Chapter 2:

As I hurry through the dark hallways of the castle my mind is racing. She has to have been the masked bandit. There are too many things stacked against her, but why? Why would she do it and how could I prove it? Even if I did, would I do anything about it?

When I make it to the all too familiar door I take a breath of air before knocking twice and waiting. There is no sound from the other side or from the practically abandoned hallways. Finally after a second knock I hear shuffling from the other side and then the door swings open to reveal a man clad in black on the other side. Skin a dark brown and eyes a bright blue. His hair was cut short and his long ears were adorned with piercings from the bottom up to the pointed tip. He was handsome and he was in her room.

"Hello?" I murmur as I narrow my eyes. Why was there a man in this room? Did I have the right room? I step back to be sure that this was indeed the same room. Maybe she had moved.

"What can I do for you," the man asks, leaning lazily on the door frame. The playful look dancing on his lips makes me wonder if he thinks I'm here for him.

"I…I might have the wrong room," I say, stepping away from the threshold.

"Maybe, but can I express how happy I am to see such a handsome man gracing my door," he gives me a dark grin that makes my cheeks flush.

"I should…" I say turning to walk away but then I hear her.

"Max where the hell is the sewing kit," I hear Dream call from the bright bathroom. Max still doesn't drop his gaze from me as I feel my eyes grow. I definitely had the right room, but why was he here?

"If you're looking for her majesty she's stomping around barking commands," he says as his eyes brazenly travel up my body.

"Max!"

"Calm down," Max says with a huff before turning back into the room but allowing the door to remain open.

I take that as my que to enter. I follow behind and am hit in the face by her scent. The same lavender and honey scent that I remember all too well mixed with the smoke from the crackling fireplace. The room is almost the same as it was the last day I saw it. Still packed with baubles and trinkets and weapons. Still messy with clothes scattered about. Still covered in stacks of books and papers alike from varying subjects. I turn around the room, taking in the sight of the place that we spent countless days and nights. It was all the same.

"Max!" I hear her call again as her soft footsteps approach the threshold of the room. "Seriously how hard is it to find a gods damned…" Her eyes find me in her room and grow two sizes as she takes me in.

"Wha…What are you doing here?" She demands, stumbling over her thoughts as she blinks hard trying to decipher if it is reality.

"Your father sent me," I say simply as my eyes fall to her half undone corset top, the red strained dress below it.

"How the hell did you get in here," she asks as she throws her arms over his red painted abdomen as if it will help cover the mess.

"I found it princess," the man, Max I assume, enters with a small tin box in hand. "Hidden under a plethora of gowns I've never seen you wear of course." His eyes fall to me and that same wicked amusement dances in his eyes. "Oh that's right!" he says, snapping his fingers. "Princess, there is a guest here to see you." He gives her a wicked grin while she glares.

"Yes I see that," she bites and Max's smile grows.

"Apologies I can only do so much at a time princess," he says with a look that is nothing short of serpentine.

"Your father sent me to be sure you were okay," I explained as I examined them. He was handsome and the banter and lightness between them seemed natural. Was he her boyfriend?

"Maxmillian, this is Link. Link this is Max," she says with a gesture between us.

"Link!" Max practically squeals, turning a gapping look towards her. "The Link?"

Dreamana's face darkens crimson.

"The Link?" I ask. She doesn't look at me.

"That's all I need Max you can go," she says sneering at him and walking back towards the bathroom.

"Dream," the man pouts following.

"Go Max," she snaps and the man stops and pivots back on his heel, huffing a growl. He swaggers towards me and I can't help but stiffen as he stops in front of me.

"Be on your best behavior," he warns with a wink and then leaves out the door.

I'm left gaping at the door. Who the hell was that guy?

The door to the bathroom swings open and I drop my eyes almost immediately as my body heats. Dream struts from the bathroom in a thin gauzy robe open to reveal only her undergarments, she rushes for the door the man excited and throws it open searching the space.

"Shit!" she hisses before slamming the door shut and turning back to me. I force my eyes up only to her face. Her eyes are hard as she assesses me still standing in her room.

"Well….I guess you will do."

Dream

I hurry back towards the bathroom as a rush of air fills my lungs. He was in my bedroom. I thought perhaps he had followed Max out, seeing that I was indeed still alive, but no there he was still standing in my room. I retrieve the sewing tin that I used far more often than I would like to admit. Not exactly for sewing. I cross the space between us and Link's eyes never leave mine. He watches each careful step. I can feel my body heat at his hard gaze. I'm regretting the fact that I am wearing practically nothing right now but I have too much pride to cover myself up now.

"Here," I say, handing him the tin and making my way to Sautee in the corner of my room. I throw off the pile of clothes and books that adorn it as I plop down into the cushions. The cool breeze wafts through my open balcony window. Link is still standing in the same spot inspecting the worn tin. It was my mothers and I wonder if he recognizes it.

No. No. That Link is gone.

He turns the lid up and inspects the contents before turning his burning blue eyes towards me as I lounge back. His eyes dip to my body and a sort of prideful flicker of heat rushes to my core. I wonder if he notices how much I've changed? Does he find me beautiful now or distasteful?

When we were young we never shared that kind of relationship. Aside from being one another's first kiss as children we were the farthest from being in a relationship other than friends but I won't lie when I say I haven't thought about him in that way a time or two. I had definitely thought about him some nights when I laid alone in bed and fantasized about my perfect match and somehow, no matter what it was always him I imagined touching me.

He takes careful steps across the room until he is directly in front of me, staring down at me as I splay out over the seat.

"Well," I ask.

"Well what?"

"Will you help me?" I say standing and slowly unwrapping the red stained wrap from my midsection. When I scurried through the window earlier, I barely had time to wrap the gauze around me and should have taken proper care but I was already late. I let the material fall as I sit back down. "I would do it myself but I'm worried it will come out all crooked and leave me a nasty scar. Well that might be kind of bad ass, here give it."

I reach out for the tin, but Link steps back holding it at arm's length. "Let me call a doctor."

"Absolutely not," I bark, jumping for the kit but he pulls it further away as my side shoots with pain. I gasp, throwing my hand over the wound as fresh blood pools. "I just need to stitch it. I've done it before and I don't want a healer."

Link's eyes assess me with hard scrutiny, but he finally concedes and steps forward, setting the tin on the couch and turning. I go to snatch it but he stops me with a look.

"I'm just going to wash my hands. Don't touch." His command sets my heart stumbling. Link had always been a person who knew exactly what he wanted but his training had hardened that into pure commander.

I concede and sit back as he disappears into the bathroom. I hear the slosh of water and then he returns with fresh gauze and alcohol. He sits at the edge of the Sautee, a healthy distance away from me as he preps the curved stitching needle and thread. Each movement is precise. I can't help but gock at him as he sets out the sterilizing alcohol and gauze.

"I guess all that training is going to pay off," I say and I don't mean for it to sound like a jab but it does. His eyes look up to me and I can feel the air punched out of me.

"Battlefield first aid should not be applied to a royal," he sneers before taking the alcohol and coating a piece of cloth with it.

"Oh please. Like I care whether my flawless skin has a few nicks. You act like you don't know me at all." I say with a pout but then my heart sinks. "I suppose you don't." His eyes shoot up to mine, holding them in his stare. Then the sting comes and I gasp, clutching his arm as the disinfecting alcohol hits the wound.

"Fuck!" I grit, smashing my eyes shut as I breathe through my nose. I fall back into the cushion as I fight back tears. He hasn't even started and still it hurts. It's not the first time I've had to be stitched but it doesn't make it any better.

His strong callused fingers and the next thing I feel as he runs them along the skin of my stomach right below my ribs. I finally open my eyes to find him assessing the wound. His eyes shoot to me as a skeptical look crosses his face.

"Sewing hm?" he hums.

"Yeah, well, when the only thing I can sew is my own skin you tend to be clumsy," I hiss as he pokes the needle through my skin.

"Those must have been some sharp scissors," he snorts as he ties off the first stitch. I grit my teeth as the uncomfortable tug and pull make my vision blur.

"Yeah," is all I'm able to reply.

"It is a very clean cut for…what did you say, sewing scissors," he snorts. I can feel the question under the lies.

"What can I say I'm clumsy," I snort. "Nice shiner by the way. Did you take a tumble?" I joke knowing exactly where that the black eye came from and a little satisfied smile blooms across my cheeks.

"Nope. Just some shitty right hook," he snorts and my vision blurs as anger rises. I don't have a shity right hook.

"Well it was enough to knock out any of your manners I see," I snort, turning away.

"Oh I'm sorry. It was a shitty right hook, your majesty," he says with a fake smile. I snort looking away. He was trying to provoke me. He had to have had some clue it was me because his look is nothing short of accusatory.

"The thief was pretty fast though. I'll give her that," he says finishing up the second stitch to which I sway as the pain makes way for my red hot anger.

"She sounds cunning," I say with an inward smile.

"I wouldn't go that far. She was a shitty swordsman," he scoffs and I grit back a retort. Shitty?

"Is that your professional opinion commander," I manage to bite out.

"I'm just saying that if she worked on handling her blade as much as she does her fancy footwork maybe she could have avoided being cornered," he says and I try not to let his words get to me but dammit if they do.

"Well she did get away," I snort.

"Only because I was distracted," he says.

"Or maybe it was your shitty skill with the blade, commander," I scoff.

"Next time you should block instead of parry. That footwork won't stop a blade," he growls.

"Maybe you shouldn't get so in your head that you're so easily distracted and my footwork was flawless," I snap back and immediately regret it. I slap my hand over my mouth as he eyes shoot to me with a look triumphant.

"I fucking knew it," he snarls jumping to his feet.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Damn hot headed dummy.

I don't bother to respond as I stand and move towards the mirror. Needle and thread are still hanging from my abdomen. I reach for it to continue the work but Link stops me.

"You're going to make it worse," he says while pulling me back towards my seat and pushing me into it. He sits beside me and continues where he left off, but his scowl is evident.

"Just ask what you want," I finally say after several minutes of stunted silence. He doesn't even acknowledge that it's me that he is currently working on. "Look I know you want to know why I'm doing it or how I got so good at evading capture. Maybe you want to know where I hide my disguise or…"

"Where is your knife," Link says, interrupting me.

"What?"

"Knife," he says, peering around the room.

"Oh…um over there," I say pointing towards the dresser. He stands and retrieves it before walking back over towards the bed and beginning to cut the thread at neat lengths.

He doesn't ask anything for the long moments it takes for him to finish up the stitching. I can feel my anxiety growing with each passing moment. Either he was letting me stew in silence or he didn't care. If he truly didn't care then he truly didn't care about me, which made my stomach turn even further. Was my Link truly gone?

"Where is your med kit," he says after tying off the final stitch.

"Bathroom."

He stands again and goes into the bathroom to retrieve the kit. When he returns he continues with the silence and its speaks louder than words. It sets my own thoughts howling.

"What the fuck happened to you," I say before I can stop myself. He doesn't turn his attention towards me and the words start tumbling out. "Do you truly think so little of me that you don't have a single question? You don't want to hear my reasoning or how I learned it? My escape plans? Nothing?"

He still refuses to talk but his shoulders have gone tense and I can see a fire building slowly behind that hard exterior. He finishes the last wrap around my midsection and then starts to gather up all the discarded supplies and it feels like a slap in the face. He is completely ignoring me and pretending that I don't even exist.

"Fuck you Link," I snarl as I shoot to my feet. I don't make it that far before he has a hold of my wrist and yanks me back down.

"I treat your wound and you have the nerve to tell me.."

"Fuck you…" I snarl, flashing my teeth but he doesn't even flinch.

"What happened to you," he growls.

"What happened to me? What the fuck happened to you?"

"What are you talking about?" He asks in confusion.

"You disappear from my life for ten years and just come back and think you know anything about me?"

"Disappear? I was training Dreamana," he snarls.

"Well you obviously didn't learn to be a gentleman while you were training," I slouch back and cross my arms over my chest in defiance. It feels a little childish but so be it.

"It wasn't some fancy finishing school or governess Dreamana. It was survival," he snaps.

"If you think my staying here wasn't survival you know nothing about me," I retorted.

"I suppose I don't then," he says before gathering up the rest of the sodden gauze and turning towards the bathroom. "But don't act like you know anything about what I've been through or that you know anything about the kind of responsibility that I have to deal with on a daily basis."

"Oh right because you're the chosen one," I say in a snarky tone while air quoting "chosen one."

"That's right. Chosen. Fated by the Gods and you know nothing about the stresses that it comes with. You weren't chosen. You have no responsibilities besides being a spoiled princess up here stirring up trouble for the people out there fighting for our kingdom. You're being a child acting out like this," he sneers, a temper I don't remember flaring up.

Who was this person? The words hit their mark and it must show as a visible punch to the gut because his eyes flicker with regret. It's too late for that.

"Get out," I hiss, pushing past him towards the door. I throw it open and wait for him to leave. I can feel the burning in the backs of my eyes threatening to spill over, but I refuse to fall apart in front of him.

He doesn't make a move from his spot, he stands in the center of my room and when I finally gain the courage to look up he is staring down at the blooded gauze as if he can't bear to look at me either. He peaks up and I turn away, refusing to meet his gaze. He takes a tight breath before walking slowly to the door, his body rigid as he steps in front of me, but then stops.

"I…" he starts before sighing heavily. I look up through damp lashes and his eyes are set on the hallway ahead. I just want him out.

"Just leave," I beg. Feeling my restraint cracking, the sob readying to break free of my quivering lips. A tear escapes as he turns towards me and I drop my gaze as pain fills his eyes. I don't care.

"I…I missed you," he says barely more than a whisper. It sinks into my gut like a physical blow. He doesn't say anything more before he steps over the threshold and I firmly slam the door on him forever.