WHEN LIGHTNING STRIKES

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Here's the second part of this; sorry for the real monster of a chapter! There are more moments of... good things, for lack of a better way to describe, than the last chapter, but it's still pretty depressing. Nevertheless, I hope you all have a great day!

Thank you all so much for your support! I've really enjoyed reading your comments; I never expected to receive this much feedback!

Guest: Yes indeed - poor Link! What's worse, I think, is that this is real life for many people. Hopefully not the getting-thrown-into-prison part, but certainly the emotions and thoughts going through his head are inspired by reality.

James Birdsong: Thank you! I'm glad you approve, and as this is a topic very important to me I'm happy you thought it felt well-written!

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Finally! Zelda cheered inwardly, hurrying into the infirmary.

For the first time in weeks there were no soldiers standing guard beside the door, turning away any who wanted to visit. Zelda had tried to get in every day, desperate to see what had become of the Appointed Knight.

Link.

Her insides seemed to shrivel as she remembered seeing him burst into her chambers, frightfully pale, the entire left side of his body crimson with blood. In the terror of the moment, with the assassin hot on her heels, she had barely noticed.

But when the threat was gone, her life miraculously saved, and she saw her knight crawling slowly to the wall with his left arm curled against his chest, she saw everything.

And it destroyed everything she thought she'd known about him.

Seeing that he was injured, leaving a streak of blood behind him, she had gone quickly to see what she could be done, crying out desperately for help.

Then he flipped over, resting his back against the wall, and her heart seemed to forget its purpose for a moment or two.

His left sleeve had been torn away, revealing a myriad of marks on his arm that she didn't immediately recognize as scars, for there were so many of them. The longest was, perhaps, two inches long; they truly were very small.

They couldn't have been battle wounds.

Ice had trickled through her veins as she realized what had happened. And she saw the fresh wounds, a diagonal mark carved about halfway between his hand and his elbow. Further down, a much deeper gash seeped blood at a horrifying rate; it wouldn't have required a scholar to deduce what had happened.

Without wasting another second, seeing that Sir Link's eyes had slipped closed while his breaths were frighteningly swift and shallow, she found the largest vein in his arm and pressed against it with all of her strength, just as she had read, before screaming herself hoarse in an attempt to get help.

Over the weeks that followed, she had tried, every day, to visit him in the infirmary. To apologize. I treated him so terribly - it must have been because of me that he did those things to himself! If only I had just thought to look a little deeper… If only I was not so quick to judge…

She could not remember smiling over those days. She couldn't remember her father smiling, either; if anything, more wrinkles lined his face, and his eyes glistened with sadness. She asked him, several times, to let her see her Appointed Knight; with every attempt the King merely sighed and rubbed a weary hand over his face. "We don't want to overwhelm him," he explained sadly.

But now, at long last, there were no soldiers by the door.

Zelda hurried past the rows of beds, her gaze lingering upon each one as she searched for the familiar golden-haired head. But he wasn't there.

At once she assumed the worst. He's not here - has he died? Why was I not informed?!

After a second thorough investigation of the infirmary, she all but ran through the halls, into the library, past the glorious shelves of books. Throwing open the door to her father's study, she asked breathlessly, "Where is Sir Link?"

Again that weary sigh. Her father sat at his desk, not turning to face her, but instead gazing down at piles of papers and books neatly stacked on the polished wood surface.

Zelda's throat went dry. "Father, where is my Appointed Knight?" she demanded, terrified to hear the answer.

Rhoam finally turned to her, his eyes looking older than ever. "Zelda… the position of your Appointed Knight has been reassigned to Sir Jassom, the captain of the Royal Guard. As the second-best swordsman in this kingdom, and a loyal knight, I trust him to watch over you."

Tears were stinging her eyes. "What about Link? He was doing a perfectly fine job!"

"I thought you despised him," the King raised an eyebrow at her.

Zelda flinched, lowering her gaze. "I shouldn't have," she whispered. "He had given me no reason to feel that way about him."

Rhoam sighed yet again. "Regardless, Jassom will now be your protector."

"Then where is Link? You still have not answered my question!" Zelda accused, beginning to feel desperate.

Her father looked away, eyes darting back to the papers on his desk. "One day you will understand," he murmured raggedly. "The most difficult part about being a leader is that the needs of the many must come before the needs of the few. Right now… right now we need the bearer of the Master Sword. If there is even the slightest chance that he is at risk of death, by his own hand or the hand of another, it is my duty as the ruler of this kingdom to preserve his life. For without him, without the hero chosen by the sword, we are doomed. The Master Sword, the Goddesses… they do not choose replacements."

Zelda swallowed thickly. "Father, where is Link?" she repeated, her throat dry with dread.

But the King merely shook his head. "I believe you have certain duties to attend. Link is not the only one who must fulfill his destiny."

==]—= ... =—[==

"Any luck?" Daruk asked anxiously, a hulking shadow in the black night.

Zelda twisted her hands. Three days since her conversation with the King. The Goron Champion had come to the castle upon her request; as someone who she knew felt a brotherly connection with the missing hero, he was the first person she had thought to ask. "Nothing yet. I've searched everywhere I could think of that I had access to - the knight quarters, the training grounds, the stables… What about you?"

Daruk scratched his head. "Not sure how helpful this'll be, but I did hear a couple guards coming out of a tavern when I searched through Castle Town. They were complainin' about orders to fight some guy in the dungeons. Doesn't make much sense to me, but I've got this awful feeling…"

Zelda shuddered. "Why would a prisoner be engaged in combat?" she mused aloud. "It seems terribly risky; what if he managed to kill one of them? Fighting a prisoner?"

"Something about keeping his skills sharp," Daruk added, his brow furrowed with concern.

Zelda bit her lip. Her father's words rang through her mind…

Preserve the bearer of the Master Sword…

Doomed without the hero…

Slightest risk of death…

"You don't suppose…" she whispered faintly, unable to finish the thought.

Daruk's gaze hardened. "That the guy in the dungeons is Link?" He cracked his knuckles menacingly. "I dunno, Princess, but if it is, let me tell ya - when I find out who's responsible -"

"It was my father," Zelda murmured, feeling cold. "He feels that it is necessary to put the Calamity's threat to the kingdom over… over Link's struggles."

The Goron's jaw dropped. "But - but - by putting him into prison?! There's gotta be a better way!"

"My father doesn't trust him with his own life," Zelda realized. "He's… he's trying to make it impossible for Link to… die… before his duty is fulfilled." Nausea twisted her stomach; it wasn't right. It couldn't be right. She could understand her father's reasoning, but at the memory of seeing Link's left arm, marred by self-inflicted scars and a gushing wound in his wrist, a wound that nearly bled him to death…

If he had felt that terrible about himself then…

What must he think now, locked in a cell somewhere, all alone?

==]—= ... =—[==

"Sire, I've come to report about… about the boy."

"Go on."

"Well.. it's just that… Hylian Champion though he may be, he cannot fight for twelve straight hours in a day. It's been a week, sire, and yesterday my men could barely get him to move."

"I told you what to do should he refuse -"

"Pardon my interruption, but we've done as ordered. It wasn't that he was refusing; he was certainly trying. But he could barely stand, let alone wield a sword. By the end of the day, when the last man unchained him for a duel, he collapsed and… and either would not, or could not, get back up, despite our… efforts. His body has been worked too hard."

"Very well. Then I will expect only eight full hours each day from him, and allow him two hours' rest between each one. Perhaps that will help. But he cannot deteriorate while in that cell; his skills must remain sharp so that he may conquer the Calamity when the time comes."

"Yes, sire."

==]—= ... =—[==

Daruk's discovery of Link's clothes - specifically his Royal Guard uniform - untouched in a little chest in the knight barracks had changed the flow of the tide in her favor. As a Princess, she had been - on occasion by force - forbidden from entering the dungeons. Daruk, too, had been turned back every time he tried.

But if she were dressed as a Royal Guard…

If she did it at night, perhaps no one would look too closely.

Daruk was just outside of her outward-facing door, as they'd planned. She could hear him talking with Sir Jassom, distracting the knight while she made preparations.

Link never would have been distracted.

The thought brought an ache to her heart. His lack of response to everyone had prompted her to believe he didn't have any friends to be distracted by, when in reality, she realized, he had been putting every ounce of his effort into his position as her knight. Upon initially finding that Mipha and Daruk both cared about his well-being, she had been stupefied. How could anyone like him have friends, she had wondered.

I was so cruel.

Inhaling deeply, she stuffed her hair into the round cap worn by the guards and pulled the thick white gloves up to her elbows. Alright… that should do it.

Now… as long as Daruk does his part…

There were two entrances to her room; one led deeper into the castle, and the other would take her outside. Both were guarded, but after the Yiga assassin managed to enter her room so easily through the outer door, it was determined that Sir Jassom would always be posted there throughout the night.

Which certainly complicated her plans to escape through the dungeons.

As stealthily as she could, she tiptoed to the outer door and slowly slid a handkerchief through the crack at the bottom. Jassom, facing away from the door, wouldn't see. But it would signal Daruk to put his part of the plan into motion.

"Hey, uh, so it's been great talking with you and all," she heard Daruk say, sounding a bit uncomfortable. "But all this talk of fighting styles has worked me up an appetite! Got any nice rocks around? Good hard granite, maybe?"

Jassom's frustrated growl. "We don't have any rocks. But I believe the kitchens usually have a few leftovers…"

"Hmm… that'll do," the Goron chuckled heartily. "So where is it? Sorry; I'm still getting used to the lay of the land, here!"

"Go over that way…"

The voices began to fade. Heart hammering wildly, Zelda poked the door open and squeezed out into the brisk night air, shutting the door securely behind her and crouching low to the ground. She saw Daruk give Jassom a hearty pat on the back, knocking him several steps downward, further away from the door. "Ya can't just point in some random direction - you know this place! I've only been here a couple times. I need some guidance, brother!"

They were moving steadily down the many sets of stairs leading to the grassy little meadow perched upon the ledge just beneath her bedroom. Zelda swallowed tightly, her mouth painfully dry, following at a distance. At last they reached the meadow and Jassom, visibly exasperated, took Daruk to the westward edge and jabbed frustratedly in the vague direction of the kitchen.

Zelda hurried down the last several sets of stairs and dove behind a pillar, pressing herself to the stone wall rising up back towards her bedroom, struggling to breathe as she waited in agony of suspense for Jassom to return up the stairs.

Daruk headed off in the direction the Appointed Knight had indicated, and Jassom himself finally turned back to the stairs, shaking his head and grumbling under his breath. Zelda closed her eyes, listening as he stormed up the steps above her, armor clanking. Only when the night was still once more did she dare move from the shadow of the staircase and slither forward.

Down another set of stairs. Across a sturdy bridge; a sharp right and down yet one more staircase to the path directly beneath the bridge to her study. Following that path down, down, down, under a bridge, past torches…

At that point, the silence of the night seemed even more still. The main castle was far above; only bridges and the castle wall remained, with knights stationed every now and then. Under yet one more bridge, continuing down the dark, lonely path.

And then, there it was - the little known outside entrance to the dungeons. The lockup, as it was sometimes called. It was barred by a thick iron grate; a knight stood leaning tiredly against his halberd near the lever meant to crank it open.

"Y'here to relieve Nikko?" the man yawned.

Zelda nodded, not trusting herself to speak. This was a stupid plan - I look nothing like a Royal Guard!

But the knight on duty heaved a sigh, winching open the entrance to the lockup. Performing the Royal Guard salute she'd seen Link perform so many times, she squared her shoulders and stepped inside, trying to emanate an aura of confidence. I am supposed to be here; I am supposed to be here…

Her boots splashed in a thin layer of water pooled on the ground as a peculiar sound echoed around the weathered stone walls. It was a sound she never expected to hear, especially from him - from her calm, emotionless knight.

"Please… please, I'll do better… I promise…"

She peered around a corner, her heart aching as its rapid pace intensified.

"There's no need for that, Link. Try to stand, alright?"

The Hero of Hyrule was on his hands and knees in a cell, shuddering. A Royal Guard stood over him, gripping a wooden practice blade in his hands; a similar blade lay discarded near Link's right hand. "You can do it. Get to your feet."

With a breathless groan Link pushed himself upwards only to collapse with a ragged cry, his body trembling violently. "C-can't," he croaked, lifting his head barely an inch from the ground before letting it knock down against the dirty floor, his chest heaving with ragged sobs. "I can't… can't do it…"

"You know what I have to do, then." The Guard sounded miserable, but he did not hesitate to bring his blade down mercilessly across Link's shoulder blades, drawing a sharp cry from the boy. Again and again and again.

Link twisted with each blow, his limbs jerking as he struggled to get himself up. "Please! I'm sorry - I'm sorry!" The wooden sword smacked down again. "I - I'll do better! I'm trying - please!"

Zelda's eyes burned.

She had never once seen him show any kind of emotion at all.

And now here he was, trapped in a cell, crying out as solid blows landed on his body again and again, as he fought with himself to stand.

"Get up! Please, Link! You have to stand!" The Royal Guard sounded desperate, even as he landed another vicious blow on Link's back and the boy writhed, heaving for breath, eyes scrunched shut with pain.

Zelda couldn't take it a moment longer. She stepped closer to the cell, rapping her knuckles firmly against the wooden beams framing the slightly-ajar door.

The Guard turned, in surprise, and his shoulders sagged in relief. "Is it time?" he asked, instantly ceasing his attack. "Thank Hylia. I'll leave you to lock him back up."

He pressed his wooden sword and a small key into her hands and all but bolted from the dungeons, his head bowed low.

Zelda swallowed tightly, slowly stepping into the cell. Link was still struggling to stand, quivering and twitching feebly, seemingly unaware that the other man had left. Hesitantly she approached him, kneeling at his side and placing a gentle hand on his trembling shoulder, his thin undershirt drenched in perspiration.

The hero flinched away from her touch, whimpering softly, his breaths frightfully swift and uneven. Zelda swallowed tightly, gently rubbing circles on his shoulder, but he groaned in pain, flinching away again. Quickly she withdrew her hand.

"M'sorry," Link mumbled, tears trickling down his clammy cheeks as he let his forehead rest against the ground. "C-can't do it… n-not good enough…" A choked sob escaped his throat and he went limp. "I'm sorry…"

"Link, that's not…"

He turned his head at the sound of her voice, eyes widening. "Princess," he realized, grimacing, slowly letting his cheek fall back against the ground as shame burned pink across his cheeks. "I… m'sorry… kneel if I could…" His voice wavered with regret and his eyelids fluttered closed. She saw him wince and bite down, hard, on his chapped lip, drawing a drop of blood.

"There is no reason for you to apologize," she told him softly, her heart aching. "But there certainly is reason for me. The way I treated you was entirely unfair; I… I used you as a means of venting my own frustrations with myself. I was… jealous because of how… how easily it seemed you drew the Master Sword, when I myself was so inadequate. It was shameful behavior, Link, and… and because of that..."

"No!" Link protested, looking up at her again. When did his cheeks become so hollow? "F-forgive me, Princess - you've done… nothing wrong…" He sucked in a shuddering breath, coughing slightly. "You bear… bear the burden… w-with grace and - and… and courage." A soft whimper, barely audible, escaped his throat as fresh tears escaped his eyes and he shut them fiercely. "And… just look at me."

Zelda swallowed thickly. It had never occurred to her that it was the weight of destiny that had been tearing him apart. I thought… I thought it was just me, and how I spoke to him…

Perhaps it's both? A combination of circumstance and - and prejudice?

"I do not understand," she admitted. "You dealt with the pressure so well that no one could have guessed you were… feeling this way. I… I certainly had no idea." But it was illogical for me to think what I did about him - that he was merely gifted, blessed in all things, never experiencing any hardship.

Link jerked his head to the side in denial. "D-doesn't matter. B-because I've ruined it - I've failed. W-wasn't strong enough… c-couldn't do it… I wasn't good enough… worthless!" He met her gaze, eyes wide and pleading. "M'not good enough… It was too much… means I'm not good enough… not worthy…"

"No," Zelda murmured, reaching out and brushing his sweat-matted hair out of his eyes. "Link, you are good enough. You saved my life from that assassin, even… even wounded."

His body trembled violently. "If it'd… happened any later, I… I would've been…" He swallowed audibly, his limbs convulsing slightly inwards as if he were trying to curl himself into a ball. "I d-didn't mean to," he whispered, his breaths coming faster. "I - I p-promise you, I would never actually do it! I w-wouldn't have… w-wasn't trying to g-go that far. I was - I - it's the only way f-for me to f-f-feel better; I've never… n-never been strong enough for th-th-this - the knife - it made everything right. M-made me feel like I c-could live w-with myself, w-w-with the eyes of everyone, everywhere, w-with their expectations…" He was sobbing by then, halfway curled in the fetal position, his head tucked downwards. "M'sorry," he gasped, chest heaving. "I d-d-didn't mean to; there was a b-bolt of lightning and I jumped and the knife slipped and - and I just - I t-tried to stop it, stop the b-blood, but I couldn't; I w-wasn't good enough, n-not strong enough…"

Zelda stared at him, feeling numb. Images flashed through her mind - his left sleeve torn away, a bloodied wadded-up cloth falling from his wrist…

It was an accident, all along.

"I'm sorry!" Link wept. "I'm sorry…"

And now the guilt is consuming him - along with everything else he was struggling with before.

And my father's guards are coming in, ordering him to fight, to train, until he collapses from exhaustion. And then they beat him until he stands.

She could tell him that it wasn't his fault, that it wasn't anyone's fault, that no one should have to suffer what he was going through. But the way things were going, she was certain he would protest, would refuse to believe her, even subconsciously. So she made a different choice.

Gently, she slid her fingers to his hands, wincing at the sight of skin rubbed raw, and slowly stroked his knuckles. "I forgive you," she told him, praying that it would help in some way. I don't believe you suffer blame in this, but I can see that you seek forgiveness, and that you most certainly deserve it.

He looked up at her, eyes widening at her words, and his features softened; though the flow of tears continued, and his breaths remained uneven and desperate, the barest hint of a smile twitched at his lips. She couldn't help her own smile as she lightly squeezed his trembling hands. But his features darkened, and he let his head clonk back to the floor of the cell. "... don't deserve…" he mumbled under his breath, yet more tears coursing down his cheeks. "N-not… from you… failed you…"

"I believe I am the one to decide whether or not you deserve it," she said slowly. "After all, I am the one forgiving you."

"Sh-shouldn't," Link croaked with a violent tremor. "F-failed…"

His strength was waning; she could hear it in his voice, could see it in his glazed eyes. He was exhausted, in the truest sense of the world. Though she wanted to keep talking with him, to try and help him, it would be cruel to keep him awake much longer. With a heavy sigh, forcing a smile back to her face, she moved her hand to his cheek and gently brushed his hair out of his face. "You… haven't failed me, Link. You haven't failed anyone. Try to sleep, alright?"

With a slight grunt he nodded, closing his eyes tightly even as a few more tears dripped down his cheeks. She stroked his hair, as her mother had when she was young, until at last his breaths had deepened and she knew he was asleep.

I do not know him, she realized sadly. Everything I thought was entirely wrong.

The Hero of Hyrule. The Chosen Hero. Wielder of the Blade that seals the darkness - which now rested sadly on its side across the corridor.

There were other titles, she knew. Each spoke of his destiny, or of his skill. Each placed expectations upon his shoulders.

And those expectations were, she realized, horribly accurate.

If she failed to awaken her sealing powers, the fate of the world would rest solely on his slender shoulders. Certainly, the Divine Beasts and Champions and guardians would help. But it was never they who were faced with the task of facing Ganon; it was always the Goddesses' Chosen.

She frowned, reflecting on the histories she'd read about. And… truly… most of the time it is only the Chosen Hero who is tasked with actually battling Ganon. The princess with the blood of the Goddess might have the power to seal him, but she was only ever able to do that once the hero defeated him in battle.

So with or without me, the kingdom's survival depends on Link being victorious.

She could understand her father's point of view, then. Without the hero, all was lost. Rhoam knew that measures had to be taken to keep him alive, whether he wanted to live or not.

Link's word's rang in her mind - "I d-didn't mean to. I - I p-promise you, I would never actually do it!"

She knew he had been speaking the truth. Though he had never displayed any sort of emotion in her presence, she knew he took his duties seriously. She knew it from the solemnity of his gaze in her presence, from the tension in his shoulders whenever he was guarding her - always ready for the worst. She knew it from the way he insisted upon searching her room every evening, in the way he tested a portion of her food before each meal to see if it was poisoned - which it was, once, and though his face betrayed no emotion he went a sickly color of whitish-green and had to be replaced by another guard for two days afterward.

She knew it in the way he practiced with the Master Sword at every available moment, no matter the time of day, no matter the weather, always striving to be ready.

He was fully aware of the burdens upon his shoulders. As such, he took those burdens far more seriously than everything else. That, she realized, was why he had never dared show emotion.

With the pressures placed upon him, he felt that no one could know about what he was really feeling. For if they knew that their hero, their hope, there one real chance against the Calamity, was nothing more than a boy struggling to find himself, struggling to believe in himself…

Zelda realized that he was afraid - afraid of failure. Failure to bring hope to others. Failure to perform his duties. Failure to defeat the Calamity. And considering the weights dragging him down, it was no surprise to her that he harbored those fears.

Anger pierced her heart, fierce as a hot coal. And what did my father do?

Link was terrified of failure. So much so that when he felt he didn't measure up, he punished himself. Though others would never know, could never guess, that he had made a mistake, it didn't matter to him. He punished himself - physically, with a knife, and mentally, with words. Worthless, he'd called himself. He despised himself.

When he'd made that mistake, one impossible to hide, his fears confronted him head-on.

And her father had removed what titles he could from him. Had taken from him his knightly duties, and his duty to protect her. She could almost hear Link's voice in her mind - "I let him down; I wasn't good enough. I failed to complete my responsibilities. I failed the King!"

Now, of course, he was in the dungeons, dishonored, alone. Knights would come down, for long hours every day, judging by his current condition, and spar with him until he no longer had the strength to stand, at which point they would beat him. "I can't even lift a sword," he whispered in her mind. "I can't even win against other knights. What chance do I have against the Calamity? I've doomed us all; I've failed."

If he had hated himself before, when he was still her knight, when the King had faith in him… she could only imagine how much worse he was feeling now. In a prison cell. Worked until his body could take no more. Bruised from blows dealt when he could no longer stand. Alone, with time to think about everything that had happened.

Heavy footsteps splashed through the water and Zelda's heart shot up into her throat with a thrill of electric terror until she saw the familiar hulking silhouette. "Daruk," she sighed, relieved. "How did you get in?"

The Goron smiled grimly. "Got to the kitchens, and they were just about to send someone down to bring food to Link. Told 'em I'd do it instead; explained the whole thing to the guy out front, and they let me in, no problem. Shoulda tried that earlier!" But his chuckle died abruptly as he squeezed into the cell. "Little brother…"

"He's… asleep," Zelda murmured. "I do not know when he will awaken, or when the next round of guards will come in. Daruk, I… it's so much worse than we thought."

"I can see that," he muttered, sitting down. "We gotta do something. Personally I'm all for breakin' him outta here."

Zelda couldn't help but smile at that, but there was no humor in her soul. "I do not think my father is truly aware of his state. So… I need you to bring him down here for me. He needs to see."

Daruk's eyes widened. "Tell the King? But he's the one who didn't want us down here in the first place! I'm sure he knows!"

"But has he seen it?" Zelda pleaded. "Please - this is what we have to do. If it doesn't work, then… then I agree that more drastic measures should be taken."

Daruk swallowed audibly. "I dunno if we'd even be able to get down here again. And… you might get in a lot of trouble."

Zelda nodded, biting her lip. Rhoam would be furious with her.

But as she gazed down at Link's tearstained face, noticed his sunken cheeks and unkempt hair, saw the way his shirt hung loosely from his shoulders… "He's worth it."

==]—= ... =—[==

The clanking of armor and splash of footsteps jerked Zelda from slumber. For a moment fear stole her breath as she saw the iron bars and cold stone walls around her, as she breathed in the smoke-choked air of the lockup.

Then she felt Link's head resting in her lap, and her hands holding him there, and she remembered what had happened.

"Zelda. What in Nayru's name are you doing in there?"

Her mouth felt suddenly dry as she looked up, seeing her father standing in the doorway. Just breathe. Be brave. "There is something you need to see," she said, speaking softly so as not to disturb Link. "You… you need to let him go free."

"I've told you before - I cannot do that," Rhoam growled. "Not when I cannot trust him to live."

"You're only making it worse by keeping him here," she protested. "He feels terrible - about himself, about what happened, even though it was an accident. By the time the Calamity comes and you free him, he might just be so disgusted by himself that he takes the Master Sword and uses it to kill himself. Keeping him down here, alone, in darkness, is accomplishing nothing but making him feel even worse about himself. Let him go!"

"And awaken tomorrow to find that he's dead?" Rhoam shook his head. "You do not understand."

Zelda clenched her teeth. "Fine. If you refuse to have empathy, look at it another way. Your men have been working him too hard; at the moment he can barely stand, let alone wield a sword -"

"If I may," Sir Jassom interrupted from his place at Rhoam's side. He glared at Zelda, his scowl clearly expressing his frustration with her escape. "I believe I can get him to stand."

His voice sent chills up her spine and she held Link tighter. "No - leave him alone," she protested. "He's been through enough -"

"Zelda!" Rhoam barked. "Get out of that cell before I have to drag you out myself. You will see that the Chosen Hero is perfectly capable of standing. I might have worked him too hard in the beginning, but I've lessened the hours; he should have no difficulty."

Zelda shook her head, holding Link's limp form close, but as her new Appointed Knight stepped forward, eyes narrowed, her courage faltered and she gently lowered him to the ground before getting to her feet and walking, shoulders slumped, from the cell.

"And where did you get those clothes?" Rhoam demanded, looking her up and down. "When I find the man who lent them to you -"

"No one lent them - I found them with Link's things," she admitted meekly.

"Shame upon you, daughter."

Zelda flinched.

==]—= ... =—[==

"Link!"

The voice was like the crack of a whip, and he jerked awake, struggling to raise his heavy, aching eyelids. His vision smeared, but he could just make out a large group of people standing just outside the cell.

Among them, the Princess. Link's heart warmed as he recalled her kindness before he fell asleep - a gentle touch, a gentle voice, warm with sincerity. Though he had never been angry or upset with her when she lashed out at him in the past (instead he had been angry at himself), it had felt incredible to realize that she actually cared about him, regardless of whether or not he deserved it. She had brought light to his soul.

His eyes drifted sideways, and he wished he could shrink. King Rhoam stood silhouetted by the torchlight, eyes narrowed. Shame burned his soul, worse than the flaming ache assaulting every one of his overused muscles. I failed him - I failed everyone.

Tears stung his eyes, and he ground his teeth together, trying to force them away.

"Get up," a new voice demanded, cold. Sir Jassom… "Link, get up! Take up your weapon!"

Oh, no… Sucking in a harsh breath, he forced his stiff limbs to move. Come on…

Every moment burned. Every movement piped acid through his veins instead of blood; he couldn't stop a grunt of pain from escaping his throat. He trembled from the pain of it, of simply moving; forcing his eyes shut, focusing on his breath - Farore, even his lungs were sore - and struggling to lift himself up.

"Get up!" Jassom demanded, losing patience. "The kingdom needs you - or do you want to fail them, too?"

And the tears were back. Jassom. Jassom always knew where his weaknesses were. With a strangled cry he shoved himself upwards with all of his strength, stumbling backwards and slamming his bruised back against the wall, gasping from the pain of it. His legs trembled violently, begging for relief, but he refused them - Can't fail again - this time I'll do it - won't fail -

He opened his eyes, breathing heavily, leaning desperately against the wall.

Jassom sneered. "Pick up your sword." He gestured to the pathetic wooden weapon lying on the ground. Link swallowed anxiously, sliding one foot forward over the ground. Like a newborn foal trying out its legs for the first time, he shuffled forward, hands outstretched for balance, slowly making his way to the weapon on the ground. Pathetic. Weak. An embarrassment to everyone.

Tension blossomed between his shoulder blades and he inhaled deeply, cautiously bending down and grimacing as the strain on his calves and thighs increased. I should be able to do this! It should be easy!

Worthless. Weak. Stupid.

Blinking rapidly to keep the tears back, he straightened, breathing heavily.

"There," Jassom said smugly, turning back to the King. "Of course he can stand."

"But can he fight?" Rhoam pressed.

"He's more than just a weapon!" Zelda protested, her eyes stormy with rage. "Leave him alone!"

Link stared at her. She was… she wanted him out of the cell?

"I forgive you."

She cared. He didn't deserve it, but she cared. She didn't want him to have to do this, even though he knew he had to. The sentiment, for some reason, made his eyes burn even worse.

She cares.

Jassom's blow came out of nowhere. Not fast enough to raise his sword, the knight's wooden blade crashed down on his side, mercilessly slamming against his ribs. Winded, Link crumpled sideways to his knees, struggling to maintain a grip on his blade even as he clutched his chest with his left hand, choking for breath. His mind wavered - Zelda was saying something, glaring at her father; Jassom loomed over him, smirking.

"The greatest swordsman in the kingdom - no more," he mocked, his words ricocheting oddly through Link's ears.

It was all happening so quickly. A sharp whistling - fresh stinging pain stung his back, again and again and again. He knew what that meant by now; with a slight cough he gathered his limbs beneath him again, shuddering, trying to stand.

"Get up!" Jassom commanded, striking again and again. Zelda shouted for him to stop; Link could see her through blurred vision, trying to get to him, held back by her father's guards.

"Get up!" Jassom repeated. "Get up!"

Worthless. Weak. Failure.

He had failed everyone. He stared at the Princess, clinging to the memory of her soothing words, of her gentle touch.

I've failed everyone but her.

She forgave me.

Which means the slate is wiped clean, right? I have another chance to not let her down.

Blows rained down on him. His body burned. His skin, bruised as it was, had developed a heartbeat all its own. With a sharp cry he forced himself to his feet again, only to find the world tilt violently, frightfully sideways, and something hit his head with enough force to crack a rock. He could barely hear his own cry of pain. Could barely hear himself voicing the words he'd uttered so many times before.

"I'm trying…. I'm trying… trying…"

He was weeping again. He could feel the tears wet upon his face, hot and sticky.

Worthless. Weak. Failure.

The Princess' sweet voice - "I forgive you."

Pain racing up and down his body as he fought to get up, fought to remain conscious, fought to crawl closer to the wall - use it to pull myself up - fought to silence the sneering voices in his mind.

I won't fail you! Not again! Please!

He realized he'd spoken the words out loud as his gaze rested upon the Princess for the briefest moment before Jassom swung the wooden blade in a parabolic motion, first beneath his hunched-over frame before striking his stomach with gut-wrenching force. Link's arms gave way and he dropped flat to the ground, clutching desperately at his aching stomach. Nausea rose up within him; the strikes continued to come, one after the other, upon his torso, now facing upwards. Barely realizing what was happening he heaved, nothing but stomach fluids spilling from his mouth. His vision smeared; he could barely hear anything over the thumping of his heart, could barely feel anything but the pain smarting over his beaten body.

Suddenly Zelda was there in his cell again, having broken free from the guards' grasp; she darted towards him as Jassom's wooden blade swung down once more as if in slow motion. Then the Princess was kneeling by his side, turned away, raising her hand as if to stop the weapon's trajectory. "No!" she shouted, her voice fierce, cutting through the haze of Link's mind.

A flash of bright golden light, and for a single blessed moment the pain was gone. Zelda's free hand on his shoulder, gentle as ever. Nothing but peace filled his mind and soul.

And then the light was gone, and the pain returned, and he lost the battle with consciousness.