It was no longer there. His warmth, his grazing touch, his silent speech. She had felt it, no doubt. But he only stood there waiting, waiting for the one thing she just couldn’t bring herself to give.
Zelda felt her eyes growing darker as the thickness of her confusion swept over her like a blanket of chilling ice. She pried its claws away as best she could, but they would simply snap back with a sting, catching her breath too quickly.
Marth, fallen prince of Altea. With his blade set aside for the night and naught but a shambled shirt and loosened pants, he appeared humble. His dark eyes shone bright even in the mere crescent moonlight. His stance, however loosened from its regal grasp, was shaped with strength and power.
His expression didn’t change even when he realized he interrupted Link and Zelda in a meeting left for nightfall. Although he had much respect for Link, the jealousy and rage inside him kept him standing. Marth’s gaze shifted from Link’s annoyed stare to the avoiding one of Zelda. What was her meaning? The crisp angles of her eyes were turning down, and the soft smile of her lips was becoming heavy. What is it that has kept her mind awake?
Suddenly, with a swift glide past his unbeknownst endearing charisma, she was gone. Marth’s eyes along with his heart followed her, but his feet bolted themselves to the cold stone floor as they too harshly reminded him of the presence of Link still lingering in his path. Marth took one last hopefully convincing glance from him and quietly guided his steps toward a direction different than what Zelda had made. And then he turned. Picking up his pace, Marth made his way toward the Grand Hall by a series of guessing which passageways led to where. By a guiding hand he was led to her before the first tear stained her sweet face. She looked so gentle and delicate standing in the moonlight which stared back at her with envying impose. She didn’t look back; she knew who was there.
“Zelda,” he verbally approached. His warm breath was now lingering on the rising hairs of the back of her neck, caressing her like a loving embrace bound with an other wise unseen determination. He waited until she turned, revealing her face and her heart to him.
He was standing so close. Zelda had turned frozen, but his steady breath broke her fear and insecurity and replaced it with a sense of feeling and strength. She turned to meet his gaze, her heartbeat suddenly quickening. His eyes were the color of a deep night’s distant mountain, his sharp chin meeting at a generous point lining his soft lips with a gentility not seen in battle. Zelda opened her eyes, or was it her heart- she couldn’t yet decide- and laid her pale hands against Marth’s face. His eyes discreetly closed at her touch, leaving him stilled under her distant embrace. What are you telling me, Zelda? She brushed her hand down his neck, resting it against his sturdy rising and falling chest, revealing love in the crevices of her pressing fingers crushing all doubts.
It’s you, Marth. Stay with me.
Marth enveloped his chance, the words spoken in the light of her eyes; the emptiness filling with flutterings of their unsteady hands flowing across each other’s shaking bodies like a stream of glistening waters. He pressed his forehead against hers. He felt a puttering of her warm tears against his skin arousing him to lift her chin; his eyes were soft and of comforting concern, lifting their imposing shadows and placing them in their rightful places.
He was close. So close. Zelda sank in to him and left her senses hovering above her, his lips proving a trap she’d never want to escape from. She gave in.
Soft. Sweet. Tender. Their kiss grew deeper.
It’s you. Stay with me
heart heart heart
Mesha-sama Community Member 
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