Chapter 53: Groose's Malaise
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Note: Something interesting I came across while reworking this chapter is the fact that it is impossible for human beings to both love the oppressed and hate the oppressor. We must choose one to focus our energies on; we can't do both. This is something that I've had to truly contemplate and address in my own life; I find it intriguing that I was unknowingly writing it into Link's experiences almost a year ago. Just another instance in which I can see how writing is truly therapeutic, and helps you organize your thoughts and discover truths about yourself. I would absolutely encourage each of you to give it a try!
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"Excellent," Impa said as Link walked beneath the portcullis into the old Hinox prison. "You're not in as many pieces as I feared."
Link grinned, feeling his cheeks warm slightly in embarrassment. "You don't sound particularly relieved."
"Because I wasn't particularly worried," Impa countered. "As a matter of fact, I was watching you almost the entire time; as I'm sure the Princess would have told you, this was a bit of a test. You did… alright, I suppose. I was the one who sent the guards away enabling you to get back out again, but no matter." Her expression turned grim, crimson eyes narrowed like a hawk. "You also revealed a disturbing lack of common sense. If that note I left for you had come from a Yiga intending to lure you out of your room, it would have been all too easy for them to follow you into the Princess' chambers as I did, kill you while still veiled in shadow, and then kill the Princess. Remember – the Yiga stole many of our techniques."
Link ducked his head sheepishly, wincing at the remembered sensation of an assassin's blade piercing his side. He rubbed at the scar absently. "I… but… I mean, nothing did happen, though, and I…"
Impa quirked an eyebrow at him - her favorite method of conveying skepticism, it seemed. "Did the thought occur to you even once that it could have been a ruse?" she asked sternly, one hand on her hip.
Link swallowed, nervously moistening his lips. "N-no, I… I didn't think anyone else would have deku powder. And I didn't… it didn't feel wrong, or suspicious." He grimaced, averting his gaze to study the Hinox bones in the distance behind her, and avoid actually looking her in the eye; he felt more foolish with each word that escaped his lips. "And, er, that's… that's probably not wise, going through with that based on a feeling, but I…" He felt his face heating up and stopped talking, worried about how Impa would react. But I had to speak with Zelda, considering everything else that happened yesterday.
He chanced a glance at Impa's expression, finding a knowing smile twisting her lips. "That's better than nothing," she sighed, folding her arms across her chest. "However, you still should have proceeded with more caution." Impa frowned, tapping her foot absently at the ground. Then she straightened and drew her longsword with a flourish. "Now - to work. Show me what you can do."
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It was the most grueling bout of training yet; Link wondered if perhaps Impa was regretting her decision to encourage his contact with the Princess and planned to tire him out so thoroughly he'd have no choice but to go straight to sleep that night. They spent the rest of the day fighting.
"In the heat of battle, every moment counts," she coached, whipping her sword out of its sheath and turning the forward momentum into a deadly horizontal swipe. "The instant you draw your sword you enter combat. Make that count for something." She lunged forward with vicious speed and performed a powerful diagonal swipe at his shoulder - an attack that would have disembowelled him if he hadn't leapt backwards in a split-second instant of terrified adrenaline. "If you can kill an opponent in one swing, do it. Surprise them with ferocity greater than they anticipate."
And on and on it continued, as she demonstrated various moves and explained their purpose: "Every movement should flow into the next. If you take the time to reposition yourself before your next blow, your opponent has an opening too easily exploited." "Remember that your goal is to maintain distance between you and your enemies - you don't want any of them to get too close. Keep that in mind with each move you make, and stay aware of your surroundings."
When evening finally arrived and Impa agreed to let him return to his quarters, Link climbed the rickety old stairs up through the water pump room spattered in bruises yet again, little swollen flares of achy pain across his body. He didn't feel discouraged, but rather awed; he remembered Revali's remark about combat as an art form and found its truth manifested in Impa's mastery of Sheikah techniques, so different from his own fighting style.
I learned though forced experience, he reflected, meandering up the long path to his room, lost in thought. I was killed, over and over again. I had to come up with what to do on the spot, try different things, rely on instinct. And as a result, his technique was rough, wild, and unsophisticated. Deadly, to be sure, and there were certainly times that he felt graceful, but it lacked Impa's refinement.
Incredible to watch. And fascinating to learn.
"Ah, Sir Link. Just the man I wanted to see."
Link gave a start, coming back to reality. His heart froze, sending chills dripping down his back as he felt the blood draining from his face.
At first it was the sight of the all-too-familiar uniform that Captain Janin wore that sent a dagger through his heart. And then it was the realization that the man wearing it was too big to be Janin, and had a head full of slicked-back crimson hair.
Groose. Captain Groose, now.
The newly-appointed Captain of the Royal Guard stood in the middle of the hall, blocking his path onward. There was a strained smile on his face, and his bright yellow-green eyes betrayed uncertainty.
Link swallowed thickly, breathing in deeply though his nose. This had to happen eventually, I suppose, he thought resignedly. "Captain," he said curtly with a short nod, glancing at the hallway beyond Groose's broad shoulder.
Groose shifted from one foot to another, his smile fading. "I was hoping we could talk," he said quietly, bending forward ever so slightly. "In the Captain's… er, in my, uh, study."
Link felt his pulse hammering faster. He felt tense, like a coiled spring, ready to lunge into action at a moment's notice. "Here is fine," he responded. Impa's still down in that old Hinox prison. If I get myself into trouble, she's close enough to help.
Groose winced, breaking his gaze for a moment. "Of… of course," he said with a forced chuckle. "Of course. Yeah, this is… yeah." He cleared his throat, turning to the wall and leaning against it, leaving the corridor tantalizingly empty.
Link considered, for a moment, if he should just run. Would Groose chase me down? Could I outrun him? Nothing he wants could be a good thing for me, right?
"Look, I… I get it," Groose said quietly, once more stirring Link from his inner musings. "We were… there's no excuse, really. For what we did. How we treated you." He winced again, scratching the back of his neck almost self-consciously. "I've heard people say that each person you add to a group drops their collective common sense. Maybe that's true of the Royal Guard, maybe not."
"Sir?" It felt alien, calling Groose, of all people, 'Sir.' But the new Captain was rambling, and Link didn't want this conversation to go any longer than necessary. Please get to the point.
"Right, right," Groose said. "Sorry about that. Point is, I'm apologizing. Or, trying to. I don't think it's going very well so far. Still, I'm - we're - sorry. All of us. For pestering you and making fun of you and getting a bit more physical than was necessary and for… for actually beating you that one time. Yeah, we were jealous, but that's no excuse, really. So… yeah, I came to deliver that apology, on behalf of everyone in the Guard."
He swallowed thickly, bowing his head and crossing his arms across his chest, his brow furrowed and his lips pressed tightly together in a clear expression of remorse. "Guess I really need to work on making speeches," he mumbled with a grimace. He lowered his gaze further to meet Link's eyes. "I… I also came on behalf of me," he admitted quietly. "I had a… a really eye-opening moment recently. Not so recent anymore, I guess; just shows I'm… a bit of a coward." He cleared his throat again, and Link was stunned to see that there were tears in his eyes. "That moment was, uh, on the first day of the year. In… in Central Square. I'm sure I don't have to be more specific - we both know what happened that day.
"Started off like a nice day, y'know. Bit cloudy, sure, but I was feeling pretty good. Like I'd done some great thing in protecting the Princess' honor, or whatever. Everyone went out to the Central Square, and - and you'll laugh, but I… I saw this pretty girl in the crowd and felt like maybe I'd do some flirting. Impress someone with, er, with what a big shot I was. Goddesses, it all sounds so stupid now… But anyway, we got to talking, and we were hitting it off pretty good; found out her name was Melidli and she's working at learning the lyre. And then… well… you walked by. Melidli was… pretty disturbed. You were so young, she said. You already had so many scars. And I… I'd never thought of it like that. But once she pointed it out I couldn't… I couldn't unsee it, you know what I mean?"
Groose sighed heavily, tapping a finger restlessly against his elbow. "I'd always figured I was good with kids," he murmured. "My time off, all I do - when I'm not going out with ladies - is spend time with the kids around here. Give 'em rides on my shoulders, play their games with 'em… And I realized that you're not a whole lot older than the oldest of them." He cringed. "I'm - I'm not trying to say you're a child. Goddesses know you've experienced too much to be considered a kid now. I'm just… it really gave me some perspective. And Melidli was right about the scars, too, and I kept wondering what in Din's name you'd gone through to have that many scars already. I… I thought about that night on Death Mountain, and the chains, and when you started… y'know…"
Crying, Link finished bitterly. "Yes, Sir."
A pained look passed over Groose's face. "Right. Well… perspective, as I said. I'd never dream of doing something like that to those other kids, even when they get to be your age, even if they'd done something bad. So… I kept asking myself, why - how could I have done something like that to you? And I… I felt awful.
"Anyway, back to Central Square, Janin started… doing his thing, what he was supposed to do, and now thinking of you not as a knight or the bearer of the Master Sword but as… well, as someone who'd never gotten a chance at having a childhood, who was… trapped, I guess, between being a kid and being an adult. Watching what was happening to you, what Janin was doing, I… I thought I was going to throw up or something.
"Melidli was starting to cry, and I wasn't too far from that myself, honestly. She said… she asked what you possibly could have done to deserve this kind of action against you. And I thought back over everything, and… and Goddesses, it just made me feel so sick inside." Groose frowned heavily, looking a little pale and green. "Makes me feel sick now, too. And the realization that this was - that this was my fault, at least partly, because of that image we got with the Sheikah Slate, and that really you couldn't have deserved something like this. That you… that you really had so much on your shoulders - the fate of the entire kingdom - and that no one was helping you out with it. All you got from me, and the others, was a bunch of hate. We added to your burden, if anything." He rubbed at his eyes, turning his head far to the side to avoid Link's gaze.
"After you were… after it was over," Groose continued, "I told Melidli everything. Here I was, thinking I'd come and sweep her off her feet, but in the end, I was this awful sobbing mess. I didn't know what to do, what to think about myself… she was very kind, helped me pull myself together, and she told me - she said - she said I needed to apologize, and make things right as much as I could, and… and yeah. And I… I knew, deep down, that she was right. She's a great woman - very wise, very kind. We're, erm, we're engaged now, actually, and I was… well, that doesn't matter so much here.
"Anyway, I was… I was afraid. Felt all sick and clammy at the thought of just looking at you. I didn't know if I could talk to you again after all this… this guilt, and shame. It was just… there's just no excuse for what I did in the past, and there's no way I can really make up for what happened. All this time… if I'd just swallowed my pride and looked at you as just another of my little brothers and sisters, the way I see all the other kids around here, I could've been there with you from the beginning. Maybe even helped in some degree, the way knights are supposed to."
Groose exhaled heavily, letting his arms drop to his side. He straightened, stepping away from the wall, and took a small step forward, towards Link, meeting his gaze. "So… I'm here," he said with a feeble chuckle. "I pledge myself as your shield-brother from here on out. You ever need anything, an extra pair of eyes or another warrior at your side or just a box of those chocolates the town bakery's come up with for the Princess, and I'll do it. Course, I… I also understand if you never want to see my face again. But just… I just wanted you to know that I'm sorry, sorrier than I've ever been about anything before in my life, and I'm ready to help in any way if you're ever in need."
He scratched his head again, half turning to head back down the hall. "Oh, and… there's something you need to check out down at the stables. Ask for timber."
Link squinted after him. Timber? They need me to… build something? But I… don't know how…
He waited until Groose was gone and the hallway was empty before walking on, towards the winding staircase leading to the upper floors containing his and the Princess' rooms. His mind was whirling once again, and he further lost himself in his thoughts the closer he came to his room. He was being sincere; that much is obvious to me. Acting – lying - was never something Groose could do, at least that I've seen.
So what am I supposed to do now?
He couldn't so easily forget Groose and the other knights' jeers and blows as he lay crumpled and helpless before them, experiencing agony deep in his soul when he realized just how alone and hated he was. Nor could he escape the trauma of being beaten in such a way, rendered utterly helpless by his own fears and by the threat of greater punishment, bearing the blows of his comrades, many of whom were undeniably good men - men that rescued children, fought for their families, stood up for the weak, and protected the helpless - unless the weak and helpless happened to be Link.
And he couldn't forget how Groose and his brother had intruded on a moment intended to be private and pure, and twisted it into something dark and frightening. Link remembered well the feeling of furious anger and hurt, and of numb helplessness, as he found himself on the other end of the Sheikah Slate held in Groose's hands.
But it seemed, Link reflected, that Groose couldn't escape these past memories either. And they're hurting him, too. Not in the same way that they hurt me, but… nonetheless…
What would ease Groose's pain, he wondered. And would I want his pain to be eased? Or… or am I glad that he's finally feeling a measure of what he inflicted on me? He regrets what happened, and he's… he's sworn now to help me. It's not enough to fix things, though; he's still clearly consumed by guilt and shame.
Link could certainly feel a part of him that was satisfied by Groose's turmoil, like some beast after consuming a filling meal now settling down to rest. What he had done was wrong, and cruel; he deserved now to feel the agony of guilt. It was only fair.
The Master Sword felt cold against Link's back. Yet it did not feel alien; he could feel its coldness bound to something deep inside of him, a part of him that didn't agree with the beast within. A piece of his soul that felt its own measure of guilt about revelling in Groose's pain.
He's suffering for what he did. It's possible, if I never forgive him, if I hold on to this and make him suffer for it simply by going on as I have - trying to escape from him, saying little in his presence, withholding trust from him - that he will never truly find happiness. His regrets, his guilt and shame, will entirely engulf him. Does he deserve such a fate?
Does he deserve to find happiness?
He turned down the corridor leading to his room and stopped, feeling his innards twist and clench. It was right, wasn't it, for Groose to feel guilt of this sort? And it was nothing Link needed to worry about, since Groose had brought this upon himself - Groose, his brother, the other knights of the Royal Guard… and Janin, of course. They were in the wrong; it was normal and fair for them to feel the deep, sickening anguish of remorse. And it was good that Groose, at least, had arrived at such a state already. Link hoped the others would follow suit. They deserve it, right? Especially Janin. He deserves to feel that pain for everything he's done.
Anger flared hot and bright in his soul at the remembrance of Janin's insistence that he had done no wrong. He took a step forward, continuing to the nondescript, worn wooden door to his room, offering a polite nod to the guards outside of Zelda's rooms as he passed. He - and the others - deserve justice. What they put me through was wrong.
His hand closed around the brass doorknob, chill ice beneath his hand warmed by the emotions surging through his blood. He entered his room, stepping into darkness.
They deserved justice, but what justice existed for their actions?
Link remembered hurling himself at the former Captain with every intent to cause him pain. But no physical pain could come close to what he had suffered at Janin's - and the others' - hands.
Ronelda said it best, he reflected, unbuckling the Master Sword from his back and resting it against his nightstand. It's impossible for anyone to feel true empathy - to really feel someone else's experiences. Which means there's no way to deal out righteous justice. He felt a bitter sense of helplessness settling down around his shoulders, mingling with the curdling anger and hatred boiling in his gut. It wasn't right; it wasn't fair - they needed to pay, somehow, for what they had done. There had to be some way for them to compensate.
But there wasn't.
Link frowned, sitting down on his bed with his hands clasped beneath his knees. This… this isn't like me, he realized. Usually I internalize pain, even the pain of guilt, even when I'm not the one at fault. I don't wish it on others. Why… why is this how I feel now?
He tilted his head back, breathing deeply and feeling air with just the barest hint of an icy bite expand his lungs. He felt old, weary down to his bones, filled with enough pain and turmoil to last a lifetime. Gazing aimlessly up at the wooden boards of his ceiling, he answered his own question.
I've been beaten past my breaking point and learned how to get back up again. And I've felt betrayal of the worst sort - I've learned hate.
Hate was powerful. A raging fire in his soul, ready to consume those that had hurt him as slowly, as cruelly, as possible. Hate was everything that drove his desire for Janin and Groose and the others to receive their just desserts.
But… I've also learned love.
He felt his shoulders, which had tensed without his realizing it, begin to relax as if warm, gentle hands were applying a soothing balm to his skin. Closing his eyes, he allowed memories to drift through his consciousness… Zelda, always at the forefront of his mind, and the laughs he'd shared with her, the peaceful moments they had spent together. The relief he felt when, at last, she began to understand that his situation wasn't much different from hers, and she finally let him help her bear her burdens and supported him in turn. The comfort he felt from her, the warmth of her love, the tenderness he felt for her.
And Choice, of course. Her constant faithful support, her patience and compassion. She had helped him maintain his humanity, he believed, from the moment he first laid eyes on her. Without her gentle spirit, he doubted that he wouldn't have turned out to be the weapon Janin desired.
More recently, of course, there were General Hawkwood and Impa. Though grim and tough, he didn't doubt that they cared about him. Impa and her willingness to take time out of their training to answer his questions and help him make sense of himself. The General and his heartfelt encouragement and unyielding faith. They were people Link knew he could trust, and he valued their presence in his life.
There were others, as well - others that he was beginning to feel a bond of friendship with. Urbosa, Daruk, Thrangus, Purah…
I could let this hatred I feel for Janin and the others consume me, he realized. I could seek revenge - I have the skills I'd need to sabotage their efforts - to make them hurt. It wouldn't come close to compensating for what they did, but… it would be something.
Or… I can leave it all alone. Focus instead on maintaining and strengthening bonds with the people I care about, and who care about me.
He felt as if he stood at a fork in the road, one path leading through dark, thorn-infested woodland, cold and miserable. The other path led into sunlight and warmth, wide open fields encompassing endless beautiful possibilities.
There is no true justice that could be dealt to Janin and Groose and the other knights, he thought again, this time with a gentle, deflated sort of acceptance. So… so there's really no point in me trying to give it to them. Or wishing it upon them.
He winced, remembering with an uncomfortable squirming in his gut Groose's adamant dismay. Besides… eventually, they'll end up punishing themselves far more than I ever could.
He stripped down to his underclothes before slipping into bed, pulling the blankets up close to his chin and curling in around himself, huddling in his own warmth. Impa had forced him to swear not to visit Zelda again until he received a signal from her, for his safety as well as hers. There would be no more adrenaline this day; he was free to sleep as soundly as was possible.
The angry burn of hatred piping through his veins had faded, dormant but not entirely gone. His thoughts returned to Groose's uncharacteristic display of emotion; the new Captain's past deeds were holding him captive. He was bound by chains forged by his own hands.
Holding on to my hate gets me nowhere, only causes more pain. Keeps me bound to my past even as I so desperately seek freedom from those memories, those nightmares. But if I release it… if I release them…
He imagined shackles falling from Groose's wrists.
Then… then I might just be able to find peace. For myself… and for others.
Updated 7/8
