by Startide Risen
"Why are you making me do this?" Zelda demanded bluntly.
Link sighed and lowered the Master Sword. "I've explained this. Because you need to learn how to defend yourself."
She lowered her practice sword's blunt point to the ground and rested her weight on it tiredly. "Link, listen to me. I will say this one more time, and one more time only," she said slowly. "I know how to defend myself. I spent seven years in another timeline learning the arts of the Sheikah from Impa. I do not need to spend several hours in a practice arena learning the art of being sweaty from you."
"Learning swordplay, Princess," he insisted. "Swordplay. See, I have a sword, you have a sword, and we practice with them, like we're trying to kill each other, except we're not." He shifted his weight uncertainly, looking a bit disturbed by the death glare she gave him. "Or maybe we are. I'm not so sure anymore."
The death glare melted into a raised eyebrow at that. "Here's the concise version," she told him. "No."
"What's the verbose version?"
"Hell, no."
"Ah. I see," he said, nodding pensively at her. "Well, in that case, here's what we'll do. If you can get past me and out of the arena with your sword still in hand, lesson's over. If not, I get to keep you here for another hour."
She sighed. "Why are you always so difficult?"
"Difficult?" he said, sounding slightly offended. "I must be slacking off. With a little more effort I can be impossible."
"I'm sure you can," she said dryly, but any real venom was lost in her smile.
"So, what do you say?" he said, stepping back and raising the Master Sword.
She raised an eyebrow. "You know this isn't even remotely fair. You being the acknowledged lord of all things swordly and me a poor beginner."
"Fine, then, I'll fight right-handed," he shrugged, switching his grip indifferently.
"Like that'll help…" she muttered. "But okay. On one condition."
"If it's that you get to snog me if you win, no deal."
"Oh, shut up," she said, narrowing her eyes at him dangerously. She disliked the public's persistent belief that she and Link were romantically involved. She didn't need him making his little insinuations, too. "It's that I can use the Sheikah stuff Impa taught me."
"Use whatever you like," he replied with a shrug. "The only rules are the ones already stated. Oh, yes, and no killing, maiming, or disfiguring of any kind."
"Right, then," she said, stepping into a comfortable stance and raising the practice sword. "I'm ready."
"Good," he said shortly, sinking into his own ready stance. And then he was still.
Zelda waited. Nothing happened. "Well, aren't you going to come at me?" she said after a few moments. He didn't reply. He didn't even blink. She gave him a strange look that suggested she was worried for his sanity. "Hello? Link? Are you conscious?" There was a long pause. "Are you alive?" she tried. "Has a ReDead stolen your soul?" She waved her sword in his face experimentally. "Have you—ah!"
The Master Sword flashed up in one lightning movement, caught her sword, and sent it flying out of her hands. She stared in open-mouthed shock as it hit the ground a few feet away. But Link didn't bother with the customary blade-at-throat-do-you-yield routine. No, he was too busy laughing at her.
"The look on your face!" he crowed, dropping the Master Sword to hold his ribs and point at her. "Oh, that was priceless. Priceless!"
Zelda stared at him with her mouth still hanging open. "You little cheater!" she finally managed.
"Patience is a virtue, Princess," he chuckled, shooting her a trademark smirk.
He was still laughing when she tackled him. She jumped at him, caught him in the midriff, and brought him down with an efficiency that rivaled that of some monsters he'd met. Now where did she learn to do that?
"Just you try pulling something like that again, Hero," she warned, leaning ominously over him. She pushed herself to her feet, dusted off her borrowed tunic and breeches, and stared down her nose at him with great satisfaction.
"Oof," was all he had to say from his position on his back in the middle of the sword arena.
"Well, shall we try this again, since you cheated the first time?" she said, retrieving her practice sword and leaning on it casually again. Apparently the knowledge that she could tackle him easily lent her a significant boost in confidence.
He pushed himself to his feet and grinned at her with all the dignity he could manage. "You really want to be disarmed twice in five minutes?"
"I have no intention of losing my weapon a second time, Hero," she informed him seriously. "Now pick up your sword." She waved her own in the general direction of his weapon for emphasis.
"Yes, Your Worshipfulness," he muttered as he lifted his sword and shook the dust off it. He raised a cocksure eyebrow at her and sank into a ready stance again. "You sure you want to do this again, Princess?"
"Yep."
"Righty, then."
And then he was moving, the Master Sword flashing in the afternoon sun, and she had to admire her warrior. It was immediately obvious that had he been making a serious effort she would not have lasted five seconds. As it was, it was taking all she had to block his blows, keep her balance, and hang onto her sword.
Rather than fight him on his terms, she spun lithely away from him and tried to loop around to the gate. Just as quick, he blocked her progress. She tried the other way; that didn't work either. She backed off a few paces, waited until he followed her up, then sprang sideways and made a dash for the gate. He caught her and engaged her again before she could make it.
There was no way she was going to be able to get to the gate with her sword still in hand. He'd never let her past him. But wait a minute. Why bother with the gate?
She grinned briefly and started to back off again. He raised an eyebrow at her, but maintained his casual attack. The fence inched closer behind her. She was within two feet of it when she gathered herself, tensed, and flipped gracefully up and backwards over the rail. For an instant, she was beautifully airborne.
And then the glory and satisfaction of the moment were slightly dampened by the fact that she stumbled and landed on her back with a yelp. Her right foot bent beneath her awkwardly and pain ripped through her ankle. She lay on her back, gasping out something along the lines of: "Oh, sweet Nayru, ow ow ow…"
"Cheating!" Link was yelling as he vaulted over the fence. "Cheating, I say!"
"You said to get out of the arena, you never mentioned using the gate," she snapped, sitting up and reaching for her right foot. Fire bloomed through her ankle when she moved it.
Immediately the lighthearted accusation fled his eyes to be replaced by concern. He jogged over and knelt in front of her. "Is it your ankle?" he asked tentatively, studying the rapidly swelling area.
"I think I've sprained it," she said, sounding exasperated with herself. "I really shouldn't have tried that. I'm so out of practice… Here, help me up."
He gently helped her to stand on one foot, looking her over and brushing dust and grass off of her. "That wasn't a bad flip, Princess," he said apologetically. "Until that whole gravity thing came into play."
"Thank you, as always, for being so comfort—ow!" she said as she tried to walk. "Dammit, that hurts." She took a deep breath, then another, and finally looked up at Link again. "Can I just rest for a minute?"
"If you want. But I really think we ought to get you back to the castle. Impa will want to take care of that. Come on, I'll give you a ride. Here." He knelt with his back to her, looped her arms around his neck, and picked up her legs behind the knee. Taking it slow in order to keep his balance, he stood up. "Kay?"
"This is so undignified," she complained into his hat.
"Which is why it's so good for you," he replied, starting up the gentle incline towards the north gate.
And so it was that the Hero of Time carried the Princess of Hyrule piggyback up to her castle.
"If the guards see us, we'll be laughingstocks for the rest of our lives," she told him as they entered the labyrinthine gardens surrounding the castle. "We will never live it down. Never." She paused, then added almost as an afterthought: "And you know Father won't like it."
He frowned. "You never used to worry about what he thought."
She paused, taking a quick breath. "It… it matters more now. With him sick."
"Yeah, I can see how it would. Just…"
"Just what?" she asked quietly.
"I don't know why you care so much what people think of you."
"I kind of have to," she said coolly.
"I can't see why," he replied, and though she detected no spite in his voice, she bristled.
"He's my father, he has expectations of me," she snapped.
"To hell with expectations, Zelda! Just—just be you!" he burst out.
"Link, it's not that simple," she said harshly, pushing away from him to stand on one foot, grasping a bush for support. "He's—he's my father and he's the king and it's—it's complicated!"
"Maybe your relationship with your father shouldn't be that complicated!"
"What would you know about it?"
The moment she said it, she wished she hadn't.
He moved back a step, hurt and anger plain in his face, and then turned around and stalked away from her, leaving her standing holding on to a bush.
"No—" she stammered, going after him and wincing with every step. "No, Link, I didn't mean it that way—that came out wrong, I meant—" She'd meant that he couldn't understand what it was to be a king's child, but it sounded as though she was referring to his complete lack of parents.
But he wasn't stopping to let her explain.
"Holy Farore, Link, will you listen to me?"
He stopped, let out an irritated breath, and turned around slowly. "What else could you possibly have to say, Princess?"
She bit her lip and looked at the ground. "I didn't mean it to come out that way," she said, and her voice sounded small even to herself. "I meant… I meant that you don't know what it's like to have a king for a father. I'm sorry."
For a moment, he just glared at her, but then his eyes softened and he nodded. "It's…it's okay," he said. "I shouldn't have said what I said, either. 'M sorry."
"No, you didn't—"
"Yeah, I did. About not caring what he thinks. He's your father. He's sick. Of course you care."
"Well, I shouldn't have…shouldn't have yelled."
"That's quite all right, milady," he said, and some of his usual flippancy returned to him. "Your Grace. Majesty. Whatever."
"Highness?" she supplied with a tentative smile.
"That's the one."
"Highness. High-ness. Say it with me now."
"Whatever you say, Your Worshipfulness."
She just shook her head. Some things never changed.
He offered her his arm when she declined another piggyback ride, letting her lean heavily on him every other step. He held her steady while she struggled down the garden's flower-lined walkways on one foot.
"You know, we can't always do that," she told him, snatching at a nearby hedge to keep her balance.
"Do what? Fight?" he said, carefully pulling her upright again.
"No. Fight, make up with as few words and apologies as possible, and then start making jokes."
"You'd rather we fell into a pit of repentant despair?"
She raised an eyebrow at his word choice. "'Pit of repentant despair?' Am I rubbing off on you?"
He mock-shivered. "Din forbid."
Her mouth was half-open and the customary comeback was on her lips, but she stopped herself. "You know, jokes won't always make everything better," she said instead.
Link stopped, giving her an odd look. Then a smile tugged at just one side of his mouth, and he leaned down and squeezed the air out of her lungs in a rib-breaking hug so tight that she let out a surprised squeak. He kissed her forehead quickly before he let her go. "Does partially crushing you make everything better?"
She laughed, catching her breath and reaching up to rub at the place where he'd kissed her. "You know, I think it does."
"Hey, are you wiping that off?" he demanded.
"No, just… spreading it around a little bit," she said with a light shrug, turning up the path again.
"You can walk all right now?" he said, raising a doubtful eyebrow as she nearly tripped over her own feet.
She glanced over her shoulder at him. "Whether I can or not, I refuse to let you carry me piggyback past my father's soldiers."
"Hey, those poor guards are awfully underpaid," he said, ambling along a few steps behind her. "The least we can do is amuse them."
"Do you like breathing, Link?"
"It's a pastime."
"Then don't even think about it." But as soon as she looked back at him to say this, she promptly tripped and fell into the nearest camellia bush.
Link let out a long-suffering sigh. "Come here, you stubborn, spoilsport, prissy princess," he said, hauling her out of the plant and ducking under her arm to hold her up. "Before you take a swan dive into the moat and I have to jump in and save you."
She gave him a wry little smile as he picked a leaf out of her hair. "My hero," she said sardonically, rolling her eyes.
He shrugged, starting off for the north gate again with an arm around her waist so that he could half-carry her. "My princess."
[End]