Breaking the Mold (III)

Though storm clouds had rolled through the healing land of Hyrule, none were ever as dark as those during the last battle.

Gentle blankets of rain fell constantly, the heaven's tears cleansing the earth. The war-torn nation closed their borders. For just under a month, Hyrule was isolated from the rest of the world as the formerly golden land mourned.

Nearly a moon cycle had passed since one-third of the Triforce had been returned to the Goddess Din. Zelda stared out the window at the quiet, soothing rain. The rhythmic tap of water against glass settled her chaotic thoughts as she moved from her perch to her desk.

Silence reined as she slowly made her way across the office. Despite weeks of surgeries and potions, her injuries were not entirely healed. The weakness strained her patience far more than the pain.

Impa drew a slow, heavy breath as she watch the Queen take her seat.

Her heart hurt.

The days following Ganondorf's defeat, Zelda had slept little and rested even less. Despite her injuries, the young woman had refused to remain in bed.

This restlessness, however, was not what concerned the Sheikah. While her own injuries had been painful, most had healed rather quickly due to their magical origin.

No, what concerned her was the silence.

Other than to address the country, Zelda did not speak. Not verbally, nor mentally. A constant hum normally resonated through the bonds normally told Impa the other woman was at least thinking.

There was only silence.

There were no whimpers in her fitful sleep, nor screams as she woke from what was clearly a nightmare.

Her nightmares were something she did not want to consider. Aware of Impa's train of thought, Zelda kept her eyes on her papers. When she sighed, no sound escaped her throat. She laid a bandaged hand atop her cracked her sternum, grimacing briefly.

Pain fluttered like butterflies between her more extensive injuries, a sensation she did not voice. The gouges in her back and the tears on her thighs would take nearly as long as her bones to heal.

And yet she still continued to work. Her splinted arm barely hindered her writing as she slowly dragged the quill over the scroll. Her bandaged fingers never shook as she carefully wrote her name and titles along the bottom of the parchment.

"Zelda," she heard Link say as he entered the room. She lifted her hooded eyes and stared at him with nonchalance.

Having grown accustomed to her silence, Link sat in the chair opposite her desk and gently hovered his hand over hers. He watched her emotionless eyes flicker for a moment before becoming lifeless once more. "How are you?" he asked, catching and holding her gaze.

Suppressed words threatened choked her as Zelda shook her head and gestured to the paperwork before smiling tightly. She continued to meet his stare, knowing he knew…and praying he would say nothing.

"Okay then?" When she nodded, he exhaled slowly and folded both hands in his lap. He glanced at the Guards and Impa, waiting.

Only when they hesitantly left the room, faint hope trailing behind them, he turned his focus to her once more.

"Zelda...we can't help you if you don't speak," he murmured. He watched her shake her head, mouthing "no words". "Yes you do. I know you."

When she shook her head, she blinked back tears.

Why wouldn't – couldn't – they understand?

"It's all right to grieve," he told her as he brushed his fingertips over her cheek. When she flinched away, he placed his hands in his lap once more.

The threat was clear in her eyes as she glare at him. She shook her head once more, aggravated by his insistence – by all of them.

"You don't want to grieve?" He waited for her to nod before sighing. "It wasn't your fault."

It was, she thought to herself before clenching her eyes shut. She would make not a single sound, not even in her own mind.

Link frowned as he watched her fall deeper into her depressive numbness.

"Selective muteness," he recalled one of the castle's healer telling him, "is something a person may not have control over in the beginning. In the case of Her Majesty, I assume the shock of the battle rendered her unable to process her emotions, leading to her silence unless it dealt with the country as a whole."

The healer had met his eyes. He had watched sad, knowing tears spill down the older man's cheeks as he whispered. "We can only assume what damage was done to her mind while she and the...beast were outside of time. What began as a defense, her silence, has possibly become a method of control. You know, as well as I and select few others, what horrors our Lady has faced.

"Link...what you must remember is that this is not a normal...episode. I am well aware that the Queen has allowed you to help her in the past. This is something you have never faced. Whatever is in her mind is something you cannot comprehend at the moment. I say this not to be cruel but to enforce the fact that she is wounded in a way most of us, even her Guardian, may never understand."

The Hero shook his head and turned his gaze to his friend once more, smiling sadly when he saw her curious, vulnerable eyes staring at him. "Yes, I'm thinking about you. No, I don't know what's going on. I don't understand why you won't or can't tell us what's wrong. But...I made a promise. I'll keep your secret." Again, he hovered a hand over hers.

Zelda slowly turned her uninjured hand so her palm faced his. She shivered as the heat of his skin seared her cold flesh. Her eyes fell to her desk once more in fearful submission. When her name, whispered at first then murmured with authority, reached her ears, she lifted her head as lightning tore through her veins. Her name, spoken with such love and sadness, wrapped bands of pain around her heart. She opened and closed her mouth in a fruitless attempt to convey her emotions.

When tears filled her eyes, Link felt his heart break. His rage at the one who broke her, now dead by her hand, became buried at the sight of her pain. "What did he do to you Zel?"

She slowly shook her head as her shoulders trembled with restrained sobs. "What did he tell you?" She listened to his quiet words as his fingers ran ever so gently on the scars covering her palms. She laced their fingers, desperate to stop the intimate touch. When he asked if the dead sorcerer hurt her during their last battle, she allowed her tears to fall. She squeezed his hand ever so softly.

"He tried?" the blond man asked, his voice nearly inaudible. The feel of her nails pressing against his knuckles told him the answer. "He tried to take you," he repeated in confirmation. "He tried and...failed?"

Impa watched from a hidden passage, her heart heavy as a mournful mewl escaped Zelda's pale, chapped lips. She leaned against the wall and closed her eyes and bit her tongue to remain silent. Now she knew...

And for once, she wished she didn't.

Link closed his eyes and brought Zelda's shaking hand to his lips, as a father would his frightened child's. "He failed Zel...he's gone, my dear sister. He can't hurt anyone again," he reassured her as she allowed the barest hint of sobs to flow from her choked throat.

Swallowing hard, he opened his eyes and released her hand. Slowly, so as not to break the spell of vulnerability which filled the room, he moved around the desk. He knelt beside the overstuffed chair and took her clammy hands in his once more.

"I promise, he can't hurt anyone again...not you, not me, not Hyrule...not anyone." He laid his head in her lap as her silence broke enough to allow the sounds of her pain to tear through his mind. Sobs of heart-wrenching agony mixed with moans of terror.

He had failed her.

Again.

Oh keta, Impa thought to herself as tears ran down her ashen cheeks. She could only imagine what had happened while her Charge and the demon king had been outside time and space. Her mind could barely wrap around the fact that no one except Zelda knew how long they had been gone.

In the past few weeks, she had rarely questioned why the Hylian woman had been dressed in only her under-armor. Giving the circumstances, losing her outer gown had been expected.

To know she had been unable to save the fragile woman in the room before her from the horror of attempted rape brought such grief to her that she became ill. Fleeing the passage, she fell to her knees as her body protested the truth.

Failure and grief churned within her, wracking her with shudders.

Once again, something had happened which caused Zelda to hide from her.

For the second—yet who knew if it was only the second—time, her Charge had been harmed in a way that she only felt comfortable sharing with Link.

Overwrought and lost within her tremulous heartbreak, she never saw her brethren flank the walls, offering what silent support they could.

Zelda clenched Link's hands in her once more as her control over the bond broke. Though she wouldn't allow Impa to feel her, she felt her Guardian. Her eyes filled with fresh tears as she bit her tongue in an attempt to regain her silence.

"You should sleep," Link told her as he raised his head to catch her gaze. When she shook her head and clenched her eyes closed as tightly as she gripped his hands, he kissed her knuckles once more. "I know it's difficult. But...you can't heal without sleep."

When he opened his eyes, he felt his heart skip a beat.

The look of utter devastation on her features told him more than words ever could.

Healing was something she would not comprehend, let alone experience, for a long while.

As he rose to stoke the fire, he vowed to himself that he would involve Impa somehow.

Time was of the essence.

[-]

After lunch three days later, while Her Majesity was preparing orders for borders to open once more, Link and a trusted healer approached Impa.

Without hesitation, the Hero and healer spoke, telling the lost Guardian how she could help her Charge. They explained with detail how the muteness was something even Zelda herself could not control and how she was more than likely as frightened by her silence as all of them.

When Impa left the meeting, her heart was heavy and her mind full.

But for the first time in a month, she felt as if there was something she could do.

Even if her safest course of action was to wait...

It was something.

[-]

Months passed slowly like summer clouds. As the season began to change, Zelda slowly withdrew from her silence. Though she spoke little, the sound of her voice was a balm to the wounded hearts of those around her.

The end of spring brought flowers to full bloom to the war-scarred land and summer filled the air with the perfume of fruit. Early fall turned the fragrant breezes to cooling blankets which wrapped around Hyrule, calming the burns left from war and interrupted life.

The market, newly repaired, was filled once more with people. Farmers, aristocrats, merchants and traveling sales-men mingled without disdain as coin and trade flowed like Lake Hylia's crystalline water through the crowded streets.

The merriment reached even the subdued castle. Though the Queen had continued to rides through the country when her body was healed enough to endure a horse's pounding gait across uneven terrain, her previous frequency was missing. None questioned her need for time to herself, nor did anyone press the matter when she no longer stayed for refreshments and celebration.

After all the country had been through, who would deny the Mother of their peaceful land time to recuperate?

Even the troublesome advisory fractions (officially known as the Council, Parliament, House of Lords and Ladies, Advisers) kept their comments to a minimum. How could they not, when she acted as Queen in every capacity? They had never approved of her frequent rides to the various races of Hyrule, so when it became commonplace for her to ride only once a week rather than nearly every day...they said nothing.

When foreign diplomats called upon the Queen of Hyrule for a formal meeting, she met each one with a smile and kind words. Though the politics were as ruthless as ever, she never spoke harshly or raised her voice.

Not even when they were wrong.

No, none of the governing bodies which balanced the Queen's power with the needs of Hyrule commented to anyone that she knew of about her continuation of silence. Without a reason to, for once, each person kept their opinions within their own circle, no longer criticizing her.

Yet the lack of comment from subjects and legal-men alike did nothing to keep Impa from worry. As she always had, she rode with Zelda to meet the people. She stood near at all times, as vigilant as ever.

As she stared out a window overlooking the market, Impa felt the weight of the last half-year age her. A broken sigh escaped her lips as she watched people bask in peace.

"I'm going to write," she heard Zelda say. She barely turned her head to catch the quiet words, knowing the brunette woman wanted privacy.

"I'll be here," Impa told her. A sad smile pulled at her lips as she watched the other woman in window's reflection.

Without another word, Zelda turned and walked down the corridor with slow, deliberate steps. She entered the double doors which led to their chambers, misery filling her heart.

I should be happy, she told herself as she made her way through the passage connecting the sitting room to her bedroom. When the heavy wooden door closed behind her, she leaned against it and took several deep breaths. After a moment of meditation, she slipped her shoes off and inched toward her bed. With deliberate quickness, she pulled a battered leather book from its hiding place and all but ran to Impa's room.

Though she hadn't asked, once again, her conscience whispered snidely, she curled in the corner of the Sheikah's bed and opened her journal. With a reservoir quill and a bottle of ink, she began to write.

Comforted by the earthen scent which wrapped around her like the quilt she burrowed under, Zelda allowed herself to relax. Words flowed from her fingers in a rush, a torrent of emotion spilling onto pages. As usual of late, a commentary of the past six months was the first thing she wrote, followed by the actions of what had happened since her last entry. Unwanted tears filled her eyes as she poised the quill over the page before writing with the slowness of a child in grammar school.

I find myself conflicted. I want to tell her...want to release Link from his promise. But the words will not come. The nightmares rob me of sleep, and the memories steal any rest during the day.

She hit her lip softly as she twirled the feather between her fingers.

I'm trying not to push her away. I just...it hurts to speak. The sound of my voice reminds me, makes it all the more real. Every day I see the fresh scars and wonder if I could have done something different.

I wonder if I did something wrong to deserve what happened. I must have.

And at the same time...I wonder what I'm feeling. When I see Link, I want what we had before. Before the last fight. Before his understanding turned to pity. Before his eyes filled with resignation because he knows I'm going to break.

Again.

But I won't.

I can't.

I can't put him through that.

It's not fair.

When Impa caught me slipping, it closed something off in me. I've had smaller slips since then. But...they aren't...how do I look them in the eyes when I want Link to hurt me and for Impa to hate me?

I used Link. I used him to make myself feel better and it did nothing but make them hurt worse. I can still hear his voice. Feel his hands...his mouth... I can feel his hips dig into my thighs as I press closer and pull away at the same time. And at the end, all Link did was shake his head, say he understood, promise not to tell her and acted like nothing happened.

Tears fell on the pages, smearing the ink as she wrote without pause. Her hand all but flew across the paper, turning pages with wet ink as the need to tell someone, even if it were only herself, consumed her.

I slipped! I want to again...I want someone to hurt me again, because then everything makes sense. Link's as gay as an arrow is straight, and I still want him to hurt me! To...to...to take me. Rape me. Abuse me. Hurt me! Make me as disgusting and unworthy as I feel. As I am! It's all my fault. ALL of it.

And I can't do that to him again.

I know he's waiting for it. But I can't...I won't. To watch his heart tear itself to shreds every time I writhe against him in a twisted shadow of lust... It's not fair to him. He doesn't want me and he's not evil. I know that. But I can't help it...it quiets the voices. Makes the memories go away. Makes the hands stop and the hips stop and makes the pain stop. For just a while, I can forget what happened...

But I can't do it again.

I know Impa blames herself for my disappearing from the battle. She shouldn't.

How could she blame herself for something I never told her?

That...

That since I was a child, I have been companion to Ganondorf?

The pen fell from her numb fingers as a sob tore through her. Without thought, she curled around the book under the heavy quilt. Emotion shredded her mind as she inhaled the scent of her Guardian, of the one who would protect and love her no matter what, with each breath.

It wasn't until hours later, having grown concerned when Zelda did not exit their rooms that Impa found her. Relief loosened the bands of fear around her heart when she saw golden-brown curls spilling from under her quilt. Warmth infused her as her racing heart began to slow. With little sound, she lit a fire in the grate, settled the blankets around Zelda's curled form and kissed her brow. She pulled the quill and closed journal from the sleeping woman's hands.

She barely lifted the cover before a grunt caused her to slam the book closed and quickly lay it on the nightstand.

Zelda would tell her what was wrong when she could. Though curiosity nibbled at her mind, she shook her head.

A happy smile graced her lips as she watched the other Sage rub her face against the pillow like a kitten and uncurl ever so slightly.

The soft, sleepy mewl which bubbled from the younger woman throat made her shake with silent laughter.

Given enough time, she knew Zelda would heal.

They all would

[-]

Leaves the color of apples, caramel and spring grass began to fall within the two weeks it took for Zelda to meet Impa's eyes. When she did, she whispered the words both had been waiting for. "Can I tell you what happened?"

Hope surged their bond as the block crumbled, blown away by love and trust. As Impa opened her arms for Zelda, Zelda rested her head on Impa's shoulder.

….and began to speak.

The words fell like autumn leaves as memories wrapped around their minds. She spoke of the battle after she had sent Impa to Midna's aid.

Tears filled her closed eyes as she recalled how Ganondorf's darkness, which was rooted in a dimension between their world and the Sage Chambers, collided with her light, the same light which descended from the Goddesses. Her heart bled as she spoke of the icy fear which had torn through her soul when the backlash of their powers sent them outside time and reality. Her lips, bloody from her constant habits of worry, trembled as she let the memory of the kiss to slip from her mind to Impa's.

Very few words were needed to portray the ensuing actions. The sound of her torn clothes, the cries she released as her battered body was forced to the ground echoed through their souls. Their ears all but bled as the sound of discarded armor rang through their minds like bells.

Impa tightened her arms as much as she dared and said nothing...

Waiting...

Offering the comfort she had desperately wanted to give for half a year.

Zelda continued her story. She told her Guardian how she had searched for the dagger hidden in her boot, how she had found it lying several feet away.

Breathless, she vaguely heard herself describing what had happened when the blade had slid between the evil King's ribs, covering them both in blood.

"And then you returned," Impa said after several moments of silence.

"And then we returned," Zelda whispered in confirmation.

"Thank you for telling me."

"Thank you for listening. For caring...for loving me even when I wanted you to hate me."

A smile pulled at Impa's lips as she pressed a kiss to Zelda's head. "I can't hate you, keta. It's impossible...remember?"

"Well, if you didn't hate me after I ran you through with your own sword...I guess you never will," Zelda quipped.

Though fragile, their soft laughter chased the weight of her previous words from the room. Sunlight faded to moonlight as they sat on Zelda's bed, curled together, lulled to sleep by the sound of the others' hearts and soothed by their constant, steady breaths.

When dawn broke the silver haze of their dreams, Impa softly admitted she had heard the last words spoken between Zelda and Ganondorf.

Zelda merely closed her eyes and asked her to go back to sleep.

Soft snores filled the room within minutes, their dreamless minds calm, their souls momentarily free of their shared horrors and self-defined sins.

[-]

[-]

AN: Well, this isn't how I planned to end the trilogy chapter...but oh well. Please allow me to make several comments before you review.

I am in no way a psychologist. I have no formal training in therapy, especially therapy for abuse survivors. However, I know from experience that the road to healing is a long, winding, treacherous path. It is painful and depressed. It will do things to every aspect of your being that you didn't think possible.

Always remember you aren't alone.

Just like Zelda, many victims and survivors blame themselves in some way, at some time. As I stated before, this story is meant to portray the TRUTH about abuse and the healing process. Yes, this last bit of the chapter was a bit choppy. As I also stated before, no one has the all facts in the beginning. That doesn't mean asking questions is wrong. As Link demonstrated, asking questions doesn't always need a verbal answer...the questions may not get an answer at all. That doesn't make them any less therapeutic.

So if you have questions, ask them. The only "stupid" question is the one not asked. Silence often does more damage to everyone involved than any truth.

{-}

If you're thinking about hurting yourself, commuting suicide or have been abused in any way, I urge you, PLEASE contact someone. There are many free hotlines to call. RAINN and National Suicide Hotline are the most well-known. If you live outside the USA/Canada, please look at your local phone books and/or use the internet. If you know someone who was abused and/or may be thinking about self-harm, urge them to get help. And tell a trusted figure of authority. As displayed in this chapter, victims can't always speak for themselves. Or have misconceptions about themselves and others.

Is this true for everyone? No. But it's common enough to be harmful to many people.

{-}

Selective mutism is something I haven't research in a while. If I stated anything incorrectly, I apologize and will correct my error.

[-]

Songs:

All the Same by Sick Puppies

Nobody's Home by Avril Lavigne