Edited 6/8/16, thankfully I'm catching up to where I made less mistakes in stuff... guess we shall see.

Remember, the Links have a budding connection between each other now thanks to Eldin. Our Hero is weak minded at the moment and so it makes for easy prey for Dark Link's warped mindset to influence him. He cannot defend himself thanks to this as it won't allow him to speak for himself (as you will see in this chapter). Not to worry though, he'll get his say in the next chapter.

I've been editing like crazy and have forgotten to thank Nothin'Fancy, my original Beta Reader. This Chapter would have not been up and running when it was first written if it wasn't for her!

Chapter 10 – Rule

Music Suggestion: Everybody Wants to Rule by Lorde

" Do I mean nothing, another angry voice?

Did I even have a choice? "

Crown the Empire's Johnny Ringo

He struggled underneath the weight of the chains, damp skin slipped on wet stone, as his dirty nails dug into the bread before him. It was dry and rough… perhaps leftovers, but he ate it anyways because the pain in his gut was far too much to bear. All the while he cried, almost drowned in the dough and salty tears. He didn't cry from hunger, from fear of the dark, from his predicament, but he cried because he ate with his hands. His hands were surely stained with innocent blood. Come to think of it… he could still feel the burns from the rope, could still feel that youth struggling underneath him, and sickeningly, he could still feel that hungry pleasure he'd unconsciously felt as the soldier's life ebbed.

The bread dropped to the grime covered floor as his hunger devolved into despair. Perhaps death by starvation would atone for his sin. A Hero cannot kill an innocent. A Hero cannot commit such sins without purpose, without directive. Yet here he was, wallowing in fecal matter, decayed rats, and stink of the Hyrulean prison. A Hero would not end up in a hellhole like this one. He was no Hero.

Maybe you never were one, a Hero.

Link wailed, his voice cracked at the octave he reached. Nails dug into filthy flesh until his blood mixed into the tears. All he knew, all he'd ever known, was to save, to act, to do what no man could; be the Hero. It was his life, his meaning of existence. Without the title or action of Hero then what was he? Worthless? Pitiable? Broken?

You're nothing then, right? Zelda made that painfully clear. At the very thought of his friend, his body trembled. To be truthful, she hadn't betrayed him in anyway. She was merely doing her job as her royal position demanded of her. After all, even heroes couldn't be pardoned for murder. Of course, right when his victim was discovered by the other soldiers, he ascended to the list of suspects for the Kakariko massacre. He did wield a blade professionally and he did travel on his own accord despite his rank as one of Hyrule's knights. His whereabouts were unknown most of the time due to such travel and he tended to keep to himself.

Hyrule's children jumped at the idea to finally blame someone for the death of a village, Hero or not; their fear was too overpowering to outweigh reason. Funny how his glorious, heroic deeds could be so easily forgotten because of a bit of panic. With such an accusation over his head, Zelda could do nothing but oblige the demands of her people. Then again, maybe she thought he did such horrid acts as well. He had seen the look on her face when she continued to question him and when he continued to answer with silence. He had watched it evolve from disappointment to horror. Those eyes of hers had even widened when he finally moved and reached for her, desiring a hug—security. She had been afraid of him then.

One side of his face squashed against the cold floor as he continued to wallow in misery. He had lost count of the days and nights he had spent here, in this cell, but it was enough for him to question his sanity. If he had murdered that soldier… had he murdered the people of Kakariko?

"Let the red waters run."

Link blinked at the intrusive thought. It was out of place, and out of every other thought, it was devoid of emotion. It wasn't his but it was familiar. It's almost as if…

"Slowly but surely everything is ending… not even light… this world is not fit for two ascending."

He sat up, despite the loud clack of heavy chains, as Eldin's twisted words took place over his own mind. Link wasn't very good with riddles, especially when a spirit conjured them up, but Eldin spoke of two individuals. They could not live because "one must die and the other be living." So then…

Yes, keep hoping on all hope. Keep praying for innocence. With that single, dreadful thought, Eldin's words slipped away. Link didn't even suspect it, the fact that that single thought was not from him but from that malevolent side he had allowed to take over. Perhaps he had become too used to it. Being chained to the floor in a dark room tended to do that to those that pined for innocence.

"It will surely paint Hyrule with blood… not even light… not even light…"

The foul blade dug through flesh, greedily pulled a stomach's contents apart. The water of the Zoras was black and thick with death and soon it would taint all of Hyrule. It made the inverted Link want to giggle. In fact, when he pulled his beloved sword out of yet another fishy carcass, he did giggle. His sword was painted with blood to the point where not even the sun overhead could touch it. He couldn't even see his blood splattered face or the way his black tunic looked almost of deep purple due to the amount of blood it had drank.

Though he was covered in blood from head to toe, his appearance was not as amusing as his newly made minion's attire. The soldier—Colin—looked as if he had been birthed by the bodily fluid. His blond roots were tinted with pink, white flesh painted red, and his clothes dripped from the fresh substance. The only thing untouched were his eyes of dead blue. White was more dominant in his gaze now and it made it appear as if he had a thick, cloudy film over his irises.

It had taken a little cursing and abusing until the dead soldier had obeyed Link's demands. It had taken twelve brutal deaths of Zoras to rouse Colin's interest in joining. When he did join, it made the massacre all the more fun. Unlike Link who wielded his blade, the man used his hands and ripped flesh, pulled appendages, and gouged out eyes. Odd, he had never thought that having another bring additional screams to his ears would make it so much more enjoyable. It made him realize just how lonely and cursed he was. He wasn't him after all, the one always surrounded by life, but he was the Hero… in a twisted way.

Link growled audibly at the agitating fact. Lately that very fact seemed to like reminding him of his worth. With the Hero alive and well, he was nothing. That didn't mean he was childish, killing madly in an effort for attention… no. That's not why he killed. He killed because it made him feel alive.

Farore, was he messed up.

He turned away from one of the freshly mutilated carcasses to search the diseased waters for the shrine of Zoras. If he remembered correctly, Hylia Lake was considered a province in Hyrule; therefore, it was watched and protected by a spirit of magnificent light and purity. He wanted to extinguish such "beauty," but first he wondered if it would aid him with his innermost desires.

His reddened gaze settled on protruding rock far off to his right. He had crossed every inch of the Zoras' lake, but hadn't yet ventured over there. Red water licked at their boots, its movement reminded Link of a blade digging through damp flesh. He only threw a glance over his shoulder to gesture for the dead man to follow as he moved toward the bridges that floated lazily atop the waters. The bridge shifted uneasily underneath the sudden addition of weight, but remained afloat as the pair ventured across to the temple of the snake.

Right away, Link could feel the remaining purity. It felt much like an itch and with each step it seemed to evolve into a burn. Without a doubt the snake had acknowledged its province's demise and was trying its hardest to protect what was left of its land. This appeared true when that very feeling of a burn gradually gathered within Link's head, and with every step he took it grew tenfold.

"I will rip you apart." He paused mid-stride, eyes widened at the string of words that took shape within him. Of course, such a statement wasn't surprising when it came from him, but this particular string of words was not his. "I will cleanse my waters with your blood." No, it sounded much too bright to be his.

The temple stood before him, encased by slabs of rock that hid what waited within. The stream of magnificent light that filtered through the cavern's mouth was a dead giveaway, the spirit was waiting with open arms and hidden fangs. Then again, he had already come to that conclusion when the vile creature trespassed his mind. With a thin smile cascaded over reddened lips, he passed the twin snakehead statues that stood guard by the entrance. As he passed, their stone-gray markings flashed with a superlative blue light in warning, but he continued onward while the idle minion stayed behind, not yet dark enough to kill true light.

It was a short passage, the path that led to the giant pool of untouched waters. The cavern itself opened wide, expanded into a gigantic circle that enclosed a single spring. He looked overhead as his dirtied boots wandered to the overhanging cliff that overlooked the waters. Above, sunlight peered through an oversized hole that had made homage in the rock. Its rays shimmered on the perfect surface of Lanayru's abode as well as the multitude of stone snakeheads that were birthed from the rocky, vine infested facades. If Link didn't hold such sickening fascinations he would have almost deemed the shrine as peaceful, but instead he found it disgusting. There was no carnage to be seen. He would rectify that.

He stopped at the edge of the cliff and looked down to pond below. His reflection stared back silently, and, for a moment, he wondered if his very presence had scared the spirit off but then the pond shook. Ripples shattered the reflection first, erupted the surface with boiling waves, and then the clearness of the water bubbled into a fine, silken gold. Its transformation was abrupt and as was the burst of light that followed at the center of the pond. The gold birthed an orb of radiant light that stung crimson eyes. The orb dripped gold as it shot upward, as if propelled by a slingshot, and beneath it the body of a glistening snake circled within the wakened waters.

The snake shot upward with the speed of an arrow, catching the dripping orb between its crystal jaws only to land back into the water with a piercing screech. It circled in the watery depths again before it jumped up from its security to face the vile soul that had dared to desecrate its land. Its body shimmered like a crystal held to the sun as its head hovered just inches from the cliff and from Link. Link had to take a step back, the light to pure for him to handle, as he looked on with an uncanny leer.

"How dare you take advantage of my children! How dare you taint my waters!" Its mouth did not move yet with each word the light between its fangs pulsed with a pristine glow of white. Its voice resounded like cracks forming in thick glass.

He stared into colorless eyes—the only part of the snake that did not tremble with light and color—and rolled his shoulders back, "But the waters look much more appealing, more welcoming, now. Isn't red more beautiful than blue?"

The snake lunged forward, but Link easily stepped back. A light spirit could only stray so far from their shine and the snake was no exception. If Link were to leave the cave, it could not follow. "You contemptible monster, your life was not meant to be lived! A mistake, an error, a shadow! Pray tell, what do you hope to achieve from such ingenuous endeavors? Manslaughter, the bathing in the blood, will get your existence nowhere."

What did he hope to gain? Was the answer that farfetched, unrealistic?

"Your existence is a mere discoloration. Such scandal, why my mothers ever permitted you continued breath is beyond my capable knowledge. There can only be one Hero and you, petty shadow, are not the Hero."

Link stepped forward then, his smile having gained length as it entwined about his face, and ignored the burn that settled on his skin from the snake's glow. The snowy fingers that gripped the hilt of his blade tightened as he felt the uncontrollable urge to laugh. Laugh he did, hysterically. It sounded incredibly mad. His head fell back as he laughed, body shook from the vocal strain. The snake, in turn, retreated an inch or so from the shadow for the sudden display was… unexpected, to say the least.

When the giddy laughter was said and done, his head leisurely lowered to eye the spirit. His smile was still as perverse as ever and a fit of giggles still seeped out as he said, "Not for long."

The snake shot backwards in its confinement in an effort to dodge the begrimed blade. Its body hit the cavern wall, the shrine trembled, and it screeched, "I will snuff the imperfection myself!" It snapped forward in a counterattack, the orb between its teeth dropping to the deepest part of the golden waters beneath it, and its piercing fangs met bloodied metal.

Sparks burst out from the contact of metal and fang and the duo pulled away from each other only to strike again. Each time the snake tried to take a bite, Link would block those deadly fangs with his sword. He angled it just right so that the top of the sword smacked into the front of the set of teeth. Hacking away at the snake would do him no good, it was the orb that he needed to stab or even touch. Any contact from his being would strangle the light, would strangle the snake. He pushed forward, shoved the snake backward with a swing of metal to fang for the third time, and attempted to make a run to the cliff's edge, but again he was met with the snake's glistening weapons.

It pushed forward then and opened its jaws to accept the blade. The metal touched holiness, refracted the color of blood from the blade onto the cave walls. The colors of the snake's iridescent scales bled to white from the contact, but it paid no mind to the taint that covered the insides of its mouth like poison. Instead, its fangs hungrily reached for Link's flesh. He drew back, skin burned from the closeness of purity, but when his gaze wandered over to the cliff's edge yet again… his smile returned.

The inverted hero drove headlong into the snake, fangs ripping deep into flesh and cloth as he did so. His sword went straight through its ghostly mouth to its face, and rich, golden fluid cascaded down corrupted steel as if the snake itself bled authentic gold. In response, Lanayru snapped its fangs and caught a full arm of flesh. Link bit into his lip to silence the scream that wanted to bubble out from his mouth for when the fangs pierced skin and grazed the bone, his skin turned black as if the perfection burnt. It felt like a flame had settled within his nerves, like a fire was eating away at his insides. Perhaps it was because he himself was now "tainted" in a sense, just as the snake for the whiteness was slowly progressing down one side of its magnificent, beastly face.

Lanayru only withdrew its hold when a black pigment crept up its fangs, advancing just as slowly as the white. When it did, Link took his chance and charged forward with sword still in hand. For once he found himself thanking the Goddesses as he reached the cliff's edge and jumped. He was the negative Hero and wielded a sword with his right hand. If he were the Hero-a left handed swordsman- then the fangs would have rendered him useless.

His left arm flailed unwillingly as he dove toward the purified waters of Lanayru, that familiar, twisted smile taking refuge on his lips despite the agony that clawed its way through his body. The snake above screamed in desperation, its voice shook the shrine and caused the pond to shudder in fear. It dove down in chase, screeched like a mad man all the while.

The water of a spirit was powerful as well as harmful. To a being of light, it healed; however, to a being of dark, it killed. Link submerged into the waters and instantly felt his skin melt and blacken. The progression was much faster, much more aggressive. He had to tighten the grip on his blade in desperation as his body struggled to comprehend and obey his desires. Within the golden liquid he blindly reached out, red eyes unable to look within the depths for fear of permanent blindness. The tips of his fingers searched for the warmth that radiated somewhere before him, his body searched for the source of light that seeped through his eyelids.

The snake darted through the waters easily and quickly, ripped through it like tissue paper as its jaws opened wide to devour the darkened soul. Such an act-to devour something so foul-would surely end its existence, but it would only mean the destruction of an abomination. Such a sacrifice was surely the desire of the Goddesses; however, the spirit was far too late. Its fangs barely stuck Link's boot before his fingers brushed against the divine orb. Just a brush of sinful skin was all it took.

Within the breath of a second, the orb turned black and rotten. Its glory turned sour and molded, black instead of radiant gold took shape. Its beautiful drip of gold substance turned to blood and the very change diseased the waters that confined it. Then its temperature fell. It was no longer warm, no longer beautiful, and no longer worthy.

The white grew at a much faster pace, eating away at the snake as its fangs dug into a leg. For a moment it hissed out in victory, but then the white smothered out all wonders and it followed suit. Its appearance became black and hideous, burnt and shriveled. Its body writhed as its magnificent length shrunk and twisted. Its body became solidified as its width became less and less to the point where it erupted with a bone-chilling screech. Black bits and blood added to the sick water.

The water's forced change of alignment made it manageable, but the wounds were aggravated. Link pulled himself up, rolled out of the spring as best he could without arousing the broken skin. The attempt gained no fruition and instead it bit at his flesh and forced a cry out of him as his body came to a stop.

Finally, he let go of his sword. His fingers cracked at the movement but obliged nonetheless. Hesitant, he brought his left hand up to his face only to see the blackness painted over what used to be snowy skin. Just the sight of it made him wince for it—the blackened flesh—was bubbling and oozing, festering. Goddesses, it smelled. It smelled of rotten meat.

Link stared at his hand, emotionless, but then... he giggled. Though his laughter brought no smile, he laughed as he always did. His hand dropped to the grass and he laughed. It was just so hilarious, so wonderful, so… refreshing. He hadn't felt pain in a while, he hadn't felt the fear of death in a while. He hadn't felt so alive.

She read over the doctrine again for the seventh time. The words were already burned into her memory but she looked on with desperation, hoped to the Goddesses that what she was reading was false. Perhaps she was exhausted, perhaps she was still frazzled by the very act she had committed against her friend-the only man she would trust with her life. Nevertheless, the inked truth on parchment did not falter. Surely she was imagining things yet she gave up on the urge to read again, and instead she set it down along with all of her other doctrines and political requests.

The princess rubbed heatedly at her temples, cursed under her breath. She had requested a meeting with her father, but the aged king did not grant her wisdom. Instead, he told her to follow her people's desires even if she herself was against it.

She leaned back within the chair, deep in thought. Her heart was persistent in denying that the hero would do such a deed as murdering every denizen in Kakariko, but her mind was against her. The people of Hyrule- her people-were in a panic over the news of such a loss and she had seen her Hero make a very unwise and odd decision. He'd killed an innocent man and she had even heard that he had taken a drink from the bloodied spring of Eldin. He even apologized for his bad deed, profusely. Therefore, he must've done such crimes… right? Link was an expert swordsman, better than any of her soldiers, so the use of a blade against an individual would not be very troublesome. It was only logical.

Yet her thoughts wandered back to that message, that bearer of bad news. Just a mere glance at it made her doubt, but the doubt was not enough to summon her father and request Link's freedom. A criminal-Hero or not-needed to be punished. Even if that punishment was death, it was only fair. It was only justice.

She would have continued to build herself up, to convince herself that confining her friend to the death sentence was the appropriate measurement, but then the knock at the door interrupted such a practice. "M'lady," the voice reached through the thick, wooden doors of her chambers. "I've news, bad news at that. M'lady," the tone was rather impatient and at first she thought to scold whoever it was that dared interrupt her, but then she caught the fear and uncertainty that followed those words.

As quick as one could in heavy skirts, the princess rose from her chair and briskly headed to the door. All the while, the messenger knocked, his voice became much more urgent and much more impatient. When she did open the door, she immediately regretted it.

The boy, a young soldier that looked to be around her age, held a look of distress that shone brightly upon blue eyes that reminded her a lot of Link's own pair of azure eyes. His armored helmet was off yet he still wore the attire of Hyrule's soldiers. She was rather glad for that because otherwise she would focus on the soldier's similar eyes rather than the black mop that fell from the top of his head. "M'lady, it's terrible. Lake Hylia… the Zoras… it's all gone. They're all dead."

The chained hero fell to the filth covered floor, his body instinctively curled up when a boot connected with his ribcage. He felt the bones shift, felt them crack underneath the blow, but he dared not cry out. Instead, Link bit down on his lip until blood added to the stink beneath him. He was beginning to hate the taste of blood. It made him doubt.

A bare hand intertwined with his dirtied locks and jerked him upward, roughly. He made no sound and this time he did not open his eyes to look upon his attackers. Why should he even bother to look upon those who looked down on him with hatred? You should just kill them. They jump so fast to blame their beloved Hero… all the risks you took… for nothing. All forgotten.

"Some hero you are." He flinched at the hate that oozed from that unfamiliar voice.

"Why'd you kill all those people in Kakariko? You almost eradicated the whole Zora population!" An additional voice resounded in the small cell and its volume bothered his ears. Ever since they, his guards of three, had waltzed in he had heard the very same thing over and over. They seemed displeased with any answer he gave them, and this was especially true if he replied with denial so he remained silent. Somewhere along the questioning, it became violent. His ribs were probably broken and his arm was likely bruised and swollen.

A part of him understood the men's reasoning, they were afraid and with fear comes violence. Such a thing wasn't always true, but in this case… how very right it was. Fear brought out the worst in people. He found himself experiencing the very same thing. Ever since he had suffocated the soldier, he had found his thoughts a mess. His heart was pulled in both directions. He either wanted to relive such a moment or be killed because his actions were completely vile and unlike a Chosen Hero.

Hero this, Hero that. Just kill them. Celebrate freedom by strangling them. It's much more enjoyable with rusted chains rather than a measly rope. It worried him how wonderful that was beginning to sound, especially when he felt a meaty fist dig into his gut.

"Did you seriously think you could get away with it," Said the first voice.

No. He didn't do… Yes, I did.

"This is pointless. The princess's plea of innocence is going on deaf ears. He hasn't even spoken a word," A newer, older voice said. At the mention of Zelda, his Zelda, he cringed. He'd been too caught up in his troubled thoughts, too caught up in the pain and despair, to remember that the guards did not only come to cause pain, but also to receive his side of the story. However, their Hero remained mute on the subject and would speak of it to no one. They deemed it as guilt, but truthfully he could not speak. The words would not spill from his mouth. It could be the doubt that tied him down because a part of him believed it to be true. He did murder those in Kakariko and, if he had heard the guards correctly, in Lake Hylia.

When they were met with continuous silence, the guards gave up on that bit of hope that they had clung to, and fell upon the dead Hero with a vengeance. They were fearful, childish and no matter how much Link may have saved them… fear shrouded over all truth or fact. Fear rules everything, and it controlled the very essence of a person. It drove the guards to draw blood from the man that writhed beneath them, and it drove them to splatter the dirtied walls with the crimson drops until exhaustion overtook them. When they finally freed the rejected Hero, they left their hope at his feet. For his silence and their fear had burned the assumption of his crime into an unreputable fact.

Yet as he watched them leave, as he felt his own hope wither, he heard a heavenly, familiar voice. It came from the cell's door and the sound of it gave him the feeling of a breath of fresh air. The husk form of his hope desperately reached out toward the sound, craved a reason to keep living in his heart.

"Where's Link's cell?" His pointed ears barely caught the disgruntled response from one of the guards. He struggled onto his knees right as the footfalls reverberated within the prison halls.

He heard her voice before he saw her beautiful face. She was in her usual, royal attire and at first peeked at him through barred door. When the door did open, slowly, squeaking much louder than it had before in protest, he was met with absence. The smile that he cherished was gone from her face and there was no familiarity, no friendliness in her features as she hesitantly wandered into the confinement. She even dared to give him a look of disgust, eyes roved around the filth, wet bread, and blood.

"Link, the people of Hyrule want you to be hanged for your sin." He cringed at her voice. It was not his Zelda, this was the princess. She spoke briskly and monotonously when she dealt with business, and the fact that he recognized her tone as such pained him. He needed a friend-he needed someone, anyone-because the thoughts, the turmoil, were becoming too much to handle. He could feel himself gradually fading, becoming something even he despised. Was it too much to ask for someone to save him this time? Didn't he deserve salvation as much as those who were screaming for his demise?

When he failed to speak, she stepped toward him. The Hero, in response, shifted back. His chains dragged on stone. "I would like to believe that the young man had tried to harm you, but according to his fellow comrades, he couldn't even harm a fly on the battlefield. So," the hem of her skirts were becoming dirtied as she crouched to his level, her face a mere inch from his, "let me be clear, did you kill all those people in Kakariko? Hylia is unlikely, but you are the only professional swordsman in Hyrule… that we know of."

He only stared, blue eyes trembling. A part of him knew that he did not commit such crimes, clearly, but another part of him wanted to admit such vile deeds. A part of him wanted to relish in the very idea of it and even wallow in the jealousy that he hadn't been the culprit. Nevertheless, he would have gladly answered her, but he only found himself tearing up once more. His lips would not work and his mind was a mess. He needed his Zelda, not this royal statue that she became when she dealed with politics.

"Did you do it? Did you have help? Link, answer me. If you don't take a side then I will have no choice but to give the people what they want." His tears seemed to vanish at that moment, eyes widened at her words. Was his fate decided so quickly? Were his journeys and good deeds all for nothing because of one hiccup? Yes, it was murder, but weren't criminals given a second chance? He'd seen many a convicted murderer walk free… so why not for him, a proclaimed Hero? Where was his forgiveness? He was already in custody when the bloody waters were discovered in Hylia. Just a bit of fear was all it took.

"Link."

"I'm sorry," he muttered. The word came out like a breath of air, but when he tried to continue, that breath got caught in his throat. He'd discovered a while ago that he could only spit out apologies and nothing more. He heard her sigh, but just to spite her he repeated his apology. However, this was different. He wasn't sorry for the innocent death, but he was sorry that he had lost hope. Why had he even bothered to save such childish souls? He should have saved himself. "I'm sorry."

The princess's royal facade did not break even as she straightened. She dusted her skirts off, ignored the blood and dirt that clung to the hem, and turned. She paused only once as if to give the believed criminal a second chance. Even if she spoke reason, that Link could not have killed the Zoras, her people would still place the death toll on their Hero's head. When she was met with a continuous stream of apologies, she left. She left the prison, left the crowd that was rioting in the halls, and the left the crowd's hatred as she picked up her pace.

Zelda ran to her room, ignored the startled guards at her doors, and cried. It had taken all she had to not hug him. It had taken all she had to hold up her head and attempt to interrogate him. She wanted to yell at him, curse him. Surely, surely he hadn't done it, but… she had little to no proof, he would not speak on the matter, and all of Hyrule demanded a hanging. The blame had to go somewhere, the fear had to stop somehow.

Gravely, she walked to her oak desk and picked up the quill that rested over the doctrine. Her fingers shook and it caused her signature to appear jagged and thick. All the while, she had to remind herself that she was simply doing what was necessary. Murder, for anyone, was a crime and thus punishment was a necessity. Yet… she fell onto the desk chair and wailed. Her body shook violently, fingers still clutched the quill for dear life as she etched the lines of her family line over her signature.

The Hero was, in a sense, dead to Hyrule even before the princess signed the doctrine. As word got out of the royal family's agreement to punish the murderer, the children sang.

What will we do with the broken Hero? What will we do with the broken Hero? Slice his throat with a rusty cleaver, stuff him in the sack and throw him over, hang him by the neck and watch him quiver. Hang him by the neck and watch him quiver! Way hey and up he rises, early in the morning. Hing, hang, hung… see what the hangman done. Hung, hang, hing… see the murderer swing! And way hey and up he rises, early in the morning.