Word Count: 381
Warnings: Nothing graphic, but mention of bloodshed and birth
Characters: Link, Zelda
Disclaimer: I don't own the Legend of Zelda or any of its inclusive characters and ideas.
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Red on the fine weave cotton sheets, red of life. Red blood from the new life she'd brought into the world, though the blood was hers and not the child's; Red that was still a stain of the future to come through the torment of the past.
Red on the drapes around the four-poster, red of death. Red blood from the lives he'd taken in her name, the soldiers he'd cut down to defend her and the heir, and his own willingly given in the fight; Red that was a stark stain of contrast on the royal blue curtains and a dark reminder of dangerous times.
He'd always been her staunchest supporter, always come without her call, bound beyond the formal oath he'd taken three years ago as her youngest knight. He'd burst in here early on, wearing his red knight's tunic but not its gilded protective breastplate, insisting it was his duty to protect the queen and her heir when they were most vulnerable. She was thankful he'd gotten here, even if it meant he'd had to fend of the wave of her traitorous husband's soldiers all by himself, because it meant he would know the child they'd both been anxiously awaiting.
He'd paused in the frantic clashing of weapons long enough to hear the first healthy cry of the heir, paused because the sound was sweeter to his ear than anything else. The only midwife to stay through the battle had taken the opportunity to murmur that it was beautiful baby boy, bluest eyes she had ever seen, thinking to soothe its mother's thoughts away from the battle around the birthing bed. He'd taken the fight up harder than before at those words, slashing and chopping with a polished to shine steel sword. The drive had killed off most of her no longer husband's soldiers, the rest had fled, and now his own wounds were revealed to her.
She beckoned him to the four-poster, it didn't matter now what people thought they had shared, and he'd come to her. She'd seen to the wounds she had magic to heal, and exhausted, they'd rested their blonde heads against each other, smiling at the red around them, the red of their separate triumphs becoming one stain to show the day's victory.