The room in which Link resides resembles that of a prison cell. The room is bare except for its Spartan accommodations- a tin bucket, candles that litter the floor, and a thin blanket. There are no windows. Because of this, Link relies on the candles for lighting. But the wicks are melting to the quick and he knows they won't last much longer.
Every so often, the fallen hero hears voices echoing into the halls. They come from just outside the door. Occasionally a couple of soldiers will stop and check in on him. They never stay long. Link sighs. There are six candles in the room and all of them have melted to mere stubs. Some of the wax has melted onto the cool cement. They offer no warmth in this freezing Hell. The ceiling comes down low, so low that Link cannot stand up. There is a crimson-coloured rug near the door made of Bokoblin flesh.
A soft knock verberates on the wooden door. The boy glances up at it. Who is that? The stranger knocks once more. "Hello? Link, are you there?" The stranger's voice is soft and feminine, much like Zelda's. Link's stomach does a flip. It can't be her, can it?
The girl begins fiddling with the metal bar that holds the door shut. The boy tenses and makes way for the candles; most of them have burnt out.
The girl manages to open the door. A blinding light filters into the room and illuminates upon the fallen hero's dirty form.
"Hello. I'm Mabel, and I know this is all new for you," says the girl, and goes to sit next to him on the cool cement. A kind smile graces her soft features. "I also know that you may quite possibly decline my request. But it's crucial that you stick with us because you're going to be here for a while. And I need a few favors from you."
"Favors.. of course," Link mumbles, to which Mabel bows her head in guilt. Auburn locks of greasy hair cling to her face. "You could really save us all," she mutters. "You're Ghirahim's favorite toy and you'll soon be his favorite servant as well. And Ghirahim isn't particularly close to anyone except Ganondorf. That's why we need you!" Her dark eyes light up in hope. "You can do that. Can't you? It's really a simple favor."
Link falls silent. "You're Ghirahim's favorite toy," Mabel's voice echoes in his head. Yes, he supposes he is. "Link, do this! Link, do that! Come on, don't be such a wimp! Help us out here!" Yes, people are always asking him for favors. And what can he do? He can't deny any of their requests, for he is the hero. And heroes have to do whatever keeps their citizens happy. Even if it means throwing out his humanity, Link, the fallen hero, must always obey their wishes. And more importantly, the will of the goddess. But what did it matter now? The hero has fallen and the tables have turned.