AN: I was bored, and Dark Link is pretty cool in my opinion. I don't own anything nor do I make a profit from this.
Also, I am highly aware on how one can play chess and the logic that I dictate here is not accurate.
Please, do not try this at home. :) Enjoy!
Tree bark rests underneath him.
The room smothered itself under a heavy layer of fog. What should have been a dazzling glow had morphed into twists and curls of light, bits and pieces of hope that only shone feebly. Water covered the floor, dripped from the cracks in the ceiling, rippled as though it could respire as well as any living creature.
The world swirled precariously, toppling entirely if not for the oak in the center. The trunk scratched over with hunks of bark that peeled off in layers. It dropped its leaves long ago, fallen to the natural saturation that permeated the air and laced his tongue with it.
If Dark Link wasn't supposed to be stoic, he would have leaned over and spat.
He waited patiently, letting time pass as it pleased. The world could fall for all he cared so long as he could stand in the exact stop that he was currently standing in. To him, the tree felt like the mattress he never had the pleasure of sleeping on. He nearly smiled at the thought, that such a thing as life could bring him happiness.
He stared down into the depths of the brackish pond, skimming the surface vaguely.
The handle of the door lays cool beneath his fingertips.
He stood in front of the entrance. Regular, rotting, wooden. It barely rested on its hinges. The metal had rusted to the point where it almost couldn't be opened, groaning and shuddering at the slightest of pressure. It was the epitome of every door that he had left in the wake of his quest and every door that was to come. Nothing marked it as significant. Nothing, save what lay behind it.
He pulled it open to step into a world that is pulsating with radiance and yet buried beneath mounds of obscurity. He spotted his objective through the clouds that hover on the ground: past a miniature island, the faintest outline of a door could be seen.
He dove after it, splashing through pools of icy water. The liquid seeped through thin boots and lodged itself between his toes. Within minutes, his feet became numb.
He hit the island without a problem. He was ready to open the door, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.
That's when the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. That's when his muscles tensed and his eyes wandered about. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead and dripped into his eyes. He pulled his hookshot from the depths of his endless pocket, waiting for the enemy to appear.
He stared down into the depths of the brackish pond, skimming the surface vaguely. Where there should have been a shadow, there wasn't.
Right meets left.
Dark Link flew from his hiding spot, twirling through the air with a grace that only comes from years of fighting enemies. A grace that he inherited from his counterpart a few feet away.
Strands of silver hair fall into thin eyebrows. Red eyes burn, feverish and fervent, rubies against unpolished quartz. Mountains of fire against skin of the most decrepit ash.
Ebony tunic clung to a thin, meager frame. Boots of an equally midnight shade carried him across the floor. A growl emitted from his throat, deep and feral. The tone quickly became lost, the barest essence of a voice never truly formed.
The background pierced through him, remnants of light and sounds visible through his skin. No blood could be seen, no vessels traced, not even a heart to give him a sliver of emotion. He was nothing but an outline, a coloring book whose pages were just waiting to be filled by the hands of professional artists.
Truth meets lie.
Link moved to counter him in a sweeping motion. His reflexes snapped into place, spawned from endless hours of battling fiends.
Sun-kissed fronds of hair wavered around sharp cheekbones. His eyes were the color of the sea during a storm, soft and deep yet filled to the brim with images of pain and bloodshed. He breathed in harshly. Lungs pumped, heart pounded, pulse raced to a destination so far away he was sure he'd never catch it.
His sapphire tunic fluttered, hat bounced, dirt-colored boots soared. He laughed in the face of his adversary, high and golden. The noise echoed off the walls before fading into the distance.
He was whole. He was solid. He was flesh and blood and human, something uncatchable and unproven by any law of nature or science.
The weapon of light sprung from its scabbard, ready to combat the darkness.
The weapon of shadow sprung from its scabbard, ready to combat the light.
Swords meet, hilts meet.
They met in the center of their springs, each jump a mirror to the others. The clang that resounded when their swords crashed together filled their ears with the hum of war. Hilts grinded dangerously close to marring faces. Sparks sputtered from the blades, sparks of blue and red and green, sparks that held the grace and intent of fireflies.
One blade thick, one blade thin. One shield black, one shield blue. One fought for hope, one fought for sorrow.
The swords faltered, each in reverse. They convened at the same points, twisted in the same ways. Both reached for shields only to meet the sting of the other one's blade.
Light meets shadow.
The hero moved to attack the shadow, the shadow moved to attack the hero.
Two pawns, one of the white queen Zelda and one of the black King Ganondorf, were stuck in a draw in the middle of the board. One could not move and therefore the opposing pawn could not move.
Link launched himself backwards, flipping away from the thrust that he had sent out minutes earlier. Dark Link moved backwards to, grinning like a hyena against Link's intrepid grimace.
The shadow sank into the ground, falling below the surface, resuming his regular role. Then he burst forth from the lake, weapon sparkling with evil.
Link meets Dark Link.
Swords clashed again, denting shields and scraping ground, trailing through water. Water that was once cold but now newly warmed with the heat of bodies and sweat and struggle.
Eyes caught for perhaps a second, glances locked. The world dissolved away until there was only the two of them, each fighting with their own purpose.
The hero made his move. It was his master's turn in the game of chess after all. The knight burst from what was once the measly shell of a pawn, a strong spirit looming in a weak body.
The hero made his move, and the sword hit its mark. The creature before him sank to the ground, close to being defeated. He raised his sword, ready to deliver the ending blow.
As Dark Link rolled sideways and bounded back up, teeth clenched and anger evident, Link felt a pull at the back of his mind. A sharp, incessant tug. He tried to ignore it, but ultimate failed. For a split second, he closed his eyes and thought.
In the midst of battle, he thought of a rhyme that he heard as a child.
Mirror, mirror on the wall.
Who's the fairest of them all?
He found he was unable to answer the question no matter how hard he considered.
Somewhere, far away, a voice laughed.
Link, you are full fair, 'tis true…
But everyone has a dark side.