It was warm under the tree. Link rested his head on Princess Zelda's muscular, green shoulder as she explained the facts of life to the naive forest boy. The tales of great destinies and battles made his head swim and he slightly lost her at the part about the branching timelines, but she told it so well and with such a regal, commanding voice that he couldn't help but be enraptured.

"Every time it's the same?"

Zelda nodded. "No, but certain elements are undeniable. A single story told and retold through eternity. The Princess, the Master Sword, the Hero. Tingle, for some reason. And the clothing..." Her nimble fingers stroked against his tunic. "I saw you coming from a mile away. No hat this time?"

"Hm? Hat?" Link patted his head. "Oh, I must have left it at home." He yawned pleasantly. "So do I always win?"

"Always," Zelda said, her jaw tensing, a dark cloud seeming to cross her pretty face. "Eventually. Perhaps he tastes victory for a generation or two but then you always appear to thwart him. The worst part is that he remembers it all. You have the luxury of being reborn anew each time. He recalls every humiliating defeat. Feels every cut of that blast-uh, blessed sword as if it were yesterday."

"And we always... meet?" Link asked. He risked cuddling closer. Zelda seemed to tense briefly before relaxing against him.

"Of course," she said. "You inherit the Spirit of the Hero in you but Zelda is -I am- the Goddess-Blood Princess. Each Zelda can trace an unbroken line of descent from the last, even if separated by eons, inheriting the Blood of the Goddess passed down from Hylia herself..." Her voice trailed away as if in thought. Her eyes opened and fixed on him. "... if Zelda were denied her breeding stud for even a single generation... if he were to become distracted from his destined duties... her line ceases to exist... and Ganon rules unopposed forever..."

Her slight body was more powerful than it appeared, pushing him back onto the grass with ease. Link blushed as the woman's hands moved beneath his tunic, gripping him with a possessiveness that startled him. Who am I to deny destiny? he thought as she kissed him.