as it was - nsfw
I wrote smut. Aha, yeah, help. sweet, sweet hurt/comfort/smut
pairing: god and anime like I ever write anything other than Zelink, c’mon guys
It’s a miracle the prayer dress still fits.
Well, she supposes the true miracle is that the dress of pure white had been salvageable at all. She thought, with all of the tears and rips and stains of dirt and blood, that the dress would’ve been better off lying with the remains of her broken kingdom. It stings, and she doesn’t know if it’s of bitter or sweet flavor, that the dress looks as perfect as ever, as if the Calamity never touched it at all. It’s quite the accurate representation of Hyrule: rebuilt into new-found glory some three years after the sealing of the beast, these new lands looking intact and beautiful. It’s lovely, but it’s disgusting all the same.
To build civilization atop what was someone’s final resting place, to cover scars of war with pavements of grandeur—and none of it is in ill intention. She knows that to move forwards, she cannot stay looking back, but it’s harder to cover the marks that aren’t visible to the eye.
Zelda has not worn the dress in three years, since the day she was finally allowed to peel the wretched thing off. She hoped to never see it again, but by another cruel flicker of fate, she’d asked if it could be restored a mere few months ago. She should have known better. The seamstresses always did go above and beyond for her, and if they weren’t able to repair it, then they’d certainly replicated it to a tee.
Three years was a long time, yet it was nothing compared to the century she’d spent in wait.
She doesn’t know what compelled her to put the dress on, but she did, and what was she to do now? Something about wearing it feels wrong, almost foreboding, and she wants to claw it off of her skin like it’s some grotesque thing and not a simple white fabric. There’s a gap, she knows, between her existence before the Calamity and who she is now, and maybe this is her attempt at crossing it.
She doesn’t know what she’s doing, exactly.
It’s well past sundown in Akkala, and she thinks about a secluded little spring just north of Tarrey Town. It wouldn’t be a long trip at all, especially if she takes a horse. No one would see her leave in the dimly lit night lights—everyone else is locked in their houses for the night.
It takes little convincing for her to walk out of the door of their rented vacation house, and it takes even less time for her to hear him behind her.
“Zelda?” he asks, confused. She turns to find him looking at her attire, his head cocked as if he were a puppy.
“I’m just going for a stroll,” she assures, but the frown on his face tells her she isn’t convincing.
“To the spring?” he questions. He’s always been a clever little thing. She thought she’d gotten better at closing those open book tendencies, but she wants him to follow, doesn’t she? Because she much prefers not being alone.
“Come with me?” she asks, even if it doesn’t need asking; she already knows his answer. He gives it anyway, a curt and firm nod that means of course.
Continue on AO3 | Again, this is explicit content between consenting adult characters. NSFW.
