ANGER MANAGEMENT

Chapter 7/8: Sunrise and Sunset

This is technically chapter 8. Chapter 7 was straight smut, and therefore not posted to FFnet. If you would like to read it, check out my Tumblr (spicychestnut123) - tagged under '#Anger Management Fanfic', or AO3 (SpicyChestnut). This chapters is pretty much the same as the versions posted to Tumblr and AO3, with only very, very minor adjustments. Again, if interested in the full version, check out those sources. Enjoy!

"Zelda… Wake up."

The voice came to her through a thick fog, hazy and indistinct. She ignored it, the exhaustion of her body and the softness of the bed lulling her back to sleep. She was nearly fully submerged in the warm tides of dreamland when the voice spoke again, more urgent this time.

"Wake up… Zelda, you need to wake up. It's almost sunrise."

An insistent pressure against her shoulder jostled her torso, sending tremors up to her head and she rolled over with a groan, the fog instantly dispersing as a wave of discomfort washed over her. A massive, skull-splitting headache throbbed to life, and a full-body ache made movement intolerable. Her mouth felt like sandpaper, dry and rough, and the combination of sensations drove her from sleep to wakefulness with an unpleasant jolt. She rolled over again, struggling to find a more comfortable position for her head, groaning as she clutched at her temples.

"There's some water on the bedside. You have to get up, and we need to leave—before anyone at the castle notices we're missing."

The voice was both apologetic and urgently insistent, and it took a moment for her to put the pieces of her fragmented memory together. Sneaking out of the castle… Link. The tavern. They—their…

Suddenly she jolted upright, feeling her head throb with the movement and the bed sheet slide down her breasts, as cool early morning air washed over her skin. She blinked blearily around the room, fighting through her headache as she absorbed her surroundings. The room was dim, the oil lamp burning low. A pitcher of water and an empty glass sat on the dresser, and a filled glass rested beside the lamp on the bedside table. Turning her gaze beside her, Link sat atop the sheets in nothing but his trousers, cheeks faintly pink as he struggled to keep his gaze at eye level. With a muffled 'eep!' Zelda pulled the sheets back up to cover herself, staring at Link wide-eyed.

However the sudden movement was too much for her aching head, and with another groan she leaned forward, a hand clutching her temple as her eyes shut tight in an agonized squint. Though she hadn't been revealing anything he hadn't already seen—she didn't have anything left he hadn't already seen—a thought that would have made her blush profusely had she not been in so much pain, the gravity of the situation was slowly making itself known to her.

Goddess, what had she DONE? She was the Princess of Hyrule, and she had let her own knight-attendant deflower her, out of wedlock, in a shabby inn while they were both completely drunk. And possibly worst of all—he really had little blame in all of this. Her choices and actions precipitated all of it.

No, that wasn't the worst of it. The worst of it was that she had reveled in every second of it and, strangely, didn't regret it. Not a single part. And if she were truly, painfully honest with herself… she desperately wanted to do it again. With him; but… maybe next time with a little less alcohol.

She felt the bed shift as Link made to stand and chanced a peek up at him. He walked around the mattress, grabbing his shirt from the floor and slipping it on before coming around to her side and handing the filled glass to her. She lifted her head, glancing at it wearily as she pulled the sheet self consciously tighter around herself. With effort she reached up and took the offering.

"Welcome to your first hangover," he said wryly as she took the glass, downing the liquid as though she hadn't had a sip of water in months. His attempt at humor made her smile as she sucked down the water, but it lasted only a moment. His expression quickly turned awkward as he cleared his throat.

"We don't have much time before the sun rises, so you may want to hurry. I'll… um, be outside while you get dressed. Just… knock on the door when you're ready."

He then turned without another word and walked for towards the door. Panic rose suddenly within her. She hadn't had more than a moment to orient herself, yet somewhere within her she knew that if he left like this he would be closing more than just the door of their room. She couldn't bear the thought. With clumsy hands she set the glass on the table and half-shouted after him.

"Link—wait!"

He stopped and looked over his shoulder at her, his hand on the doorknob and his expression even yet somehow inscrutable. But now that she had his attention, she didn't know what to say. Aside from her mind being bogged down by her hangover, she just… didn't know what someone did in this kind of situation, or what any of this meant, or how he felt in the cold light of semi-sobriety, or how she felt for that matter… But she knew she had to say something, that he knew she was… well, she didn't quite know, but she knew she wanted him to feel that this was all okay.

"Thank you," she said in a breath, feeling her cheeks redden at the sudden awkwardness between them. Link stared at her a moment, his shoulders stiffening momentarily before his lips quirked up in a small smile, a warmth in his eyes as he held her gaze. He nodded, silent as ever, then turned and exited through the door, shutting it softly behind him.

Her shoulders stooped, releasing a tensions she hadn't realized she'd been holding, and sighed heavily. Goddess, where did she go from here? Things couldn't just go back to normal between them, could they? And how exactly did he feel about all of this? How did she feel?

Well, perhaps she knew, at least in part, how she felt about all of this. Her cheeks shaded pink at the memory of his sure hands roaming her body, of his lips on her sensitive skin. Despite her level of inebriation, she didn't think she could ever forget that, forget their night together. It was seared into her mind, haunting and vivid.

But the question still remained: what about Link?

Stillness and silence was all that met her as the unanswerable question floated along the surface of her mind.

The minutes were ticking by and with each passing second they drew closer to sunrise. Link was right—they needed to get moving, get back to the castle before anyone noticed they were missing. The morning shift change of the castle guard would happen just before the sun broke the horizon. That was their best bet for getting back in undetected.

With another sigh, she pushed the sheets back and swung her legs out of bed, pushing through the throbbing of her head and the chill of the air on her naked body. As she stood on wobbly legs, she felt a sudden intense ache between her thighs and she doubled over, resting her palms on the bedside table to support her weight. She shut her eyes and took a breath. It wasn't a sharp pain, nor an overwhelming one, but between the full-body ache, the ache between her legs, and the throbbing of her head, she felt nausea rise swiftly within her. She forced her body still and sat back down upon the bed, breathing deeply until it passed.

With greater care, she slowly stood. She could still feel the stickiness between her legs, and shuffled awkwardly over to the dresser to clean herself up. Walking, it seemed, would be a bit uncomfortable for a while. Pouring water on the spare wash cloth, she gently wiped away the lingering remnants of their sordid activities. Despite herself, she felt a momentary wave of sadness. It was one of the few pieces of evidence that this all hadn't been some fantastical dream—and now it was gone.

Setting the cloth back on the dresser, she then picked up Link's empty glass and filled it with water, slowly drinking down the soothing liquid. Setting it down once it was emptied, she stared at the rim of the glass, wondering where Link had pressed his lips. With a fingertip, she traced the rim. Would she ever feel his lips again after this?

With a last lingering glance, she turned from the glass, gathering her effects from around the room. With each passing moment she felt her faculties slowly return as she acclimated to wakefulness, and as a result felt the creep of morning more and more keenly. After several minutes of clumsy fumbling, she managed to redress herself, taking a look at her figure in the small mirror above the dresser. Her face looked a bit haggard. There were faint bags under her eyes and her skin showed the evidence of last night's sweat and grime. Her hair was down—she'd been unable to find her pins in the bed sheets and didn't want to waste the time looking; It was really a shame, too, as one of them had been a gift from Urbosa for her birthday last year.

Though she almost missed it with her hair draped over her shoulders, peering closely in the mirror she saw a red mark on her neck at the juncture of her neck and shoulder. Pulling the hair aside, she frowned at it. She would have to be careful when she returned to the castle, perhaps make use of the makeup her ladies maids were always trying to get her to use, but at least the neckline of her formal gown would cover it.

She turned, taking one last, lingering glance around the room. This could very well be the last time she ever did anything like this—the last and only time she would ever be with him like this. She felt a surprising amount of regret and dejection at the thought. With a soft sigh she hefted both their cloaks in her arm and turned for the door.

Link stood in the hall beside the door to their room, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and his head turned thoughtfully up towards the ceiling. His head swiveled quickly in her direction as she stepped through the doorway, shutting the door quietly behind her. Wordlessly, she handed him his cloak, which he took, pulling away from the wall and throwing it over his shoulders with a flourish. She followed suit, wrapping the cloak around her shoulders and pulling up the hood. He turned and with a nod, they headed for the stairs.

The walk back through castle town was a silent one. Zelda was quietly fighting through her hangover, struggling not to let the ache between her legs slow down her stride. If Link noticed or was bothered by her lagging pace, he did not comment on it.

She was lost in her thoughts—hazy and indistinct as a result of both her lingering discomforts and the exhaustion that was just beginning to catch up to her. She must have only slept three or four hours before Link woke her up; and good thing he had—by the almost imperceptible lightening of the dark sky, sunrise was not far off.

Wading through the moat proved a little more difficult in her semi-sober state, and Link silently offered his hand to help her keep her balance on the slippery rocks. She took it gratefully, reaching the other side quickly with his help. They backtracked through the series of caves and hidden passageways she'd taken earlier in the night, and by the time they reached the lockup, she could hear voices down the hall signifying the imminent shift change of the castle guard.

"Hey, Dornan! Pick up your damn cards! I ain't gonna take shit from Captain Fyrthen because you can't at least pretend to follow a couple stinkin' rules!"

Link peered around the corner, his ears quirked towards the source of the voices before he quickly darted out, signaling for her to follow. She stepped quietly around the corner, following his lead down the hallway until they reached the base of the spire to her study. Link nodded silently for her to open the passageway door, turning his ear towards the blind corner.

Zelda ran her hands along the stone, searching for the panel she'd read about years ago. She hadn't actually entered through the passage in the opposite direction, and so wasn't quite as certain which stone was the right one.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm goin'! Not like we've EVER had any intruders or escapees down here, anyway. Don't get your panties in a twist."

Link's eyes widened and her hands stilled as the voice carried down the hall. Her heart began to thunder in her chest as footsteps echoed off the walls, signifying the approach of a lockup guard. Link gestured wildly with his hands for her to hurry, and she began running her hands quickly over the stone, pressing on each one forcefully, hoping desperately it would be the right one. The footsteps grew louder, and her panic increased as each stone she passed over proved incorrect. She turned to him, eyes wild and panicked as she silently but vigorously gestured for him to help her look.

Link stooped and began running his hands over the stone below her, closer to the ground. The footsteps grew louder as the guard neared, and they both knew it would be mere moments before he rounded the corner.

Suddenly Zelda felt the entire panel of wall she was searching give way—but she hadn't yet found the right stone. Looking down, she saw Link smiling in triumph as a large panel of stones depressed, then slid behind the wall with a faint grinding sound.

"What—who's there?!"

The guard's footsteps quickened, and with her heart thundering, Zelda jumped through the opening and Link followed suit. With impressive speed and strength, he shoved the door closed, paying little attention to the grinding whine of the door or the faint thump of it falling back into place.

With the door shut, they were both thrown into complete darkness—but Zelda paid it no mind. They hadn't been caught, and that was all that mattered. Her heart was still slowing down from their close call and she slumped against the wall, breathing heavily and faintly aware of Link's presence beside her.

Having caught her breath, she pushed off the wall and began running her hands along the wall, searching for the hook she had left the Sheikah lantern hanging from. Her fingers grazed smooth stone, then suddenly she felt a hard wall of hair—her hands had found the side of Link's head—and she stilled.

Link's hand came up to grip her wrist gently, and in the pitch dark she became hyper aware of touch—of the calluses on his palm, of the way his fingertips wrapped all the way around her wrist—and her mind was drawn back to the way he'd held her hands while they'd danced, and of the way he'd run his hands along her body. Suddenly she needed to catch her breath again.

He pulled her hand away from his head, slowly moving it between them. She felt her wrist hover just over his face, his warm breath ghosting over her skin, and she shivered, feeling anticipation rise within her. He held her like that for several moments, no words spoken by either of them, her heart pounding a drumbeat in her chest. Then, she felt something cold press into the palm of her hand—the handle of the Sheikah lantern. She let out a breath, feeling suddenly foolish. Wrapping her fingers around the handle, she pulled away from him, uttering a breathless, "Thank you." Feeling along the lantern's base, she found the switch and turned it on.

The narrow passageway became illuminated in the dim light of the lantern, and she could finally see Link's inscrutable expression as he nodded for her to continue on up the passageway. Suppressing a disappointed sigh, she turned and began walking up the slope. Link followed behind her.

As the top of the spire drew near, anxiety began to creep back into her heart. They would soon return to the real world, and life as she knew it—the life she dreaded—would begin again. This night had been some strange, alternative dream world where she wasn't Princess Zelda, she was just Hilda—a young and carefree seventeen year old girl. It had been… such a breath of fresh air. For a single night she had been free. And now, she was about to put her shackles back on—they both were. All the restrictions and expectations of her station were slowly trickling back, and she felt deeply on edge.

As she thought about their coming emergence from the passageway, of their near-miss down in the lockup, a sudden thought occurred to her. What if someone found out? What if there were guards waiting for them when she returned to her room? And even if they managed to make it back to their respective chambers and their absence went unnoticed… would Link tell? Even just… maybe a friend? Did he have friends? Someone he thought he could trust? What if they told someone they thought they could trust?

She stopped suddenly, and Link nearly walked into her. Turning sharply despite the throb of her head, she looked at him seriously, unable to hide the anxiety in her voice.

"No one can ever know," she said gripping the lantern tightly in her hand. "I would be…" she let out a breath, "Well, the courtiers already think I've been sleeping with you so I suppose it wouldn't come as any surprise to them, but—"

"They—what? They do?"

Link looked suddenly gobsmacked, his blank expression morphing into shock. She let out a frustrated huff, the memory of their rumor-mongering at dinner stinging as she recalled it.

"Yes—warrantless gossip, really, or perhaps not so warrantless now, but I overheard them at dinner the other night gossiping about what a wretched Princess I am, and—"

"That was why you were so upset," he said softly with sudden realization. She didn't meet his eyes as she nodded slowly.

"You can't tell anyone—no one can know." she reiterated, feeling her anxiety heighten. "I would be… torn to shreds. More than I already am." She looked away, feeling a lump in her throat at the thought of what might happen should this night come to light. After a moment, Link's hand came to grab her free one, prompting her to look up.

"You don't need to tell me what's at stake," he offered softly, giving her a wry smile. "You may become disgraced in the eyes of the court, but at least you'll still have your head."

She looked up at him, feeling both appreciative of his ready acceptance, but also a bit ill at the thought of the potential consequences for his actions. "No…" she responded quietly, "I suppose I don't."

She gazed at him a moment longer, feeling a mixture of emotions, before turning and continuing on up the path. She had so many thoughts warring in her mind, and just as many emotions warring in her heart. But now as not the time to dwell on either—they both needed to ensure they got away with this first. Then, she could sort through it all.

She ignored the fact that she didn't release his hand.

The day had been an excruciatingly long one.

He had woken not long after falling asleep, head throbbing from his hangover. He had been certain he'd dreamed everything that had happened—a wonderful, tortuous dream; that was, until he looked over at the other side of the bed. There she lay, hair spread about her head like a dark halo, kiss-swollen lips parted, the sheets only barely covering her bare breasts. He stared hard for several minutes, absently admiring her beauty, before it fully hit him.

He'd slept with the Princess of Hyrule.

At first he had hung his head despairingly between his hands. There was no way he'd get away with this. He was a dead man—DEAD. After they sealed the Calamity, he'd be sent to the gallows, or the chopping block if the King was feeling particularly vindictive. Life in prison if he was extraordinarily lucky. There was no way they'd get away with this—no way HE would get away with this.

But the panic quickly passed. He was overreacting—even if they were discovered missing, no one could prove what they'd done, and he knew Zelda would never tell; she had nearly as much to lose as he.

He quietly got out of bed so as not to disturb her and walked to the window, peeking out the curtains. It was still dark—early morning by the looks of things. If they cleaned up now and hurried back to the castle, they might be able to sneak back in before anyone awoke.

There was a chance—a strong chance. But they had to move quickly.

He moved to the wash basin and cleaned himself up, pointedly ignoring the throbbing of his head—he'd suffered far worse during trainings—and dressed in his trousers before making a hasty retreat down to the bar for some water. He returned to their room and poured her a glass, downing his own before allowing himself a moment to breathe.

He found his eyes gravitating to her slumbering form, her nude body discernible beneath the sheets. This was likely the only time in his life he'd ever be graced with such an image; it was an image he would burn into his retinas—he never wanted to forget it, to forget her.

As she shifted in her sleep, her chest arching upwards as she turned onto her side, his mind cast back to when her chest had similarly arched under his tongue, to her pants and gasps as he ran his hands over her skin. He could feel his body warming, feel himself hardening at the memory. Gods, she had been… magnificent—a goddess. More than anything, she'd been so… free… He'd known her long enough now to know how she struggled against the restraints of her title, against her obligations and responsibilities. He'd seen her only a handful of times be truly joyful and carefree; and last night she'd been just that. She'd been… Zelda, just—Zelda; beautiful, alive, and passionate.

And yet, as much as he wanted to see her like that again—to maybe, possibly, Goddess willing, do this again (and again, and again…)—he couldn't help but wonder: Was this a one-time thing? What was this to her? They had both been drunk. Had she intended for things to go this far? Would she regret it once she woke?

She shifted in bed again, and he sighed. Time was ticking, and their window of opportunity was slowly sliding closed. Pushing off the dresser, he crossed the room, settling onto the bed to wake her.

They made their way quickly back through Castle Town unmolested, and through the series of secret passageways and caves until they reached the lockup. It had been a close call with the guard—too close, and once they both made it safely inside the secret passageway, leaning and panting against the wall, he felt his adrenalin surge ease and his heart rate began to slow.

However, when he felt her searching hand come into contact with his head, he couldn't help the urges that rose within him. In the darkness, reality felt momentarily suspended, just as his vision was was momentarily blinded, and he pulled her wrist close, mere inches from his lips as he relished in the softness of her skin and the steady thrum of her pulse beneath his fingertips.

His mind was at war. Part of him wanted to pull her close and take her all over again, here against the wall in the total darkness where touch reigned supreme. Yet his rational mind screamed at him to get moving before they lost their chance. In the end his rational mind won, and instead of bringing her wrist to his lips, he placed the lantern in her hand.

Yet despite knowing he'd done the right thing, he couldn't help but regret it at least in part as they continued on, watching her hips gently sway as she made her way up the sloping path. By the time they reached her study it was, thankfully, still dark enough that they were able to cross the bridge to her room invisibly. It was there, before her door, that they parted with little more than a silent nod.

To avoid any passing maids or guards who might have started their rounds early, he scaled the rough outer stone wall of her chambers, running along the upper parapets until he reached his portion of the wing. Then, he scaled down the wall on a vine and kicked in his window (which, thankfully, he'd left cracked in the night), climbing through with just enough time to clean himself up and eat a hasty breakfast before heading down the hall to report for duty.

By then his hangover was beginning to fade, and he felt grateful he'd refrained from matching the additional two drinks she'd had—but it did nothing for the on-again-off-again erection which plagued him as images of that night flashed through his mind. He felt only too grateful for the coverage provided by his champions tunic. But even still, the prospect of shadowing her all day, something he'd done every day for the past nine months, suddenly felt far more daunting than anything in his life ever had.

Zelda emerged from her chamber, dressed in her formal gown, a little later than usual that morning. Her hair was back to its natural gold, with nary a trace of the die she'd used the night before; but he could see the evidence of her lingering hangover in the weariness of her features, the stiffness of her movements, and the way she subtly flinched at loud noises.

She had a full schedule for the day—morning devotionals, a meeting with her father in the afternoon, a book reading at the Castle Town orphanage in the evening… Part of him had been hoping for perhaps a quiet, private moment to talk about things; she hadn't said what any of this meant to her or how she felt about it, and though he wasn't sure how to approach her—or if he even should—he at least wanted an opportunity to try.

But, no.

They were constantly under the watchful eye of somebody. At the castle shrine there were priests of Hylia surrounding the statue, cleaning the carved stone dais and offering prayers. He was shunted from the meeting with her father, forced to stand outside with the King's personal guards, though that was to be expected. Then, at the orphanage, the enthusiastic director hovered over them as she read the story of the hero of time to the enthralled young ones. Even on the ride back to the castle they were escorted by Castle Town guards, despite the Princess' polite declination.

And through it all, somehow, she'd managed to maintain a facade of perfect calm. He hoped his own mask had held as well as hers. It hadn't felt like it; because amidst it all, whenever she bent over, whenever she arched her back in just such a way or yawned widely, he couldn't help but see her keening under his ministrations, couldn't stop himself from remembering the feel of her… It took all of his self control to keep from fidgeting and maintain a neutral facade.

At no point during the day did an opportunity to talk ever appear; and though he suspected he already knew the answer, he was still burning to know for certain, to hear the answer from her own lips: was this a one time thing? He would, of course, respect whatever answer she gave. But if he were honest with himself, he would give almost anything to be with her again… He felt like a man lost in the Gerudo desert who'd been teased with the promise of an oasis. Foolish thought it may be, he couldn't help but hope.

When he was finally given clearance to return to his chamber after dinner, he felt only too grateful for the reprieve. The day had been excruciating, filled with silent torments and reminders of a rapture he could likely never have again. As he entered the room, he quickly shut the door behind himself and slumped against it, letting his mask finally fall and exhaling a long, slow breath.

After several quiet moments slumped against the door, he slowly stood, pulling off the master sword and the harnesses around his torso. He headed for his desk to set the equipment atop its surface, but stopped just as he reached it, noticing a large book resting on its center—a book which hadn't been there when he'd left that morning. Approaching the tome, he draped his equipment over the chair instead and picked it up, eying the leather-bound cover curiously.

'The History of the Jig' was stamped in large serif font, with a smaller subtitle reading, 'and it's many derivative dances'. He quirked a brow, opening the cover. He had a suspicion who this was from; and there, on the inside flap, was confirmation in the form of a handwritten dedication.

"Link,
I never got a chance to properly thank you for your actions outside the Kara Kara Bazaar. Your bravery and devotion are the only reason I am still alive. Thank you. I know your mother had been the royal dance instructor, and you recently mentioned an interest in the subject. This book is from my personal collection, and I thought it might aid you in your studies. Please take it as a token of my gratitude.
—Zelda"

Link smiled, though couldn't help but feel baffled by the timing of it. Why now? And why so pointedly formal? She had only learned last night about his mother. Surely she couldn't have been planning this…

Struck by sudden suspicion, Link flipped to the table of contents and skimmed the small font for the page marking the chapter on the gavotte jig. Flipping to it, he suddenly stilled, staring at Zelda's elegant script written in the margins faintly in pencil:

"The Fang and Bone. 10:00pm. Night of the next new moon. Erase when memorized."

Link's hands slacked and he dropped the book on his desk out of shock, where it landed with a thud. Heart beating, he quickly gathered his wits, flipping urgently to the page once more, desperate to verify he hadn't just imaged what he'd read. There it was, plain as day—instructions for their next encounter. He let out a breathless laugh, a broad smile slowly spreading across his face.

Pulling out an eraser from his desk drawer, he set to destroying the only evidence of their upcoming elicit meeting. Closing the book carefully, he brought it over to his small bookcase and set it on the shelf, his finger lingering on the spine as he stared at it with a faraway smile. They hadn't necessarily gotten a chance to talk about things, but at least he knew one thing.

It wasn't a one-time fling.

He then turned, heading straight for his bed. The new moon was in only a few days. He could be patient, endure more days like today so long as he knew he could see her—be with her, again. But in the meantime… he landed on his bed with a thump, quickly divesting himself of his pants.

In the meantime, he would have much to attend to.

A/N: There it is, folks! The end of Anger Management. Or... is it? If you don't follow me on my other platforms, then I have some good news! I've officially decided to make Anger Management part of its own series, separate from my Fade to Black smut series. Well, it'll do kind of a venn diagram thing, so it'll be part of the Fade to Black series while also being its own series. Basically, after their initial drunken fling, Zelda decides to carry on a longer-term affair with Link, meeting in secret at the tavern every few weeks when time and opportunity permits.

It'll be a smut series, so far outlined to be 6-10 parts, with each new story in the series featuring sexual acts and an emotional tone of a different theme. This will be a sort of ultimate-smut series to challenge my writing and creativity. I want to make each installment very different from the others, exploring a different aspect of sex and sexual intimacy.

And, of course, there will be a story too because if you know me at all you know I like my porn with plot. I've got a couple possible endings outlined, I'm just not sure which direction I want to go in yet. So stay tuned! If you enjoyed Anger Management, there will be more fun coming soon (ish).

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Review Responses!

Guest: GOD, I KNOW, man. Decades of work and research by thousands of talented computer scientists providing near-instantaneous data transfer to the masses spanning servers around the globe, providing free, quality porn right at your fingertips, and you have to type TWO url's into your browser to access it? FUCK THAT, amirite? (seriously tho dude, I do try to make it easy. Don't be a lazy ass with your free porn. My AO3 and Tumblr are offensively well organized.)

UltimateCCC: Lol. You know, that reminds me of a fanfic I read once which was entirely a play on that idea. Link and Zelda coming back to the castle after having sex in a field and Link making sword and sheath jokes to an unsuspecting guard and driving Zelda to insane levels of mortification. I wish I could remember the name of it.

Chesta1892: Aw, I'm glad you liked it! I worked really hard on that damn dance chapter. It was a toughie. Also thank you for your second comment. Makes my day.

DankOne: Lol, thank you. Brought back some childhood memories, that reference.

Guest/Aude: Ahaha, thank you! Because you leave awesome reviews, I won't beat around the bush as I have with others who have inquired about this: yes, for the purposes of this story, Link has already lost his virginity. I won't say more than that, because it'll be a plot point in the "Anger Management: The Extended Universe" as I am jokingly-not-jokingly calling it in my head. But I'm really glad everything came across well and appropriately. I wanted it to be clear that Zelda is yearning and curious and wanting and a little bit raw, and that Link is a little more bold than he allows himself to be normally. Basically, I wanted for them, in the bedroom and with each other, to let themselves be free-to let out the person they repress and hide away because of the pressures they feel as the chosen of destiny. Thank you so much for your thoughtful comments, and I'm glad you liked it!

Kansa: Thank you! I try to be original and do things a bit differently. Not sure I always succeed, but glad you liked this story! Hope you enjoyed the ending as well.

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Thanks to everyone who followed this story. The response and following has been nothing short of phenomenal. I don't know when I'll start work on the "extended universe", but you'll sure hear about it when I do!

Until next time my homies.