The Legend of Zelda: The King's Sword

Part One: New Land

Link's POV:

It has been months since Zelda and I settled on the Surface, and we have settled into a cozy cottage, where we can sleep in separate bedrooms until we are allowed to bed together. Lately, I've not practiced using the blade, but I grow tired of sword practice. There isn't much to practice on. Maybe I should try something new?

Long before I learned how to properly wield a sword, I was interested in the styles of empty-handed fighters and had heard that some would train their pain tolerance by working punches on tree trunks. Legend tells that after years of this practice, one could not feel a wit of pain in their fists. I long thought it was a foolish idea, but today I began to ponder as dusk hovered over Faron Woods.

Weeks of this lonely practice drag on, so I've begun to wrap my bleeding knuckles with bandages. This evening, Zelda finally realizes what my trouble has been.

"Link?" she calls to me, sprinting down the hill. "What in the world...?"

"Testing myself," I answer, pausing my movements before resuming. "getting stronger."

She looks perplexed, but says in a calmer tone, "Look at your hands. They're raw. Why are you hurting yourself?"

I stop punching with a grunt, "I've mastered the sword already, so I've decided to drop my weapons. I'm getting better."

Zelda commands me to cease and brings me to the river to wash my stinging hands. They indeed look gruesome until I rinse them. I trudge up to find Zelda perching atop the grassy hill, staring into the sunset, and sit with her. She motions for me to put my hand in hers.

Zelda's POV:

Link sits beside me, oddly cheerfully, and asks, "What are you thinking about?"

"You've inspired me," I reply

Link raises an eyebrow.

"To practice the same."

I can tell from his expression that he will object. 'Not your beautiful hands!' he will say.

Instead, he smiles, then seems to forget himself, his eyes unfocusing. They have dazed suddenly, not fully staring at me. Have they...changed color? Their shade of blu...?

His lips have collided roughly with mine. Why? I don't understand what has come over him. His eyes are half-closed, and he has pinned my shoulder to the ground with his left hand. Another kiss and I can't breathe...I can't escape him. Suffocation under the weight of what I think is his elbow on my stomach. Only my left arm and legs are free. I try tapping him like I would while sparring, but his pressure on me builds. Bending my knee, I can pull my knife from my boot and threaten him by pointing the handle to his ribs. He freezes instantly, then pushes himself off me and lands flat on his back, panting while I gasp wildly. I try my best to sit back up.

"What...happened?" I cough.

Link says nothing, remaining breathless on the ground with his eyes closed.

"Are you alright?"

"I-I don't know," he blinks. "I'm sorry. I wasn't me."

"I'm sorry for pulling a knife on you."

"What happened to me?" he sighs and examines his hands.

We never went back into the house. We instead remained on the grass, talking until we'd run out of things to say, and eventually, fell asleep beside each other under the stars.

Father has summoned us for lunch at the Lumpy Pumpkin today, eager to share with us important news during our long-postponed visit to Skyloft.

"I might have come down myself to share the news with you!" he laughs.