Chapter: 36
Theme: 67. Curtains
Game: Skyward Sword
Setting: A/U Ending Link fails to defeat Demise
Rating: M (Suicide and depression cautions on this one)

The curtains on the window fluttered from the slight breeze in the room. Link wanted to stop and savor the cool relief, to stand in front of the orifice and let the hundreds of scents drift through his nose, but he knew full well he could not. If he chose to disobey, deviate slightly he knew his masters would find out in some way and he would be punished, there was always someone around wanting to gain favor and willing to rat him out. It would also put him behind schedule even more so than he already was.

Instead of taking a moment to relish the breeze he continued to scrub the floor and let his imagination wander back to those times when he'd been able to enjoy such small freedoms. Those were the blissful carefree times, before… Before everything went so wrong, before he was chosen for a task far beyond him, before he failed to defeat Demise, and before he lost her…Zelda.

Tears stung at his eyes with that thought, but he worked to force them back, he didn't need anyone to see them and taunt him for yet another weakness. He already knew how weak and pathetic he was without anyone telling him. He had tried, he had tried with everything he had, but it just wasn't enough. Now that one failure had cost him everything he held dear and everything he used to take for granted, like cool breezes. He had lost his freedom, his home, and his dearest friend. He would never know if there would have been more between them or not, but regardless of what might have been he would been happy so long as he was near her, even if it was just as friends.

The only reason he was not dead was because his masters knew what would happen should he be granted the luxury of death. The hero's soul was eternal, and would continually be reborn as long as darkness plagued the land. Thus he wasn't killed. Maimed yes, to the point of permanent disability certainly, but not killed.

Stiffly the failed hero stood trying to lift the bucket of filthy water despite the pain in his hands from the daggers that had been plunged onto his palms as punishment for his last escape attempt. It had been one of so many that he had failed, and now he had only on option for escape left. He already knew he could never make things right like they once were, but it was the best he could do. He was no hero now, what kind of hero can no longer even lift a sword? But he had to do something, he had to at least attempt to fix his mistake.

Part of him argued that he was being selfish that he deserved this pain and the punishments for his failures, but he could take it no longer. Besides the longer he remained here as penance for his failure the longer those who still lived suffered. His masters were cruel and merciless to any who showed resistance or defiance, as he had every right to know.

Carefully glancing down the empty corridor the young bone weary young man stole through a door that was hardly used. Once inside he dipped his hand deep into the bucket pulling out a small waterproof pouch he'd happened upon. Nervously he climbed the stairs as quickly as his battered body would allow.

This area of the castle was hardly used, and this tower hadn't seen any living soul besides him in a millennia. At some point his masters had planned to restore it, but for now it sat desolate and empty, the perfect place to prepare for his escape.

With shaking fingers he carefully opened the pouch to reveal several scraps of paper in varying sizes. As swiftly as he could he removed one of the stones in the floor to reveal a plethora of items. Several small candle nubs, some pieces of flint, small scraps of wood, and many pieces of paper piled delicately together. With the utmost care he add the other few pieces to the pile before replacing the stone and moving back downstairs.

He no more closed the door when he heard an all too familiar voice that sent ripples of fear down his spine. "Just what do you think you're doing here you insufferable child," a slap to his face from a white gloved hand had his chin meeting his shoulder. "You know what time dinner is! Are you not done with your chores yet, or were you foolishly lost in that thick skull of yours?"

Link knew better than to look his master in the eye as he spoke, and was careful to keep his voice low and remorseful. "I apologize for my tardiness master, I can never be as great as you." He knew this was what Ghirahim wanted to hear, and he would give it to him in order to avoid another punishment while hoping the demon didn't see the young man coming out of the tower room.

He was backhanded this time and told to head for dinner even as he tasted blood in his mouth. He did not argue or fight back like he once would have, there was little point to it. The young man simply scurried to the supply closet that doubled as his bedroom before heading to dinner as he'd been commanded.

Under normal circumstances a mere servant would not be allowed to dine with the King and other nobles, but he was the exception. They had wanted to degrade him in every way possible, show him just how far he'd fallen so he was made to eat with them. Dinners in the castle of demons were very different from any had experienced when he still had his life. Dishes were brought in one at a time, served first to the King before being passed down the ranks of the table.

Link sat in the position of lowest rank meaning there was usually little if anything left of the dishes by the time they reached him. Perhaps a half a spoon full of soup or one stray vegetable that had been overdone. At one time he had minded, and his stomach had forcibly protested the treatment, but he no longer cared for food really, and often found what little he did eat came back before the night's end.

His masters cared little for his welfare, so long as he lived they did not concern themselves with what happened to him. Which was exactly why they often let the two abominations they created from him, torment the former hero.

One of them was created by taking every trait he possessed and turning it on its head. Each thing about himself that Link thought to be good or right was made malevolent in this creature. The other abomination was, of all things, his shadow. By some process Link didn't understand they had quite literally ripped his shadow from him. Even now in the flickering torch light there was no dark shade cast upon the ground by him. This creature was more or less his polar opposite. Where Link was kind and charitable the thing was cruel and greedy.

The pair were called Dark Link and Shadow Link. Really there were few differences between the pair, and many that lived in the castle called them the black twins. However, they were about as far from being twins as possible; often arguing endlessly and rarely agreeing on anything. The only thing they ever worked together at was making Link's life miserable. Despite the fact they were created from him they didn't know, couldn't comprehend, that by his hand he was already more miserable then they could ever make him.

As he sat in the dining room amongst the casual chatter while occasionally piling the empty dishes for the staff to take Link looked towards the windows. Like many of the others these had deep red curtains hung over them, only these did not flutter about. There was no refreshing breeze to remind him of days long past. Instead the fabric hung still, much like his heart had stilled on that day when he'd failed everyone.

It was only by mere chance that he happened to catch a few word his masters said, his ears perking slightly when he realized they would be of interest to him. It seemed there was rebellion among some of the inhabitants of the surface world. The black twins were tasked with the job of quelling the rebellion first thing on the morrow. This would be done while the King and his Lord visited with some of the military advisors still fighting the war in the desert.

Link's heart jumped at this prospect, if they were all gone then there was a chance for him to enact his plan. Normally a simple spell would be used over his door, preventing him from leaving his room while his masters were away. However, in his time here Link had learned some magic, at least enough to release the spell. He still had preparations to make, but if he didn't sleep during the wee hours he knew he would be able to finish his task.

He was so lost in thought that he never saw the kick coming as he flew from his chair and landed amongst the dirty dishes. Mocking laughter came from his doppelgangers, but he took no notice of it or the strange look the whitehaired demon lord gave him.

When at last he was allowed to return to his quarters he began to dig about under the pile of dirty straw that served as his bed. Soon he found the few items he would need to finish his task. Several large but very pointed splinters of wood, gathered when he'd been thrown into a table after some bokoblins blamed him for breaking a vase. Along with several scraps of parchment carefully concealed whenever he found the precious resource.

Sticking one of the wooden splinters into a freshly opened wound the youth began penning words onto the paper as he tried to keep the tears from smearing the blood written words. It took longer than he had hoped, but after hours of repeatedly dipping the splinters into his wounds then returning to the paper he finished. The bones in his hand cracked loudly as he moved it from its previous position, and a small wave of relief was felt that the cramping was gone.

The young hero paid no mind though as he gently blew to dry the blood before folding the scraps and hiding them on his person. After breakfast he was sent to his room, carefully sitting amongst the many cleaning materials scattered within. As soon as the door closed he felt the spell seal itself, but he did not worry and only waited for a time.

When he felt enough time had passed the battle worn young man carefully undid the spell before checking the hall, there were none to see him make his exit. Silent as a grave the one time hero made his way down the hallways out until he was in the area he'd cleaned yesterday. This part of the castle was rarely used, and so the floors still shone from their scrubbing. Paying them no heed the boy stole up the stairs after locking the door behind him, every second would count in his plan. When he reached the top he removed the secret rock to reveal his small treasures.

His hands trembled as he removed the items, placing them carefully around him. With quick strikes each candle was lit giving a soft warm glow into the otherwise cold room. A breeze threatened to extinguish the candles as it blew past the tattered curtain in the high tower. Unminding of the chill it brought with it Link knelt on the unforgiving stones to pray.

He prayed for understanding for his weakness, he prayed for a second chance to make things right, and most of all he prayed that she would forgive him for failing her. When his prayers were finished he took the flint in hand once more as he stood over the carefully arranged letters he'd literally bled to write. The pile was extensive, each addressed to those he'd once known. In each he apologized and begged they find a way to forgive him. Some were short for those he barely knew, while others were longer and tear stained from memories of times spent together. The largest piece and one that sat atop the entire pile was addressed to her. Above everyone else he had failed her the most, and she had been the first casualty of his failure.

One quick strike and the parchment blazed to life, smoke curling upwards as it took his words to the Sacred Realm. Hoping those words would reach those he held dear before he did the youth stood before the curtained window. There was no hesitation in his movements as he climbed upon the sill, his body small enough now to fit easily in the narrow opening. One glance down to be sure he wouldn't be noticed and he leapt into the air as he'd done countless times during his childhood. But this time his bird would not be there to catch him before his body shattered upon the cold unforgiving ground, and he at last found his escape.

It was many hours later when the demons found the melted wax upon the floor of the unused tower along with a fine layer of ash being blown about from the breeze coming from the curtained windows. They'd only discovered this room when they found the smashed body of the hero moments before at the foot of the tower. Taking the bloodied and broken body Ghirahim disappeared into the diamonds he so loved.

A young blonde woman had raised her head, sure that she heard a whispered voice upon the wind. It was a voice she hadn't heard since before the dark times settled over the land, back when she still had the soul of a goddess within her. Many had believed her dead, including the demons, but they hadn't known her body inhabited two souls and the soul of Zelda still remained. The demons knew now that she still lived, but as of yet they hadn't tried to end her believing she was no threat. And really she wasn't. She was no fighter, nor any great tactician and so she was allowed to live in one of the small villages.

The whispered words pained her heart for she never knew what had happened to him, but that pain was nothing compared to the pain she received in the next moment. The Demon Lord appeared before throwing a horribly disfigured body at her feet. His words were simple and meant to cut before he vanished. "He died mourning you and his failure. He died by throwing himself from the window of a tower."

As she turned the body over she fell to her knees while a wail of despair flew from her mouth. His blue eyes were glassy and stared unseeing up towards the heavens, towards their home, small streaks of tears could still be made out on his cheeks. Her cry brought the other villagers, but she took no notice of them. She had believed him to be dead, and so they had not sought him out. She had failed her hero, the one person who had given up everything to fight for her.

A/N: This is one of those stories that's floated around in my head for ages, but I couldn't seem to make it go anywhere so this is where it ends up. It probably could have used a better theme, but this was the only one I could find that would fit with this theme. It's a bit sad really, but hopefully you all don't hate me for killing off Link in this one. Now if you'll excuse me I need to go make doughnuts for the six or so teenage girls at my house for a birthday party, with luck my sanity will still be intact for next week Thanks for reading and special thanks to Whatstoknow for adding this to their alert list. Remember to check out some of the profile of the people mentioned here folks, you may find some good stories that way, wither ones they wrote or ones they favorited. Until the next, which is Dance, ~ Later