Edited 6/7/16
Chapter 04 – Lying Low
Music Suggestion: Forsaken by Sharm
"This fall I think you're riding for—it's a special kind of fall, a horrible kind. The man falling isn't permitted to feel or hear himself hit bottom. He just keeps falling and falling. . ."
― J.D. Salinger, The Catcher in the Rye
There had been a time when he had felt peace, innocence, and sanity, but such a time was long gone now. That had been an entirely different dimension, different person… or so it felt like. Now, he was an empty shell plagued by constant darkness. The darkness had already consumed his sanity, little by little as he sat in the cold, damp corner of the endless chamber, and it was consuming his time and whatever else was left. Of course, he clung to himself for dear life, not desiring to fall any further, but after two years… losing himself became inevitable.
Through those two, wretched years he began to find a sick happiness in blood. Why? It was an escape. It was the only chance he could get to escape from the darkness. Whether it was from a punishment, a "lesson," or an order of killing by the master… blood was a symbol of a paradise that the ill child had lost long ago.
Solitude was something he treasured too. Darkness was slowly becoming something else, perhaps being placed as a "friend." After all, the boy was continuously alone. He was friendless.
It took two years for the boy to become a monster when it had taken only two months for the boy to become nothing.
The child hissed venomously as he was thrown back, his head cracked against the stone wall. "You will do as I say," came the thundering voice of his master. At the very tone the child cringed, hands immediately flying out to lash at the man that advanced toward him. "Calm down or there will be more than just a simple blow to the head." Earth colored arms reached out, grabbed the child's hands with a firm grip.
Unwillingly, the child cringed again. The hold on his wrists was strong, perhaps too strong. He squirmed, flailed, kicked, but dared not scream. Shadows were not supposed to speak, or so his master said.
His master pushed forward, spinning the boy till his chest was pressed against the wall with his arms held tightly over his head, "Now, you will journey—"
Crimson eyes were unimpressed as they looked over the glimmering waterfall with a silent scowl. Even from where he stood, he could feel the light that radiated from the waters beyond. Without a doubt it was Lanayru's doing, the light spirit that watched over the waters that the Zoras claimed. If he hadn't been plagued by such a wretched mood, he would have gladly stomped down to the cavern that Lanayru hid in and extinguished its light. Yet guilt was to overpowering and instead he found himself staring at the waterfall, contemplating.
It wasn't luck that had gotten him this far, he just hadn't had a little run in with any Hyrulean soldiers. They would surely arrest him for suspicion as they had done so in the past, and even more so whenever the mess at the village was discovered. With that in mind, he had settled down to the idea of lying low, but why he chose the domain of the Zoras… he hadn't a clue. He detested fish and their fishy smell. It was goddess-awful, but for the sake of successfully evading officials, it would have to do.
However, he stayed where he stood. There was something wrong. Smile. He couldn't muster up a pretty, little smile. Perhaps he had overdone it this time with the killing. He gave a tilt to his head as if actually thinking it over and agr- no, blood was blood. The very thought brought a curl to his upper lip, but already he could tell that the very gesture wasn't enough. Innocence did not give off a sadistic smile like his. Of course, right when his thoughts circled around blood, there was no helping it. The color, the very essence of it was—
"Oh, may I help you Hylian?"
Link nearly gagged. The voice was peppered with sugar and even on the verge of being song-like. Yet he unwillingly found himself holding back from strangling the speaker as he turned, glaring. "No," the very answer was sudden, so sudden in fact that he had even surprised himself.
How will that get you to find a place of shelter?
The speaker, a feminine Zora-both genders looked alike to him so the thing could be a male- gave a chuckle. It was rather unnerving and entirely unexpected. She laughed. Laughed. Usually people took offense to his usual, acidic tone. Reluctant and slightly irritated, he looked the fish over with a skeptical gaze. It looked like any other feminine fish of her kind, but her skin took on a golden hue as did her eyes. It was as if the very sun had given birth to her. Her scales were something out of the ordinary, while normal Zora scales gave off multiple colors in the water and certain lights, hers remained sun-kissed. Even the eyes were odd, a deep burgundy with the hint of gold. The irises were not as red as blood—his—but they were different nonetheless.
"Sorry, you just looked lost? Maybe troubled? I didn't mean to bother you," as she spoke, her head tentacles wiggled to and fro, and for some damn reason that was all he could focus on, head tentacles. "I'm the daughter of Ralis, my name is Rutela," she placed a webbed hand on her bare chest, "If you need me…"
His attention dropped from there and his thoughts scattered on the verge of mild insanity. Ralis and Rutela, he'd heard of those names before long ago. It was a beautiful tragedy, a queen and a mother's death and a son's life on the verge of death. It would have been exquisite if only the "Hero" hadn't stepped in and ruined it all. Oh, but the daughter, child of Ralis!
"And I'm sure you can ask anyone else for help as well. We're all very friendly, I promise!"
He refrained from blinking, portraying confusion, and practically anything else that would have given him away to the fact that he hadn't listened to a single thing she had blabbered. Nevertheless, Link did catch onto the word "help" like his very life depended on it. "Actually," he began, eyes finally lifted away from her head tentacles, "I was wondering if Zoras offered shelter? I've travelled quite a ways and have grown rather exhausted from building a makeshift tent here and there. It would be nice to settle for a day or two."
The appearance of pity was almost murderous. At that moment he didn't know what angered him more, pity or judgment. Her golden smile had withered into a look of despair. Why, if he didn't know any better, he would have believed she felt that it was her fault that he had a tiring traveler's life. "Of course. I'm sure my father would be more than happy to make accommodations for you," Rutela gave a nod as if to reassure herself, and the smile bounced right back as if it had never faltered at all, "Would you like to meet him in person, the King of Zoras?"
Another giggle.
Link would have visibly cringed at the bouncing laughter… would have; however, the notion of visiting royalty made him giggle. Just that one thought made the guilt that had lovingly clung to him vanish.
Yes, he'd be more than happy to meet the beloved King of Zoras.
He'd be delighted.
With a crack, the single, wooden door slammed open with such noise that it gave the princess of Hyrule a fright. She stood from her chair, twirled madly in her skirts to find the noisy culprit, but as she turned on her naked heels did she jump back. Frustration, clear betrayal, and something else met her head-on. The man's face was like an open book as he lunged at her, Zelda expected the immediate reason without even a glance to the document that was clutched tightly by his pale fingers.
"What is the meaning of this?" However she did not expect his tone. Hesitantly, she took a larger step back from her writing desk and the heavily breathing male, moving delicately as if not wishing to scare the man off. Truth be told, she had gotten to know the man ever since their proper greeting after the Twilight Mirror shattered, but she'd never seen him like this.
"Zelda."
"Why are you so bent out of shape over—"
"I asked you and you—"
"Link, there was and is nothing—"
"It's my duty as a He—"
She slammed her fist down on the edge of the writing desk that she had been working on for the past four hours. For the love of Din, there were more things to deal with other than the Kakariko Massacre. Preparations, trials, investigations, and so much more necessary things to where she didn't have time to deal with a worn out… worn out…
Exhausted hero.
"It was your duty, Link. Was," the princess clicked her tongue, stabbed her finger at the writing desk's face with each word. She didn't even have to guess on which emotion would flood his face next as he clutched the article to his chest.
Despair. Denial.
"Hyrule needs me just as she always has." It was becoming something of a prayer. She'd heard it time and time again whenever something seemingly dire happened in Hyrule. Link always insisted on fixing it, poured his heart and soul into it, and each time he returned, he seemed more out of it the next. Hyrule could breathe without her hero always stepping into even the smallest of matters. Yes, the massacre was not a small event, but it wasn't the work of an oncoming darkness and that was another reason why the princess had refrained from informing the Hero.
"Not with this. My people have lived through countless tragedies without the golden Hero. We can live through this."
"Are you saying not to worry over a village's death?"
"Of course not, but you cannot do anything about it. There is no evidence that it was a force of darkness, there is no evidence to any known individual, and therefore there is no need for your heroic actions. Let me and my soldiers deal with this because like it or not, Hyrule cannot always count on her Hero. Yes, the event was an incredible tragedy, and I am doing everything in my power to find out who or what did this."
The princess glared in a childish manner, brows furrowed as her small nose scrunched up in a rather comical manner, but the Hero saw nothing humorous. Instead, he saw betrayal. It was a small act, yes, but it meant dearly to him. Without his title he felt alone. Without his name he felt nonexistent. Without his task as a Hero he felt useless. Of course, if he spoke these despairing thoughts aloud then the princess would shoo them away with a wag of her finger. She would blame it on his year long journey in Twilight, how the events had been traumatic, and all that goat shit.
He'd heard it numerous times.
"Just let me help, I—"
Zelda raised a dainty hand, glared, "As I have said, Hyrule cannot always count on her Hero, Link. If we keep relying on you, you might go insane, or worse… never come back from a journey. Besides, if you keep flaunting around and acting as the Hero then the people will start to use and abuse your name. They will not desire to do anything for themselves, offensive or defensive. They need to stand up for themselves because you are not immortal and you will not be around to help for all eternity. The Goddesses gifted you to Hyrule for protection when darker times showed themselves and as far as I am concerned, we just have some lunatic running amok. There is no darkness, no Ganon, no Zant, nothing. Now drop this conversation and leave my residence. I have work to do," with that she turned her back, skirts twirled and nipped at her ankles, "Go back to protecting the streets, fields, Ordon and enjoying life as it is."
Reluctance. At her words he wanted to scream, shout, cry, throw a childish tantrum, but in the end he obeyed. Reluctantly he turned his own back to the princess and unwillingly left without another word. How could he when he was feeling so much ferocity to the point of actually desiring something to whack at with his blade? The very thought made him sick to his stomach. Was he that angry over something so… so what? Small, large, sporadic? He shook his head as he continued sulking down the castle halls. She'd told him to go back to protecting his village that he had left, his home, but in reality Hyrule was his home, more so than anyone else's.
He couldn't blame his anger on princess Zelda. She did not know what he had to go through to save her and the kingdom. She did not lose someone precious to her. She did not battle the mindset of a blue-eyed beast. In truth, all she ever did was—all she ever does—sit and chatter.
The thrones towered into the white void of a sky, reached so far up to the point where the backs of the magnificent chairs seemed to never end. Golden as they were, each surface glistened with a bit of "something." The appearances seemed to gain a sort of spirit within them for the first shifted with angry fires, the second shimmered like water, and the third moved like the leaves of a tree. Still, the chairs were gold.
Atop the three thrones that reflected that of the land's elements, three women of white flesh and obsidian eyes leaned forward within their conversation. Their long gowns were of silk, colored to replicate the many colors that glistened amongst their chairs. The attire fitted nicely, hugging the bosom while flowing out about the body in the act of mimicking a waterfall. Oh, but their hair, all long and curled, but each with a different attitude. The first's hair was a fiery, wild mess of strands that poked this way and that, and it seemed to hold a bit of liveliness to it at the ends for they shifted like flames. The second's was a soft, gentle blue that waved down the shoulders and back, curled around the arms and legs. The third's was a dark green that fell to the floor, separate strands claiming different paths like that of vines on a tree's flesh.
"But he is only a child," remarked the third, the green-haired maiden.
"A child who is extremely dangerous and liable to end everything that we've created," replied the first, the red-head.
The second, the woman of blue, held back her words. An elbow rested on her armchair, fingers tapped against her snowy lips, and her coal eyes wandered from the women before her, she considered. The topic at hand had been reaching this point for quite a while, but at the time not one had desired to speak out the issue until now. The sudden change was from the red-head, Din, who was gradually losing patience. "But what of his origin? His soul is tied with Sister Farore," the woman of blue gestured with a nod of her head to the woman of green.
"That is irrelevant. There can only be one Chosen Hero, Sister Nayru. Even if this child is a mere remnant, it is going to tamper with the balance," din grumbled in turn.
"This is true, but the child is still a part of the Hero; therefore, it can do no harm… as long as it remains in the correct mindset."
"Clearly it has fallen from that."
"Perhaps, but take a second look at it. It's crying out, begging for life to give it a second chance. Do you not hear it, see it? It's struggling to remain intact, inside and out, but the reject of the Triforce continues to twist its mind, body, and soul. If we were to take this reject out, perhaps the balance would remain as is. There is no way that there could be two Heroes, this child is a remnant and nothing more. It will amount to nothing."
"Either way, it does not matter. The reject is trying to go against the Hero. Sister Farore's Hero will definitely end such a disgusting and disgraceful existence."
