Cloaked in Courage (Legend of Zelda: BOTW/Young Justice)
After 100 years of slumber, the Legendary Hero of Hyrule wakes up in a place that is decidedly…not Hyrule. Without a memory in his mind, Link must learn how to survive a world filled with beings whose powers rival those of the Triforce; all while trying to find his way back home.
A/N: This piece of fiction was completely inspired by these two wonderful pieces of art. Let me know what you think!
Awakening - July 4th, 2010
Open your eyes...
A boy, clothed in only a pair of brightly colored blue shorts, shuddered to life on the floor of an unknown alley. Breathing came first, slow and shallow breaths. Feeling followed soon after, the grit and grime of the city street scratching against his skin. The boy shivered, suddenly aware of the chill that clung tightly to air. He curled his knees close, the smallest part of him wishing he could go back to sleep.
Wake up...
Blue eyes shot open with frantic alarm. That voice, the boy knew that voice. It was desperate, decadent, hopeful, and hurting all in one elegant tone. It burned quietly at first, barely a candle in the blackness that was his mind. But as the words echoed against the inside of his skull, the voice burned brighter and brighter and brighter until it was the only thing he could think about. It felt as if his head would go up in flames, pop like a balloon over a campfire. However, as quickly as it came, it vanished.
He knew that voice. He knew that voice.
Well, he thought he did, at least. The boy racked his brain for details. For any sort of answer or memory or clue as to what had happened to him. He couldn't find anything. He wasn't sure he knew much of anything anymore.
He didn't even know where he was. His surroundings were foreign to him. Buildings stretched upward and pierced the sky like the mountains of brick and mortar. Lights burned brightly everywhere, but the boy couldn't spy a source for the formless fire. The air carried with it the stench of sweating bodies, bleeding bodies, and working bodies all packed to tightly together. Sounds washed over him like a storm, and his pointed ears twitched furiously as a cacophony of voices thundered against him.
The boy attempted to stand, to find some solace away from the sound and the lights and the sights. He closed his eyes, covered his ears, and tried to run to anywhere that wasn't here.
Here, however, always proves a very hard place to get away from, especially if one is running blind and deaf into darkness.
Feet catching an uneven slate of street, the boy tumbled headfirst towards the ground. The skin of his brow split open, and a stream of scarlet began to slide down his tanned skin. Pain and blood, now those were familiar to the boy. Even in this unknown place, he felt an almost sad sort of kinship with the welling sliver of red that splayed across his forehead. Blurry images of bodies facing some sort of glowing, spider-like machine sprang to life in his mind, but the boy forced his thoughts past it.
Focusing on the pain, the boy opened his eyes and found himself staring back at him. A puddle of water, clear as could be expected in a city, had carved itself a neat little home in the brick of the street. Vibrant blue eyes looked back up at him, and the boy got his first real look at himself.
A young, pointed face. Noble features, but bearing a look of persistence and stubbornness to them. Sandy blonde hair cut in a style that, for some reason, brought him a small sense of pride. Knife-like ears which jutted outward from his head, each one bearing a light blue earring.
His mother had given him those earrings as a coming of age gift. Happy tears had streamed down her face when he put them on. She said that I looked just like my father.
Pain stabbed into the boy again, but this time the hurt came from within. Tears welled in his eyes.
Oh god, where are my parents? Why aren't they here? Why am I alone?
Questions raced through his mind, and the boy felt his chest tighten. His breathing turned shallow again, and that quiet, terrified part of his mind begged to retreat back into the safety of slumber. His body shivered, though whether it was from the cold or from his uncertainty he could not tell. Fist pounding into the hard ground, he bloodied his fists in frustration and confusion. He wanted to go home. He wanted to see his parents. He wanted to be far from this strange place with its blaring lights and booming sounds. This place was strange, and new, and wild in ways the boy could not fathom.
Link...
The voice called again. Calming, desperate, and most importantly, familiar, that voice demanded his attention. Something about it forced him to focus, to push past his doubts and gather himself He waited to hear it speak again, to hear it and have it explain what had happened to him. To give him the answers he needed.
He waited for the voice to return. He waited, and waited, and waited, but that warm and starving voice did not beckon him forth from the depths of his mind again. Confusion again rolled slowly across his being, but it was softened this time. That last word it said, it stuck with him. It made him feel...safe. Whole, almost. It seemed to summon up a sense of Courage in the boy. Courage which fought against his confusion and his despair.
"Link," the boy said, quietly to himself. He played with the word, feeling how the sounds and syllables rolled off his tongue.
"Link!" he said again, this time a little louder. The word bounced off the alley walls, fighting against the legion of sound that had once threatened to swallow him. Despite the circumstances, a smile, bright and white, crept out from the corner of his mouth. The motion felt good on his face, so the boy's grin turned toothier and he smiled a bit wider.
"LINK!" he called out to the city, head craning upward and feeling joy for the first time since he awoke in this grimy alleyway. He stood up, slow at first, but steadily gaining confidence in his footing. He felt proud and full of fire as the words slipped free of his lips. Confidence warmed his bones, and defiance crackled down his veins. This strange and dark city would not conquer him, because he was not one to be conquered. He may have been lost, alone, and without memory, but he had a word. His word.
His name. His name was Link, and he was unafraid.
"Kid, I don't know why you think you can go down Crime Alley, nearly-buckass naked and yelling random shit, but frankly, I don't care. You're in the wrong neighborhood, and you pissed the wrong guy off."
The boy didn't know what the words meant, but the meaty hand which clamped on his shoulder sent a clear message. Link was spun around, and his eyes were met with the sight of an large, angry looking bearded man pointing a knife at him. His eyes wrathful and his yellowed teeth gritted, the man shoved Link into wall of the alley. He approached slowly, his mouth twisting into a grin as he tossed the shining weapon from hand to hand.
His name was Link, and he was mostly unafraid.