[A/N]: Sick. Again. I'm taking the time out of my two day's break to bring you, well, this. Haha. There are probably a few mistakes, and I'm sorry if I ramble in places. I've been reading Twig Collin's A Long, Hard Road. So I went into heavy detail in the same way she does without even realizing it. Regardless, I'm just glad to be uploading again, even though Finals/Tests are on the very near horizon.
Also, I know I've got some unanswered questions that are driving people crazy. I'm trying to address them as quickly as possible, so just hold tight. Hopefully this chapter helps though.
Disclaimer: LoZ isn't mine, same as usual, story is.
Warnings: Violence, Rambling, Swearing, Mild Slash.
When Link finally took the Master Sword in hand, finally felt the thrum of power, a power that sang like stars on a clear, cool night, he realized that what he was doing was right. Learning the way of the blade, of magic, of the history he had been shielded from all his life, this was how this was all supposed to play out. This was his destiny, his responsibility. It was his duty to catch up, because he'd fallen so far behind, and that was, as of now, unacceptable. He wasn't sure just how he knew, but he suspected that it had something to do with the way the hairs on the nape of his neck curled as he gave the Master Sword an experimental swing. How he suddenly felt like his shoulders could hold up the world if he so wished, how every muscle and tendon in his body pulled taut across a rippling framework of bones. Link felt empowered, reborn, like a tiny, cooing phoenix chick rising from the ashes once more.
All thanks to the sword hanging loosely in his palm, instinctively assuming its position as an extension of his arm.
He knew Sheik was watching him, watching the sword as he lifted, struck, albeit clumsily, feeling the weight and roll of the blade as he adjusted his grip on the hilt and tried again. Crimson eyes burned into him as he cut his weight to the left and rolled, transitioning into a lethal slice immediately after. As he leapt from his position on the ground and, somehow, spun himself in the air to deliver a blow that would strike not once, but twice before his toes touched ground once more. Unwilling to stay still for long, to lose the sudden empowerment, Link struck once more, twisting and spinning, leaping, dropping low and then doing it all over again as he sharpened his techniques into a fine point. Sweat poured down his brow despite the chill of the air, the rock and stone all around them making for a cool environment. He ignored it in favor of experimentation, trying to combine his attacks, imagining in his minds eye that an entire squadron, perhaps the one that had taken them earlier in the week, that he was taking them down, one by one, effortlessly winning...
A noise caught his attention, a sound of bravado originating from Sheik's position, and all too quickly the power and strength Link had obtained sliding off him like a sheet. The sweat that had accumulated on his palm suddenly became too much, and in an awkward show of clumsiness, Link tripped over his own feet, the Master Sword slipping from his fingertips even as he reached out to catch it.
Chin smashing into rock, the blond saw stars, teeth grinding as he tried to open his eyes, but was afraid, afraid to see the millions of shiny, glass mirrors that the Master Sword had become on impact...
But when he opened his eyes, the sword lay in one perfect, radiant piece, glowing dimly in the darkness of the tunnel. The ground beneath it seemed to pulse, the life and energy of the sword breathing essence into even the most insentient of things.
He reached out to it, recovering the sword, fingers sliding over precious metal, eyes scrutinizing for even the tiniest slight. But he found nothing, and when at last he let out a sigh of relief, he realized that Sheik had been speaking the entire time.
Turning, he smiled bashfully, "Sorry, what was that?"
"I said," Sheik began, stepping closer to help the blond up, and Link wondered just when the man had gotten so close, "that you're amazing. It's almost as if the sword was guiding you, telling you exactly what to do. Like you and it were one being, like it was... ah..." Trailing off, Sheik scratched the back of his neck before continuing, "Don't take this the wrong way, please. But... it was almost as if the Master Sword had taken control of you."
"Really?" Link breathed, a smile ghosting across his face, "Sounds pretty preposterous to me. I mean, it's just a sword, right?... Right?" Smile dissipating, he looked to the blade in his hand, felt what could only be compared to a heartbeat against his skin.
Like a living thing.
"I... I don't..."
"Just don't think about it, Link. What's it matter if the sword, well, no, the sword is not controlling you. It's impossible, I mean, it's just a piece of steel. There's no soul in there, nothing to worry about." Eyes lighting up in a grin, Sheik clapped his hands together once more, all worry gone from the features of his face, "Right, nothing to worry about. You're just a natural, that's all. And by the Gods was I impressed. If you could have seen yourself... amazing. Just amazing."
Link was a blushing mess, stammering beneath Sheik's gaze as he looked away, "Ha, that good, huh? I was just, uh, doing what I felt like doing. I'm sure it was far from great."
"Yeah. Nothing too superb." Nearly laughing at the way Link's jaw dropped, Sheik went on to say, "But for someone whose never held a sword before, it was quite impressive. Now," reaching for the blade at his hip, the General unsheathed it and took on a defensive stance, "come at me, let me see what you can really do."
And Link did, charging forward with everything he had. The Master Sword splicing the air in two, swinging hard and true, but Sheik meet him halfway, their blades converging with a sound reminiscent to the crashing of waves. Each man strained, trying to overpower the other, even though Sheik's sword was smaller, inferior. The older blond was holding back though, by leagues, and leagues, giving the shorter man the advantage, trying to coax him out of his shell as he leapt back, sword crossed over his chest in invitation. In seconds Link was upon him once more, only stumbling slightly as he met Sheik's downward arc with a clumsy counter, pushing back as best as he could. When the broke once more, they circled, Sheik's voice the only parallel to their panting as he tried to coached the other man on what to do next.
"Your form is weak," He tried, voice nonchalant, nearly casual as he smacked Link's side with the flat of his blade in passing. "I could easily knock that sword out of your hand." And to accentuate his point, he twisted, turning back to meet Link halfway, the tip of his sword already in the circle of Link's arms, dangerously snug against his wrist, "See? All I have to do now," flicking his hand to the side, and then up, he forced the Master Sword from Link's grip and watched as it clattered to the ground, "is that. Easy. Now, pick it up and try again, and for the love of the Nayru, tighten your defense a bit."
Next was his response time, how, compared to Sheik, Link seemed to move at a pace that was comparable to slow motion, as if his body had been dunked underwater, and its effects had yet to leave him. Sheik pressed closer and closer, his blade a flash as he tried to get the blond to respond, forcing him on the defensive, keeping him on his toes as he worked them backwards, step by step.
"Keep your environment in mind at all times as well, Link. Know the walls, floors, ceilings, note the space you have, and keep your back out of the corner at all costs." But even as he said it, Link felt the kiss of stone grazing his back, and as his eyes met Sheik's stern, reprimanding gaze, he only narrowly avoided the blow that had been aimed at his head.
They continued to fight, the General controlling the situation entirely, deciding when and where they were, and just who was holding the offensive and defensive. He left many openings, but noticed that Link seemed almost afraid to take them. And even when he blatantly left his guard down, the blond's attempts to unarm him were, at best, pathetic. It was obvious how training the man was going to take a lot of time and effort, and at this point, Sheik wasn't sure he would ever, truly, be ready for the daunting task of taking on the Dark Lord himself. But despite the fact that things were looking very bleak indeed, he would not let himself fall into self-pity, and would do anything and everything he could for the small, blond creature standing before him.
Because that crystalline, sapphire gaze would haunt him forever if he didn't.
Their swords met once more, edges shrieking against one another, sparks flying as they held, a tempestuous storm of sound and colors ricocheting before them as neither gave the other the advantage. Both unwilling to give up...
Link breathed deeply, pulled back ever so slightly, and brought the Master Sword down once more, the clanging of metal grating vehemently against his eardrums.
He heard them long before he saw them, the clash of metal, the sting of sweat on the air, the heavy panting that accompanied their efforts as they danced a very lethal, very brutal dance.
'Good. That means they're taking me, and the threat of the Twilight, seriously. And Link... he'll be training to defeat me. To wrench me from my throne.'
The thought alone gave him a sick, twisted thrill as he continued down the path. Steps slow, sure. All the time in the world, that's what he had. Because he owned this plain, this world, this universe, and nothing they did or learned or said could take that from him. So he walked with those sure footed, deliberate steps, listening to the cries echoing off shelves of rock. Fingers itching at his sides, he considered his next move, seeing as how he couldn't just walk out on two armed men and expect them not to do, well, something. There was always the chance that they'd get brave and try to rush him, or perhaps even flee, battle all but forgotten on the heels of their horse. Only, he almost laughed, he knew they'd never make it far in either situation. Not against him, not when he was their opponent.
He'd been well acquainted with the Sheikah for many years, and was well aware of all the tactics he may or may not have chosen to use. They'd all been laid out for him in battle, and all he'd had to do was watch, learn...
From that alone he'd cataloged the way the man moved, how he fought, the twist and turn of his spine as he swung for another opponent. From the way he threw spells to the glare in his eye, to even the harsh, ragged way he breathed when the battle had been lost. The lost, glazed look in his eyes as he fought blindly, the only one left standing...
Battle experience had taught him much, but it hadn't taught him everything. But he'd taken care of that, on one particular excursion, one that had resulted in an absolute slaughter, a blood bath that, once again, ended with the General mourning the loss of hundreds. The Sheikah had been weak and defenseless in those times, the rage overpowered by the sorrow, and all he'd had to do was hold him down, and it was all over...
Yes, that victory had been the sweetest. There was something in an all-out domination that made even the marrow of his bones warm in pleasure. He'd taken over the battlefield, destroyed everything and everyone, from the plants to the creatures of the planet, to the soldiers who had fought so valiantly, despite being outnumbered, and despite the debilitating disadvantage. And then, when it had all been over... He'd destroyed the Sheikah, too.
Said man's voice echoed in his ear, words of praise, of approval, of criticism as the clash of steel saturated the air. Following it was a grumble, intelligible from even here, and the Dark Lord stopped, briefly, to ponder over Link as well.
There was no telling how powerful the man might have become since they'd last met. And even though it had been a very, very short span of time indeed, he'd heard of greater feats. Of men who, in three short days, had saved the world...
It didn't help that those men were ancestors to Link.
It was safe to say that the Sheikah had probably taught him magic by now, and by the sounds he was hearing, Link wasn't exactly a lightweight with a sword. But then again...
"Lift your sword higher and actually try, would you? Come at me like you mean it, I'm not your friend right now, I'm your opponent, so fight me."
And only the breath of a second later, "You're too slow, I almost killed you with that one!"
How they expected a man like Link to be proficient in the ways of battle he didn't know, but the anger and frustration was palpable in the air, and he was certain it wasn't just the General getting angry.
But what was Link really capable of now? If he appeared before them, sword drawn, and charged, would the blond be able to hold him off?
A sword clattered to the floor, and Link's stammering, impatient apologies told him that no, no he could not fight him, not equally, not yet...
But refused, after the trouble of coming all this way, to simply leave. He had to scare the two a bit, teach them that he was not a man to be messed with. And they would know, they would know that they had crossed him wrong, and that the progression of Link's abilities were not acceptable. He wasn't learning fast enough, and the days of siege and heavy war were on the very horizon itself. There wasn't time to waste. And the Dark Lord refused to simply take, he wanted a challenge, wanted this final war to be his finest, and that would require an opponent who wouldn't drop their sword and apologize, of all things.
And if they refused to listen, he'd take him back and teach the man himself. He'd done it once, he could do it again. There was nothing the General could do to stop him.
But having Link around, in these days, would be problematic at best...
Not to mention that, if it were him teaching the blond, all the techniques would be familiar, would be his own. And where was the fun in a battle of mirrors?
Regardless, it was no longer the time for thoughts and worries, it was a time for action, and he would bring his point across, even if he had to bring it across the curve of Link's throat.
Their faces, when he finally stepped from the shadows, were nothing short of horrified.
All the power and confidence he'd obtained from the Master Sword in those first few swings were lost upon the General. Yes, Sheik had receded, leaving only the battle-hardened beast of a man who, at this point, had been nothing short of malicious. Having a blade at his throat at all times was a bit frightening, not to mention that the speed with which the General moved was completely out of his range. One second the man would be at his side, swooping in to force him on the defensive, and the next he would be, of all things, above him, meaning to cleave his skull in two. It took everything Link had to block and dodge, sweat pouring from him in rivulets that clung to his clothing, made it easier, after a few minutes, to move without the brush of clothing against his side. He found their brawl to be counterproductive though, seeing as how he was doing nothing but defending. When would Sheik finally reappear, and slow, and back away, giving him the chance to move in and practice the offensive? Wasn't it more important to know how to kill, that to know how to avoid being killed?
At this point, he wasn't sure. But it was safe to say that their dual was not one that would end well. Because Link was slowly, but steadily growing tired, his muscles and limbs unused to such strenuous acts, his breath catching in his throat in a moment of panic because, in moments, he knew the Master Sword was going to fly from his grip. There had been other times, where the sweat in his hand had become too much and Link had had to dive, trying to catch the blade and readjust himself while at the same time rolling to avoid the demon at his back.
This time though, it was different, so very different.
All too suddenly his hand was cold, the warmth and breath of the Master Sword gone, and all he could do was watch as it hit the floor. And at his side, coming in much too fast, he could feel the General's power, his blade, ready to slice clean through him. And all he could do was raise his arms up, staring death in the face as the General prepared to mow him down...
But the moment never came, and save for the sting of steel on the heel of his hand, he felt nothing. All the anger, the frustration, the pure fury of battle, it was all gone. It was as if the room had been filtered, leaving behind nothing but fatigue, and a weary Sheikah, who was presently staring down at him with gentle, approving eyes.
"I must say, you're quite good with defense, even when I'm try my damnedest to frustrate the hell out of you."
Link's eyes widened, "Wait, what? That was... were you testing me?"
"Pretty much. And you passed!" Though Sheik's eyes were smiling, Link was not. He had put everything he had into their fight, and it had only been a test. Not to mention that he hadn't even had the chance to fight back. And Sheik was looking like there wasn't a problem with the world, like everything was just... perfect. But no matter how hard he tried, he knew he would never forget the shards of ice that had been in those otherwise blazing eyes. How, in a word, frightened, he'd been. And it was only now that he realized he was shaking.
Sheik's expression dropped after a moment, realizing that Link was not returning the jubilation. Brow drawing low, he leaned down a bit and put his hand on the man's shoulder, looking concerned, "Hey, you alright?"
Link didn't answer, his only response at all the pooch in his lip as he pouted.
"Look," Sheik continued, placing his other hand on the man's other shoulder, his body blocking everything else from view, "I know I was a bit harsh, but that's how battle is. You can't expect, say, the Dark Lord, to go easy on you. I just wanted to see if you could do it. And you can! So don't look at me like that, you're making me feel like I just kicked your puppy or something."
Leaning further down, he met Link's eyes, coming so close that those icy optics filled his world. "Come on, Link. Smile. Just think about the future, and how badly you're going to kick my ass once you learn all the ropes." Still nothing, and Sheik sighed, moving his hands from shoulders to cheeks, pressing deep as he contorted Link's face in a ridiculous manner. That made the smaller blond grin and pull away, laughing despite himself. And Sheik reached out to him once more, chuckling a bit, "You're something else, Link. I'll give you that."
Sheik didn't realize, until it was much too late, that he'd moved into a very dangerous zone. The body pressed against his own in what was a somewhat awkward, well, hug, was much too warm, and he couldn't help but wonder when the last time he'd held someone so close had been. Months? Years? It wasn't anytime soon, that was for sure. And perhaps, it was even the Princess herself who had been the last to wrap her arms around him. But Link was naïve, adorably so at that, and the fact that this was the General he was coddling meant nothing to him, was nothing but a useless fact as he pressed his nose into Sheik's chest and sighed.
But he knew, and he also knew that, as Link pressed closer, he couldn't resist placing his arms around him, fingers digging ever so slightly into the man's shoulder blades. And as they simply stood there, a flash of light caught Sheik's eyes, and he saw that the Master Sword lay, forgotten, at their feet. And that the blade, somehow, seemed to be glaring at him. A wave of panic swept over him, and he quickly pushed away, looking guilty as he avoided that blond's inquisitive gaze.
Link was pure, and innocent, and to be hugging him, to be running his hands over that smooth, corded back... He felt the blood rush to his cheeks, and he mentally slapped himself. This was their Hero, for Din's sake. To touch him in such a way, and to think of touching him in such a way... it was wrong, it was sick. He was too corrupted for the man, much too so, and to hold him so easily...
"Sheik?"
Link's gaze was wrought with insecurity, wondering if he'd done something wrong, perhaps. His hand was extended, reaching out in question to the other man, trying to sooth a wound he hadn't known he'd caused. The General pushed him away though, stepping backwards to put as much space between them as possible, to at least feel like there was a wall of pure professionalism between them. One that wouldn't be broken down by those pure, navy eyes...
Their guard was down for perhaps a second, but that's all it had taken. Link was unarmed, Sheik was shaken, mind temporarily restarting as he tried to throw up all the walls he had created. But it was too late, and at the same time, too soon.
Too soon for the Dark Lord to be slithering out of the shadows, the glow of crimson eyes befitting of Satan emanating from beneath the hood thrown over his head.
It took Sheik a moment to get over the shock, but immediately he dropped into a defensive stance, pushing Link behind him as he did so, "What are you doing here?"
"Ah, my apologies for interrupting your little... well, I wouldn't call it a training session. More like a one-sided beat-down if you ask me. Is this how you train all your little ones, General?"
"I suggest," Sheik growled, "that you leave before it's too late. You made a very crucial mistake, coming here without your army."
"I don't need an army to crush a couple of insects," the Dark Lord sneered, looking past the crook in the General's arm to pin Link with his intense gaze, "though, I've got a few things I'd like to do beforehand. If you wouldn't mind, Sheikah."
A sharp, cold weight flew past the Dark Lord's cheek, smacking against the wall behind him and bouncing, clattering, to land at his feet once more. He stared down at the dagger idly, completely unconcerned, "If that's all you've got to throw at me then I suppose I really have wasted my time in coming here."
"Why are you here?" Link called out, bringing his voice into the argument for the first time. His question had the opposite effect of that which he wanted, seeing as how the Dark Lord only grinned, too distracted by the tremor in the man's voice to address the question.
"How's the sword work coming, Link? Tell me, do you think you actually stand a chance against me now? Or maybe I've overestimated you, maybe I should have kept you instead... Was I wrong in letting you escape?"
Sheik blinked in confusion, speaking, but never taking his eyes off the man across from him, "Link... what's he talking about?"
"I... I tried to tell you. You wouldn't listen, no one would listen, even if I tried. But you... I... I didn't..."
"What?" A crisp, cold laugh broke the tension, and the Dark Lord shook his head, "No, tell me he didn't! He hasn't told you yet?" Another storm of frigid laughter froze the two blond's, leaving them cold and frozen to the core. "Don't tell me, Sheikah, that you actually thought the little runt could get away on his own?" And to their horror, the man extended his arm, and from it came the same shadowy tendril of power that both men had come across at different times in their lives. It twisted like some sort of pseudo serpent, curled like a wisp of smoke, descending upon the Master Sword, but not touching, "He can't even hold a sword! How can you possibly expect such a -weakling-" His words were accentuated by the force behind his power as he drew the arm-like shadow back and threw it, smacking Sheik aside as if he were no more than a bug, leaving Link alone and helpless in the center of the cavern floor. Sheik hit the wall with a hair-curling splinter of bones, sliding listlessly to the floor as the arm pulled away, doubling back to return to Link...
Panic rose in the blond's eyes, his hands held up as if they could hold the man off... "I told you I would learn! I'm doing what you wanted me to! Why are you doing this? Why are you here?"
"I'm not exactly sure myself..." The Dark Lord whispered, but he was careful to keep the words from traveling to the man's ears, "But I suppose I just wanted to ensure that my generosity was not being taken advantage of."
And maybe, just maybe, he was bored. Bored of spending his days in a castle, making sieges that resulted in treasures that, in the long run, meant nothing.
But not this one. Not this one.
None of this he would say aloud though, and the Dark Lord only laughed his husky, terrible laugh as he snatched Link up and lifted, throwing him effortlessly into the air.
And Link could only scream as he was mercilessly thrown about, the ceiling of the sloping tunnel above him cracking his skull with every blow, the floor destroying his shoulders as he fell, fingers scrabbling for the Master Sword that was so tantalizingly close, but yet, so far away... Peripheral vision told him that Sheik was staggering to his feet, not yet broken, and that he was very, very angry. The General had returned, and in his eyes Link could see, as he was thrown past, that there was a war to be won.
Rounding on the tentacle, Sheik did all he could in hopes of severing it. Plumes of fire lit up the tunnels, scoring the shadows in hopes of destroying them completely. But all he managed to do aid the Dark Lord himself, whose body was swallowed in the smoke and, as it cleared, had disappeared.
"Follow the arm!" Link cried out, only seconds before his head met the ceiling once more, and stars erupted before his eyes. So bright and concentrated that he could do nothing but clench his eyes against them, fighting a wave of sickness as he struggled to wriggle his way free.
Fire singed the walls of the tunnels, licking the floor and tasting the air in search of the shadow man, reaching, clawing. Armed with his sword, Sheik darted into the shadows down the hall, but found nothing, and Link's shouts quickly brought him back. He didn't want to leave the man alone, but he had to find the Dark Lord, had to stop him before something else went terribly, horribly wrong. But all too soon the creature made itself known once more, having been preparing in the shadows, lurking, waiting for Sheik to place himself in the right spot...
The floor disappeared from beneath him, feet thrown high over his head as he was upended, sword waving frantically as he tried to sever what he knew could not be destroyed. Fire erupted from his palms, the sword falling from his grip as he pushed every hope and prayer he had into Din...
But nothing seemed to work, and the shadows themselves were unaffected. It made no sense, but as he watched, horrified, he realized that they were hardly shadows at all, and really, were nothing but the pure essence of tainted spirit. He had nothing to fight against such things, and he was sure no one else did either. All he could do was struggle and fire blindly, because at the very least, if he couldn't fight off the shadows, he could burn the Dark Lord to a crisp.
Far below, Link was dropped, finally, and left alone. Sheik could see him struggling to heave himself up, but a booted foot planted itself on his lower back, and they all knew it was over. There was no way for Sheik to pry himself loose, for his hands passed right through the tentacles attached to him. How they held him aloft he didn't know, but he didn't care. All he was concerned with was the coughing, heaving man laying in the floor, and the fact that the Dark Lord had him right where he wanted him...
Sheik tried and failed to scare the man off with fire, the flames falling around them likes comets out of a night sky. But there was a discernible distance there, where Sheik was too afraid to aim, fearing he would hurt Link in the process.
'Did you actually think this weakling could escape on his own?'
Had he... Was it true? Had Link... had he been lucky? If not then... how had he escaped?
And Link... Link could do nothing but scratch at the floor, trying to wrench himself away from the cold weight sliding against his back. His lungs full of dirt and his mouth full of blood. Eyes wild, heart beating so fast it nearly leapt from the cage that imprisoned it when the Dark Lord leaned down, down... breath hitting his ear as the man smiled, "Got you."
Wanting to sob, Link bit back the choking pain rising in his chest and reached instead for the Master Sword, despite the fact that it lay many, many feet away. At least, in his final moments, it would be remembered that he tried to fight back. Because there was no one to save him, no one to hear his shouts of anger and disbelief as he scrambled for purchase, trying to get away... As the Dark Lord's hands descended, holding him down by his shoulders, but moving, always moving, ruffling through his hair and curling into his skin, squeezing bruises and cuts that bled and oozed beneath his fingers.
"Please... stop... I promised... you promised...!"
"You should know better than to believe everything I say, kiddo."
Breath tickled the hair at his ear, and Link turned away, sending off one final prayer as he turned to his final option. Biting his tongue, he concentrated, remembering the aura that had graced him earlier that day, the very same one that had set his soul on fire...
It was dangerous, incredibly risky, and he was sure that all he would manage was a spark. But... it wasn't a spark. To his delight, it was anything but.
And, to his credit, the effect was what saved them.
The Dark Lord's initial shock had him staggering, sending him off balance just enough for Link to breathe once more, his hands alight with fire as he set his clothes ablaze. He wasn't sure how he managed to do it, but at least the Dark Lord couldn't touch him anymore. And with his sudden advantage, all he had to do was crawl a few feet away, make it to his sword, fight back.
But the flames on his body spread quickly, completely engulfing him, and Sheik's orders for him to roll dammit! were completely ignored as he scrabbled, held strong, and snatched up the Master Sword.
In this moments, before he collapsed completely, Link was a picture of perfection. His bright blue eyes just as fiery as the plumes of flame flickering around him. Face set in determination, knees low, perhaps just a tad shaky. The sword in his hand shining like a star, illuminating the entire cavern.
All too soon though, the picture was broken, and Link dropped, choking on the air itself as he tried to rid himself of the fire. Laughter filled his senses as he did so, cheeks burning as he patted the flames out, trying to dull the roar that was steadily burning right down to the thick undergarments he wore. Taking Sheik's advice, he rolled and rolled, but the Master Sword made him clumsy, and he had no choice but to simply wait for the flames to burn themselves out somehow.
And the Dark Lord only sneered, completely amused by the display, stepping forward to push the blond back. Link staggered and fell, the sword clattering to the ground once more, but the flames were gone, flickering once, twice, then disappearing completely. He wasn't sure what the man had done, but it had worked, and now... once more...
"Link, run! Do something! Don't just sit there and wait!"
But what could he do? What could he do?
He'd snatched the Master Sword up, but he knew it wouldn't save him. He hardly knew how to handle the thing, not to mention that the Dark Lord had already drawn his own blade, had it aimed for the crook of his neck, which stood out so prominently in the darkness. And suddenly, his sorrow was only pronounced by anger, and a sudden impatience aimed at the man before him.
"Why are you waiting? Just kill me already!"
"Link!" Sheik's voice, strained and cruel as he hung helplessly from the ceiling, daggers useless, everything useless, unable to bring himself to attack when Link was so close... He'd missed his only chance, overcome by shock, and now all he could do was watch.
The shadows beneath Link rippled, lifting him once more, bringing him up, up, up and trapping the Sword of Evil's Bane against his side. It was everything he had to breath, and terror rose in him as the Dark Lord sidled close, eyes half-mast, grin crooked and just barely visible beneath the hood covering his face...
And all Link wanted was for someone, anyone, to save him. Because, he knew, he knew, he could not manage it on his own. Not now. Later, but not now. He was too weak, too young...
And like a prayer answered, he felt his lungs seize, filling with air as he was released, body crumpling to the floor as he struggled to deal with the chaos around him. Eyes traveling upwards, hands rubbing at his neck, he saw a figure standing before him. And while Sheik's name was already on his tongue, he realized that something was... different. Because... because?
It wasn't Sheik who had freed him from the bone crushing pressure around him, or Sheik who kept him the Dark Lord at bay. Nor was it Sheik who laughed in the face of the man, completely immune to the glares and the crackling fissure of hate brewing around him.
It was Midna.
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