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Summary
It was an understatement to call Link’s current situation bad. It was an understatement to call it dangerous, risky, foolish--all of the above were words that paled in comparison to the nightmarish scenario Link found himself in now.
The Demon Lord’s phantom breath still lingered on the shell of his ear, and Link quickly jerked to scrub it away.
If this had been the first night Link had dreamt about Ghirahim, perhaps it wouldn’t have been so disturbing. Even the second and third times, following encounters with the man himself, had been easily explained away.
Now it was the twelfth-- thirteenth?-- time, and Link was beginning to wonder if the thunder of his pulse and the sticky heat that flushed through his body was from more than fear.
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What if Link and Ghirahim's thread of fate had been a bit more intimate than a villain and hero's should have been? (Canon-compliant, slow burn enemies to almost-lovers).
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