Ghirahim sighed exasperatedly, shaking his head at the bundle of flesh and bones at his feet. "Oh, Skychild, you don't play this game very well at all."
Link looked like a tiger for all the stripes he had, but he had kept his silence in more ways than one. He had refused to tell Ghirahim where the Gate was, of course, but more than that, he refused to cry out at all. Even after Ghirahim stripped the boy naked so he had more flesh to cut. Even after Ghirahim turned the boy over because he had run out of space to carve in the front, Link wouldn't cry, wouldn't scream, wouldn't beg.
Unacceptable.
New measures had to be taken immediately.
"Now, I thought I explained the rules to you before we started." Running a delicate hand down the twitching side, Ghirahim inserted his fingers into one particularly deep wound and began to idly move them around inside. "Do you need to hear them again?"
Link convulsed, biting down on his lip and pressing his bloody, sweat-soaked forehead into the dirt. He kept his silence, any pain or fear he may have felt easily masked by the burning hatred in his eyes.
"My, my, that's a dreadful stare." Ghirahim smirked and withdrew his hand, snapping his fingers to dissolve the chains wrapped around his precious toy. "Am I supposed to be scared?"
Link immediately jumped up, holding his fists in an unsteady fighting position and subsequently answering the demon's question. Ghirahim rolled his eyes and stepped towards the hero, shaking his head in disapproval.
How like a human. So defiant and proud but weak and always the loser.
Ghirahim snapped again and several chains fell from the ceiling, spiraling around Link's wrists and jerking him from the ground so he hung a little less than two feet above the bloodied floor.
"What are you doing?" Link snarled, once again concealing his anxiety with loathing, struggling to pull himself up enough to slide the chains from his wrists.
"You've been a very naughty boy, Skychild, and I can't allow that to go unpunished." Ghirahim tapped his chin, circling the captive slowly and examining his position. "What I'm doing is getting what I want. It just so happens I find this particular way to be the most… amusing."
Link's eyes widened at the word, and Ghirahim reveled in the fear that finally decided to show itself. Snapping, he materialized a different weapon appearing in each hand.
"Now, I have a task for you, Skychild." Ghirahim swung them idly in turn, savoring the sound they made as they cut through the air. "I have two lashes here, you see, and I'm going to give you some of each. Then, when we do this again tomorrow, you can let me know which one you prefer. Understand?"
Link stared him down in silent defiance.
Ghirahim growled, swinging the lash in his right hand—an old-fashioned, three-tasseled whip—against the hero's bare back. "Understand?"
Link grit his teeth, still refusing to say anything.
"Skychild, I am giving you one more chance to swallow your pride and respond to me." Ghirahim sent the left whip—a classic cat o' nine tails—cascading over the already torn skin, leaving wonderful red lines over the once pale complexion. "Understand?"
Link ducked his head and watched the blood drip from his lips, silent and unwavering save for his labored breathing. Ghirahim gave him a few more seconds to think about it, and then the last little bit of his patience was gone, nothing but rage left in its wake.
"Fine! If you want to be so difficult, we'll play this the hard way. But don't say I didn't give you a fair chance, Skychild!"
Immediately, he began striking the boy with both whips, alternating back and forth almost rhythmically as the smacks echoed throughout the chamber. Blood splattered against the floor, and Ghirahim licked his lips, managing to catch a few drops as they came in his direction. He giggled, unable to contain himself as he watched the skin slowly disappear from the boy's back.
Still, through it all, Link refused to cry out. He was crying, but he was crying silently, and it was the lack of screaming the demon despised so much. It didn't matter that Link's shoulders were shaking, that the fabled hero could barely breathe, or that the demon lord already knew the outcome.
It mattered that Link wasn't screaming.
Half a victory is no victory at all.
Still, it was a process, and no one was better at breaking people than Demon Lord Ghirahim. Was it frustrating to watch Link fight back so vigorously, so misguidedly certain of his ability to win? Of course it was. But Ghirahim knew how to play the game, and he knew what to look for along the way. He knew the signs, and he knew the steps he had to take. As far as he was concerned, Link was already his, and resistance was a hilariously futile endeavor.
Besides. It would be so incredibly boring if they didn't fight back.
Link fought the urge to move away as the whip came down on him again, pain blossoming over his backside like fire. Black spots floated across his vision as the ache sank all the way to his bones, every fiber of his being crying out for relief. He swallowed the shouts pushing on the inside of his mouth, desperately trying to take steady breaths and not respond to the torture.
His body screamed at him to jerk, to twist, to writhe, to do something to alleviate the agony he was in, but he didn't obey. Every now and then there was a twitch he couldn't control, but for the most part, he simply ducked his head and bit his lip, forcing himself to stay silent.
He had to. Because every now and then, Link would turn his head just enough to catch the demon's eyes—those orbs, sharing the color of warm chocolate but so dark, so sadistic, and so delighted with the sight they were seeing—and it made him sick.
He's getting enough amusement so as it is. I won't give him any more.
"Skychild, are you beginning to grasp your situation?"
Link screwed his eyes shut, biting back a harsh cry as nine distinct stripes were painted across his lower back, sending his hips into an involuntary spasm to get away.
Stop moving. I have to stay still.
"I don't think you are. Perhaps I need to speak a little more clearly."
There was a break in the torrent of painful lashes, and Link froze, heart pounding in his chest as he waited for Ghirahim's new plan to start.
Silence.
Link wheezed, trying to use the break in his torment to get air back into his lungs, unsure as to how much longer he could hold out. Blood was rushing to his cuts, his head was throbbing, he was expelling the fluids he needed to survive, and his dizziness was on the verge of a total blackout.
He heard a footstep… and then another… and then more.
Ghirahim came around to the front, smiling at Link in a way that made the hero's stomach churn. Link saw the crimson stains and little bits of flesh stuck to the whips in his tormentor's hand, and he swallowed hard to keep from throwing up, a gut-wrenching fear slowly creeping over his body.
"They say that eye contact helps conversation. Would you like to help me test that theory, Skychild?"
Ghirahim pulled the cat o' nine tails back and swung it forward, a loud crack ringing throughout the chamber. It was quickly followed by a blow from the other hand, and Link cringed, trying not to scream as blood slithered down his chest and over his hips.
"You can stop me anytime, Skychild."
Link shook his head as another lash cut through his body, fire bursting across his ribcage as an involuntary spasm racked his body. "No," he hissed, a low growl chasing the words up his throat.
Ghirahim smirked, bringing both weapons down at the same time, coming dangerously close to Link's vital region. Unable to stop himself, the captive jumped, twisting away from the implements with his heart in his throat.
"Oh! I see now what makes you squirm. Is that scary? Hmm?" Ghirahim brought the horsewhip down on Link's hips and thighs, brushing over the hero's crotch more than once but never quite hitting it.
Link jumped with every blow, trying hard to push himself away from the tassels.
"What's this? It seems I'm missing my target." Ghirahim chuckled darkly and snapped his fingers, the lash turning into his signature, black rapier. "Perhaps I need to hit you with something a little less flimsy."
Link's heart skipped a beat, and he held his breath, waiting to see if Ghirahim would actually do it. He got rid of the Master's Sword with ease. He's stronger than I thought he was, and he certainly has more of a reason than ever to go to extremes. But would that be enough for the demon to outright cut him open? How low would he cut? How high? What would come off? What would come out? Would it be reversible?
Ghirahim pulled his arm back and—
"Master?"
Ghirahim stopped and sighed, rolling his eyes and turning towards the far wall. "I thought I said I was not to be disturbed. Are you so stupid you cannot follow even a simple order such as that?"
Inching into the light, the small redheaded boy responsible for the interruption started to toy with his fingers, whining softly. "I kn-know, but… w-well, Master, the messengers returned. Th-they say they saw s-some Sheikah hanging around Faron. I kn-know you asked us not to disturb you, but I thought—"
"Sheikah?" Ghirahim asked, cocking his head to the side. "You mean the same species as the twig who guards the goddess' flesh bag?"
The boy nodded slightly, quivering. "Y-yes, Master."
Ghirahim snapped all of his weapons into oblivion and offered the hero a cocky smile. "It seems you have been saved by the bell, Skychild. I will leave you alone for now, but when I return, we will start up exactly where we left off, and then…" His grin expanded, fangs protruding from his mouth as his eyes began to glow with excitement. "We shall play a new game!"
Link swallowed the bile rising in his throat and repressed the shudder moving through him, glaring daggers at his tormenter. Ghirahim merely smiled and turned towards the far wall, where Link was certain a door of some sort was hidden.
"Slave."
The boy squeaked, running closer to the duo and falling at Ghirahim's feet. "Y-yes, Master?"
"You keep an eye on this prisoner. If an hour passes, and I'm still not back, fix him." Ghirahim laughed, bubbly and sick, just like always. "We don't want his head blowing up for the sake of my schedule."
"Yes, Master."
Link frowned. My head blowing up…?
"Ah!" Shouting in surprise, the Chosen Hero soon found himself hanging upside down by his ankles, his headache quickly growing more painful as the blood started to pound against the inside of his skull.
Ghirahim stepped over to him and patted the boy's cheek, leaning forwards and placing his mouth at Link's ear. "Do you see that boy?"
Link glanced at the slave and nodded slightly, confused and wary but hoping he could gain some information that would aid him in his escape.
"He was just like you when we started, and now look at him."
Link's eyes widened only for a second, quickly narrowing into a hateful glare.
"That will be you someday, Skychild. Just wait and see."
Ghirahim turned and walked out of the room, the red boy scrambling away and covering his head as Ghirahim passed him. The demon stopped, looking over his shoulder and giving Link the kind of look a magician might give a bystander right before the big reveal, and then he knelt down on the ground.
"Come here, boy, come here!"
Ghirahim acted as though he were speaking to a dog, and the adolescent crawled over to him immediately, ducking his head into Ghirahim's hand. The demon lord scratched his slave behind the ears and gave him a pat on the head before standing up and pointing to the far wall.
"Run along, now."
The slave jumped up and ran out as fast as he could, as if the floor had turned to lava beneath his feet.
"Have fun, Skychild. I'll see you when I get back."
Ghirahim waved and then disappeared into the darkness, leaving Link alone with his thoughts and the horribly imagery within.
That thing was a demon, though. He was born to be dominated and controlled—I wasn't. Besides, Ghirahim would use anything to get inside my head right now. He doesn't have any way to prove that kid was like me at one point. I can't afford to be irrational. Stupid.
Link rolled his eyes and winced.
Okay, no eye rolls until you're right-side up.
