Prompt No.21
Word count: ~680
Universe: Twilight Princess
Pairings: None
Rating: K
Themes: Truth serum, brainwashing
Laced Drink
They led him down the corridor blindfolded, twisting and turning frequently enough that he had long since lost track of where in the fortress they might be. Finally they heaved him into a chair, bound his wrists to it, and peeled off the blindfold.
The woman sitting across from him smiled softly, white lips quirking up in a way that he read as remarkably genuine.
"Hello," she said.
He let his eyes scan the simple sandstone room. No torture devices. No intimidating array of weapons. Just his interrogator and the pair of guards that had escorted him from his cell.
He didn't find any of that reassuring.
"I just need you to answer a few questions. Can you do that for me?"
His voice was rough from the desert sands. "That depends on what you ask."
"Let's not waste each other's time," she said, nodding to the guards. "We have ways of making you more cooperative. Do try not to make a mess."
An instant later they had wrenched his head back by his hair and were forcing an elixir into his mouth. One tossed the bottle and the other clapped a firm hand over his nose and lips. He sputtered, but managed to expel very little; it oozed purple between her fingers. His chest shuddered and heaved as he fought the urge to breathe. But they were uncommonly patient.
Finally he swallowed, eyes widening a fraction as it slithered down his throat, and gasped haggardly as they let him go.
The elixir was quick. The world felt hazier, heavier, and he blinked too wide, trying to get his eyes to focus. His lips tingled. The room felt hot. Her voice sounded a hundred yards away.
"Let's start with something simple, shall we? What's your name?"
He blinked again, processing, trying to shake off the warmth, the fuzziness, crawling over his skin like a creature. He tried to hold it in, tried to bite down on his tongue until it bled. But it felt swollen and numb in his mouth.
"Link."
"Good," she said quietly. "And since we both know who sent you here, let's get that out of the way…?"
"The Queen," he murmured, picturing her face.
"The Queen of…?"
"Hyrule."
"Good," she praised him again. "Are you a spy?"
"Yes."
She hummed ominously. "And why did she send you?"
The room was swimming, all hazy and rosy and thick. He blinked again, listless. "You stopped receiving envoys."
She sighed wistfully, crossing the room, and ran her fingertips over his eyes.
"I do love them when they're like this," she mused, watching him endure it without flinching. "So pliant. Tell me, do you know how the Gerudo ended up in this place?"
"Driven back," he murmured, his lips thrumming against his fingers as she traced his face, "after you declared war over your king."
"And she's worried that we're bitter. That we'll strike again from this wasteland in the wake of your latest conflict and have our revenge on your weakened country."
"Yes."
"And what do you think?" she asked, crouching so they were eye level. "If we sent you home, what would you tell her?"
"Your people are starving," he whispered. "Children are dying in the streets."
"And do you think her precious envoys didn't see that with their own eyes? Do you think took pity on us? Sent aid?" She scoffed quietly, stepping back and folding her arms. "Dose him again."
The guards exchanged cursory glances, but obeyed. She watched him swallow submissively, watched his eyes roll back into his head. And this was where subterfuge became art. This was where torture turned to terror. This was where Hyrule's arrogance would cost them everything.
She tilted his head back, whispering into his tapered Hylian ears, planting seeds, instructions, delusions. He drank them all, devoured every lie and every directive, his pulse slogging and his mind muddled as the potion let him be coerced, made him more malleable.
Brainwashing had been a Gerudo artform for hundreds of years. It was about time the Hylians became reacquainted with it.