Trigger Warning: Eye Trauma and Threat of Sexual Assault.
Link hit the ground hard, coughing blood onto the stones before scrambling to his feet and running across the room.
Ghirahim had certainly wasted no time making up for the hours he had spent hunting down the Sheikah. Link could no longer use his right arm for all the shattered bones and dislocated joints, and he was actually unsure as to how he had developed the ability to run again—terror-induced adrenaline, he eventually decided. Blood soaked through whatever was left of his pants, and his hair had gone from blonde to red rather quickly.
How many times had he vomited from the pain? How many times had he blacked out? How many times had he thought the same thoughts and come up with absolutely no answers at all?
He was blindsided and thrown to the ground, blood spraying from his open wounds on impact.
"Teehee! You're so cute all splayed out on the ground like that, Skychild."
Link gasped, holding his sides and trying desperately to regain his footing.
Ghirahim watched him, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Having problems?"
Link gasped as a foot sank into his shoulder, slamming him on his back. Black splotches crowded his vision, and something heavy collided with his stomach. Pain seared through his entire being, tearing a scream from his throat.
A gloved hand seized his chin and tilted his head back, grinding his skull against the stones, blood seeping into the dirt.
"St-stop," he gasped out, shudders racking his body.
Ghirahim tilted his head to the side, eyes widening innocently. "Is there something you want to tell me?"
Link stopped for a moment, his eyes fluttering in a struggle to maintain consciousness. He knew what Ghirahim wanted but… he couldn't. He just couldn't tell him where Zelda was. What if he repeated his horrendous tortures on her? Or worse, because she was a girl—
Link gagged at that new thought, and he shook his head as best he could while being gripped by fingers of cold, hard steel.
"I see, Skychild. Are you sure I can't…" Ghirahim flipped a dagger into his hand and smiled, chains coiling around Link's arms and dragging them above his head. "…change your mind?"
Link's heart pounded in his chest, every breath coming in frantic, shallow gasps. He could only imagine the things Ghirahim could do with that one knife, and the fear was paralyzing. He moved his mouth slightly, his rational half screaming at him to surrender—to give up.
"No. You can't."
Ghirahim sighed sadly, lowering the knife for a moment. "I see…" Then he shrugged, perking up instantly. "More fun for me!" Humming to himself, he lowered the knife, gripping Link's face tighter as the point of the dagger approached his eye.
"N…No…"
The violet aura around the blade burned his skin as the metal approached, fear clenching his chest and sending new tremors throughout his body. The onyx met his pale, bloodied face.
"Oh, but yes."
Link screamed openly, throwing his head against the stones when the knife finally left, shrieking to the ceiling and feeling the harsh chords send new shivers of pain through the tender flesh of his throat. The screams turned to coughing, the violent spasms racking his chest and leaving him with even less breath than before.
"Aw, poor thing." Ghirahim tapped his chin, examining Link's prone form. Chuckling, he lowered himself to his knees, rubbing his hand in small circles on the boy's heaving chest.
"It h-hurts!" Link pressed both hands to the wound, trying to recall if he had ever felt anything so excruciating in all his life, all his adventures, all his punishments. "It hurts!"
Ghirahim let out another low laugh. "It's supposed to, Skychild."
Link barely even registered anger in response to the comment. He was so panicked, so terrified. He could take the beatings and sand pits and exhaustion but—but he was experiencing a whole new level of pain, and it was permanent, and it was invasive, and it just wouldn't stop.
He garbled out incoherent words, tears streaming down one side of face. Something seized his trousers and slid them from his hips, followed by his undergarments, exposing his lower body to the biting cold.
Yet another new fear seared through his chest, his throat burning as he began to cry harder.
"P-please! Please, don't!"
Ghirahim only laughed, and Link screwed his eyes shut, feeling a heavy weight on top of his body, Ghirahim's breath brushing over the gaping wound in his face.
"No, please… please…"
Link jumped as the cold air bit his body, Ghirahim's presence suddenly absent. He panted, his remaining eye darting in all directions in search of his tormenter.
"So dirty, Skychild."
Link jumped, his head snapping in Ghirahim's direction, pain whitening his vision for a moment before he was able to focus on the albino just a few feet away, standing with his arms crossed over his chest and his signature smirk on his face.
"Can't keep your mind out of the gutter, hmm?" Ghirahim lowered his voice to a more sensual note. "Unless that's because… you want it."
"No!" Link screamed desperately, nauseous and horrified at the thought of desiring or even accepting that kind of torture. "No, no, no!"
Ghirahim let out another round of laughter, throwing his head back as he walked away. "I'm simply exposing your bruises, my darling. I want to know where to hit you." He sauntered back into the light with an iron rod in his hands. Link paled, thinking of the last time he had been bludgeoned with that particular weapon.
"Pl… please…"
"Will you give me information about the girl? Will you tell me where she is? Because if not, you might as well shut your mouth and accept it."
Ghirahim's tone no longer held its playful tenors but was a more of a snarl than anything else. Link bit his lip, closing his eye and trying to brace himself for what was to come. Every muscle in his body went tight, his heart stopped beating for a moment, and his lungs froze up, refusing to take in air for a moment.
He laid on the cold floor, and for the first time, he thought he felt himself dying.
Footstep.
His vision was darkening, his mind swimming. Everything was slowly fading away…
Footstep.
That meant Ghirahim would have to stop, right? Right?
Footstep.
He had stopped himself before. He could do it again. He had to.
Footstep.
Link took a breath and waited.
Chains snaked around his right leg, pinning it to the ground. His left leg remained bent at the knee, almost in a relaxed position, and binds from the ceiling and the floor twisted around it, holding it in that position, only his upper thigh exposed.
Confusion and fear battled in his head, and finally, his bafflement won and he cracked a tear-filled eye open, blood running cold at the sight of Ghirahim with a red-hot branding iron.
"Not what you thought I had?" the demon taunted.
"Pl…" The word died on his lips. There was no point.
Ghirahim growled low, and Link flinched, waiting for impact.
"This is your last chance, Skychild. I have only so much patience for the likes of you."
Link took a deep breath and stared at the blackness above him for a few seconds before replying. "My an-swer is the s-ame." Despite his attempts to sound strong, he was shaking non-stop, and there was no way Ghirahim couldn't see and hear it.
"Then this is on you."
Link jumped as the scalding metal pressed into the side of his leg, but it wasn't until his nerves made the connection and the sound of his flesh sizzling hit his ears that he was able to comprehend the pain.
He screamed.
Jaws apart, head thrown back, fists clenched, tears streaming, heart pounding, throat bleeding, head throbbing, body shaking, leg smoldering, slowly dying he screamed.
The brand remained there for who knew how long. The sickening smell of burnt flesh saturating the air and causing him to turn his head and release what little was left in his stomach—mostly water and bile—onto the floor, still coughing and retching from the severity of the screams that left his person.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the metal was removed, the only remnants of its presence being a large scar and agonizing pain. Link let his body go limp, allowing the chains to hold his body while he surrendered to his weakness and sobbed.
"Stop…"
"Sky—"
"Just stop!" Link shouted, not caring if he was punished for interrupting. "I can't do this anymore. You win." He choked on his tears, his voice falling to a breathy whisper. "I surrender…"
There was nothing left of him. Not there, in that moment, in that overwhelming haze of pain. Zelda was his best friend, but it wasn't worth it. Even if he regretted it later, he wanted freedom from the agony. It was too much. It was too hard. It wasn't worth it.
"My dearest little skychild…"
That voice. That voice was the voice of malice in its most depraved form. That voice was the voice he had come to loathe and dread during his stay, however long it had been. That voice was the voice he had to live with—probably for the rest of his life—because he couldn't fight it anymore.
"Do you understand now?"
Did he? Did he really understand what was happening? And if he did, was he willing to submit to it? To accept it? Did he really, truly grasp his situation? Did the words he muttered just moments before really mean something to him?
"Do you understand that you cannot escape me? That you can't even come close?"
He cringed. There was something in that voice. False love. False affection. Sugary words covering a wealth of seething hatred. It was a farce, a hoax, a ruse, a fraud, a wile, a con, a scam, a façade, a mask. But no matter how many names he had for it, he couldn't resist the appeal. No matter how many words screamed 'fake,' it felt real.
It felt like someone cared, and he needed someone to care.
He so desperately needed someone to care.
"Do you understand…"
His breath hitched as he waited for the question.
"…that you are mine?"
No. He didn't understand. He couldn't. Just two months earlier he had been flying with his best friend over a peaceful expanse of clouds without a care in the world. Now he lay shattered and helpless in the hands of the cruelest being on the Surface. How could he possibly understand that? How could Ghirahim expect him to understand that?
"You look dreadful. I'll give you a few moments to yourself, and then I'll be back. Behave yourself." Ghirahim paused, a grin playing at his lips. "My pet."
In that moment, Link's mind locked not on the words 'my pet' but 'I'll be back'.
"W-wait!" he gasped out, trying to sit up and failing miserably.
Ghirahim didn't reply, but his silenced footsteps implied he was waiting.
"Y-you're not gonna… leave me here, are you?"
Ghirahim glanced at him, eyes cold, and Link was pushed further into the irrational hysteria that had claimed him.
"P-please—please don't leave me!"
Ghirahim turned and started walking again, and Link desperately racked his mind for something to make him stay.
"Come back!" He hissed in pain, swallowing his tears again. "P-please…" He grit his teeth. He could make Ghirahim stay, but if he went there, there was no going back. "Please, don't leave me, Master!"
There was the sound of chimes, and then a gentle hand brushed against his face. Fingers laced through sticky, wet locks and trailed down his mangled cheeks.
"My sweet pet, how could I leave you?" Ghirahim rubbed his chest lightly, careful of the cuts and bruises that littered his body, almost as if he were trying to calm the pounding heart inside. "But, you know, I must ask one teensy-tiny little question before we go any further."
Link let out another sob, but he didn't wait for Ghirahim to ask. "She's through the Gate of Time. I found a second—s-second Gate, and the Master's Sword had to be… t-to be purified enough. I did… I did what I had to, and it's… it's ready. If you use… a Skyward Strike… and you hit the massive rock… in the temple… but if you… I don't even know where you took her… took Fi… what you did with her, but… but if you have her, then…" He let his sentences fall apart, a fresh wave of tears streaming down his cheeks as defeat and all the wonderful things it entailed slowly sank in.
Ghirahim didn't gloat, didn't shove it in his face, didn't turn on him the minute his goal was achieved. No. Instead, he slipped his arms around Link's body, still wary of the vicious wounds, and slowly began rocking him back and forth.
"Hush now, pet, it's okay. It's alright, everything's going to be fine." Link opened his mouth to speak, but Ghirahim's bloody finger pressed against his lips. "Hush… no more words, no more tears. I'm here to fix everything."
Link bowed his head and leaned into Ghirahim's chest, allowing the older man to hold him. He shook and shuddered, weeping into the bloodstained spandex and waiting for whatever horrible punishment or torment awaited him. Waiting for whatever horrendous future the demon had planned.
Ghirahim snapped his fingers, and in mere seconds, footsteps were echoing down the hall. First fell into the room and dashed over, eyes softening when he saw Link. Link blushed, hanging his head lower.
"Don't be sad, Link." First knelt down beside the wounded hero and forced a smile. "Master will be kind to you, so long as you obey. Don't…" First let his voice trail off, looking to Ghirahim for guidance.
"I need your help, lovely. Go get a hot—no, scratch that. Get a mostly warm and somewhat hot bath started, get some fresh clothes, water, and a clean room to put him in. Try to find some food that will be easy on his stomach and in small portions. You know the procedure, so go. Shoo."
First was on his feet in a flash, already running for the exit by the time he accepted the order. "Yes, Master!"
Link shuddered, still crying softly, afraid of being alone with Ghirahim and too overwhelmed with pain to try and do anything about it.
"Link…"
He's never used my name before. It shouldn't have felt nice, but it did. Endearing, almost.
"Branding covers the legal aspect of claiming a slave, but there is one more thing. It's sort of… a magic fail safe. Insurance, if you will. I'm afraid it does hurt, but I'm right here with you, and it will pass."
Link stopped. Ghirahim's kind attitude was completely out of character, and combined with the fact that he was going to hurt him again, entirely unnatural. However, he slowly nodded his head and watched in a nauseating mix of fear and anticipation as Ghirahim pulled a syringe from midair and pushed Link's head back slightly. He pushed Link's hair out of his face and smiled, lightly tracing his finger over a gash in the boy's forehead.
Link remembered that cut. It was the first wound he had received in captivity. It seemed so long ago. How many times had it been reopened in the vicious exchanges between that first day and now? Had he ever even noticed it among the myriad of other, more painful wounds?
Ghirahim inserted the needle into the mark and slowly injected the liquid. A small smile graced his lips. "When I struck you, I made sure it was artistic. It almost looks like a crescent of sorts."
Link jumped as the chemicals invaded his body, but the pain was gone almost as soon as it came, and Ghirahim tossed the needle over his shoulder.
"There we go, pet. All done." He gave the defeated captive a toothy grin. "When you wake up, that wound will be healed and black in color. I swear it won't hurt a bit."
Link nodded shakily, watching as Ghirahim began to release him from the chains. Ghirahim slowly unraveled every one, being so tender with Link's body it was almost scary.
Suddenly, the demon stopped, sighing. "This doesn't have to be a bad experience, Link. Being my slave could turn out to be the best thing that has ever happened to you."
Link was too disoriented at that point to understand what exactly the words were supposed to mean, but he knew he didn't believe them. Not for a minute.
Ghirahim smiled to himself once again and returned to the task of chain removal. Then, speaking for the sole purpose of hearing it again, as if it brought some sort of sick satisfaction, he spoke two final words before Link lapsed into blackness.
"My pet."