelda's canopy was slipped opened with agile fingers.

Her wrists were bound and her ankles roped. One monstrous hand held closed her dainty mouth. Her eyes shot open.

One taunting voice echoed, "Good morning, Princess."