Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The Twilight Realm feels the same as he left it.

Of course, under its current management, things will have surely changed for the better, but to his eyes it’s still blanketed by the same pervasive gloom, overshadowed by the same looming architecture. Still, despite the unsettling atmosphere of the Twilight, Link can’t help the swell of excitement he feels. He’s here, in the flesh. It had been such an arduous journey to bridge the gap between worlds without the help of the mirror, but he’s finally done it. There’s only one problem.

When he last visited, he’d been the wielder of the Master Sword. The power of that sacred weapon had held the power of the Twilight at bay, but he’d relinquished it at the end of his journey to save Hyrule. Without it…

He looks down at himself, at the matted white fur of his paws. It’s been so long since he last assumed this form, he’s almost forgotten what it feels like. So absorbed had he been in returning, he’d not considered the effect the Twilight had on him without the sword’s protection.

Still, he finds himself surprisingly unbothered. He can feel a breeze on his fur, and his eyes cut through the gloom well enough that he thinks he won’t even need the Master Sword’s light. And his nose…

He’s caught this scent before. He’s never had to follow it, though. It winds intricate paths all throughout the grounds of the palace, and it takes him a few minutes to identify the freshest trail. As soon as he finds it, he’s off, his paws striking a swift and powerful rhythm along the cool stone.

The interiors are different now, far less stark than they’d been under Zant. Furniture and decorations line the walls, and though their styles remain alien to him, Link can tell this place is meant to be lived in. The scent filling his nostrils grows stronger the longer he follows it, and he picks up the pace as he ascends a series of ramps and hallways that guide him from larger audience chambers to the more private wings of the palace.

He finds her on a small balcony overlooking a courtyard. At first she seems not to notice him, but as he lets out a breath of relief at the sight of her, she turns. She startles visibly when she sees him, clearly having expected anyone else. Her posture goes rigid for the briefest of moments before recognition flashes in her eyes.

“Link?”

Though she’s at first hesitant to trust the evidence of her eyes, the reality of his presence here soon settles upon her. She goes from confusion to excitement to anger to worry all in the space of a few minutes, but any will she has to make him leave evaporates when he butts his head against her leg. He has moved mountains to come back to her, and he’s not going anywhere.

“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised at your stubbornness. You never did know when to quit,” she says with a smile that’s belied by the fragile quality of her voice.

Though Link has resigned himself to staying a wolf for however long he remains here, Midna has other plans. Her powers have apparently swelled considerably since resuming her true form and station, and it’s with only a little difficulty that she manages to construct a spell which wards him well enough against the Twilight for him to resume his true form. Link feels his breath catch as he realizes that even on two feet, he only comes up to her shoulders.

“Were you always so short?” Midna’s wry smirk tells him that the beautiful woman before him is still the same imp he remembers inside. He feels his cheeks burn as she brushes past him and takes his hand. “As shy as ever. I may as well show you around, so long as you insist on staying.”

She leads him on a tour of the palace and the grounds, explains to him all of the things she’s been doing to restore her kingdom in the wake of Zant’s ruinous reign. Despite her normally mischievous demeanor, when she speaks about her people, she does so with a warmth and compassion that makes Link never want to stop staring at her.

Each time it happens, she gives him the same look of amusement and another quip about her appearance or his lack of subtlety. He doesn’t mind, though; he’s happy to be here beside her whether she mocks him for it or not.

Still, something nags at him. Something about the way she moves, the way she looks, the way he feels. He remembers finding her true form beautiful after the final battle with Ganondorf, but not like this. The longer they walk together, the harder he finds it to focus on her words over the sway of her hips, the quirk of her lips. Has he always thought about her this way?

It’s her scent.

He realizes it as he tosses and turns on a bed in one of the guest chambers that night (how did people tell night from day here, anyways? A distant part of his brain wonders). He’d stopped picking it up for a while after she’d returned him to his Hylian form, but as the day had worn on, it had started to creep back in.

He hadn’t noticed it at first, but the more they’d started to brush up against each other, the more they’d shared lingering looks, the more often his fingers had laced with hers, the more aware of it he’d become. Midna’s scent was intoxicating, and even with her being several rooms away now, he swears he can still pick it up, ever so faintly.

It sends all kinds of feelings through him. He’s so happy to see her again, so terrified she’ll try to send him away, that she’ll insist they can never be together. He wants to see her smile more, hear her laugh more. He wants to push her up against a wall and feel out every curve of her real body and find out what she sounds like when he does it.

At first he thinks he can push these feelings down, but the longer he lays there, failing to fall asleep, the more he realizes he can’t. He needs to go to her; something buried deep inside him demands it.

He moves quietly as he gets up and leaves the room, grateful for the soft and comfortable bed clothes Midna’s lent him. He doubts he’d be capable of sneaking around in his usual equipment. Her scent grows gradually stronger as he traces the path he knows leads to her chambers.

Her room is small for a Princess, decorated more with personal keepsakes than with gaudy trinkets, like he might’ve otherwise expected. The only thing that suggests wealth is the canopy bed occupying one wall of the room. Translucent reddish-pink fabrics surround her, but he can see the shadow of her reclining figure through them.

He closes the distance and carefully tugs the canopy aside to find her fast asleep, curled up on her side with her cheek pressed against the pillow. Her expression is relaxed in a way he recalls seeing only rarely in his time with her.

With the most careful movements he can manage, he climbs onto the bed on his knees, kneeling beside her and watching her breathe in and out in a slow, steady rhythm. Her scent is overpowering here, and as if moving on its own, his hand gently pulls the covers off her shoulders to bare her to her hips.

She’s exchanged the more elaborate attire of her station for a simple, dark gown that hangs loose over her shoulders, open at the front. The smooth plane of her stomach fills the expanse between her bare chest and the dark pair of panties that straddle her hips. Unaware of the way he watches her, she merely shifts slightly at the change in temperature.

Link finds himself filled with conflicting emotions as he stares down at her, his gaze raking over every inch of her. He wants to protect her and shelter her.

He wants to devour her and claim her.

One hand extends, again seemingly without thought, to brush fingers over her cheek, sweeping some of her fiery orange hair away from her face. As powerful as she is, right now she’s delicate and vulnerable. Seeing her like this makes something stir in his shorts, and his fingers glide lower, encouraged by how soundly she sleeps.

He traces the curve of her neck, feeling her pulse and the slight vibrations of her breathing. The way her heart beats stirs something else in him—he remembers being a wolf, the thrill of being on the hunt, of pouncing on helpless prey. He stops himself short of letting his fingers tighten, telling himself he needs her asleep. He needs her like this.

His hands quest lower, slipping under her gown. Her breasts are highlighted by the unusual coloration of her skin, alternating between her normal bluish-gray skin tone and a near jet black tone. She definitely hadn’t had these as an imp, and the urge to touch them is too much to resist. He kneads lightly at her breast, and hears her let out the slightest of sighs in response.

Galvanized, his fingers circle her nipple, caressing at first, then rubbing back and forth. He tries to remember the things he used to do with Ilia, during that brief period where they’d thought they could work. He wants to hear the sounds Midna makes. Her breathing picks up as her nipples stiffen, and he swears he can feel her heart rate start to climb.

He gradually lowers himself until he’s lying down beside her, toying with her breasts and watching the way her unconscious body reacts. Her back arches forward just a little, as if encouraging him. He finds himself grinning.

Her true form is more slender than her flowing garments made her look. Her stomach is surprisingly toned under his fingers, and he wonders what it’d look like with her back arched further. He’s increasingly realizing all of the things he’s wanted to do to her, and more and more he doesn’t mind doing them to her while she’s unable to stop him. His hands brush past the line of her panties to her thighs, enjoying her curves.

He tenses when she rouses slightly. “Mmm…” she mumbles, shifting her shoulders. Link freezes in place, watching her carefully to see if she’ll wake.

But she doesn’t. She’s talking in her sleep. As his hand comes to squeeze her rear, she lets out a soft sound which makes the stirring in his shorts that much worse. “Link…” she breathes.

It’s too much. He needs her and there is no convincing himself otherwise at this point. He rolls her lightly onto her back, leaning over her to hook his fingers under the hem of her panties and slowly roll them down her legs. He has to lift her feet to pull them off her completely before tossing them aside.

It only takes a feather-light touch of his fingertips on her thighs again for them to part instinctively. He suppresses an almost automatic growl of approval at her body’s compliance. It’s like she’s made for him. His fingers slip between her legs, caressing her folds and finding them already a bit wet. Clearly, his attention has been having the desired effect.

His free hand slips into his shorts unconsciously as he watches her, his fingers spreading her enough to find and caress her clit. Her reactions become more pronounced as he does so, each pass of his fingertip over the sensitive spot making her exhale sharply or squirm in her sleep. If not for how far gone he is at this point, he’d be impressed at how sound a sleeper she is.

He can feel her getting wetter the more he touches her, and the tension in his shorts is starting to get unbearable. Her scent is getting stronger the longer this goes on, calling out to him and signaling what it is she needs, what it is only he can give her. His finger moves lower and slips inside her, spurred on by how easily she parts for him. Her breathing is starting to grow ragged as her hips move against him in little motions. He wants to hear his name on her lips again, but he supposes he’s been lucky enough already.

Finally, he can’t take it anymore. She smells like heat and need and it’s overwhelming his senses. Taking care not to move her too quickly, he rolls her onto her front and slips his shorts off, guiding her hips upward so he can grind himself between her legs. The feeling of her wetness is heavenly, and it’s all he can do not to take her right there.

He doesn’t want her to wake yet. He likes the way her body reacts to him instinctively. If he wants to keep enjoying that, he needs to take it slow, no matter how urgent the need might feel. He guides himself up between her folds, parting them with his tip and taking in the sight of her beneath him for a long moment before slowly easing himself forward.

Once again she parts for him, and he has to bite his lip to muffle his reaction to the way she clings around him. He pushes gradually deeper, an inch at a time, filling her with agonizing slowness until he’s all the way inside. He leans himself over her, bracing his hands to either side of her.

She can obviously feel him, by the way her lips part with shaky outward breaths, but even still she doesn’t seem to have awoken. With only a little trepidation he pulls back, moving with that same deliberate slowness until only his head lingers inside her, then pushes forward again.

It’s difficult to make himself go slowly like this, with how amazing she feels, with how her scent burns in his nostrils. He wants, needs to use her. Gradually, he starts to grow more confident, picking up his pace, getting just a little more forceful. He can feel himself throbbing within her, wanting ever more. His restraint starts to melt away. He knows she’s going to wake soon.

He’s not quite there yet when her eyes blink open. She lets out a strangled gasp as she visibly grapples with the realization that her wet dream was not just a dream. “L-Link?” she manages with wide, bleary eyes before he pins her wrists down.

What had been slight, sharp intakes of breath from her quickly begin to shift into outright gasps of shock, pleasure, and confusion. She doesn’t seem to be able to form a thought coherent enough to voice as a complete sentence. “What are… I can’t… you…” she goes through several breathy attempts at speech, at stopping him, before he leans down to her ear.

“Shhhh,” he growls.

He savors the look in her eyes as she begins to understand her place, and her cheeks darken before she turns her head to bury her face against her pillow, muffling the sounds that his hips drag from her throat.

Though it had stopped when she woke, her body’s reciprocal movements soon pick up again, her hips rocking back into his with primal fervor. She presses up against him in ways that push him deeper with each thrust, and it’s very nearly enough to make his head spin.

He can feel himself nearing his limit, and he leans down to bite into the side of her neck, wanting to mark her in every way he can, wanting to mix his scent with hers. A muted yelp reaches him from her pillow.

He plunges deep inside her as climax washes over him, and he twitches hard as his orgasm spills into her in wave after wave. He can feel her seizing around him, clearly enjoying her newfound purpose, and it only makes him cum harder. He keeps himself sheathed inside her until the last of it leaves him, his breaths coming heavy as he allows himself to collapse onto her.

The both of them catch their breath for several long moments of silence. She shifts enough to let herself peek at him out of the corner of her eye, her red eyes regarding him with something like a newfound appreciation. He nuzzles his nose against the new marks on her neck and grins at her. It’s easier to think now, her scent feeling less intense and more soothing.

“Revenge for how I treated you as a wolf?” she ventures, still a little breathless. “I… could get used to this, if you still plan on staying.”

She already knows the answer, and he does too. He’s gone to great lengths to see her again, and this new discovery between them only reinforces it.

He’s not going anywhere.

Chapter Text

“Link.”

He’s reading over an inscription on a wall in one of the far-flung reaches of the palace, a book open in one hand for reference. He and Zelda had had to teach themselves some Twili script in the process of finding a way back to the Twilight Realm, but the texts here are different from the ones back in Hyrule.

Midna is watching him with a perplexed expression when he glances back over his shoulder. “What are you doing?” she asks.

He looks from her, to the book, then back to her, mirroring her quizzical mien before gesturing to the inscription. “Reading,” he says.

“I didn’t know you could interpret Twili script. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that you’ve learnt some.” She steps up beside him, her attention shifting to the words engraved in the wall. “Were you able to read it? It looks like you’re having some trouble.”

He shakes his head, and she smiles that fragile smile again. It hadn’t always looked so troubled. “Any texts you would’ve had access to were likely very old, then. Twili culture has had millennia to grow and change.” She looks at him out of the corner of her eye. “We’ve grown very different from the Hylians our ancestors once were.”

The distance the sentiment creates between them disquiets him. Without a thought, his free hand reaches for one of hers and takes it, lacing their fingers together.

A brief, complicated look flits across her face as she looks down at their joined hands. She smoothes it away with the poise of the princess she is, looking back up at him. “Would you like me to read it to you?”

He nods appreciatively, and she launches into an impromptu history lesson as she relays the text to him and frames it in the necessary context. Once more she glows with the passion of a woman who truly loves her people, but it’s dampened by other emotions. Some of the warmth fades from her voice as she talks about all the things that make the Twili so different, and so dangerous.

“Make sure you remember all this. I’m sure Zelda will want to hear all about it when you return,” she says at one point, almost off-handedly. His grip tightens on her hand and he says nothing.

“Link!” her voice calls out to him over the garden.

His paws follow the guidance of his nose as he weaves his way through alien shrubberies and flower patches, everything somehow new and familiar at the same time. One scent in particular calls out to him, leading him deeper into the palace gardens with every step.

“Get back here before you trample every flower in the garden!” His attention to Midna’s chastisements is stolen away as he finally locates the source of the scent. He’s never seen anything quite like this before, but he’s certain she’ll like it. With great care he plucks his prize from the ground, holding it in his teeth as he darts back in the direction of her voice.

He manages to catch her by surprise as she winds her way down one of the paths, practically pouncing on her and dropping her onto her back. Her growl of irritation cuts off when she catches sight of the flower held delicately in his fangs, its rose-like petals radiating a pale inner light. “Where did you find this?” she asks, wide-eyed.

Link scoots back enough to let her sit up, and she accepts the flower when he proffers it to her with a tilt of his head. “I didn’t know these bloomed anymore. It’s been so long.” She stares at the flower in her hands for several long seconds before her gaze resettles on Link.

She wears a nostalgic smile as she speaks. “They used to grow wild around…” she sighs at the wording she’s about to use. “...Around my special place.”

Blue eyes regard her with more curiosity than amusement, alleviating some of her worries. “I would sneak out here often when I was just a girl. I had many hiding places throughout the palace, but this garden was always special to me.” She turns the stem slowly in her fingers. “But as I got older, the flowers grew scarcer, and eventually I stopped visiting.”

Link’s head nuzzles against her shoulder, and she lets out a breath of laughter. “Would you like to see it?”

“Link… I’m sorry…”

The words are muffled in his fur, spoken more for her benefit than for his. His paws beat an unerring rhythm against the hard-packed dirt of Hyrule Field as he tries to ignore her labored breathing, tries to ignore how she feels so light she might float away on the breeze at any second.

“Shouldn’t… have got you involved.”

Link grits his teeth and forces himself to go faster, racing toward the castle.

She’s clearly near death when they find Zelda. Her skin is unnaturally pale, her voice sickly and weak. But instead of fighting like she always does, she has given up on herself. She begs Zelda to help him in her stead. He feels a flare of anger at his own uselessness. How many times has she saved him? Why can’t he do anything for her?

“Link… you can… you can get to the woods… on your own, right?” she asks, and he feels himself break inside. His heart feels like a stone in his chest as he watches the spark fade from her eyes.

This… isn’t right, is it? Midna didn’t die. Midna is still alive.

But it’s what she would have chosen for herself. It wasn’t even her world to save, and she’d still have died for it.

The dreamscape shifts, and he sees her again and again. Breaking his chains, bonding with him throughout their journey, facing down Ganondorf. He relives all the moments where he hadn’t realized he was falling for her.

She shows him that weighty smile. She says, “See you later,” but her impish giggle does not follow. The mirror shatters as she disappears.

Link’s eyes snap open. Above him is the canopy of Midna’s bed. He rakes a hand back through his messy hair and sighs as he considers the empty spot beside him. Midna is not here. She usually sleeps when he does, but not tonight. He thinks he has some idea of where she’s gone.

“Link?”

She’s sitting by a small pond in the palace gardens, a place that had been her hideaway as a child. Her knees are bunched up to her chest, her arms around her shins as she looks up at him from where she’d been staring at the water.

He steps up beside her and leans down to offer her one of the luminescent flowers from a few days ago. She cracks a wan smile. “I should try planting some around here. It’d certainly liven up the view.” Her hand pats the grass beside her, and he drops down to sit next to her.

“You had me thinking about this place again, and I couldn’t get to sleep, so I guess I ended up here,” she explains. He’s not sure she’s telling him the whole truth, but he nods nonetheless.

Maybe she can see some of the skepticism in his face, because she continues. “I… to be honest, the reason I stopped coming here is a bit complicated.” She casts her gaze out over the still waters of the pond. “This pond… it showed me things. I don’t know if it was just childish imagination or if it really had some magic in it, but… I swear, it used to show me the world of light.”

She rolls her eyes at Link’s look of bewilderment. “Don’t look at me like that. It’s true.” He shrugs, and she seems to take it as acceptance. “As I got older, the images appeared less and less, until they finally stopped.” Some of the mirth fades from her face as her eyes focus on the dark waters of the pond, reflecting only the twilight skies above.

Link considers for a moment, feeling an unpleasant tugging in his chest, before tossing the flower into the water. It floats gently on the surface, its light scattering through the water below and chasing away some of the darkness.

Midna’s eyes widen a touch at the sight, as if expecting another vision, but the surprise fades away quickly when nothing appears and she curls into herself tighter. “I’m not sure I’d want it to show me anything now, anyways.”

At the question in Link’s eyes, she says, “I’m the rightful ruler of the Twili. I have a responsibility to my people, and to yours. We can never have another Zant.” Her stare hardens for an instant before the expression is cut through with longing. “My place is here. I don’t want to be… tempted with things I can’t have.” She avoids looking at him.

Link wants to object, but doesn’t know the right thing to say. He’s never been as good with words as he has been with action. Not knowing what else to do, he puts an arm around her and pulls her close to snuggle into his side, resting her head on his shoulder.

She doesn’t fight him. A breath leaves her like she’s been holding it for a long time. “You can’t stay here forever, you know. There are people who need you. And so many adventures out there waiting for you. I can’t be the thing that keeps you from living your life.” At his continued, sullen silence, she chuckles softly. “No matter how stubborn you may try to be about it.”

His fingers slowly work their way through her hair. They linger together in the quiet for a time, but it’s clear that her mind continues to work the whole while. “It has been nice having you here, though. I didn’t think we’d ever meet again.” He hears her voice crack on the last word. “I’m sorry. I just…”

It hurts. Apologies aren’t what he wants from her. “Stop. Please,” he says, burying his face in her hair.

She goes quiet. He lingers where he is, holding her, wanting to reinforce the realness of her presence here.

She raises her head to meet his eyes when he pulls away from her hair. Even with all the differences between who she was during their journey together and who she is now, her eyes still reassure him that she’s the same Midna. “What should I do, then?” she asks, feebly.

“Just… let’s enjoy that we’re both here, together,” he pleads. Her brow furrows. She leans in and kisses him. It’s brief, and she rests her forehead against his afterward.

“I do enjoy it. I’ve wanted to see you so badly. But it’s dangerous to put it into words,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. 

“Then don’t use words,” he replies, and kisses her again. It’s longer this time, and he can feel desperation in the movements of her lips and in the way she presses close to him.

She clings to him, to the fabric of his shirt, as she pours everything she thinks she can’t say into the gesture. He responds in kind, wanting her to understand the kind of yearning that drove him to follow her even here. She is warm and near and everything he wants. 

Her breathing is markedly heavier when they break apart, her pupils dilated. Something in her unrestrained body language strikes a spark in him, and his eyes find themselves magnetized to her curves.

Before he knows it he’s leaving soft bites along the side of her neck, pulling her flush against him. A breathy sound of approval escapes her as her hips roll rhythmically into his, searching for any kind of friction.

He wants her. He needs her. He can’t lose her another time. Her scent has snuck up on his senses and addled him all over again, and it’s difficult not to drag her down onto the grass with him then and there.

“Wait,” she gasps, setting her hands on his chest and lightly pushing him back. “M-maybe not out here?”

The look on her face is adorable, torn between arousal and embarrassment, and it makes it that much harder for him not to succumb. He nods stiffly and allows himself to be guided back onto his feet. She hurries them back to the palace, his hand in hers.

“Link…” She says his name in so many ways, and it never seems to stop affecting him.

It had been difficult to restrain himself on the way here, and whatever self-control he’d been exercising quickly begins to crumble once they’re back in her chambers.

Link guides her toward the bed as he pulls off her clothes with less care than they probably warrant, given how ornate they are. He savors the intake of breath he hears when his fingers make contact with the bare skin of her waist. He likes how remarkably sensitive to touch she becomes under the right conditions.

His hands roam up to her breasts, and in response she presses her back to his chest, shifting her hips to grind against him tantalizingly. The urge to claim her is strong as ever now, but he fights it down. He wants this to last.

So he pushes her down onto her knees as he kicks off his trousers and drops to sit on the edge of the bed. Her cheeks color as she kneels before him, but she doesn’t hesitate to follow his unspoken instruction. Her head dips down as her fingers encircle him, her tongue exploring while they work.

Link’s fingers thread themselves through her hair, and though her touches feel good, for a moment he’s simply captivated by the sight of her. 

Her eyes are glazed with a desire that matches his. This is one of the only times she allows herself to want. She is a creature of so many wants, it continues to astonish him that she doesn’t simply explode with the effort of bottling them all up.

She wants to be a righteous and dignified ruler. She wants to be touched, to be taken. She wants to be responsible to her people. She wants to run away with Link and explore as far as their wanderings can take them. She wants so many things, too many of them irreconcilable.

This is one of the few things he’s been able to give her. He’s never been royalty. He doesn’t know how to tell her it’s okay to be selfish.

She’s taken him into her mouth, and her tongue feels amazing as she bobs her head in languid motions. Her eyes flit up to look into his, searching for approval. He hopes she can’t see his worry. With an effort of will, he shoves his thoughts aside and indulges the feelings her scent and her presence stir up within him.

His fingers tighten in her hair, guiding the movement of her head to match his preferred rhythm. She complies effortlessly, letting out soft, muffled sounds while her free hand snakes its way between her thighs.

He enjoys the wet heat of her mouth as much as he can, feeling himself twitch or shiver at the subtle ways she uses her lips, her tongue, her fingers. She’s clearly been paying attention to what gets a reaction out of him, and it just makes him want her more. All too soon he feels himself getting close, and with great difficulty he stops her before he can get there.

She stares up at him, lips parted, eager for whatever he’ll do next. He pulls her up, guides her to straddle his lap, his hands settling on her hips. She lowers her head as he lifts his. Their lips meet as his fingers find their way between her thighs.

Midna has already warmed herself up when his fingers reach their destination, and it makes it that much easier to slip one inside her. A muffled moan passes from her mouth into his, and he kisses her harder, biting at her lower lip. She parts her lips for him, and his tongue takes the invitation.

Her hips rock against his fingers in little motions that bounce her in his lap. He can feel her breathing grow unsteady at the same time as her kisses start to become sloppier. He doesn’t mind; instead he trails kisses over her chin, along the underside of her jaw, and onto her neck. She tilts her head back obligingly, baring herself to him.

Her breath hitches as he sinks his fangs into the skin over her collarbone, wanting to mark her again. A tremor passes through her, rolling from her shoulders all the way down to her squirming hips. The perfume of her need is an incessant pull upon his senses.

The soft whine she lets out as his fingers withdraw from her is delicious. He guides her closer to him, lining himself up with her as her arms come to encircle his shoulders. Her warmth and wetness welcome him as he guides her down onto him.

He can feel the quiver that passes through her legs as he hilts himself inside her, and for a time he lets her cling to him as she starts to move on top of him. But eventually he pulls free of her embrace, leaning back on the bed to better enjoy the view of her, his hands resettling on her hips.

Her hands instead come to rest to either side of him on the bed as she rides him, her hair a frenzy with the movement. Her eyes are unfocused as her world is consumed by the way the two of them are joined.

She’s beautiful from head to toe, from the way her breasts bounce with the motion to the slight tension of her stomach to the trembling of her thighs that matches the way she clings around him. Her breaths come out as almost feral sounds of need that resonate with the animal side of him she helped awaken.

Eventually, he can feel her stamina flagging, and he pulls her down to press her chest against his before rolling the both of them over. He relishes having her helpless like this; it satisfies something primal in him to have her writhing beneath him. His hands hook under her thighs, pulling her legs up to drape them over his shoulders.

It’s hard not to marvel at her flexibility, or at the way she moans his name when she takes him deeper than before. Her flushed skin shines faintly with sweat. Untamed, her fiery hair haloes her head. He drinks all of her in as she digs her fingers into the sheets and whimpers, “Please, Link…”

He can do nothing but answer her plea, taking her roughly as the pressure builds. He buries his face in her neck as he tumbles over the edge, letting each successive wave of his climax fill her while he breathes her name into her skin. By the way she arches her back and tenses around him, he can only hope she’s enjoying the same feeling. The two of them collapse against each other when the pleasure finally subsides, his breath a hot mist on her neck.

Her fingers come up to glide slowly through his hair and down the back of his neck. For a time, there are no worries between them.

“Midna.”

She lifts her head from where it has been resting against his chest, pulled from her reverie by the sound of his voice. “Sorry,” she says with an apologetic smile. “I was getting lost in my head again.”

He knows as much, and it bothers him. Even now, he can see her considering what she’ll do after he leaves.

She’s still watching him as he turns things over in his head. He hates never knowing what to say. Eventually, though, he catches on the memory of his nightmare and a thought occurs.

“Haven’t we said enough goodbyes to each other?”

Her face falls. “Link…” she says, somewhere between reproach and regret. “You have to go home eventually.”

“What if home is when I’m with you?” he asks.

“I…” she bites her lip and looks away. “I understand the feeling, but you don’t belong here. Even if you can survive here, you’ll just be a constant reminder to the Twili of the world they were cast out of.”

“Then let’s let them back in.”

“The risks are too great. You saw what happened the last time our worlds collided. I will not allow something like Zant to happen again.”

He scowls at her. “Zant wanted to be free, though.”

Anger briefly flares on her face. “Zant was a madman who very nearly laid waste to two worlds.”

“Still,” Link insists, deflating only slightly. “There will always be some who want to see the other side.”

She shakes her head firmly. “It doesn’t matter. Light and shadow do not mix. Without Twilight, they wouldn’t survive in your world.”

“You did.”

“I had to be exposed to the power of a light spirit!” Midna snaps. “I very nearly died, and Zelda almost had to die too to keep me alive!”

“We can find a better way!” he protests.

“No, Link,” she says, fixing him with a glare. “We can’t. I won’t risk the lives of my people.”

“So you’ll just keep them here, and be stuck here with them?”

“They’re my people!” she hisses. “I want to be here with them.”

“No, you don’t,” he says. Her glare intensifies, but he continues regardless. “They don’t need a warden keeping them here. They need a future.”

Midna takes a deep breath, and for a moment he thinks she’s going to shout at him. But instead, she closes her eyes and lets it out. When they open once more, they carry a cool detachment that almost reminds him of how she’d looked when they first met.

“I’m sorry, Link. I know how much it hurts you, but it can’t be helped.” She says the words without sympathy, as if she’s reading from a script she’s arranged in her head. “We can’t stay like this.”

“Midna…” he breathes, searching her eyes for any kind of give. “Please.”

She stares at him impassively. “Go home, Link. To the people you can help.”

Anger and resignation boil up inside him in equal measure. She calls him stubborn even as she refuses to listen to anything he says. He and Zelda had put so much effort into getting him here, and yet she treats his presence like a fleeting fantasy she can’t indulge. Why?

She doesn’t try to stop him as he pushes her away and gets up, nor does she rise when he goes to the door. He grips the door frame for a long moment as he grapples with the feeling of everything coming apart. “You can’t throw everything away,” he says, hoping some of it will get through.

He leaves without looking back.

A week passes. Midna is avoiding him, and on the occasions where they do see each other, she is impassive and distant. It’s clear she doesn’t intend to yield on this matter.

In truth, he had never planned on going back. He’d had no interest in the contingency plans Zelda had arranged to return him to the world of light. Nonetheless, he suspects he’d still be able to return if he really wanted to.

He doesn’t want to. But without Midna, this place feels hollow. He feels hollow. If he can’t persuade her to change her mind, then maybe he really doesn’t have any reason to be here. After much agonizing contemplation, he leaves a note for her in her room and finds his way back to the courtyard where he’d first emerged back into this world.

The preparations are slow going. He barely grasps the magical theory behind the method Zelda put together, but he thinks he can manage it. Focusing on the memory of her instructions, it’s easy to move with a mechanical kind of efficiency.

He’s about halfway done when he hears footsteps approaching. He doesn’t look up to see who it is.

“Link,” Midna says.

He gives her the slightest shrug of his shoulders to indicate he’s heard her.

“I… got your message,” she says, sounding uncertain. “You’re truly going home, then.”

His nod is almost imperceptible. 

“It’s probably for the best.” It’s clear she’s putting effort into keeping her voice even. He continues to work through the silence that follows for several minutes more, not wanting to turn around.

“You said…” she pauses, seeming to wonder whether she should continue. “You said we could… ‘find a better way’. It sounded like flailing, but… did you actually have an idea of something to try?”

He stops what he’s doing. Hesitantly, he allows himself to look back at her. She’s watching him expectantly, with a cautious glimmer of hope. He sighs, and shakes his head. “Not me. But Zelda might. Or the light spirits. And if not them, you have so many books here that might have a clue.”

Midna fidgets, looking down at her hands clasped together in front of her. “We can’t go chasing false leads forever.”

Of course not. He looks away from her, ignoring the way his heart sinks.

“But… maybe I’d like to try, even still. Carefully,” she appends quickly.

He looks back at her again, much faster this time, unable to keep the confusion out of his eyes.

Hesitantly, she looks back up at him, stepping closer. “I think you were right about some things. I can’t know what all of my people want. Maybe some of them really do want to see your world, no matter the risk.” Her voice gets very small as she adds, “I certainly do.”

He feels the beginnings of a smile curling his lips. He matches her step, leaving only a short space between them. “They deserve to see the world you worked so hard to save. You do too.”

She stares at the ground. “It’s highly doubtful this will work, but…”

“And,” he continues before she can finish, “I’m sure there are plenty of people who’d want to see the Twilight Realm, too. It’s very beautiful… in its own way.”

Her eyes snap back up to his, and she smirks. This expression, he thinks, looks more like the Midna he knows. “Are you certain you aren’t just being enchanted by my beauty?”

He laughs, and closes the distance between them to brush the backs of his fingers along her cheek. “I don’t know,” he admits.

She lets her eyes slide shut as she savors his touch, humming thoughtfully. “We’re two sides of the same coin…” she murmurs, almost to herself. “Inextricable.”

He doesn’t know if they’ll manage to find the answers they’re looking for. It’s possible that this really will end in nothing.

But as he leans in to kiss her, he thinks he’d be willing to try forever if she’ll let him. He’s already crossed worlds to be with her.

How hard can it be?