Chapter 6: The Demons Inside

\-==/\==-/

As it turned out, Link had badly sprained his wrist by taking the full force of the guardian's blow on his arm. The pot lid had kept him from having to get his arm severed at the elbow, unlike Garmish, but as it had been made of wood and caught fire, his hand and forearm had been severely burned. After being confined to a bed for a day and a night as healers extracted splinters, smeared green ointment over his burned skin, and periodically trapped his wrist in ice water, he was allowed to leave in the morning.

In a way, the time off had been enjoyable. He couldn't help but replay the moment that he had stepped in front of the Princess over and over again, and cling to the memory of seeing her so up close.

I saved the Princess, he reminded himself again and again, and each time the thought was accompanied with a strange, excited lifting sensation in his chest and a nearly irresistible urge to grin.

Nonetheless eager to return to his training the following day, he was caught off guard - and surprised, and a bit appalled - to find a summons waiting for him in the Royal Guard Chambers.

A summons to a meeting with the King himself.

This is either about that guardian, or about Princess Mipha.

He could barely sleep that night, even after spending most of the day running through drills with Choice. Granted, he never slept much anyways; he had always been able to get by on five hours or less.

But he was unable to get any rest whatsoever this night, tossing and turning and flopping about like a drowning fish trying to get comfortable, trying to focus solely on his breathing only to be distracted, either by involuntary images of the Princess and his part in saving her from the guardian, or by musings of the meeting with the King. Why would he summon me? Am I to be punished? Will Captain Janin be there?

When the gray hint of dawn seeped through the window he gave up on sleep. He had not bothered to put a shirt on before getting into bed; with his left arm in a sling it had been difficult enough getting undressed in the first place. He didn't even try adorning his Royal Guard's uniform now and instead struggled into a loose shirt, leaving his left arm bound right against his chest instead of pushing it through the sleeve.

Snatching the Master Sword from its sheath, he made his way from the barracks and headed out into the training field. There were several practice dummies set up, but Link ignored them, striding quickly towards a small empty corner. He had long ago progressed past the point of gaining anything useful from sparring with something that didn't fight back.

Instead, he closed his eyes, turning his mind to the one thing that could distract him from his anxiety over the King's summons.

His nightmares.

\-==/\==-/

Darkness. Darkness everywhere - surrounding him. His heart raced with terror and his mind whirled with confusion and pain.

They were gone - he was alone. He didn't even know how it happened. One moment they were there, and the next… the next he was on his own, running for his life.

An angry screech caught his attention. Link whirled around, glancing fearfully all around. He wanted nothing more than to curl up into a little ball and cry and wait for his mother and father to come and find him. They always did. Always! Monsters or no monsters!

But somehow, deep within, instinct told him that waiting would get him killed this time.

And he didn't want that.

Light pierced the darkness around him. Two golden pinpricks slowly drawing closer, along with the slither of a scaly tail sliding over grass and leaves. Link whimpered, taking a shaking step back.

More pairs of golden lights flickered into existence, and his back collided with something hard - a boulder, or the wall of an ancient, ruined building. The blackness was so deep, he couldn't tell which.

With an angry snarl, the lizalfos charged -

And Link brought up his own weapon to bear, catching its blow with enough force to send it reeling backwards. With a grunt he darted forward, shoving his blade upwards and inwards, straight through the lizard-beast's ribcage.

The hiss of metal against leather alerted him to a bokoblin's sneak attack and he whirled around, instinctively swinging his weapon up to block the stolen sword cutting down on him. A flash of golden glowing eyes to the side and he turned just in time to block a blow that would have gotten him skewered like the lizalfos he had just killed.

A whoosh of air from behind signified another incoming attack, this one from a moblin. Link deflected this one as well, pushing forwards against the massive club and forcing the monster off balance.

And then the bokoblin was attacking again…

\-==/\==-/

Each time, it was different. Each time, different foes assaulted him, always from every direction. He knew by now that whatever really happened to him that painful night was lost forever beneath a sea of over-imaginative nightmares forcing him to relive variations of the same thing over and over and over again.

When Captain Janin had realized just how vivid those dreams were, and how much worse they were each time, he saw an incredible opportunity. He trained Link to harness those feelings, those demons crafted in his mind, so that they could overwhelm him on command. So that he could train in the heat and fear of battle in a way that no one else could.

It came with a cost, of course. It always did.

\-==/\==-/

Link stood, breathless, in the middle of a pile of slain monsters. Sweat soaked his thin frame. Blood stank in his nostrils. And the light that signified the end of that dark night was creeping closer.

And he saw a man - a shadow. Small and lean, silhouetted against the growing light so that none of his features were distinct. A cloak billowed out behind him, and Link could just about make out the glint of cold, hard eyes burning red.

"One last feat, Chosen One," he sneered. "One that surely you shall fail."

And he drew a long, elegant blade from his back. A legendary blade.

Link was ready. He met his adversary's attacks blow for blow, slowly and steadily gaining ground. Without the use of one arm it was much more difficult to stand against the other man's powerful attacks, but his speed and agility were not hindered in the slightest, and it wasn't long before he had the advantage.

And at the very last, he stabbed his weapon through the man's gut, killing him just as he had killed that first lizalfos.

The man stumbled backwards before falling hard to his back. And the light revealed his face.

Don't step closer, Link told himself. He knew what came next, knew it couldn't have been a real part of the memory, knew that it had appeared only after he began using these nightmares to train. He hated it.

But he was too embedded in the dream now to back away. His feet dragged him forward, and he saw the face of the man he had killed.

It was his own face.

"Beware," his duplicate gasped, blood trickling from his lips. "Beware… the monster… within… Don't smother… the beating heart… inside…"

And with one last gurgling breath, he died.

From there the true memory - or something close to it - took over. Firelight overwhelmed the forest, shedding light on a field of death. The bodies of monsters lay scattered grotesquely over the blood-spattered grass. Link walked, against his will, back the way he had come. He saw the wagon, with its broken wheel, with its tattered canvas. Various belongings strewn around it, some spattered with blood.

And there was his father's body, half-eaten, bone protruding from his leg. His mother lay close by; she had been unwilling to leave him to save herself.

Sparks of memory imprinted on his mind by terror darted behind his eyes, the gaps between them connected by his imagination.

A flash of lightning from the storm they travelled through spooked the horses pulling their wagon. They bolted, carrying their burden off the road and into the tangled ruins. His father leaned forward, trying to grab the reins tighter, to slow them and calm them. He fell from the wagon and the back wheel went over his leg, snapping it. With a scream of despair his mother took the axe they used for chopping firewood and severed the horses' harness, letting them flee into the darkness. Out of control, the wagon struck a rock, hard, sending a terrified Link flying out and onto the hard ground. He could not cry out, for the fall had knocked the breath from his lungs, but he heard his mother's voice and tried to follow it. Followed her screams of agony joined by the barbaric grunts of bokoblins.

And that was when the monsters found him.

\-==/\==-/

Link's eyes opened with a flash. His shoulders trembled.

The training yard was no longer empty. His battles had taken him through the morning, and now the sun was high and his stomach begged for nourishment.

He knew the routine by now. Forcing a stony mask over his face, he turned and left the field, walking quickly but not fast enough to arouse suspicion from anyone around him. With his heart racing much too fast he made his way out to the stables and carefully wrapped the Master Sword in a saddle blanket before all but collapsing in Choice's stall, letting his head fall to his hand. A tremor wracked his shoulders and he held his breath, biting his lip hard. Focus. Control. These memories do not have power over you.

But the fear, the raw anguish, of that night so long ago was not something he easily forgot, even after experiencing it as many times as he had.

Choice, too, knew this routine. She folded her legs beneath her and lay down, and Link crawled one-handedly closer to her, wrapping his good arm around her neck and burying his face in her mane. The scent of hay replaced the ghost of blood in his nostrils, helping his racing heart to calm. The sounds of the stable - hooves on wood, distant whinnies, the swish of a tail brushing away flies - grounded his mind in the comforting reality that surrounded him.

He forced himself to focus on what his senses were relaying to him. It was not dark, not here - a bit dim, perhaps, but not dark. His hand held not a weapon but thick strands of coarse black hair, and the only contact assaulting him was the gentle touch of Choice's broad nose as she nuzzled his shaking shoulders. He was not standing rigid on the field of battle; he was sprawled limp at his horse's side.

It felt like far too long - as it always did - before his shuddering subsided, and he wiped his eyes and rubbed away the damp spot on Choice's neck. He got to his feet, and she followed, watching him with concerned dark eyes. He blinked rapidly. "Thanks," he whispered huskily, leaning a moment against her shoulder.

There was still a bit of time before his meeting with the King. He debated for a moment about going for a ride, but upon glancing down at his dusty, sweat-stained shirt and otherwise completely dishevelled appearance, he decided it would be best to simply get ready. He gave Choice a quick grooming before he left, promising her a sugar cube when he was finished with his meeting.

And then it was back to the Royal Guard Chambers to wash and get dressed. His face was a stony mask; only if one looked closely would they see the red ringing his eyes.

\-==/\==-/

"You may rise, Sir Link."

Link carefully stood from his kneeling position, taking care that his cap didn't fall from his head. He did not meet the King's gaze and instead focused his attention on the three square-cut blue gemstones fastening his grand coat across his chest.

Rhoam stroked his beard, his brow furrowed. "Every time I see him, I… do not see a warrior," he said, turning slightly to exchange a glance with Captain Janin, the only other person in the King's study besides the General. "I see nothing but a boy wielding a blade too big for him."

"His skills are nothing to be sneezed at, my King," Janin protested, stepping forward.

"I know that, Cassius. I have watched him train and seen his feats in tournaments; I have heard of his skill from many."

Link stood still, feeling a bit like a piece of meat for sale in a butcher's shop.

The General stepped forward then, his golden helmet shadowing his scarred, rugged dark skin. "Soft," he muttered, squinting at the boy standing before him. "Soft, and inexperienced. He has fought far too many of his battles only with other knights, and far too few have actually tested him."

"Do you forget how I found him?" Sir Janin growled, a hint of anger lacing his words. "A mere child no older than three years of age, surrounded by the corpses of his vanquished -"

"We all know that story," King Rhoam sighed, rolling his eyes. "That was over a decade ago. What I want to know is, can he be trusted with my daughter?"

Link tensed, clenching his teeth in an effort to keep his face calm. The Princess? What does he mean?

"Over the course of our history," the King continued, "the Master Sword has repeatedly chosen mere children to wield it. I do not recall any legend telling of a battle-hardened warrior wielding the blade of evil's bane. And that, perhaps, is the point - the blade seeks one with a pure heart. That is perfectly fine. However, with the threat of the Yiga on the rise, and the number of reported monsters climbing seemingly every day, Ganon's return must truly be eminent. It would make sense for the chosen hero and… and the Princess with sealing power to be close together should the worst come to pass. I simply wish to ensure she truly is in the most capable hands."

"Link can defeat any monster," Janin said, smacking his fist into his palm for emphasis. "Even the supposedly unbeatable Sheikah machines, as we learned just days ago! He will not allow her to be harmed - he will protect her at any cost!"

"Even from himself?" the General murmured, his voice dangerously soft. "Predators raised in isolation don't… play well with others. I see nothing different about this situation."

"Isolation?" Janin's incredulous glare could have liquified iron. "He has been working with me and others from a very young age! He is not - not isolated."

"Oh?" the General inclined his head. "I've done my research, Captain. The boy suffers from frequent nightmares about his past, and he has nothing and no one - that is isolation. He is ostracized for his skill. I doubt his mental stability, and his ability to maintain stability in a highly-charged battle environment."

Link felt a chill creep down his spine, remembering the breakdown following his training session that very morning.

"Besides that, there's the incident with the Zora Princess to consider," the King cut in. "My daughter is close to his age. How can we be certain something similar - or worse - will not come to pass?"

"If I may, Sir," Link spoke up for the first time, bowing deeply in respect. His heart raced. One wrong move, and there goes my head. "I was not to blame for that. Princess Mipha approached me under the guise of healing my bruises. I did not expect her to… to kiss me." His face reddened against his will, and he bit back a grimace.

"I read your report; I know," Rhaom said, a hint of exasperation in his voice. "However, the color in your cheeks proves that you feel something from that event. If you are to protect my daughter, I will require nothing less than perfect control over your emotions." He inhaled deeply. "All told, I very much doubt your ability to serve as a sufficient guard. Nonetheless, you demonstrated valor and quick-wittedness when you saved my daughter from the malfunctioning guardian."

"And he has a flawless record when it comes to completing missions and overcoming any complications that arise," Captain Janin added eagerly. "He has an exceedingly high tolerance for pain and very little need for sleep, both of which are traits that would make him an ideal personal guard. And then, of course, he was chosen by the Master Sword and thus has the Goddesses' favor, and his skill in combat is unmatched."

"He is still just a boy," the General argued. "He is small, immature, and inexperienced."

The King sighed heavily. "We will give this more thought," he murmured. "For now, there is the matter of the Zora King."

"Ah," Captain Janin nodded, exchanging a knowing glance with the General. Link frowned. "Yes - if he is to serve the Princess, he will be unable to continue with his lessons, as Dorephan had hoped."

Link felt the tension building in his shoulders begin to ease. All of a sudden, he wanted nothing more than to be the Princess' guard.

"Send him back for another week," the General suggested. "Let him teach as much as he can in that period and then return. That way, if he is indeed chosen as the Princess' Appointed Knight, he will have had at least one more lesson with the Zora youths."

"A good idea," Rhoam said with a small grin. "Very well, Sir Link, you have your orders. You leave at dawn."

"Yes, Sir," Link said with another bow, his features calm while his mind whirled with questions.

What was that look all about? It's unlike Janin to agree to a mission so quickly. And my arm - I won't be able to teach anything about using a shield. And… and what was the purpose of me being at this meeting at all? They didn't ask me to say anything; they just… spoke about me.

While I was just standing there.

Odd.

\-==/\==-/

"Link!"

He flinched as Mipha's voice met his ears. But as she neared he forced a cold mask over his features. Got to control my emotions.

"It's been so long," she smiled breathlessly as she jogged up to him. "I've… I've really missed you."

Link met her gaze without emotion and said nothing. It had hardly been a month or so since his last journey to Zora's Domain. Nayru preserve me.

She frowned slightly, lowering her eyes, and for a moment he thought he might have offended her. "I… well, welcome back," she said quietly. "Come with me - I will show you to your quarters. You'll be at the inn, this time…"

"Surely there are more important matters for you to attend to," he said evenly. "I have been here many times; I know the way to the inn."

Her eyes widened. "Oh! Well, yes, I know, but… yes, you're right." She fiddled anxiously with her hands. "I had only noticed that… well, your arm! It's in a sling, for goodness' sake - I was just thinking that if we went somewhere a little more private, I could heal it for you…"

"It's part of my lesson this time," he said without thinking, eager to escape her healings if at all possible. "To… to show you and the others how to work with injuries."

"But I won't ever let them get injured," she protested with a laugh, walking beside him as he continued crossing the Great Zora Bridge. "You know I won't. So they shouldn't need that lesson. Let me just heal you."

"No," Link protested firmly, a hard edge to his voice. "It would not be wise to count on you always being available on the field of battle. I will keep this injury, Princess."

Her brow creased and she pouted with disappointment. "Very well," she relented. "You know, it's… it's really great that you're here, now, of all times…"

He inclined his head towards her, confused. "Oh?"

She looked down quickly. "N-nothing, Link. Forget I said anything."

Clearly it's not 'nothing,' he thought, studying her intently as she left his side and hurried up the grand staircase up to the Zora palace. But I'll probably find out about it, one way or another…


Updated 6/16