bakabaka | for zelda

for zelda

[ Gumdrops.

The gumdrop fae dances above their heads, the bells at it collar chiming happily as it twirls, solidifying its enchantment. Instead of being free to continue on their way to the smithy and the much-needed warmth of its forge, they now stand together, caught. As lucky as they are to be trapped in an area that is relatively private along the side of a building, it is still outdoors. Fine, powdery snow falls about them, hoth dusting her hair and outerwear and quieting all of their surroundings. It is only them.

Somnus is aware of what the mistletoe-gumdrop means and what the enchantment asks. Still, he tests the strength of the barrier about them, lifting a hand in a loose fist and rapping the back of his knuckles against an invisible wall. Slowly, he lowers his arm back to his side, allowing it to disappear beneath his heavy cloak. One would think that in all of his years in this dream realm, he would have become an expert in avoiding these seasonal slugs-like creatures; and, for the past few seasons, he had managed to escape the devious fae's entrapments. Unfortunately for him, his luck seems to have finally run out, and who else is trapped with him but a certain young, Hylian woman.

At last, he turns his head to regard her. His gaze holds hers evenly, but ever briefly does it falter-- flitting down to her lips-- then back up. ]

Daughter of Hyrule.

[ There is hesitance and urgency, stiff and polite remorse for their circumstance betrayed in his voice. It is a tone he swiftly corrects, beginning again as formality smooths over his tone. ]

We may wait, if you wish.

[ It's cold, but the option to simply wait out the gumdrop is there. It seems the last thing he desires is for her to feel uncomfortable.

(The gumdrop, meanwhile, begins to coo "kisssss", "you gotta kissss", above them, humming along to a wintertime carol.) ]

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[ Zelda, as well, usually has luck on her side when it comes to these troublesome creatures. Perhaps they were able to sense, in previous years, that the princess was barely capable of generating even the meagerest smidgeon of dreamotion magic; ensnaring her would've been an exercise in futility on the gumdrop's part. But a lot has changed about Zelda over the course of this year in Songerein—and the many others she spent in Hyrule during this time. The insecure, desolate young woman who first arrived in the dream world years ago has finally blossomed—earnest, intellectual, self-confident, and still as tenacious as ever. It's little wonder that the gumdrops have taken notice of her this year.

But even though she hasn't been trapped by them before, she still knows what is happening as the little creature's enchantment encircles them. Like Somnus, Zelda pushes experimentally against the invisible barrier with one gloved hand, unsurprised when it doesn't even budge. That's about what she expected. If the gumdrops were easy to break free from, she wouldn't hear so many people cursing (and sometimes complimenting) their presence each winter. It gets a little laugh out of her.

At the sound of the familiar address, Zelda's attention returns to Somnus. She catches the momentary flicker in his gaze, the note of hesitation in his tone before he covers them up—so brief that, if not from her years spent reading the minutiae of Link's expression, Zelda might have missed them. That's not something she often sees from him, one who is in such strict control of his emotions that he might as well be wrought from iron, just like his armor. ]

I don't mind to wait.

[ It's said in offer to spare him any more of that discomfort Zelda briefly witnessed, but somewhere below that selflessness is the self-consciousness at the prospect of kissing Somnus. She can hardly ask that of him! Or of anyone, really. But she respects Somnus too much to ask him to stoop to such a level. Especially with a little pink gremlin hovering around and making kissy noises at them. Surely it will get bored quickly when it sees that its prey isn't interested in capitulating its demands. ]

[ Indeed, she has grown- in more ways than one. This obvious fact does not make it easier on Somnus, who has known her since her adolescence. Then again, she, too, had once met him during his formative years in a dream long ago (a memory he, frankly, would like to banish for how his youthful heart had been so... enthused by her enthusiasm). ] Very well.

[ And so, they wait.

And wait.

And wait.

When it begins to snow, only then does his brow princh. Flakes, apparently, can pass the magical barrier that entraps them just fine. But the two of them? Oh, no, they're stuck here even as the sun lowers and the temperature begins to drop. Somnus brow's pinches. If she is not dressed properly to withstand the weather, they might have little choice but to proceed. ]

...The light wanes.

[ (That memory is one Zelda still cherishes even after all this time, one she keeps neatly tucked away inside her heart.)

Waiting is not difficult for Zelda. It's probably to be expected—what's a few hours compared to the century she spent waiting in the seal with Calamity Ganon? Even waiting in silence, as quiet so often accompanies her time with Somnus, does not wear on her. The day is a tranquil one, they place they've stopped is removed from the general bustle of townsfolk, and the gentle snowfall muffles what little sounds remain. It's actually kind of nice to just stop and be for a little while.

(Although it would be nicer without the ceaseless stream of carols and cooing coming from the gumdrop.)

Though she is dressed properly for the season—a warm coat, sturdy boots, gloves, and a new pair of fluffy white earmuffs—Zelda isn't fully prepared for the weather to worsen as the daylight wanes. And although the temperature has been mild today, cold air still finds a way to seep through her clothes over time. The tips of her fingers and toes are starting to go numb as the chill creeps through her body.

She lets out a sigh of disappointment as she glances westward. The sun is definitely dropping, even though it can't be very far past late afternoon right now. (There's never enough daylight on these midwinter days.) ]

So it does.

[ As if noticing her dejection, the gumdrop bursts into a new song. Zelda's gaze flicks towards it. ]

And our captor doesn't seem to be tiring at all.

[ It looks like the fae is currently winning this battle of attrition. ]

[ The carols, the incessant, faux kissing noises, and its gleeful little grin have only become more irritating. It is making a mockery of what he presumes to be a holiday tradition and what should be an intimate act between two people. Living people, mind. Zelda deserves far more than to be stuck within this enchantment with him. How dare it put them in this position. When he gets his hands on that little gumdrop--

Somnus' arms fold over his chest, frowning. ] When we leave, I shall ensure this gumdrop offends no other.

[ He supposes they could use the journals to write and ask for assistance, but what then, if that, too, fails? Then others would know they are trapped. Worse, others would know what they'd have to do to break the spell. This cannot be allowed with a princess.

No, it is better this way.

Somnus' chin lifts as he addresses her again. ] The choice is yours, should we proceed.

[ Somnus's words spark a brief moment of concern in Zelda over the gumdrop's fate when they are finally free of this prison, but it's short lived. Doubtless, the tricky little creature will find a way to evade whatever harm Somnus intends to inflict up on it. Songerein's faeries always manage to have the last laugh.

But that's "when they get out"—with the whole "getting out" obstacle still very much in place. And Somnus has left the choice of how to proceed in Zelda's hands.

Her forehead wrinkles as she goes over their options (hoping there is one that will spare them both a great deal of awkwardness). Waiting seems to be out of the question at this point. Somnus could probably continue this stalemate with the gumdrop for days or even weeks on end—ethereal beings beyond the realm of mortality needn't be concerned with silly matters like eating and sleeping—but Zelda is getting cold and will soon be getting hungry as well. They could use the journal to ask for help, but odds are high that anyone outside the gumdrop's barrier would be as ineffective to break it as those on the inside. —And pursuing outside assistance, only for it to fail, would end up adding insult to injury when they are forced to acquiesce to the gumdrop's demands in front of an audience.

The furrow between her brows deepens and she absently bites her lip in thought, wracking her memory for any times in previous winters that someone has mentioned escaping from the gumdrops. ...Then, upon realizing what she's doing, she immediately releases her lip. ]

We are running short on options... [ Although it feels like she's making an excuse. Zelda's gaze returns hesitantly to Somnus (which she has been avoiding), her expression apologetic. It's a lot to ask of him, she knows. He is the noble, private sort, one who does not indulge in open displays of affection (or much of any emotion at all, for that matter). By contrast, she is a silly, naive child, lacking the fortitude to keep her emotions from spilling out at the slightest provocation.

But regardless of all that, there seems to be no other way forward. ]

Perhaps we can just be quick about it. It need not be something to make a fuss over.

[ Big words for someone who's finding it hard to even say the word 'kiss' right now. ]

[ When was it, he wonders, she had become grown? After she had awakened from her slumber, he suspects. He hadn't realized it then, but now... ]

Very well. [ His gaze levels with hers, and his frown eases back to the neutral line that is his mouth. It seems that he's at least attempting to make his features less steely. Just because they are pressured to do this does not mean it must be made more unpleasant by his attitude. She needn't be subjected to his rising irritation against the gumdrops.

Somnus uncrosses his arms, allowing them to fall to his side. ]

Tell me, have you-- [ He doesn't clear his throat, but all at once he seems to still and reconsider his word choice. ] ...This is not your first, I should hope.

[ He looks to her for confirmation, and oops, that frown has returned.

Not him becoming offended at the mere thought that her first kiss might be under this circumstance...! Because if so, this is not how it should be for her.

Because of course he's a hidden romantic. ]

[ Zelda's eyes dart away and a hint of color rises to her cheeks. The motion alone tells Somnus all he needs to know: this will, in fact, be her first kiss.

Not that that will stop her from trying to justify her inexperience. ]

Since I awoke in Hyrule... [ "—I've been so busy." ]

That is to say, with the reconstruction... [ "—I've been distracted." ]

I have not... [ "—met anyone who makes me feel that way."

With each explanation (each weak excuse), Zelda's expression contorts into a frown and the color in her cheeks gets deeper. Her reasons may be the truth, but that doesn't mean they don't also make her feel incredibly childish when standing before someone whom she knows for fact has loved, wed, and fathered children. She has long looked to Somnus as a mentor and a confidant; her own youth and inexperience were never factors she measured in their relationship before. Why now is it so important that he not regard her as a child? When did this change occur, that it crept up on her like this? Because it does not feel as though it has been spurred by this moment. This want to stand on more equal footing with him runs, perhaps, deeper than she realizes. ]

[ By the way her eyes dart away from him and color blooms across her cheeks, he knows her answer before she even begins to stammer one out. The gumdrop's (who is still humming and cooing above them both) days are numbered, no, reduced to minutes as soon as they break from this enchantment. It has been multiple millennia since he'd first felt the brush of another's lips against his own, and the memory is simultaneously as faint as a whisper and priceless as diamonds. Even he knows this is not how one's first anything should be.

The least he can do is to make it bearable. How terrible it is, then, that it becomes decidedly more difficult to look at her than it had been mere seconds ago. With her blonde hair cropped, she appears strikingly like... her.

So when her words fail her, he raises a hand-- first in a mild wave, as if to say enough, she needn't try to explain further; but then, turning his palm upward, he offers it to her. ]

Come hither.

[ The gravel of his voice is often ill-suited for tender moments, yet here he lowers it, softens it, as if attempting to smooth it out for her sake. The light in his eyes shifts as his gaze roams her face. He is sorry for this circumstance. But he will make things right. And, perhaps, do all he can to make this worthy of being her first. ] I shall guide.

[ Somnus invites her hand and Zelda provides it, placing her right hand lightly in his palm. Despite the coldness of his touch, detectable even through her warm winter gloves, she feels her heart begin to pound in her chest.

In stark contrast to Somnus, Zelda has very little idea how anyone's first anything should go. The knowledge is there, of course, learned from childhood fairytales and distant observations of people on the fringes of her limited social sphere. Even a sheltered princess knows the monuments of adolescence—one's first kiss, one's first crush, culminating in one's first date and one's first love. But when one is growing up in the shadow of prophesied calamity, one has little attention to spare for pursuits described as "trivial fancies" in the grand scheme of things.

Which is not to say that the thought has never flitted through Zelda's mind, both before the Calamity and since, about what it might be like to kiss. (A thought that is now occupying prime real estate at the forefront of her mind as she watches Somnus regard her in a way he never has before.) But there is no preexisting fantasy of what her first kiss might be like, and upon that blank canvas, he will be the first one to leave an impression.

His voice drops to a soft rumble, a tone she's never heard before. Temperate. Inviting. Perhaps not quite gentle... but not unpleasant.

"I shall guide." Zelda can manage little more than a nod in response, her voice falling in tone as well. ] By your leave.

[ Once her gloved palm touches his, his fingers curl around hers. What his touch lacks in warmth is compensated by the secureness with which he holds her hand, and then, the idle, pensive way in which his thumb brushes over the side of her glove as if to reassure her. ]

Princess. [ He steps toward her. Their hands remain elevated between them, intentionally, at that, to keep their bodies apart as he speaks. ] Heed me. It will be cold...

[ Turning her right hand over, he brings his other one up, cupping his palm over her knuckles. His gaze falls from her face to their held hands. Somnus pauses here as few snowflakes fall onto this chaste, simple contact of hands as if the sky itself gives its blessing.

Without a word, he removes her glove. As the fabric slips from her fingers, he imbues his magic into it, allowing it to dissolve into crystalline particles that blink and vanish into the air. Through the ethereal mist of his magic, he raises her hand further. Somnus' eyes lift to meet hers, then slowly close. ]

Like so. [ A murmur as he dips his head. And with that, he brings the curve of her fingers to his lips, kissing their back as if to prepare her for the striking chill of his phantasmal form.

(But perhaps he's not as cold as he once was. Emotions often have a way of working strange effects in this realm, and this is... Well, he's not unaffected.) ]

[ As Somnus steps closer to her (keeping noticeable space between them, but still closer), Zelda can manage only manage a single nod in answer to his warning. She knows it will be cold. He has always been cold.

But right now, he is making her feel anything but that.

Zelda follows his gaze to their hands, a small part of her relieved to be released from that inscrutable look in his eyes. Far from making this experience unpleasant for her, he is stirring up feelings in her stomach that she's not sure she should be having.

A hush seems to fall over everything as Somnus delicately removes her glove and dismisses it with his magic. Even the gumdrop's noises seem to fade away, leaving the pair standing in what feels like a silent snowglobe. Even Zelda's breathing has gone quiet, held in anticipation as he raises her fingers to his lips and kisses them.

As a princess, she has received kisses on the back of her hand many a time. It is a show of respect and deference, one so commonplace that she thinks little of it when someone asks her hand to kiss. But this is nothing like those times. This is... intimate, a gesture shared between lovers rather than sovereign and subject. If Zelda notices the chill on his lips at all, she doesn't react to it. She's not feeling cold at all. ]

[ His breath lingers over the spot his lips had been, and opening his eyes, they elevate to meet hers, watching her expression. She has almost always been easy to read; her heart, so good, so kind, so gracious and understanding, is something she wears openly. Why now, then, can he not discern the emerald of her eyes?

Her hand is soft in his. This, too, he'd never been aware of, and now it only highlights the difference between them. Soft, a scholar's fingers; rough, a warrior's hand. Smooth, scarred. Warm, cold. Alive... dead.

But he lowers her hand, allowing her fingers to slip from his. What she does with it is up to her, but as for the one that once held hers, he raises it again to bridge the distance between them. Somnus' fingers stretch outward, pads going to brush along the side of her left cheek. His thumb grazes just below the white, pigmented tear that marks beneath her eye. A shame that he's never inquired of the markings before with which she'd return to Reverein. Now he has hundreds of questions he wishes to ask and more. All of them about her, of her. Tell him what happened. What changed. What had passed. Why tears. Are they symbols of mourning? If so, what new sorrow does she bear?

And how is it that she bears sorrow so... beautifully? (And why must she bear it at all, when her smile is that much more radiant?) ]

Rest assured... [ His voice is low, although not only because it's a courtesy for their proximity. The murmur comes as a promise, resolute and solemn. Somnus' hand travels, bringing a lock of golden hair to behind her long ear before moving along the curve of her jaw, supporting a tilt of her head.

He's close enough that whatever misting breath she gives will dance upon his skin. And, by whatever power this world holds, his appears as well, warm and mingling over her lips. ] I shall not tell anyone of this.

[ He does not kiss her. Not yet. He hesitates, looking for that last bit of approval-- although, for whatever reason, he suddenly finds it... difficult to remain apart from her, as difficult as it would be to draw away. The warmth she gives, as he'd hadn't experienced in so long, is inviting. ]

[ Once released, Zelda's hand hangs in the air for a long moment, as though she has completely forgotten how to move it. On the open book that is her face, the unreadable look Somnus sees in her eyes is rendered illegible because she doesn't know what to write. The emotion sparking inside her is one she doesn't know, a word in a foreign tongue that she never learned to speak. The delicacy of his touch, the softness and care with which he handles her, stirs up something that she's never felt about him before.

Well, no. That's not entirely true, is it? The ghost of these feelings has actually lain dormant in her mind for many years, a memory of two previous lives intersecting in a most impossible manner. A prince and a princess, crossing paths in a dream within a dream, and finding in each other a mutual understanding that they had not shared with anyone else before. Zelda remembers days and weeks spent thinking back on that dream, wondering how the Somnus of that age became the Somnus she knows. Wondering, so foolishly that she could barely even admit it to herself, what it would have been like to go on that date with him. Call it an expedition into ancient ruins, sure, but the way he asked and the way she agreed was surely two teenagers talking about a date.

The cold weather betrays Zelda's vain effort to maintain an appearance of composure as Somnus softly explores her face with one hand. The little clouds of breath that escape her lips (parted ever so slightly in the awestruck expression she cannot hide) are tiny and infrequent, visible proof of hitched breaths drawn out by his caress. His touch is cold, as she knew it would be, but a far cry from the iciness she has felt in the past. She flinches ever so slightly at his hand, but not with a desire to draw away. No, if anything, she wants to lean into that hand, to feel more fully that touch he is just barely giving her.

His voice, while not breaking the spell she feels herself falling under, pulls Zelda back to reality just enough and his words make her heart sink slightly. Why does she feel somehow disappointed when he makes that promise? That disappointment, a feeling she knows well enough to spell with ease, is likely written upon her face as she looks back at him. Her forgotten hand, now remembered, she lowers to her side. ] As you wish...

[ It's just as well, isn't it? It's not as though he wanted to kiss her in the first place. They are trapped here together and the only sure route to freedom through a kiss reserved for lovers. (Because if any kiss was acceptable, the gumdrop would have released them after Somnus kissed her hand.) Just because he is treating her so gently, handling her with the kind of care he would have shown to someone he loved in life, does not mean he feels anything of the sort for Zelda.

Then, she won't tell him how she will treasure the memory of this moment for years to come. She won't tell him, as he tilts her chin upward and closes the space between them, that she feels the hair on her head stand on end. (And, at this close proximity, he probably won't be able to see the honey-colored light that begins to glow from the roots of her golden hair, an unexpected dreamotion reaction to the cacophony of emotions inside her.)

Zelda can see the question in in his eyes and nods her approval, just the slightest movement of her head. One last misting breath leaves her lips and then nothing---held, once again in anticipation. ]

[ The longer he looks upon her face, the more his gaze wanders. First, it's her eyes, then it's the mist of her breath, which finally draws his attention to the curve of mouth. One too many intrusive thoughts plague his mind as she move them to speak (are they as soft as they appear, how long must this kiss last, and will the memory of them upon his chase him into his dreams?), but he dismisses them with a steady, short inhale.

Enough. It is a kiss. Steady; he must steady himself. ] Close your eyes. [ Along the side of her face, his hand shifts so that his thumb rests just above the edge of her jaw, with the rest of his fingers stretched perpendicular to her neck. The contact is light, merely there to angle her face towards him, not to restrict her own movement, yet no longer is his touch cold.

No longer is his heart not beating.

Somnus draws near, allowing their noses to nearly touch, and one final pause precedes the act, tension inadvertently drawn out by a solemn king's uncharacteristic hesitation as if he stands upon the edge of a battlefield. With what he wrestles is... her, or rather, the idea of her, of someone so good, someone so kind, someone so lovely, that it would be him to caress her cheek with blood-stained hands, him to take this from her. And that, after millennia of undying and awaiting an end, it is this light of hers under which he yearns to stand. How wretched he is to want this. To want to have this from her, to keep this in his memory.

At last, his lips brush against hers, feather-soft, barely there, a mere specter of contact like a whisper caught on the wind. A moment passes when he parts, but then the contact returns, solidifying as he presses his mouth more firmly against hers.

His eyes slide shut as he angles his head, properly, selfishly taking her lips for his own, tenderly, earnestly, and slowly. ]

[ She closes her eyes, as he bids, but she is so hyperaware of his proximity that her eyelids are constantly fluttering as she senses his nearness. The presence of his thumb on her jaw, guiding the angle of her face with his hand. The faint puff of his breath---his breath?---upon her skin. She doesn't have to see him to know how close he is, that if she were to move at all, she would inadvertently become the one to kiss him. She holds herself as completely still, waiting, each second that he hesitates dragging on like an eternity.

And then it finally happens. The ghost of a kiss, as befitting the ghost of a king, as light as his breath, passes over her lips. She starts to lean into it, to complete the connection, a flutter of excitement building up in her breast... and then it's over. A sharp pang of disappointment cuts through Zelda as she feels him start to withdraw and there's a fleeting moment where she nearly pursues him---!

And then suddenly she feels him return and this time his kiss is a proper one.

The solid pressure of his lips on hers sends a rush of excitement coursing through her. Far from the chill she was expecting, he feels warm. His kiss is gentle, languid. She tries her best to match, tilting her head at a counter angle to his to adjust the fit of their lips, but her kiss is impatient, greedy. She tilts her chin up just so. His mouth is hot on hers (or maybe it's the other way around). All the worries that had been rolling around in her mind, questions of whether he genuinely wants to do this, seem to simply evaporate. ]

[ He expects rigidity on her part, trepidation, or shock-- all the emotions one would think a maiden might have at being made to kiss a phantom under such circumstances. Instead, beyond belief, she is responsive, and dare he think it as her chin lifts... eager?

And what a terrible thing it is, because her reciprocation does not stun him, but encourages him with all the shock of a tension rope snapping free. Somnus's mouth moves against hers, surer than before, more firm, more present, more real, raw, and heavy as his body naturally leans forward. He's drawn, sinking, falling into this warmth, and all it's taken is one press of her lips.

His hand, idle upon her jaw, shifts. The back of his nails graze softly down the side of her neck, then around to the side, brushing past her cropped hair to cup along her nape. Long fingers brush against the short ends of golden fringe as if tempted to properly rake through the locks.

He remains attentive to her pace, responding to it while restraining the urgency and wants of his own, mindful of how her body shifts, mesmerized by the flutter of her eyelashes against his cheek. Somnus' head cants further, lips pressing, releasing, then returning to consume hers as if they were glossed in honey, each kiss becoming more meaningful than the last. Her upper lip slowly, her bottom lip tenderly, both at once, fully, his mouth parting-- until... until--

He tears his lips from her, drawing in a vicious, shuddering breath. ] Zelda...

[ ...Astrals.

He.

Astrals. ]

[ One kiss is all that is asked of them by their captor (or so Zelda assumes), but one kiss quickly turns out to be insufficient for the princess. A second kiss is sought by her lips and given by his. Then a third, a fourth, and so on. He bears down upon her and she welcomes the weight of the contact, her ungloved hand darting out to catch hold of his cloak to steady herself. Ever a fast learner, she mimics his affections with unpracticed eagerness, meeting his lips a bit more firmly than he does hers, releasing a fraction of a second more slowly.

The journey of his fingers along her neck leaves goosebumps in its wake. Beckoned by his touch, the golden glow that started at the roots of her hair begins to grow, spreading like a steady stream of water trickling over her head.

Just like Somnus, Zelda feels herself sinking. She never knew, under all that iron, that he could be capable of such tenderness. The steady, hungry pressure of their liplock draws out a small noise from Zelda, muffled by his mouth on hers but audible in the quiet of their snowy surroundings. A little whimper, its pitch higher at the end. Youthful though she may be, she is a far cry from the anxious maiden Somnus once knew her as, and the way she reciprocates his kiss is as much proof of that as all the other changes he has seen in her.

She can feel something building between them, something she wants to race towards. She seeks it out---

But then all of the sudden, her jerks away from her.

Immediately, her eyes fly open and she looks up at him. Her chest rises and falls rapidly as she catches her breath, winded from their exchange. Why did he pull away? Did she do something wrong?

The sound of her name on his lips---her name, not her title, not a respectful form of address, but her given name---spurs a flutter of excitement in her heart, but something about silence that follows puts her ill at ease. ]

I...

[ She did do something wrong, didn't she? She let herself get caught up in kissing him when she shouldn't have. ]

Edited 2024-01-06 23:03 (UTC)

[ (There should be no such thing as breathless for one who one no longer needs to breath, and yet-- the sound. That pitched, soft, and sweet sound she makes into their kiss sends a thrill through him, a sensation he's not felt in quite some time. It wipes his mind of all things save for her, only this, only more--)

Here he stands before her, hand still caressing the back of her neck, still close, too close. One by one, his fingers peel from her nape, and his palm slides over the side of her neck before pulling his hand away from her entirely. His hand feels as if it burns. His lips to do, too.

This is... dangerous.

He had thought he had been careful. He thought there was nothing that could intrude past the defenses surrounding his heart. He'd thought there hadn't been anything left there to begin with. Now it wells with pain, a pain specific to the thought that he knows her warmth, her light, her kindness, yet it cannot, should not ever be more. That he still continues to wish to bask in it regardless.

But he can't quite bring himself to return to old habits and be dismissive of her, not in this moment. To turn stone cold would ruin how this 'first' of hers is meant to be good. And so he asks, ]

Was that satisfying?

[ In the quiet, breathless seconds that tick by before Somnus speaks, while their faces remain perhaps a bit too close to one another, Zelda can only stare at him, transfixed. There's a look of astonishment on her face that she is completely unaware of. Has Somnus always been... handsome? Striking, yes. Intimidating, absolutely. But his rigidity has always been something of a scourge on his appearance. And yet, underneath his usual iciness, she is finding him to be unexpectedly attractive.

If this situation is dangerous, then it should hardly come as a surprise that Zelda is entering into it with her characteristic recklessness. The princess has never had a proper sense for danger. She has always been one to underestimate a situation, throw herself into it without thinking, and quickly get in over her head.

This situation is not much different.

"Was that satisfying?"

A rush of color rises to her cheeks. It almost feels like a knowing question, like Somnus is somehow reading her mind and knows she was just thinking about how she got so caught up in their kiss. (Or maybe it's the expression on her face that is broadcasting that feeling.)

Zelda scrambles for an answer, but each one feels stupider than the last. She wants to answer truthfully---that she had no idea a kiss could feel so good and he left her completely gobsmacked---but that's definitely too honest. He didn't want to kiss her; except for that youthful dream, he's surely never thought of her in a romantic light. She could simply nod, but she would probably end up looking too emphatic. Silence isn't an option, because that will immediately give him the impression that she didn't like kissing him---and that's the worst possible outcome!

Ultimately, the best she can manage is a bashful: ] Y-Yes...

[ At least she doesn't look away. Hopefully he'll interpret her loss for words in the way she wants him too. ]

Was I... all right?

[ At the very least, she doesn't want this kiss to have been terrible for him. Just because he has to kiss her to free them both from their capture doesn't mean it should be miserable for him.

But it's also a question about said capture. Will this display of affection and dreamotion be enough to appease the gumdrop?

A small part of Zelda (or maybe a not so small part) selfishly hopes it won't be. ]

Edited 2024-01-10 03:29 (UTC)

[ Thank the gods she didn't ask the same question in turn, because he wouldn't have known to respond. Was the kiss satisfying? No, but only in the sense that it ended too soon, that it was enough, that he yearns for more, and that the touch of her lips on his will surely plague his mind for nights to come.

His heart still feels... alive, quickened, fluttering at seeing her smile at the end of it all; and he, himself feels as if he's far younger than he'd been in quite some time. Like a youth who's only had a taste of what should be forbidden, coveting what he cannot have. Zelda will never know, he vows then and there, how the deepest part of him wishes that the gumdrop would allow for more.

But he would panic (internally) at the idea of prolonging such a kiss, because if this is anything like rekindling the level of his desires from his youth, he knows it would be difficult to restrain himself.

This question, though, he can freely answer as he draws further away, and the further he parts, the more reticent his expression becomes. Rather, attempts to become, because he cannot hide the longing within his eyes. ] ...Aye.

[ As he withdraws, so too does the golden glow in her hair, fading like sunlight when a cloud passes in front of it. (The ungloved hand gripping his cloak remains where it is, once again forgotten by its owner.) But the warmth in her features does not fade with it, kindled by his reluctant affirmation that her kiss was enjoyable. A tiny victory, but one must always count even their smallest victories when it comes to Somnus—often, they are the only ones to breech his defenses.

Her first kiss... Zelda has to hold back the urge to lift a hand and touch her fingertips to her lips to simulate the pressure of that contact. It felt like it happened in the blink of an eye, too fast to photographically record it in her memory to replay in the future. Because she knows her first kiss could easily be her last, depending on how much longer Songerein allows her to slumber here. When she wakes from this dream, she will shed everything that it means to be 'Zelda' and be reborn as something else entirely. Her fleeting hope is that, like her century in the seal with Calamity Ganon, she will have her memories to keep her company in the coming eternity. ]

Thank you...

[ Her voice comes out small, a shade timid, but heartfelt in her sincerity. People probably don't normally thank each other for kissing, even for a first kiss, but Zelda finds herself compelled to do so. Thank you for this first, which she almost didn't get to experience in her life. Thank you for the care, the softness, and the warmth of it. Is it girlish, this silly sentimentality—further proof that, despite her real age, she is still so young? It doesn't really matter. In a century of a life lived in service for the sake of her kingdom, she will take this selfish moment with both hands and treasure it.

Reluctantly, Zelda breaks eye contact with him and looks around. Daylight is still waning, the shadows cast by the surrounding buildings lengthening, and the light dusting of snowfall is starting to grow heavier. But she doesn't hear the gumdrop anymore. Maybe it finally left?

She lets go of Somnus's cloak (oh Goddess, how long had she been grabbing it?) and extends her ungloved hand to feel for the barrier. There's a fleeting moment where she thinks they might be free---and then her fingertips collide with the invisible wall.

The gumdrop suddenly bursts out of wherever it had been hiding, squeaking at them in a way that sounds an awful lot like laughing, and then launching into a new festive carol. It seems the imprisonment will continue. ]

[ She can't look at him that way.

Alternatively, he can't bear to look at her when she looks at him that way, because it causes a fierce, terrible ache to grip chest like a vice, equal parts crippling and frightening. He needs to put a swift and preferably vicious end to this, because whatever is happening, it has no place between them, and it has no place to be within his heart. (...No, he knows what this is, what to call it, the word known but consciously, continuously shredded in his mind.)

Her hand leaves his chest, and although it's only slight, his chest leans forward as if chasing the wake of her touch. Immediately he stops himself, although his fingers twitch at his side. Beneath him, it feels as if his feet are welded to the spot, and Somnus only manages to take one step away. Along his periphery, he sees her hand reach up to test for the barrier.

...

Somnus' brow pinches, and he inhales through his nose.

The gumdrop's colors designate passion. Of course. Of course. Because this wretched world cannot be satisfied if it's not testing him in some way. When he speaks again, his voice is... clipped. Strained. ]

Once more, then.

[ She could almost laugh. Almost. He reacts with such acerbity to the harmless demands of this silly little creature. (Funny how, now that she has experienced her first kiss, the prospect of a second doesn't feel as monumental.) The corners of her mouth twitch with amusement, but she forcibly smothers her smile.

The problem is dreamotion, isn't it? Zelda knows the gumdrop demands not just action, but tangible dreamotion to accompany it. The princess was so wrapped up in the experience of kissing Somnus that she didn't spare a single thought to the dreamotion aspect. Whoops. ]

All right.

[ If she sounds like she's not as disappointed as he is, it's because she isn't.

Still... ]

Forgive me. Dreamotion has never been my strength. I shall try to do better.

[ Do better, she'd said, as if her kiss hadn't been like feeling the warmth of daylight in over two thousand years. Not that she's referring the kiss in this, but his mind has focused only on what they've just shared.

It was everything one naive to such intimacy could produce. Innocent, warm. Curious, chaste. Befitting of a princess, and this thought only makes him struggle with how they must do so again, and perhaps more emotionally to free themselves. In order to do that-- he must give more. Do more, evoke more from within her, so that it manifests as dreamotion. And all with a kiss.

(What would it take, he wonders, to woo her. To stir her--)

Once more, he steps towards her. Once more, he reaches out to her. Once more, his hand goes to her cheek. Like before, his touch is light but guiding, allowing her the freedom of movement but supporting the lift of her face. Unlike before... there is intent to his touch, going along with the intensity of his gaze. His other hand rises. Beyond her shoulder, he places his palm upon the barrier behind her and leans down, casting her face in his shadow. His lips hover over hers, and he finds he can barely stand this distance. ]

Tell me at once if you wish to stop.

[ And with that, his mouth takes hers. ]

[ Distantly, Zelda is aware that she probably ought to feel intimidated as Somnus presses his hand against the barrier and leans over her, his form blocking the last vestiges of the day's sunlight. There is a certain surety about him that was absent before, as though he is resolved in a decision he had previously been wavering on. A familiar intensity in his eyes, a look she often sees on him, but never quite like this... and never so close as he is right now.

But, quite the opposite, it sends thrill through her. She's all aquiver as he closes the distance between them, flinching in anticipation at his touch but obediently following as he guides. Those big green eyes stare up at him—curious, fearless...excited. (Hylia bless the gumdrop for not being satisfied, because neither is Zelda.)

His words seem to suggest that what happens next will be something she probably should want to stop. It's dangerous (somehow; she doesn't understand how) and she doesn't know what she's getting into.

But that warning (if he even intended it as one) goes ignored, because the look in his eyes and the proximity of his face and the fresh memory of his lips on hers have her stepping off the edge of that metaphorical cliff without a hint of fear. ]

Mmph—!

[ A little noise of surprise escapes her lips and is immediately muffled by his, as if proving right off the bat that this won't be the same as that first kiss. The invisible barrier against her back saves her from stumbling backward, but her hands still fly out instinctively to grab hold of whatever is closest to keep herself from falling—which, once more, is his cloak.

Surprise is momentary, though, and Zelda is quick to reciprocate Somnus's kiss. She leans forward against him to match the pressure of his mouth on hers. There is little softness in her kiss as she meets him, a reemergence of that sense of need that had been building in her before. Seeking, pressing, releasing—in quick succession, again and again. His mouth takes hers, but it is freely offered, and she pursues his in return. Has she really lived her whole life without this feeling, warm and pleasant and leaving her constantly hungry? ]

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