The garden was quiet, save for the rustle of leaves and the faint trickle of the fountain nearby.

You were pacing in front of him, your royal robes brushing against the grass, talking about some "important guest" he was supposed to escort or meet or something. He should have been paying attention; hell, it was probably crucial. But his eyes? His traitorous eyes were glued to you.

Your lips moved—soft, pink, and ridiculously distracting. Every word you said seemed to blur together into a melody he couldn’t resist, but the meaning? Yeah, that was gone. Completely gone. And your eyes? Gods, your eyes. They sparkled like they had secrets he’d never be worthy of knowing.

And that was the worst part, wasn’t it? He wasn’t worthy. You were the princess, for fuck’s sake. And him? Just some guy with a sword, a hero by accident, really. He’d never admit it—never dare breathe a word of it—but, damn it, he was in love with you.

“Link,” you said sharply, snapping your fingers. He flinched, his cheeks already burning because he knew you’d caught him zoning out. Again.

And then you did it. That. You stepped closer, tilting your head with that mix of authority and kindness that made his stomach flip. Your fingers—soft, warm, and impossibly gentle—took hold of his chin, forcing him to look up at you.

“Focus,” you said, your voice low, teasing, but firm.

Holy shit. If his ears weren’t already red, they were now. He felt the heat crawl up his neck, all the way to the tips of his ears, which—of course—started twitching like a goddamn idiot.

Great. Perfect. Exactly what he needed.

You smiled, and it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair how you could look at him like that, like you knew exactly what kind of mess he was inside. And what did he do? He fucking smiled back. Like an idiot. A dumb, lovestruck fool.

It all felt like a dream he didn’t deserve to have.

You let go of his chin, thankfully, because any longer he might’ve combusted on the spot.

But the damage was done.