Prompt No.4
Word count: ~585
Universe: Legend of Zelda
Pairings: Zelink, but only a tiny bit
Rating: T, because there's blood and I'm paranoid
Themes: Punishment, obedience conditioning, helplessness, stab wound
Human Shield
It wasn't that she was in danger that frightened him, because frankly she always seemed to be in danger. It wasn't that the latest in what had admittedly become a long line of ambitious villains had his arm wrapped around her throat—she always found herself in some compromised position or other, and when he would tease her about it later, she would counter that she only let it happen because she liked seeing the doting worry in his eyes when he came to her rescue.
It was the way her mouth fell open in a gut-wrenching, breathless gasp when the dagger plunged into her side—when the villain had warned him not to take another step closer, and he had had the gall to disobey.
His blood froze in his veins, and Zelda loosed a shuddering, quiet breath when her captor pulled the dagger free, pressing her mouth into his restraining arm to keep from making any more noise than that.
"Don't do that again," Link growled, fear tempering the threat in his voice.
"Don't disobey me again," the villain countered simply, wiping the bloodied blade on the billowy pleats of her skirt, and Link felt the first crack, like a dark, spidery crevice on a porcelain doll. "Drop your sword."
He frowned, making a show of holding the blade away at full arm's length and letting it fall with a blaring clatter to the floor. The villain nodded, satisfied, and he repeated the ritual with his shield when he demanded it.
"Step away," the villain instructed plainly, and, briefly meeting the sullen, shuttered gaze of his princess, Link swallowed salt and his pride, and obeyed, and another jagged split tore through him. It wasn't much, a few feet at most, and their captor's lip twitched in amusement. "Again."
His teeth were clenched so hard they felt near to cracking, but he did. Another crack. Another smug order and another capitulation. Another dark vein, breaking him in two. The villain took Zelda by the neck, forcing her to take the lead, and his vision swam rosy when she grimaced with the first step, her wound seeping onto her immaculate dress.
They stopped mere inches away. Zelda's gaze was hard as flint, screaming an order he recognized at once. Don't give him what he wants. But how could he not? His overconfidence, his arrogance, had gotten them into this mess. And he hadn't the wisdom to get them out of it.
"Now," the villain purred, "apologize to your princess."
His stomach roiled.
"I'm sorry," he murmured, and the villain tsked.
"Like you mean it."
His breath trembled out of him, trapped between the usurper's demands and his princess's, still shouting at him from diamond-hard eyes that brimmed with tears. Don't give up. But the villain's dagger still glinted with the sunlight streaming in through the great picture windows hanging over the throne room, and the blood staining her dress just kept blooming, and the fractures spreading through him with every compliance were far more crippling than anything that bled. The guardsmen bound his wrists, the way the iron bit deep into his flesh a glimmer of what awaited him. But he knew he wouldn't be led away. Not until he admitted to her what a fool he had been. Not until he saw the disappointment on her face. Not until he could see her fear.
"I'm sorry," he told her, so quietly, as though it were just between them. "I'm so sorry, Zelda."