Chapter 16: A Breath of Freedom
\-==/\==-/
"Ah, Sir Link." Purah grinned, but her eyes were cold - as cold as crimson eyes could ever be. "I trust you've learned the difference between monkshood and bluebells?" She snickered.
Link forced his features to remain still as the Princess giggled in front of him. You were there, he thought in frustration. You know I didn't really…
He shoved the thoughts from his mind. It didn't matter now, anyway. He was a bodyguard, a weapon and shield rolled into one; let the Princess and her friend poke fun at him. It didn't hurt.
Not much, anyway.
"Surly fellow, isn't he?" Purah smirked, rolling her eyes towards the Princess.
"Oh, it's not his fault," the Princess sighed with a teasing grin of her own. "I've come to think there's simply nothing going on in his mind at all. Wild horses couldn't drag a thing out of him; just pretend he isn't there."
It doesn't hurt, it doesn't hurt, it doesn't hurt…
"Sounds easy enough," Purah shrugged. "Anyway, I've got some fantastic news for you. While you were gone, I got Robbie and a few of the others to write letters to the King requesting your presence on the Great Plateau. I think I wrote five letters, myself; Robbie wrote three. Everyone else contributed at least one. We told him how your grasp of the mechanics behind ancient technology is nearly unmatched, almost as extensive as mine or Robbie's, and how your wide range of knowledge on other topics grants you a valuable broader perspective."
"You – you did? You flatter me," the Princess protested, turning red. "That's… not at all true…"
"Oh, but it is!" The little Sheikah scientist nodded vigorously. "Zelda, we need you out there in the field with us."
"You'll never convince him," the Princess protested glumly.
Purah was silent for several moments, a sly smile creeping across her features. "Actually…"
The Princess sucked in a startled gasp, her eyes flying wide. "You didn't!" she squealed, beaming from ear to ear. Link felt a strange sort of tug in his chest.
Purah cackled. "When I leave the castle to go back to the Plateau, you're coming with me! And bring the Sheikah Slate - I have a theory that might help us actually get inside the shrine!"
"You're joking!" the Princess exclaimed, slapping her hands over her mouth. "Purah, I - I can't believe this! It's - it's too good to be - when do we leave!"
Purah grinned widely. "Two days!" She turned her attention on Link. "Hear that, knight? You'd better be ready in two days - I don't wait for slowpokes!"
Link didn't have the heart to take offense. He'd never seen the Princess so happy about anything before. It made him feel lighter than air.
\-==/\==-/
She whispered his name, sobbing in his arms. "It's my fault," she whimpered, and her voice, warped by fear and tears, struck an achingly familiar chord in his soul. "It's all my fault…"
"No," he murmured into her hair, holding her close as the crashing feet of monsters through the tangled black woods crept closer. "It's not your fault. It's not anyone's fault. We couldn't have known."
Her tears soaked his tunic and he adjusted his hold on her, wrapping her securely in his arms. He breathed in her sweet scent… some mysterious flowery scent…
The moment ended, as it always did, much too soon. "We have to keep moving," he told her, gently pulling her to her feet. "Don't let go of my hand, for any reason."
"I never could," she whispered. This was new; she hadn't said that before.
They ran through the darkness, branches and brambles tearing at their skin, their clothes, their hair. Link tried to keep himself in front of her, hoping that his body would shelter her from the worst of the forest's abuse.
And then the monsters came. Link drew a sword from his back - a sword, not the usual lizal boomerang - but maintained his grip on the girl's hand. He fought, one handed; he fought until his muscles turned to jelly and his skin stung with a myriad of cuts and bruises, but still his companion's hand remained in his, and he didn't hear her death screams.
Maybe she won't die this time, he thought, hope surging through his chest. Maybe we'll make it to dawn, and I'll finally see her face!
When at last only the shadow of himself remained to fight him, when the darkness seemed just a little less dark than before, signalling the coming of dawn, it happened.
His limbs weighed him down like blocks of lead. He'd never felt that before; he always had enough strength left to fight and run. So when he looked down at the blade buried hilt-deep in his chest, he felt no pain at first - only surprise.
Then the agony set in, so fierce that he couldn't draw breath, that he could only stand where he was, paralyzed by the intensity.
His shadow looked at him, red eyes blazing. "Learn," it whispered. "Not all threats are physical."
Then it vanished, taking its sword with it. Link screamed then, feeling the blade scrape and tear as it left his body; he staggered back a step before crumpling sideways to the ground, landing with a stony impact that drove his breath from his lungs. He felt horribly hot and cold all at once; his hands clutched at the wound in a pointless attempt to stem the flow of blood. Too much… there's just too much! Was this real, he wondered? Would someone truly bleed so heavily after a wound like this? How much blood did a human body contain, anyway?
He curled into himself but instantly convulsed outwards with the sudden flare of pain from the opposite end of the wound in his back. He choked out another pained cry, sweat moistening his skin and mingling with the sticky blood on his fingers. Dimly he saw the faintest outlines of a face just barely illuminated by the shy rising sun; the girl had lived. She's alive - I did it. Finally!
She reached out to him and her hand was like a burning coal on his face; he flinched away weakly and blurred grass and dirt filled his vision instead. His limbs ached with sudden cold, but it was a cold that felt like searing flames; already there wasn't enough blood left in his body.
He tried to turn his weary head, to look up at his mysterious companion once more, but he saw only darkness. Sensations around him melted away - grass pricking the wound in his back like daggers, the ground solid beneath him, unyielding - all of it vanished, leaving him tumbling through merciless darkness with nothing but pain and blood; he was falling, faster, faster, faster -
\-==/\==-/
Link jerked awake with a sharp gasp, his hands flying to his chest. His pulse was beating like a hummingbird's wing in his neck, filling his body with a distinct pounding sensation that made him feel nauseous. He shivered; he had been sweating profusely, and now the moisture soaking his undershirt chilled him down to his bones in his drafty castle room.
With another tremor he pulled his knees to his chest and lowered his head.
I died.
He shivered again. It hadn't happened that way before. And just as everything else in these nightmares, it had been agonizingly vivid. He had felt the blade pierce him through, rending bone and muscle and organ, scraping against his bones; he grimaced at the memory, grinding his teeth together as another chill trembled through his body.
His hands tightened around the thin material of his shirt and he shut his eyes firmly, feeling the burn of oncoming tears. His chest throbbed, almost as if he really had been impaled; his chin trembled and he felt something wet slide down his cheek. He glanced down at his pillow and found himself recoiling inwardly at the mere thought of trying to sleep again.
Why? Why must the Goddesses torture me like this? Showing me death, night after night - the deaths of my parents, of that strange girl, of… myself…
And not peaceful deaths, either.
Blood soaking his hands. The cold anguish of metal sliding through bone and muscle. The mutilated bodies of his loved ones.
At least the girl didn't die this time…
He rubbed his sleeve across his nose and closed his eyes briefly, trying to shove the terrifying images from his mind. She didn't die. She survived; I didn't fail. And - and she isn't even real; these are just dreams, nothing real, nothing real.
He wiped the moisture from his eyes and was reminded of his first night out of the castle with the Princess; he could clearly remember the heartrending sound of her muffled sobs. I'm probably not the only one with nightmares, he thought, slipping out of bed. The stone floor was cold beneath his bare feet as he stood and snatched the Master Sword from its sheath, quietly leaving his room and walking the short distance down the hall to the Princess' door. He dismissed the guard standing there with a curt nod towards the Master Sword; the other man left with a shrug, leaving him alone.
And, sure enough, when the guard's crisp footfalls faded away, he could hear the faint sound of the Princess' quiet sobs through the ancient wood. With a heavy sigh he leaned back against the door, listening with his head tilted to the side, the Master Sword dangling listlessly from his hand.
He wasn't meant to be on duty now; at the castle, he was allotted time to himself, time to sleep. But he couldn't sleep anymore tonight. He didn't want to see any more blood, and he couldn't bear the thought of returning to his nightmares only to find that his companion would die again instead of him.
He slid down the door until he sat with his knees close to his chest on the ground. His tongue begged to be loosed; he yearned to tell the Princess that he could feel for what she was going through, that she wasn't alone. Firmly he kept his mouth shut, praying that somehow she would be aware of the presence of another aching soul, that somehow she would be comforted.
I know what it's like, Princess. I wish you could know that.
A wave of bitterness churned through his stomach. I just wish the King hadn't bridled my tongue.
\-==/\==-/
Link was surprised to see only Choice and Dinraal waiting outside of the stables with Purah. And he was equally surprised that Purah wasn't alone; five other Sheikah scientists were gathered around her, helping stablehands pile bundles of travelling supplies onto Choice's back.
"Aren't we riding?" he asked before he could stop himself, feeling a sharp sting in his chest upon seeing Choice prepared as a packhorse without his consent. But she's not my horse. Never was.
Purah twirled a long, slender stick around her finger. "Zelda is," she explained. "I mean, she is the Princess, after all. You wouldn't expect her to walk while you ride, would you?"
Link could feel his cheeks flushing. "And why is Choice -"
"From what Zelda tells me, you probably would've brought your horse along whether or not anyone else was riding," the scientist interrupted, flicking her stick away. "And it wouldn't be right for you to be riding while the rest of us scientists walked. We outrank you, funnily enough. But I figured we might as well bring your little pony along as a packhorse. Compromise."
Some compromise, he thought bitterly with a scowl, biting his tongue to keep himself from saying anything more. Shaking his head, he marched to Choice's side and gently stroked her thick black mane. "You deserve much better," he muttered, briefly resting his brow against her shoulder.
"Pardon me," a man grunted, thrusting his elbow at Link's arm, nudging him away as he lifted yet another bag onto Choice's back and buckled it down. Link took a step backwards, jaw tightly clenched, fighting anger and sadness in his heart.
She's not mine. And if I slip up more than I already have, I'll lose her forever.
It wasn't exactly the cheeriest thought to have at the beginning of a journey. He helped the stable workers finish packing. By then the Princess' obstinate horse had been readied, and the two of them were glaring at each other. Until that moment, Link hadn't realized it was even possible for a horse to glare.
"He's doing it on purpose," she grumbled down to Purah as they started along the road heading south. "For whatever reason, he just doesn't care for me! I don't know why he even listens to me at all!"
"Probably because there's other horses around," Purah said matter-of-factly. "They're herd animals; they find a leader and they follow 'im."
"What leader would this stubborn beast follow?" The Princess shook her head in exaggerated disgust.
The Sheikah scientist sniggered. "See any other horses around?"
"You can't mean… Sir Link's horse?"
"Any of the knights' horses'll do," Purah shrugged. "They're trained for battle, which makes them level-headed and dependable - anything else in their behavior will get themselves or their rider killed in a fight. But this level-headedness also makes them the best leaders in a herd situation. Dinraal knows he's safe when a knight's horse is around, and he wants to stay safe, so he follows." Purah paused, squinting. "You… might learn a thing or two from that, Zelda."
"What?" She sounded repulsed, and Link bit back a wince. "What could I possibly learn from such a bullheaded creature - how to make people hate me even more?"
Purah's voice took on a more chiding tone. "Come on - you're clever; you know what I meant. When your knight is around, you're safe. You might as well take a leaf from Dinraal's book and try to lighten up about him."
"You know perfectly well why I… why I can't stand him." The Princess had lowered her voice, not enough to remove the abject despair and not enough to keep Link from overhearing. "And I thought you understood that. I thought you disliked him, too."
"I do!" Purah agreed, too quickly. "I just… I feel a little guilty about it. Was it his choice to draw the Master Sword?"
The Princess scoffed. "It was the Goddesses that didn't have a choice," she growled, her tone ripe with disgust. "That's what he's been preparing for all his life. Showing up everyone else in every possible way so that when the time came, he was the only logical choice for them." She shook her head, her shoulders sagging. "Honestly, at times, I think… I think he can't even be human, that he's more like the guardians than anything else. And how could I ever measure up to that?"
Link stopped in his tracks, and only Choice's gentle nudge at his back sent him forward again. Yet he walked blindly, feeling the world around him drain away, leaving only the roar of his blood in his ears and the panicked drumbeats of his heart.
Not human…
He thought of the ancient Sheikah machines, the guardians. Weapons created with one purpose in mind: kill.
The Princess is… right. That's… that's what I am, isn't it. He bit his lip, hard, his mouth painfully dry until his teeth broke skin and drew forth a drop of blood.
He had been willing to hand a man over to be tortured. He could win against every offender, barely needed any sleep to get by, dreamed only of death and blood…
I'm… a weapon. Forged by Captain Janin, wielded by the Goddesses.
The realization hurt much more than he thought it would. He didn't want to be a machine; he wanted to feel, to love, to meet the mysterious girl in his nightmares and learn why his heart was so inexplicably drawn to hers.
And yet… with every day that passes, as I banish emotion from my features and prepare myself to kill, kill, kill, at any time, I push myself farther and farther away from such possibilities.
He struggled to swallow past the swelling lump in his throat. But what choice do I have?
Updated 7/8
