He was sore.
No, sore was too mild a term. He was in pain. Everything distinctly hurt, and the world was completely dark. He could hear distant sounds resembling… footsteps. Lots of shuffling footsteps and one voice rising and falling above timid replies that were scattered in between phrases. Something clinked, like metal on glass, and a chair scooted across the floor.
It felt wrong.
And yet, despite that intense feeling, Link was struggling to recall what had happened. There had been pain, of course. There was always pain. He was still in pain. He could see flashes of Ghirahim… and First, maybe? That would have been odd, but not necessarily wrong. And he knew something had happened that hadn't happened before, and it had happened in a big way. Not like seeing an unfamiliar face, like seeing a brand new one. Something new and incredibly wrong.
"Good morning, my pet!"
Link jumped as the cheerful yet chilling voice pulled him from his sleep, the word 'pet' setting of several alarms in his mind. "Wh…what?"
Ghirahim sat down beside him, and Link realized he was tucked into a rather large canopy bed with silk sheets and some of the softest pillows he had ever rested on. It was comfortable, and it wasn't his cell, and red flags were flying up everywhere.
"What am I doing here?" Link's eyes narrowed into slits. He didn't trust the supposed hospitality for a second.
But Ghirahim only laughed, ever cheerful, ever psychotic. "Oh, I think you know, my darling little angel! You remember what happened last night, don't you?"
Link blinked a few times and shook his head, confused and somewhat scared. He didn't like Ghirahim's attitude. Ghirahim was often falsely pleasant, but there was something new. It was probably the something that was wrong.
New pet names, maybe? His smile is wider…
Ghirahim cocked his head to the side, pursing his lips.
Link blinked at him, stared for half a second, and then glared.
"Oh, dear. I was being rhetorical, my sweet. It seems you really don't remember. Hmm…" Ghirahim tapped his chin for a bit and then snapped his fingers, his sickeningly happy-go-lucky disposition fully returned. "I know! I can tell you all about the lovely injuries you had before passing out. Perhaps something will come back to you."
Link nodded even slower than before, completely baffled, heart pounding in his chest.
"Now, pay attention to tenses, because that's very important. I had some fairies take care of you after you passed out." Ghirahim took a deep breath and began to tick his list off on his fingers. "Your right arm was crushed, your right shoulder was dislocated, your left knee was torn, your mouth and gums were shredded, your left ankle was shattered, you have several head concussions, you have four broken ribs along with several cuts and bruises, you are dehydrated, you are starving, you have a black cut on your forehead, you have a brand on your thigh, and what's that other thing I'm thinking of… oh, yes! Your right eye is gone."
Ghirahim grinned wildly, practically shaking with excitement as he waited for Link to put the pieces together. Link did, and he froze on the spot as images from the previous night came surging back into his mind like a blinding, shrieking nightmare.
"Oh, no… oh, no…"
Ghirahim threw his head back and laughed, startling Link, and within seconds he had pinned the hero to the bed. "Listen closely now, my pet, because I do despise repeating myself." He pressed a finger to Link's lips and widened his grin. "I do not intend to harm you now that you are mine—there are other toys I can play with and break. However, I will not hesitate to utterly destroy you if you don't do exactly as I say, and I must be honest… the urge to harm you will always be there." Ghirahim licked his lips, gently tracing the outline of the cuts and bruises scattered across Link's face. "The desire… to hear you scream will… never… truly… leave…"
Link shuddered, screwing his eyes shut and turning his head away as Ghirahim drew closer. He swallowed hard, feeling the demon's breath on his neck.
"Don't… please, don't…"
Ghirahim chuckled, biting down on the shell of Link's ear. "Oh, my sweet pet, you're not going to become some sort of harlot I use to entertain my sexual whims. You're just so incredibly easy to toy with." He laughed again, grabbing Link by the chin and forcing eye contact. "Understand, however, that I will not hesitate for a second to do whatever it takes to maintain my control over you. Nothing is too low, and while I really hope we don't have to go that far, I will."
Link swallowed hard, trying not to shake. He inhaled sharply as Ghirahim started to shift his weight, the sudden pressure sending sharp pain through his ribcage, but he managed to suppress the following shudders.
Ghirahim laughed, as if he could see the struggle written on the fallen hero's features, and finally rolled off the bed and onto his feet. "I will give you a few moments to assess your condition. As you can see, you are relatively clean and have clothing, and your more severe injuries have been healed. Still, feel free to look around and examine yourself and your surroundings."
Link stared at him wordlessly, several different thoughts forming in his mind, dancing on the tip of his tongue. None made it past his lips, a paralyzing sort of numbness holding him down on the mattress.
Ghirahim smiled, and there was a ghost of sincerity in his eyes. "Link, speak your mind."
Link opened his mouth, but still nothing came out, jaw opening and closing wordlessly.
Ghirahim glared, grabbing Link by the chin and jerking his head back. "Slave, I am being very gracious with you right now. I am giving you a chance—probably the only one you will get for the rest of eternity—to speak your mind, and you are blatantly rejecting it. That's extremely rude, and I won't tolerate it. Now, tell me what you're thinking."
Link tried again to speak, struggling with his tongue. "I—I—"
"Oh?" Ghirahim tilted his head to the side, a sort of understanding tinting his features.
Link scrambled to make thoughts line up in his head, but everything was chaos, and all he could manage was a disjointed line of stammered words. "I d-don't—can't—um, I—I—"
Ghirahim gave a sad smile and patted Link's cheek lightly. "Things are a little noisy in the attic, I take it?"
Link nodded blankly, feeling tears spring up in his eyes. No. I can't cry. Not here, not now. Not in front of him.
Ghirahim took Link's face in his hands and gently tilted it upward. He smiled, eyes kind, and yet something about his face said he was reveling in it. He loved it. The tears, the pain, the despair. Ghirahim lapped it up like honey.
"It's alright if you're struggling to gather yourself. I will ask you again at dinner, but that will be your last chance. Do not disappoint me. Understand?"
Link nodded dumbly, fingers curling around the sheets, mouth still jerking in unspoken words, eyes glassy—no, not eyes, eye, singular.
I… I can't do this. I can't do this.
"After dinner, you and I have an errand to run. Be prepared for it."
Link took a deep breath and nodded as much as Ghirahim's hold would let him. "Yes… Master."
Ghirahim licked his lips and grinned. "How I love those delicious words."
I can't do this. I can't… I can't breathe.
Ghirahim winked and snapped his fingers, diamonds fluttering down to the bedspread, and then Link was alone with his thoughts.
He's gone. I can—I can breathe again, I can breathe a little. It's gonna be okay. I just need to, I just need to—the train of thought dissolved into panic—I don't want to be here. I want to go home, I just want—I just want to go home, and I want Zelda, and I want—I want—I don't know what I want. I want to fix this. I want to fix this.
Of course, that led to one thought he wasn't quite prepared to swallow.
It's over. I can't fix this. I lost. It's over.
Link was Ghirahim's slave, and it was only a matter of time before Zelda was gone and Demise took over. He wanted to help—really, he did, he wanted to clean up the mess he had made—but what could he do? There was no way out—he had admitted that himself, everyone admitted that—and he was tied to Ghirahim through some kind of magic sealed into his forehead.
Forehead. That was a specific location with a specific thought connected to it. It wasn't much, but amidst the chaos in his brain, it had a beautiful sense of direction and purpose to it. Check my forehead.
Link sat up slowly and ran his hands over his face, stopping on the mark Ghirahim had said would claim him. He pressed the flesh lightly, but there was no pain. It was just sort of… there.
Still pressing a hand to the wound—was it still a wound?—Link pulled himself toward the edge of the bed and slowly stood. There was a mirror hanging above a large, wooden dresser, and he stiffly limped his way over to it.
Fairies might have healed my knee, but it was a bare minimum patch job.
Link collapsed against the dresser and held on to the surface for dear life. He gulped down a few lungfuls of air and pulled himself up a little higher, trying to get a good look at himself in the mirror.
Ghirahim had been right. It did look like a crescent, and it was solid black, almost as if it had been filled with ink.
Link shook his head and blinked a few times, hoping it wasn't real; hoping there was still a chance of getting out of the mess he was in.
No such luck. It was there for good.
Link slowly turned and leaned back against the furniture, trying to get a good look at the room he was in. He startled almost immediately, a full length mirror on the opposite side of the room catching his eye. Not that the mirror was shocking, but what he saw in it certainly was.
It was himself. Himself in tight, black shorts that barely reached the middle of his thigh. Himself in a skintight tank top that left his midriff hanging out. Himself with odd, stocking-like spandex clinging to his feet and lower legs. Himself with gloves of the same material, the entire ensemble riddled with diamond-shaped holes, decorated with an occasional gold band. Himself with a bedazzled patch over his right eye and blue diamonds hanging from his ears, and —it was too much.
It was too much.
Link put a hand to his head, knees buckling beneath him. He dropped to the floor, the knobs and handles from the dresser scraping his back, but the pain did little to abate his shock.
"I… I even look like him." He blinked, staring at the mirror, unable to tear his eyes away no matter how sick the sight made him feel. "I can't wear this… I feel naked!"
Link startled at the sound of something knocking on the door, his heart skipping a beat. He couldn't help but remember his lamentation about the speed at which he had been tortured.
Too fast. Everything is happening too fast. Leave me alone, leave me alone, leave me alone! Clenching his teeth, he pulled himself to his feet and turned in a quick circle. Closet!
Link stumbled over to the door and threw it open, falling in and pulling the doorknob with him. He heard another round of knocking, and then a click as the door was opened. He held his breath, lungs screaming their protest immediately.
Hadn't he gone long enough without air?
"Link? Link, are you in here?"
Link inclined his head towards the door. First?
He cautiously reached for the doorknob, but it moved away from his hand before he could touch it. Light flooded the small compartment, and First smiled down at him, holding out his hand.
"Come on, Link. Hiding in a closet won't do you any good."
Link took his hand and allowed First to pull him to his feet, wincing as his back straightened up. He stepped out of the closet, looking at First's other hand and seeing a tray with food and a cup of steaming… something.
"Sit down in bed, alright?"
Link gingerly made his way over to the bed and sat down on the edge, feeling the energy drain out of him. First sat down next to him and held the tray where he could reach it, smiling sadly.
"You should eat something. I'm sure you're starving."
Link was hesitant, but his stomach growled hungrily at the sight of food, and he obediently grabbed a pastry. It was delicious, whatever it was, and he munched contentedly on the sweet bread.
First laughed and stood up, setting the tray on the bed behind him and reaching out to brush Link's hair from his eyes.
For a moment, Link wondered what First was doing, but his hunger was stronger than his curiosity, and he grabbed a piece of meat from the tray to continue eating.
"Fully claimed, huh?" First sighed and shook his head, running a finger over the darkened mark on Link's forehead. "Poor thing."
Link looked up at him, feeling a pang of guilt and desperation move through his chest. He swallowed the half-chewed beef and stared at his lap for a moment.
"How does it work?" he asked, half afraid to hear the answer.
First pursed his lips and tilted his head to the side. "It's a bit difficult to explain. It's sort of like… the black coloring is Master's magic, which is like a piece of him. It creates a connection between a master and slave that enables the master to always know his slave's whereabouts and wellbeing. He can't actually see you wherever you are, but… but he could point to you on a map. Does that make sense?"
Link nodded jerkily, taking some sort of fruit from the tray and shoving it into his mouth so he would have an excuse not to answer.
First sat back down on the edge of the bed, hands folded in his lap. "Link, I'm sorry."
Link gave him a sideways glance and shook his head, swallowing the bit of food and trying to find it in himself to reach for more. "It's not your fault. I gave up… I let him win. It's my fault."
Link bowed his head, screwing his eyes shut when they began to burn. He felt a soft hand run down the side of his face, pulling his head so he could see First's eyes again.
"No one should have to endure what you endured, Link. No one."
"But—"
"I'm not done talking." First spoke firmly, giving Link a level stare that clearly indicated there would be repercussions for another offense. "I have been here for almost three hundred years, and I have never seen someone endure as much as you have. I was under the impression all humans were weak and spineless creatures, but you proved me wrong." First stroked his hair and smiled kindly. "I know you don't want to hear this, but I need you to understand that Master is right. Zelda would never have endured this for you, not for any fault of hers, but because no human would. You are the exception, Link. You're a cut above the rest. Please, don't feel guilty for this. You did better than I ever thought imaginable, but it was a losing battle."
Link felt the desperate urge to slap First's hand away and explain that, no, it wasn't a losing battle. There was no such thing as a losing battle. Every battle was determined by the strength of the warrior, and it was Link's fault for losing, for giving in. He wanted to make First understand that he had failed all on his own. More than that, he wanted First to understand Zelda would have gone through anything for him, just like Pipit and Groose and any of the others would have.
But he didn't expect First to understand, so he just nodded and looked back at the floor.
"Come on, Link, eat some more."
Link shook his head, wrapping his arms around his stomach. "No… I'm full."
"Nonsense. Your stomach simply isn't used to being full. It shrank while you were being starved, and you need to stretch it back out. Keep eating, I promise you won't be sick. Just a little more."
Link frowned. He wasn't exactly keen about thought of food.
"I guess I can try…" he mumbled, reaching for another pastry.
First smiled warmly. "Thank you, Link."
