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Why Are You Dying?

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My love.

Why are you dying?

A million thoughts ought to have rushed through his mind in that moment, when he found her motionless on the couch, streaks of tears visible on her cheek and shadows attracted to her misery. She lay silent with her eyes closed, finally asleep. Those million thoughts that should have been there never came, only those few words.

My love, why are you dying?

He could not bring himself to break the silence. All he did was stand there over her small frame and watch her. It was impossible to tell if she could sense his presence, but why would she? How cruel was not the world? To have been forced to pine for her in silence because of him.

Surrendering was an important part of life and he had entered hers too late. He had been forced to surrender to the already existing love, killing the dreams of a new. What it really meant; surrender her to him. But the price he had to pay for choosing peace, thinking it would bring her happiness, over battle, which could only bring pain, had been far too high.

How dared he? That was the question that tore at his mind. How dared he hurt her like this? How dared he kill her like this?

Prince Marth sank to his knees with eyes filled with suffering. He let golden strands of her blond hair slide between his fingers. She looked as if she was already dead, his beautiful Zelda, and it suited her.

How many hours had she waited now? How long since she found out? He did not know and he did not care, as long as the word hero never passed her lips again.

Then, as if the mere thought of the word had brought him from the depths of hell where he belonged, he came. His eyes, such a serene innocent blue, rested on the prince and the dying princess. It was late, far too late, and at this hour the darkness had already erased the colors of the room. The red roses in the vase had faded to blue and the fallen petals on the blank oak surface brought thoughts of softness, and of her lips. The heartbroken prince, so affectionately close to her, raised his head to meet his gaze, not with usual fear of crossing the line, but with icy coldness, accusing the hero for ruining this holy moment. A blaze of fury in the other man's eyes was the only response.

Link, the Hero of Time, stepped forward to reclaim what belonged to him and always had belonged to him. Now, if ever, was the time to stop this farce and put an end to the play pretend.

"Don't come over here," Marth spoke and there was an edge to his voice, like the sharp tip of an icicle. He would not dare to approach here now, would he? But maybe the hero had not heard? He walked up to the prince, towering over him with narrowed eyes.

"Move," he said and one could distinguish the flaming anger that was awakening when he eyed her silky strands of hair in the prince's hand.

Marth turned his gaze back to her, affection taking over his every feature, and he let the hair fall from his tender touch, carefully stroking some misplaced strands from her face with care he had never showed before. Link took a step forward before he bent down and lifted her up in his arms, the softness of her hair and her entire being stolen from Marth's hands and gentle touch.

"You don't have any right to take her," Marth said, kneeling on the floor and eyes on the empty couch.

"It was a mistake," he replied as if it could excuse everything. The prince did not see but the fire in his eyes was being replaced with guilt and regret. As for himself, he only felt colder.

"You still did her wrong."

It was the truth, none of them could deny that. Link's grip around her tightened, as if not wanting to let go.

"I won't let her be hurt like this again," he said, or was he pleading?

"What is your word worth?"

Marth looked over his shoulder and could see the spark of a flame lit yet again in the hero's eyes. How unruly he was. Like fire.

"I meant what I said," Link hissed. "Don't you dare come too close again, prince, because you have never been a part of our life."

"Your lives," the prince corrected him, turning around just enough to rest his elbow on the seat of the couch and looked up at the limp woman in the other man's arms.

"What could you possibly know?"

"Her tears," Marth answered calmly and unfazed. "That's all I know. She will need to be freed from you if she shall live."

The hero held her closer and, lovingly, let his cheek brush against hers, breathing in her sweet scent. "Is that what you wish for? For her to stop living… like you?"

"My only wish is for you to stop killing her."

Their eyes met, dying fire begging the unforgiving ice for mercy. The hero looked away and let his gaze wander over the princess, his expression softening, and let it linger on her pale cheek where the tears had dried and left but a vague shimmer.

"Let go," the prince spoke. The final line. It must make him surrender her, it must.

Link bent his head down and the shadows hid his face. Defeated, he unwillingly put her in the prince's arms and took a step back. He cast one last glance, full of longing, on her peaceful face.

"Not forever," he said before he left.

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The End

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Well, that was short… The reason I wrote this was that I thought I should check if there were any new stories in the SSB section, since there was a long time ago I did that, and I have to say that I was more than surprised. Now, to avoid being hated for the rest of my life I won't tell you about what, why and how much I despise two certain things. But they made me write this.

So, I hope you enjoyed the story. Personally I adore heartbreak, jealousy, and deep unconditional love. Oh, Link you had to give Zelda up for a moment but you'll not let it last. I know it! And I actually don't know what he did that was so terrible so I will leave that up to your imagination.

Now, I hope I didn't confuse things. Zelda was suffering, emotionally, because of something Link did and Marth regretted not stealing her from Link to begin with.

I would also like to apologize for the mistakes I did (I know there are a couple of them) but English has never been my best subject and it's not my native language either so I don't expect myself to find any of them. It's such a shame because it ruins it quite a bit. I really want to change the title! It sounds like a comedy instead of a tragedy! But I won't, because then the memory of writing this wouldn't be as pleasant.