Fic
Zelda and Link, following from this fic.
By the time she arrived to the deepest parts of the forest, where leylines of power crossed a brilliant web in the earth, the drizzle that had misted her skin and clothes all day had turned to a deluge of rain, quickly soaking her to skin. Trained to ignore such discomforts, Zelda knelt and put her hands to the damp earth, reaching deep into the leylines until she was lost in the tangle of light and power. Briefly it tried to reject her-it was forest-power, land-power, but part of it was goddess-power also-and she thrust her will into the task. The goddess-power here was not strong enough to oppose her. She quested along the leylines until she found what she wanted.
It was the Kokiri Emerald, one of the spiritual stones, its own power shining like a tiny star in her mind’s eye. She recognized it instantly from encounters in other lifetimes. “There you are,” she murmured aloud, breaking her connection to the leylines and returning to her corporeal body. Now that she had found the stone, she could follow the connection to its physical location.
She set off at once, noting that the rainfall had evolved to a full-fledged storm. Thunder tore the sky, and flashes of lightning threw the dripping trees around her into stark relief. Her hunting dagger, protected in its oiled sheath, would be safe; the naked sword on her back would need to be dried and polished to prevent rush. She could do that once she had found and destroyed the stone, and taken shelter from the rain.
Through a thick copse of trees she found a dark hole in a ridge of earth and stone, and within it she could see a faint flickering glow of firelight. Someone had possession of the stone. She took hold of the hilt of her sword.
She crept inside, ducking only a few inches in the entrance of the cave; she was small, and the passageway widened further within. Firelight flickered over the dry stone walls; the ground was firm, dry dirt underfoot. The path rounded, and she saw a figure in green sitting before a fire; he rose at once, and his hand went to the hilt of his sword as she drew her own blade.
They gazed mutely at once another, the crackle of the fire filling their silence. He was the first to take his hand from his weapon.
“Zelda?” he whispered.
She stared like a dumb animal, her heart suddenly pounding in her breast. She knew that face-of course she did, she knew it like it was her own. Even if she had had no memory of her prior lives, she would have known it.
He looked her over, blue eyes bewildered, and took a few steps toward her, heedless of the naked sword in her hand. “You really are-goddesses, I thought I’d never find you again. Especially after She told me-it’s true, isn’t it, you aren’t Nayru’s? I can’t feel the goddesses’ power in you.”
“It’s true,” she said, still dumb, still unmoving. Why should the sight of him strike her so, when they were nearly enemies now, when he had the stone on him-take it from him! she ordered herself, but still she didn’t move.
“I could hardly believe it. I almost thought She lied,” he said gently. “She said I must renounce you, but I…I had my memories then, I knew our previous lives. I knew that we had-” He broke off and gazed at her so long, with his eyes so bright and intent, she felt her hand tremble on the hilt of the sword.
She couldn’t let this go on. “I’m here for the Kokiri Emerald, Link,” she said as steadily as she could manage. “Give it to me and I’ll be on my way. I doubt your goddess wishes us to consort any longer than we must.”
She saw that he almost reached for it before hesitating. Did she have such power over him, that his instinct was to give her what she asked? “What do you want it for?”
She would not lie to him. “To destroy it.”
His face closed, and she saw-there was pain in her as she saw it-how he understood suddenly that their duties, their aims, their desires did not align now, not anymore. “I swore to Farore to protect it. You understand that, don’t you?”
She nodded. “And you, I hope, understand that I too have sworn, and we are enemies in this. I will fight you if I must.” She raised the sword in her hand.
He looked at her, unmoving. “I won’t raise a blade to you, Zelda,” he said quietly.
“Then give me the stone,” she demanded.
He shook his head.
She stood irresolute, her sword still raised. Kill him! Kill him and take it! It would be so simple. She had only to lunge forward-the blade would bite into his heart, or perhaps the juncture between his shoulder and his throat, and spill his lifeblood…
Even as she imagined it, she knew she could never do it.
He saw her sword lower a few inches, and took it for the acquiescence it was. “Come sit; I’ll build up the fire. You’re shaking, you must be frozen.”
As he said it she realized it was true; her clothes were dripping wet, besides. She put up her sword-what else could she do?-and came to sit by the fire. Link stoked it from a pile of dry wood gathered in a corner of the cave, then sat beside her.
“Your arms-could I see-?” and after a moment she understood that he was asking about the blue tattoos spiraling the length of her pale arms. She reached one to him, and he put his hands on it, examining the arcane symbols by the firelight.
She wondered if he could feel the goosebumps suddenly prickling over her arm. Modesty was usually far from her mind these days, but now it seemed very near; she was conscious of her bare arms below the sleeves of her tunic, and the way tunic and leggings both hugged close to her figure. His hands on her arms looked strong, deft.
Oh, goddesses, she thought, weak. She still oathed by them now and again, a habit of many lifetimes, not entirely bruised out of her. It had been so long since she’d seen Link, and she’d forgotten what she felt when he was near-and how could it be that in this lifetime, when they were something like enemies, each of them beholden to opposing forces, he seemed more beautiful to her than he ever had before? How could she be so stirred?
“I’ve never seen anything like this,” he murmured, still looking over the tattoos on her arm. “But they’re familiar…” He raised his eyes to her face. “What do you serve, Zelda?”
She shivered a little, abstractly. “He’s a warrior god,” she explained quietly. “You know him, from a long time ago-from Termina, and a mask.
Link’s eyes widened. “The Fierce Deity.”
She nodded, surprised he’d remembered so quickly. Perhaps he’d seen something of him in the symbols on her arms.
“And you serve-” He broke off, looking her over. “I was going to say, that-that entity is too hard for you-but you look like a warrior yourself, with that sword.”
“He is hard on me.” She drew her arm away from his touch, and resisting the urge to rub where his hands had grasped her.
“You’re thinner than I remember,” he said quietly, agreeing. “And those tattoos…”
“Do they disturb you?”
“No.” He hesitated. “But that god-does he do harm to you?”
She wondered if Link was afraid to say the god’s name again. She was too, she realized-afraid it might invoke him, bring him here when she wanted nothing to interrupt-whatever this was. Would the god, too, be angry that she consorted with a servant of his enemies? Surely it would displease him that she had failed to get the spiritual stone from Link by this time.
No, she must not invoke him. She would get the stone somehow-without harming Link.
“No more than the goddesses ever did,” she said in answer to his question, “and his claim on me, at least, is only for this life.” Deliberately turning the subject from the god, she asked, “What is it you do here, Link?”
He shrugged. “I wait. I keep the beasts of chaos from swarming the forest temple. I protect the stone-ah,” he added with a flash of humor, “that’s why She told me to-because you were after them.”
She turned her face to the fire, feeling something like shame or guilt heat her cheeks. “They must be destroyed. Let the door to the Sacred Realm be forever closed, and their influence over Hyrule will finally begin to wane. You could be free of them, Link.”
“Seems a high price to pay for my freedom,” he said quietly. “Letting the world go to chaos like this.”
He had spoken without judgment, but she was stung by the words nonetheless. “The world is being remade! It must go through fire to be reborn-but it will be reborn, without the endless war between Ganondorf and the both of us, without the goddesses’ toying with our lives as though we were nothing more than their puppets-”
“And your god, you said his claim was for this one life of yours. What happens to you, then, when it’s over?”
She hesitated. “I’ll be reborn, as all things are.”
“But not as yourself.”
She shook her head, and Link exhaled. “I won’t pay that price. After you seeing you again, after all this time-if I died tomorrow, and never knew you again-”
“We would find one another in any form,” she said, her voice low.
He looked at her with a glint of wry humor in his eyes. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you speak so. Words like that were usually mine. You used to think I was so idealistic.”
“I was a princess in those times,” she whispered. “It’s different now.” Was that difference, she wondered, why she was so aware of his presence beside her? Nothing is forbidden me now, she thought, and with that thought came a rush of heat that made her face burn.
He looked at her in silence. She knew he could see the red in her cheeks by the glow of the fire, and the knowledge only made her flush all the more. How many lifetimes had she kept herself pure, resisting her heart’s desire? Maiden princess, then maiden queen, again and again-only once or twice had she ever given in, and never with him.
He put a hand to her hair, letting his fingers stroke through the pale strands. “You don’t know,” he said quietly. “How I’ve thought of you, missed you…how I’ve wanted…”
“I do know,” she whispered.
He fitted his hand to the side of her face, his thumb stroking over one of her brows. It slid down, and she watched his eyes follow it-from her face to her jaw and to her slender throat. His thumb stroked her collarbone, his hand came to rest over the beating of her heart, and she burned. He put his mouth to the corner of hers, and that simple touch went through her like a jolt of lightning. Her fingers curled into his tunic, her breath catching on another oath-no, she would not summon them here, any of them. Let there be no witness to this; it was between them, and them alone.
“Are you all right?” he murmured to her, his mouth against her throat.
She slid her arms around him. “I will be.”
* * *
At the first light of morning she took the stone, silently, and went out of the cave into the bright dawn, moving away into the safety of the trees. Beyond this haven, she knew, all was dark and dying, washed in the tide of chaos that would not ebb until all was consumed and remade, but in the light that gilded the wet leaves of the trees in gold, it seemed to her that the world already looked a little new.
By the time she arrived to the deepest parts of the forest, where leylines of power crossed a brilliant web in the earth, the drizzle that had misted her skin and clothes all day had turned to a deluge of rain, quickly soaking her to skin. Trained to ignore such discomforts, Zelda knelt and put her hands to the damp earth, reaching deep into the leylines until she was lost in the tangle of light and power. Briefly it tried to reject her-it was forest-power, land-power, but part of it was goddess-power also-and she thrust her will into the task. The goddess-power here was not strong enough to oppose her. She quested along the leylines until she found what she wanted.
It was the Kokiri Emerald, one of the spiritual stones, its own power shining like a tiny star in her mind’s eye. She recognized it instantly from encounters in other lifetimes. “There you are,” she murmured aloud, breaking her connection to the leylines and returning to her corporeal body. Now that she had found the stone, she could follow the connection to its physical location.
She set off at once, noting that the rainfall had evolved to a full-fledged storm. Thunder tore the sky, and flashes of lightning threw the dripping trees around her into stark relief. Her hunting dagger, protected in its oiled sheath, would be safe; the naked sword on her back would need to be dried and polished to prevent rush. She could do that once she had found and destroyed the stone, and taken shelter from the rain.
Through a thick copse of trees she found a dark hole in a ridge of earth and stone, and within it she could see a faint flickering glow of firelight. Someone had possession of the stone. She took hold of the hilt of her sword.
She crept inside, ducking only a few inches in the entrance of the cave; she was small, and the passageway widened further within. Firelight flickered over the dry stone walls; the ground was firm, dry dirt underfoot. The path rounded, and she saw a figure in green sitting before a fire; he rose at once, and his hand went to the hilt of his sword as she drew her own blade.
They gazed mutely at once another, the crackle of the fire filling their silence. He was the first to take his hand from his weapon.
“Zelda?” he whispered.
She stared like a dumb animal, her heart suddenly pounding in her breast. She knew that face-of course she did, she knew it like it was her own. Even if she had had no memory of her prior lives, she would have known it.
He looked her over, blue eyes bewildered, and took a few steps toward her, heedless of the naked sword in her hand. “You really are-goddesses, I thought I’d never find you again. Especially after She told me-it’s true, isn’t it, you aren’t Nayru’s? I can’t feel the goddesses’ power in you.”
“It’s true,” she said, still dumb, still unmoving. Why should the sight of him strike her so, when they were nearly enemies now, when he had the stone on him-take it from him! she ordered herself, but still she didn’t move.
“I could hardly believe it. I almost thought She lied,” he said gently. “She said I must renounce you, but I…I had my memories then, I knew our previous lives. I knew that we had-” He broke off and gazed at her so long, with his eyes so bright and intent, she felt her hand tremble on the hilt of the sword.
She couldn’t let this go on. “I’m here for the Kokiri Emerald, Link,” she said as steadily as she could manage. “Give it to me and I’ll be on my way. I doubt your goddess wishes us to consort any longer than we must.”
She saw that he almost reached for it before hesitating. Did she have such power over him, that his instinct was to give her what she asked? “What do you want it for?”
She would not lie to him. “To destroy it.”
His face closed, and she saw-there was pain in her as she saw it-how he understood suddenly that their duties, their aims, their desires did not align now, not anymore. “I swore to Farore to protect it. You understand that, don’t you?”
She nodded. “And you, I hope, understand that I too have sworn, and we are enemies in this. I will fight you if I must.” She raised the sword in her hand.
He looked at her, unmoving. “I won’t raise a blade to you, Zelda,” he said quietly.
“Then give me the stone,” she demanded.
He shook his head.
She stood irresolute, her sword still raised. Kill him! Kill him and take it! It would be so simple. She had only to lunge forward-the blade would bite into his heart, or perhaps the juncture between his shoulder and his throat, and spill his lifeblood…
Even as she imagined it, she knew she could never do it.
He saw her sword lower a few inches, and took it for the acquiescence it was. “Come sit; I’ll build up the fire. You’re shaking, you must be frozen.”
As he said it she realized it was true; her clothes were dripping wet, besides. She put up her sword-what else could she do?-and came to sit by the fire. Link stoked it from a pile of dry wood gathered in a corner of the cave, then sat beside her.
“Your arms-could I see-?” and after a moment she understood that he was asking about the blue tattoos spiraling the length of her pale arms. She reached one to him, and he put his hands on it, examining the arcane symbols by the firelight.
She wondered if he could feel the goosebumps suddenly prickling over her arm. Modesty was usually far from her mind these days, but now it seemed very near; she was conscious of her bare arms below the sleeves of her tunic, and the way tunic and leggings both hugged close to her figure. His hands on her arms looked strong, deft.
Oh, goddesses, she thought, weak. She still oathed by them now and again, a habit of many lifetimes, not entirely bruised out of her. It had been so long since she’d seen Link, and she’d forgotten what she felt when he was near-and how could it be that in this lifetime, when they were something like enemies, each of them beholden to opposing forces, he seemed more beautiful to her than he ever had before? How could she be so stirred?
“I’ve never seen anything like this,” he murmured, still looking over the tattoos on her arm. “But they’re familiar…” He raised his eyes to her face. “What do you serve, Zelda?”
She shivered a little, abstractly. “He’s a warrior god,” she explained quietly. “You know him, from a long time ago-from Termina, and a mask.
Link’s eyes widened. “The Fierce Deity.”
She nodded, surprised he’d remembered so quickly. Perhaps he’d seen something of him in the symbols on her arms.
“And you serve-” He broke off, looking her over. “I was going to say, that-that entity is too hard for you-but you look like a warrior yourself, with that sword.”
“He is hard on me.” She drew her arm away from his touch, and resisting the urge to rub where his hands had grasped her.
“You’re thinner than I remember,” he said quietly, agreeing. “And those tattoos…”
“Do they disturb you?”
“No.” He hesitated. “But that god-does he do harm to you?”
She wondered if Link was afraid to say the god’s name again. She was too, she realized-afraid it might invoke him, bring him here when she wanted nothing to interrupt-whatever this was. Would the god, too, be angry that she consorted with a servant of his enemies? Surely it would displease him that she had failed to get the spiritual stone from Link by this time.
No, she must not invoke him. She would get the stone somehow-without harming Link.
“No more than the goddesses ever did,” she said in answer to his question, “and his claim on me, at least, is only for this life.” Deliberately turning the subject from the god, she asked, “What is it you do here, Link?”
He shrugged. “I wait. I keep the beasts of chaos from swarming the forest temple. I protect the stone-ah,” he added with a flash of humor, “that’s why She told me to-because you were after them.”
She turned her face to the fire, feeling something like shame or guilt heat her cheeks. “They must be destroyed. Let the door to the Sacred Realm be forever closed, and their influence over Hyrule will finally begin to wane. You could be free of them, Link.”
“Seems a high price to pay for my freedom,” he said quietly. “Letting the world go to chaos like this.”
He had spoken without judgment, but she was stung by the words nonetheless. “The world is being remade! It must go through fire to be reborn-but it will be reborn, without the endless war between Ganondorf and the both of us, without the goddesses’ toying with our lives as though we were nothing more than their puppets-”
“And your god, you said his claim was for this one life of yours. What happens to you, then, when it’s over?”
She hesitated. “I’ll be reborn, as all things are.”
“But not as yourself.”
She shook her head, and Link exhaled. “I won’t pay that price. After you seeing you again, after all this time-if I died tomorrow, and never knew you again-”
“We would find one another in any form,” she said, her voice low.
He looked at her with a glint of wry humor in his eyes. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you speak so. Words like that were usually mine. You used to think I was so idealistic.”
“I was a princess in those times,” she whispered. “It’s different now.” Was that difference, she wondered, why she was so aware of his presence beside her? Nothing is forbidden me now, she thought, and with that thought came a rush of heat that made her face burn.
He looked at her in silence. She knew he could see the red in her cheeks by the glow of the fire, and the knowledge only made her flush all the more. How many lifetimes had she kept herself pure, resisting her heart’s desire? Maiden princess, then maiden queen, again and again-only once or twice had she ever given in, and never with him.
He put a hand to her hair, letting his fingers stroke through the pale strands. “You don’t know,” he said quietly. “How I’ve thought of you, missed you…how I’ve wanted…”
“I do know,” she whispered.
He fitted his hand to the side of her face, his thumb stroking over one of her brows. It slid down, and she watched his eyes follow it-from her face to her jaw and to her slender throat. His thumb stroked her collarbone, his hand came to rest over the beating of her heart, and she burned. He put his mouth to the corner of hers, and that simple touch went through her like a jolt of lightning. Her fingers curled into his tunic, her breath catching on another oath-no, she would not summon them here, any of them. Let there be no witness to this; it was between them, and them alone.
“Are you all right?” he murmured to her, his mouth against her throat.
She slid her arms around him. “I will be.”
* * *
At the first light of morning she took the stone, silently, and went out of the cave into the bright dawn, moving away into the safety of the trees. Beyond this haven, she knew, all was dark and dying, washed in the tide of chaos that would not ebb until all was consumed and remade, but in the light that gilded the wet leaves of the trees in gold, it seemed to her that the world already looked a little new.