DISCONTINUED

Author's Note: 06/01/2017 - I feel embarrassed leaving this up. It's almost everything I don't like about this site and AO3. It's unnecessarily edgy and it has nothing to do with the actual source material it's based on. The only reason this is still up is because of the feedback it received.

Chapter published on August 27th, 2014

The Soul Beneath

Maloni

Chapter I

His first waking thoughts were of her.

He blinked at the ceiling; it remained blurry. He blinked twice. Much better.

The blanket draped over him fell away soundless as he dropped to the floor beside his bed, warm morning light and the varied sounds of construction drifting through his open window. He winced slightly as the cold of his hardwood floor started seeping into his skin and from the gentle jarring of his knees. For the first moments of being conscious that day, he was himself, could feel the freedom in the air, in his body, in his soul. But as he shrugged into a robe to cover his nearly bare figure, he felt the mask return, and as he stood, frozen to the spot, hand on his room's doorknob, he submitted to it caging him. It slowly enveloped him and pressed his subdued soul further inside of him. Routine.

And the actor slips into his role, his character. Enter stage right.

The door opened with a click, the bracing cold air left from the night rushing in to meet him, making him grateful he put on his robe. It was a short trip down the hallway, through the kitchen, and into the bathroom where he splashed cold water on his face and hands, stopping to stare at himself in the mirror. The mask stared back; he looked away.

Warm water cascaded from the stainless steel shower head as his robe and underwear dropped to the floor. As he stepped under its steady downpour he shivered involuntarily; it was cold. Steam began to rise around him but he could not feel its warmth for it was lost on him.

Pregnant rivulets streamed down his rather average body; he could not be called unfit but nor could he be considered in top physical shape. Long, firm legs kept him steady and unwavering while strong shoulders slumped under the scrutiny of the shower. Half-lidded, dark green eyes studied the water circling the drain, long eyelashes dripping slowly. Tangled black bangs hung down in front of those eyes, an unkempt mop of, now soaked, hair sitting upon his head and plastered to the back of his neck.

He reached out to rest a palm against the slick tile of the shower wall, just to touch something solid, as memories of those early, sunny August days swam before his eyes. A prickle behind his eyes alerted him to the unbidden tears building, threatening to spill over as he thought of those lazy mornings drinking in the sun, basking in her presence.

The mask's hold was not so strong then. She saw past the mask.

He shook his head violently, willing the memories away. He quickly washed his hair and body, turned the taps off and dried himself off with a nearby hanging towel. He wrapped himself in his robe and dropped his underwear into the clothes basket in the corner as he opened the bathroom door and retraced his steps back to his room. He quickly stepped into a pair of boxers and dark blue jeans, scuffed and falling apart blue, black, and white sneakers, and pulled on a plain white shirt.

Before easing himself down on to his unmade bed he reached for his phone laying on the nightstand. He paused with a thumb hovering over the first digit of his password, eyes locked on the Messages - 1 New Notification balloon at the top of the screen. Mild curiosity washed through him as he tapped it and finished his password, slightly eager to see who had decided to talk to him. At the sight of his empty inbox there was a pang of loneliness in his heart but the vital organ soon forgot how to beat for a moment at the sight of the name at the top of the extremely short list.

Zelda Nohansen.

That name chipped at the mask and something escaped the cage. He felt something for the first time in weeks.

A ghost of a smile on his lips.

Cloudless is the sky, golden is the sun. A cool breeze drifts across the waters of the vast Lake Hylia, rustling the trees on the sparse islands and the copses scattered on the shore. Numerous youth splash and shout, swim and laugh under the watchful eye of the lifeguard on duty while the outcasts and the loners and the self-conscious watch on with envy in their eyes and a deep sadness in their hearts.

He can relate.

Farther down the shore, away from the playful commotion, is a particularly shady area, carpeted with lush, emerald-green grass, young maples reaching for the sky, still wearing their Summer cloaks of green. Those leaves dance in the wind, dappling the ground of his peaceful glade with sporadic patterns of light. Leaning up against a tree he sits with book in hand, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips, his eyebrows raised ever so slightly.

The wind, the trees, the scent floating on the breeze, and the very wind itself are rejuvenating, reviving, freeing his soul piece by piece. As he finishes a page he dog-ears it gently, lowering his book to stare at her across the way, seated at a picnic table.

Silhouetted against the morning sun, shadows are cast over her heart-shaped face as she gazes down at her own book with almond-shaped, dark blue eyes, an intelligent spark lying beneath those captivating pools of amethyst. Lips, purest ruby and full sit beneath a perfect nose, not a crack could be seen. Her auburn hair cascades down her back and the sides of her face, framing her flawless, creamy skin in a shower of beautiful russet. He imagined it felt like silk and smelled of strawberries or perhaps vanilla or lavender.

Consumed by his thoughts and revelling in her beauty, he did not react fast enough to avert his gaze when she glanced his way. Their eyes locked for a moment before he averts his gaze, fumbling awkwardly for his book. He swallows nervously as his cheeks flush and he tries to keep his head as low as possible. In his peripheral vision he sees her long legs encased in skinny jeans and her dark blue and white converse approaching and, preparing himself, he slowly gazes upwards.

He was not expecting the small, but no less radiant, smile on her face as she stops short and stares at him, book clasped loosely against her chest.

A long scarf is wrapped around her slender throat and it is toyed with in the wind, distracting him for a moment as he admires it. She wears a black coat in the styles of a trench coat and a robe, the hem reaches down to her shins while the sleeves flare out and fall past her hands.

"Mind if I sit down?" Her voice lisps slightly but he does not take note of it.

He is speechless, just nods a small nod. As she eases herself down next to him, her words flow past her lips once more. "So what's your name? I'm Zelda, Zelda Nohansen."

A sudden interest in the hem of his shirt brings his gaze downwards and he picks on a loose thread nervously. A pregnant silence fills the air. He finally finds his voice. "Zelda..." He tests her name on his tongue. "It's a beautiful n-name. I'm L-Link. Uh, Hylia, Link Hylia," he finishes clumsily, still playing with that same thread.

"Thanks, Link, it's nice to meet you." He barely suppresses a shiver at the sound of his name falling from her lips.

The wind gently blows her russet strands of hair in his direction and he imperceptibly sniffs the air. For the first time in Goddesses knows how long, Link Hylia grins.

Strawberries.

Ghosts of the past, memories bleeding through to the present.