Free to Love - A Zelda x Link Fanfiction

II: Back and Forth

Zelda's Perspective:

My feet were swept out from under me. I yelped, my arms pinwheeling wildly. I would've landed hard on my hip if a pair of hands hadn't grabbed my waist and lowered me to the ground. I pulled at the arms. "Let me go!" I whined. "I can take a fall!" I was laid carefully to the floor, my spine to the mat. Link's sweaty but grinning face hovered over mine.

"I'm sorry, princess," he chuckled, "but I'm not supposed to let you hurt yourself, no matter how much think you deserve it." I pushed him away, kicking my feet at his in a desperate attempt to knock him over. He jumped over my foot and grabbed my hand, helping me up. He was smirking at me as I crossed my arms at him. "That's enough sparring for today," he said.

"What?" I protested. "No! But I haven't practiced nearly enough!" He stared at me, smirk still playing at his lips as he unraveled the bandages that protected his knuckles. He did this when he wasn't changing his mind. I sighed, hanging my head. "Alright, fine," I conceded. I picked at my wrappings moodily. "Buzzkill..."

He watched me with amusement. He reached forward and grabbed my wrist, unraveling my bandages for me. "We have to do something else," he muttered, moving onto my left hand. "Contrary to popular belief, beating you in sparring matches is fun only the first ten times or so." I smirked a bit, considering smacking him. I always dragged him to the training center to learn to fight, but I often forgot that he wanted to practice too. I couldn't help but feel a bit guilty.

"I'm sorry," I murmured. "Let's take a break." He glanced up, gathering the wraps in a ball. Another smile pulled at the corner of his lips. He tossed the crumpled ball aside.

"You can if you'd like," he responded, shrugging. "However, I plan to use my time here." My guilt disappeared. I sat on the bench attached to the wall. I rummaged through the bucket of ice in the room, pulling out an iced glass of water. I took a swig, sighing contently and watching Link crack his knuckles. He hooked a sack to the rafters and swung at it deftly.

It was bizarre to say, but I loved watching him punch. It was fascinating. He used his entire body with every attack. Every swing was precise and well-aimed. He was surprisingly quick for somebody of his bulk. He reminded me of a cat in that way. He was strong and large, but quick to pounce and elegant. I had always observed that he was always standing on the balls of his feet when he fought, bouncing back and forth uneasily as if he had bottled energy that was seeping out of him. I tried to copy that movement once, but I ended up tripping over my own feet when I tried to side step a slow slice. In hindsight, it was hilarious but at the time, it was humiliating.

He pulled away from the bag for a second, pulling at his shirt uncomfortably. It was his white undershirt that he always wore under his official guard clothes for when I dragged him here. It was soaked with sweat along his spine and chest area. He reached behind his head, bundling up the shirt and tossing it aside.

It was interesting to watch him practice while shirtless. It wasn't the first time I had seen him do so, but it always made me shift a bit in my seat. His muscles rippled under his skin every time he threw a punch. Each time his fist connected with the punching bag, a loud thwack echoed throughout the room.

I suddenly noticed the noise. It was different. The bags of grain he used often crunched slightly and moved more. This bag seemed heavier and stronger. I stood up, leaving my water on the seat.

I reached for the bag. Link froze as if he forget that I was there. Sweat dripped down his face slowly, matting his dirty blonde hair to his head. His soft blue eyes observed as I reached for the bag, pressing my hand against it. It was definitely heavier. "What's inside it?" I asked.

He stepped back, chest heaving. He dragged his fingers through his hair, pulling it away from his face. "Um, sand, I think," he responded slowly. I reeled back to throw an experimental punch at the sack, but Link leaped forward and caught my hand. "Don't." His voice was serious. It threw me off. I had never heard Link speak so seriously to me before.

"Why?" I asked, my fist still caught in his palm. He gave me a serious look, a warning look. Something trickled onto the top of my hand. I was about to protest that he was sweating all over me, but I spared a glance at his hand beforehand. "Link, you're bleeding!" I gasped. Immediately, he hid his hands behind his back.

"No, I'm not," he muttered. I grabbed his arm, wrenching his hand from behind his back. Just as I expected, beads of ruby blood dripped from his knuckles. The skin was torn open, as if this was only one of many wounds he had obtained while practicing. I glanced at the tear for a moment.

"You should clean that," I responded, raising an eyebrow. As much as I hated my "lady" lessons, I did have a basic course in first aid and it was helpful for the small moments like this. "I wanna try this while you clean that up." I side stepped him and stared up at the bag, cracking my knuckles.

Link swore. "Zelda, you can't," he sighed, grabbing my arm and pulling me back. "If you get hurt, the king will have my head on a spike." I couldn't help but roll my eyes.

"Stupid rule," I growled and crossed my arms. "Isn't getting hurt part of living life?"

"Leave the being hurt to us common folk, Princess," he said, eyeing me cockily. My eyebrows furrowed angrily. He knew I hated it when he called me "princess". He interrupted me before I could tell him off. "Besides, you should be getting to court now. Come on."