"What're you doing...?"

Link murmurs sleepily against the top of your head, his hand tracing faint shapes against your arm.

The two of you were cuddled together in bed, the moon being the only thing illuminating the space. You graze your fingers over the scars that littered his body with a caring precision.

Those scars were given to him over 100 years ago, the night he almost died. He wasn't ashamed of them, but you wanted him to know you still loved them, no matter what.