Chapter Five: Taken
Zelda dreamed of warm baths.
She woke slowly, knowing by the color of the light the sun was falling. Her sleepy pleasure soured. Nightfall meant cold and running and cramping legs.
But if he could do it, she could, too. She stretched and opened her eyes. He sat next to her, leaning back against the wooden wall. He had found this small outbuilding in the early hours. Likely used to store grain until it could be carried to market, it sat empty with the wheat sprouts still green and supple in the fields.
She watched Link sleep. The Sword rested across his outstretched legs. One hand held the hilt. One hand always held the hilt while he rested, always ready to spring into attack.
Did he ever fully relax? Could he?
She sat up. The heavy dress he had stolen for her was chalky with old chaff and dust. She stifled a sneeze.
He cracked an eye to glare at her.
"Sorry," she muttered.
He grunted and settled back.
She went to the opening in the wall. A double door stood wide. Convenient for a wagon to back up to and off-load grain sacks. She stood in the sunlight and looked over this quiet corner of her kingdom.
He groaned as he stood. He was still limping slightly, especially when he first woke. He stood at her shoulder and followed her gaze.
"Good start to the season, nahn?"
"Ta."
He flashed a smile. "Hungry?"
"Starving. And I have to pee."
His chuckle drifted after her as she found a hedge angled to block her from view. She rinsed her hands and face in an irrigation ditch flushed with rainwater and went back to find breakfast cooking.
Some early greens and a few pilfered cucco eggs did not satisfy her, but would be enough until they reached Grenning today
"Should see the town by midnight. Third watch if the road is busy."
She ate the omelet as neatly as she could, scooping it from the small cooking pot with her fingers.
"Do you think they will be there?"
"Yes." There was no doubt in his voice.
She wished she could feel the same trust. His hand closed over hers, heedless of the mess.
"They will be there," he said quietly.
Was he hearing her thoughts? Maybe her fatigue allowed her barriers to slip. She pushed them up as far as they would go. Him knowing her mind would be disastrous.
And not just because she was in love with him.
Who wouldn't be, with a young man willing to shield her with his own body? A warrior with the kindest eyes, funny, patient. Handsome, unfairly so, as he tied his hair back and strapped the Sword in place.
He doused the fire and gave their camp a final inspection.
"Ready?"
She picked up her own small bundle and followed him into the evening.
This was much more his usual appearance, she was sure. Though his mail glinted at his collar, his tunic was drab, made of roughly woven fabric. A nondescript color between brown and green, it matched his rustic trousers and cloak.
The Sword had been wrapped to hide its lustrous sheath. Only his boots gave him away. Their fit was too exact, the leather too supple to be anything but quality.
She, on the other hand, looked exactly like a travel-worn goodwife. Her feet were shod in a pair of mismatched boots he had repaired as best he could. Her formless dress was not warm enough for the nights and too hot during the day. She sweated under her cloak as the sun drifted to the horizon.
He steadied her elbow as they crossed a wide irrigation channel. Not matter her sorrow and frustration in her circumstances, feeling his hands on her waist as she scrambled up an embankment was delicious.
She was clearly mad.
The road was hard-packed earth. The paving project begun by her father had not reached this far from Castle Town. And any road leading to Ordon would be left until last. No use giving their enemies easy access into the heart of Hyrule.
She peeked at her hereditary foe. He whistled some cheerful song that matched their pace. Had he done so while traveling across her country in years past? He walked with an easy lope she knew could become a sprint with barely a hitch. Eyes on the horizon, he seemed made for this toil.
He was.
Did he know how fate had guided him? How choices from generations past led to no other moment but this? And if that was so, what did that mean for her? What was her place?
Trust him.
She did. And barely resented being unable to not love him.
Hylia maintained that it need not be, only happened so in this meeting. And seemed almost baffled by it. Well, Zelda was, too.
Ordona's voice grew clearer with every mile. She had no doubts. She, the Lady of unity and compassion, smiled upon them. Zelda prayed She would not whisper knowingly to her Chosen Hero.
Why not? Is he not perfect?
Zelda armored herself with his annoying habits. He swore fluently when frustrated. He was surly when he first woke. He was reckless and quick to fight. He looked down on her nobility with hypocritical scorn.
She could not forget the hunger, the furious, consuming want as he reached for her back in the palace.
By the Goddess, how she loved him.
Grenning had a lively nightlife for a farming town.
Holding her cloak tight around her, she followed Link through the gate to the cluster of buildings beyond. Music rang out from the largest of them.
"Someone's birthing day, nahn?"
The dark streets were peppered with residents. Some talking, some snoring drunkenly, some…otherwise occupied.
She pressed closer to Link. He reached back and found her hand.
"At least they won't remember us," he said in a low voice, rippling with amusement. She giggled.
"Think they are in there?" she asked, meaning the building where the tramp of feet pounded to the music.
"One way to find out."
Inside was dense with smoke. The sour, yeasty smell of beer floated in the air. Cooking meat, bodies, and the deep warm smell of the earth all blended into a thick miasma.
Her mouth watered as a man passed holding a platter of roasted meat. Had Link heard her stomach growl? He squeezed her fingers and led her up to the blazing fire.
The woman manning the spit grinned up at them.
"Late for travelers! What do you need, stranger?"
Link passed her a thin coin. "A meal? And a bed?"
"Inn's full up," she said, pocketing the money. "But you and your missus can stay in the cow barn. Spring hay came in last week."
Zelda gratefully accepted the wooden bowl of meat bits and vegetables. Link led her to a dark corner.
"Stay here," he said. "I'm going to look around."
She huddled as small as she could. Their merriment was happy, but she did not like being alone. She rebuffed several slurred requests to dance, firmly and with her knife gripped under her cloak.
One was more persistent than the others. He leaned over her, sloppily grinning and boasting of his manly attributes. She was not sure whether to laugh or cry.
He jerked back, stumbling as Link shoved him with a stiff arm.
"The lady is spoken for, friend."
The man regained his balance. The hot challenge in his face oozed into sheepishness as he reassessed Link's stature.
"Sorry," he slurred. "Di'nae know."
"Be off."
Zelda knew her giggles were hysterical. He seemed to understand and drew her up.
"You're too beautiful to leave alone."
Her aching feet wanted to leap. Link moved expertly through the press. She clung to his hand, dodging stamping feet and wild gesticulations. There were well over a hundred people crammed into the great room, scores in the fenced inn-yard. Under the flickering torches, their features blurred into the smoke.
She could sense his frustration. Should they move on, wait until the next night? Hope they met up with them on the road?
A fiddle rose over the noise, the start of a new song. Link froze, turning to face the makeshift stage. Balanced atop the crates, the musicians roared the lyrics over the cheering.
She didn't recognize the tune. What she could make of the words were bawdy. Link tugged her toward the door.
"Found them. Come on."
"How?"
"'Meet Me at the Well,'" he said. "It's an Ordonian soldier's song."
That would explain the detailed description of the singer's sweetheart. Once outside, he turned back the way they came.
"There's a common well just beyond the gates."
No one was in sight. They found a wagon left by the side of the road. The broken axle spoke to why it had lain long enough for grass to grow through the planks. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Link settled in to wait.
"What are they thinking?" Zelda wondered, head clearer in the cool night air. "Playing for the town? Won't they be remembered?"
Link shrugged. "Likely not. Musicians and performers move around a lot. And it's a good way to make some money."
She felt anxious, for some reason, rushed. She crossed her heels and uncrossed them. "You speak from experience?"
He laughed, his shoulder moving against hers. "No one would pay to hear me sing. But I'm not half bad at guitar, if I say so myself."
"I expect a performance as proof."
"I don't think any of the songs I know are fit for court."
That was why; she didn't want to find his men, did not want him to return to his role as prince and her as queen. For all the hardship of this journey, she had enjoyed the simplicity of it. She could pretend her life hadn't come crashing down around her, that she hadn't been disposed by traitors in her court.
A bird trilled. Link lifted a hand to his lips and answered, the sound uncannily like a hooting owl. Two forms rose out of the grass. Link sat still as they approached, but Zelda could feel the tension in his arm.
"Captain?"
"Ta, tha wa'ar ander is?"
"'Awking, lor, as is the smuggler way, nahn?"
Link chuckled. "Tell them to finish as soon as they can. We've miles yet to cover."
The east was pinking before they had all gathered. Reeking of smoke and alcohol, the sometime musicians finally arrived and pooled their earnings.
"We've supplies for a fortnight," a stout man was saying. "Bought some extra pack horses. Should make the Downs in two, three days."
Link consulted a map. "Hunt, have you crossed the Bottomless Swamp? Or you Gregin?"
"I have," Hunt said slowly. "When pressed. But that's miles out of our way."
Link rolled up the chart. "Not if we're heading to Zora."
Gregin cocked his head over. "Zora, sir?"
Zelda listened as he outlined his plan, wondering what machinations he had been developing these past days.
"We take the queen to Ordon, they'll say we kidnapped her. She goes back to the palace, they'll execute her. Even if her supporters rally, say based in Kakariko, we're looking at civil war. We go to Zora, invoke the Assembly, she's safe and the other races will support the legitimate ruler."
"Why?"
"Because I tell them to." The quiet assurance of his words reached back through the ages. He was the Hero, born again a thousand times. Destined to fight the endless battle and emerge victorious.
Gregin nodded, stroking his short beard. "Just one problem, my lord."
"What's that?"
"It will work."
The knife gleamed in the predawn. Link deflected it off his bracer and the point aimed for his heart buried in his shoulder.
The Champion fell, a cry wrenched out of him. Hunt bellowed challenge, leaping forward. Gregin whirled and plunged the weapon into the man's chest.
One of the others shoved her away. He and Gregin wrestled for control of the bloodied dagger. Link was on his feet again, Sword gleaming in his off hand.
Gregin slashed at his opponent's face. The man fell back, screaming as blood gushed from beneath his hands. Gregin turned to face the Champion. He held up his hand.
The blast threw the Champion against the wagon. Zelda rolled, gravel cutting into her hands as she scrabbled to regain her feet.
Link was dazed, pushing himself up clumsily. Zelda stumbled forward, her own word of Power on her lips.
"No!" Gregin made a jerking motion. Her feet flew out from under her. "No magic from you, Your Majesty."
Retching, she crawled forward. His magic pressed down on her, forcing her to the earth. Link fought against it, a snarl of fury curling his lip.
"Traitor!" he spat. Gregin kicked him over.
"You think I care about Ordon? That I wanted to go back to that dirty hovel?" Zelda whimpered helplessly as he stomped on Link's wrist. The bones broke with a dull crack. Gregin kicked the Sword out of reach.
Link hissed breaths through clenched teeth, blood dripping from his mouth. "What did they pay you, Jharen and the others?"
Gregin picked up the Sword, protecting his hand with the edge of his cloak. "You think some Hylian blood gave me this power? You're a fool, Gotkasi."
He readied his knife.
"No, please!" Zelda begged. "He's worth more alive!
Gregin hesitated. "You know nothing, girl."
She made a wild guess. "Hyphestin will want him alive."
He gave her a longer look. She shrank from the darkness in him.
Link was not going to be taken alive. He kicked at Gregin's knee. The man staggered, swearing. His distraction released his spell. Link lurched up and dove for him.
They grappled, but Link was too injured to match him. He fell with a second slash to his chest. The knife cut through the Goron mail with a shriek.
Zelda was loosed from the pressure holding her. Gregin kicked Link, snarling expletives. The Champion stayed down, breathing noisily. She ran to him and threw herself between them.
"He won't fight any more," she promised. "Let him live. Please. I will do anything."
Gregin spit in his rage. "I'll eat his heart!"
Whoever he was, he wasn't completely human, not anymore. But she stood her ground.
"Please, Gregin," she pleaded. "He can't fight anymore. I won't fight. Please, just let him live."
Gregin considered. He cocked his head, listening. "Very well, Your Majesty. Fortunately for you, he is preferred alive. Or maybe not so fortunate."
He shoved her back. He jerked Link up by his collar. Whatever magic he had used had done unseen damage. Link was pale, his eyes losing focus.
"Hear that, Champion? Try to escape and I'll make you watch as she begs for death. Understand?" He dropped him and Link fell in a heap.
Zelda knelt by him, feeling for his heart. Her hands came up sticky with blood. She ripped her dress and pressed the thick fabric into the wound. He groaned, convulsing under her.
"Stay with me, Link," she whispered. Her hands grew warm, her own life force seeping into him. "I'm here, stay strong."
Gregin dragged her away. "Get on a horse."
She wrenched from his grip. "Let me ride with him."
"Do as I say, or-"
"You say he's wanted alive? He won't be if he keeps bleeding."
Gregin sneered. His knife still dangled in his hand. She stood firm, refusing to show this beast her terror.
"Whatever you did to him, he's too weak to ride. Take the wagon. I'll keep him alive. You'll need the supplies."
He had to make a choice. The sun was rising. Soon, farmers would be moving along this road.
"Do it."
She scrambled into the tiny wagon bed. Gregin cursed as he hefted Link's weight in after her. Link made no sound as he fell. The wagon lurched forward. She pressed the makeshift bandage to his chest and prayed.
Wake up, Link!
He groaned, seasick.
Link! Champion! Awake!
He tried to breathe. Icy spears pressed into his chest, slicing through him.
Link!
"Link?"
That whisper could rouse him more than Their most insistent command.
"Link. Wake up."
He tried. A power was holding him down, dragging at his mind. She lifted his head. Something smooth and cool brushed his mouth.
"Drink this."
He coughed, mouth too dry to work. She stroked his cheek and it was almost as he imagined it. His dreams had less pain, though. Less of lots of things, actually. Like clothing.
"Just a sip," she urged. He managed to get some of the liquid in his mouth. Water.
"Another."
Blast the woman, didn't she know he was trying? He opened his eyes to see her. Her face angled over him, upside down. That was wrong.
So was the blood on her cheek. And the streaks from her tears.
"What…?"
She shushed him, with a scared glance to the side. "Don't talk."
He didn't want to. He had been unconscious for a reason, so he couldn't feel his injuries. They rose up strident, a chorus of pain.
Shoulder, chest, wrist. And something else, a dull fire inside him, pulsing with his heart.
"Gregin?" he ground out, teeth clenched.
She nodded, looking again to the front of the lurching wagon. That explained his motion sickness.
Rage gave him strength. "Where is he?"
She pressed her fingers to his lips. Of the bonds he had endured, this constraint held him tighter than any other.
"You are too weak. He has the Sword. He has magic. I don't recognize it."
Link did. It was the Shadow. It chewed at the edges of him, trying to worm through his defenses.
"Drink." He obeyed, feeling better after his painful swallows.
"The others?"
"Dead."
"Where are we?"
Her hands trembled. "He's taking us into Druynia."
Well, that was where he had wanted to go for the past season. Preferably not with a broken arm and ribs, but all the same, really.
Speaking of which. She had set the bowl aside and lifted his left wrist. The splint supported his swollen fingers, mottled purple and green.
"How long?"
"Three days. I thought-" Her voice broke. "I thought you'd never wake up."
Would it be agony to kiss her? It seemed a small price to pay to feel her lips on his. Gregin intervened.
"Shut it!" A rock went whistling by, missing her head by inches.
She ducked down and huddled between the sacks piled in the wagon bed.
"He still wants to kill you."
"Well, I want to kill him."
"I promised you would not fight."
He glared at her. How could he not fight? He had to fight, couldn't she see?
"Or what?"
"He'll kill me."
A different sort of fury heated him. How dare she make promises like that! Did she not know the power of such things? That watching her die would do something much worse to him than death?
She offered him some stale bread. He took it, his right arm stiff and fiery. She fussed with the bandage wrapped around his shoulder. Where was his hauberk? How had it not protected him?
"Gregin has it," she told him. "He has a knife that cuts Goron steel."
Link backed his thoughts away from her. How much could she sense from him? Was it the Shadow, eroding his mind? Some things a man wanted to keep private. Like how the short hairs by her ears curled distractingly. Or how the motion of her breathing shifted the fabric of her dress.
He squeezed his eyes shut, sparks flaring into his headache. He was delirious. Or mad. Or in love.
Probably just delirious.
He lay back, already too weary to stay awake. She brushed his hair from his forehead, wary eyes on Gregin's back. Her repetitive strokes were hypnotic. Did she realize she was doing it, or was it habit now, a caress she had done thousands of times while he lay unconscious, his head cradled in her lap?
He couldn't stop his smile and tasted coppery blood from his cracked lips. He fell asleep, knowing his happiness was as insane as it was portentous.
Link sat up against the side of the wagon. His hands were bound in front of him, his ankles chained to the iron frame of the wagon. Inconvenient, but not impossible.
Gregin was taking no chances. Zelda had a rope around her neck. The other end knotted around the wagon frame next to where his shackles were fastened. A strong kick, and she would be strangled, dragged to death behind the lumbering wagon, just out of his reach.
So he sat as they crossed the Watch.
The road grew smoother, rather than rougher. He had never been this far into Druynia. His imagination had supplied the usual imagery from the tales of magic ravaged lands.
It looked very much like Ordon to the south. Forested hills rising to grassy meadows. Farms, small villages.
But no people.
His neck itched, the pressure of eyes on his skin. Zelda huddled next to him. Her face was white and her lips bloodless.
Even Gregin hurried. He swore at the plodding horses. They kicked to a rough trot now and again, nearly throwing the queen to her death.
He gripped her tightly to keep her in the wagon bed. The edges of his broken bones rubbed with numbing, glassy pain.
She had tried to heal them, but he stopped her. It was killing her. He had seen it yesterday, when he woke the second time. Half-dreaming, he had given her hands on his chest no thought, other than how he could imagine nothing more exquisite than her skin on his.
He had tasted her suddenly, summer honey and warm liquid sunshine. He'd opened his eyes, wondering if he had died and this was paradise. Then he saw the sweat on her face and the sick cast to her skin.
"Stop!" he had snapped, pushing her away.
She snatched her hands back and his pain came rushing forward. He panted raggedly, the world once more glaring and harsh.
"Don't," he told her. "It's dangerous."
"You need healing."
"You're not strong enough." It had taken four of Ordon's best healers to repair the damage the last time he was injured like this.
"But-"
"No."
It wasn't the worst he's endured. The Shadow battering him was wearying. But Ordona and Hylia helped him resist.
Maybe that was the touch on his neck. The Shadow watching him, gloating.
Gregin turned at a crossroads.
Where were the people? And if they had been killed by the crytch hordes, where was the evidence?
She was sleeping, exhausted from their fortnight of adversity. She looked thinner, too, hollow spaces carving out her face.
The road was clear, the bridges intact.
Where were the people?
The trees closed around them. This was a remnant of the Faron Woods to the west. The trees smelled old. The horses picked up their pace without urging. The eyes were stronger here.
The sky grew dark as the Shadow closed over them.
He caught the glint of light through the vegetation. He shook her awake.
"There's something ahead," he whispered. Gregin did not like talking.
She shifted uncomfortably and scowled. "Can't be worse than this infernal cart."
They reached the building about an hour later. Link wasn't sure how to categorize it. Not quite a castle, much more than a manor house.
Gregin reigned in the horses and climbed down. He tugged Zelda to the ground and held his knife at her throat.
"Try me, Gotkasi."
Link stared him down. "Kill her and see what happens next."
Gregin's lip curled, but he gave off his posturing. He doubted the man would believe him, but he wanted to meet this Hyphestin. He wished Zelda on the other side of the continent, but there it was.
Link grunted as he climbed down. A week in there left him stiff and limping. His shoulder and ribs protested with every step. His hand throbbed.
The hilt of the Sword glinted in the torchlight. If he could reach it…
Inside was brightly lit with lamps hanging from the ceiling. A long, cavernous room with pillars marching to the far wall. Still no people, no servants. No crytch.
Gregin led them to the center of the room and waited.
Link knew he was approaching, could feel it like slime on his skin. Realized he was growling, teeth bared as rough, bestial noises tore at his throat.
The Enemy.
Ganon.
Gregin dropped her ropes to hold Link back. He staggered as Link surged forward, injuries forgotten.
The sorcerer watched with a smile playing on his thin lips.
"You must be the Champion," he said. It was a light voice, pitched high.
Gregin wrapped the chains around a pillar to keep them taut. They slipped link by link, as the Champion strained against them.
"You can't help it, can you?" Hyphestin said, still amused. "Is their compulsion so strong?"
Zelda moved forward. "I demand you release me. This is an act of war that will not go unpunished."
Hyphestin glanced to her, then returned his gaze to where Link fought to reach him. The eyes were round, hungry.
"You are beautiful," the man said. "Damaged, but so precious."
Zelda stepped sideways to shield Link. "What do you want with us?"
Hyphestin reluctantly broke his attention from the Champion. "With you? Nothing."
Already terrified, she stiffened her spine though her mind screamed warning. Something was not right.
Hyphestin pointed to Gregin. "Free him. Give him the Sword."
"But-"
Gregin choked, chains crashing to the floor as he scrabbled at his neck. Link leapt, the Sword radiant.
Hyphestin leaned aside. His hair ruffled as the Sword slashed down. A humming whir and the blade reversed. Hyphestin danced back, laughing delightedly.
"Yes!"
Gregin hung limp, tongue swollen and purple. White light flashed as the Sword cleaved through a marble pillar.
"Link! Stop!" she screamed. "Link, please!"
He shook her off, face blank. His eyes were gone, the same emptiness as when he remembered his childhood.
"Stop, Link! Something is wrong!"
Hyphestin watched greedily. "No, Your Majesty," he said softly. "Everything is finally as it should be."
Link struck with wordless cry of hate. Hyphestin caught the blade. Gripped the sacred steel in his hands, blood dripping from the wounds.
"Everything will be made right."
The Sword shattered.
Zelda pressed her hands to her ears, blocking his scream. Link fell to his knees, body arcing in pain, the agony of remembering. Thoughts, memories, like sparks from a searing fire burned through her. The storm of it shoved her back.
Hyphestin's breathless laughed mocked him.
"A curse, in the end."
Link shuddered, head hanging, hands clenching his tunic, his chest over his heart. His cries of pain grunted out through bloodied teeth.
"Remember it all, little one. See now what they did to you?" Hyphestin's voice was changing. "Do you remember who you are?"
The Champion regained his feet. Blood seeped from his wounds, soaking the bandages.
Stop him! Please!
"They cannot, little queen. He is theirs no longer." He was growing, gathering.
She reached for Link as he jumped. Her fingers brushed his arm, closing on nothingness.
The Beast was not formless in this place. Shadows drew to him, snuffing the lights, twining up his limbs. Link's limbs, where he hung in the Beast's grasp.
Zelda screamed as the heavy paw reached for his head. But it only touched him, stroked him, laughing as Link thrashed, snarling.
"You're more animal than man, aren't you? What did they do to you, little one? Who hurt you so badly you forgot yourself? We will burn them from existence."
"Fight him!"
The shadows clutched at him, engulfing him.
"You cannot fight it, little prince."
"Don't let him in!"
"Ah, but I am already in you, aren't I?" The shadows had reached his face, his mouth. "I have been, all along."
The darkness plunged into his eyes.
Zelda anchored her mind, the shadows swirling around her, consuming, destroying. She clung tightly to her power, resisting as it tried to drag her in.
She sank to the ground in the silence after. Numbness, not cold, but nothingness surrounded her. The room came back slowly. The smooth floor. The light, the pillars.
He stood alone. She stared through bleary eyes. He took a deep, shuddering breath.
And laughed.
The floor glinted. The fragments of the Sword stirred and lifted. They reformed, knitting themselves together. But it no longer reflected as it had, clear and brilliant. Darkness churned beneath the surface. He grasped the hilt.
He turned and saw her.
"You?" he said.
"Link?"
"There is no Link," he said lazily, making a travesty of his lyrical drawl. "There never was. An illusion, an idol you built to cower behind."
"What have you done to him?"
"Did you think your love would save him? That your mercy would shield him? It made him weak! When he was born to be a god, you made him your slave. A champion, you called him. Your Hero. Lies he believed to his destruction."
He lifted something from his head. The crown of Ordon. The diamond sparkled in his palm. He crushed it in his fist and dropped the stone to the ground.
"You took from him his greatest power. In the name of what? Compassion? Try guilt, little queen. Knowing you were the reason for his suffering. Did you think centuries of waiting, of planning, could be thwarted in a single act? That Naming him would change who he was destined to be?"
Hot tears burned her eyes. "Please, Link, come back to me."
His hand gripped her jaw, fingers biting as he forced her head up.
"Would he want to, little queen? For what? You? Your pathetic kingdom? Tell me what you would say to him. Maybe it will make him strong."
She couldn't, not to those eyes, to the snarling mockery in him. He smiled, pulling her closer.
"What, embarrassed? Still denying your weakness? See how useless it is? How about something stronger?" She gasped, desire pooling in her chest. "He feels it, too. Sickening, really, the way you pant for each other like beasts.
"You can have him," he said. His voice modulated, more like him. "I would have you, my queen."
His fingers became caressing, gentle. "Join me. Give me your power. You will rule as queen everlasting. I will conquer this world for you. I love you, Zelda."
She wrenched out of his hands. "No!"
He struck her, a blinding crack that threw her to the ground. She choked on the blood filling her mouth.
"Worm," he snarled. "I will take it what is mine."
She didn't know her own screams as he reached into her, to her very soul, and gripped it. She held it fast, clinging to it, resisting. But she was not strong enough.
He ripped the Wisdom from her.
It was his laugh, echoing back from the silence, terrible in its triumph.
"Always the weakest of the Three. Did you never want more? Or are you satisfied in your nothingness?"
He touched her again, stroking the broken bones of her face.
"Can you see now, my queen? Do you understand?"
She lay shivering on the floor, the cold stone wet with her tears. "I will stop you."
"You are a fool. Nothing can stop me. Your defiance is petty. Persist, if you will. But know this: you have thwarted me time and again. But now you are alone. You will watch me claim what is rightfully mine.
"See the flames, little queen, and know you are the cause."
He was gone.
She crawled forward. She had to escape, to warn them. The Enemy was free. He had taken Link.
She panted, sobbing and whimpering with the pain of it. His pain, his memories, cut into her own, burning where they touched her. She was alone and no one would come to save her.
Her hand closed around something sharp. The diamond, lying broken in a wreckage of gold. The most perfect and pure stone ruined by his hand.
Her sobs fell into the emptiness.
"Why didn't you save him? Why did you leave him alone?" She raged at the Goddesses, screaming. "He was just a boy, a child! Why?"
There was no answer.
She couldn't fight anymore. Too much of her was in him, too weary and heartbroken.
He was lost and their hope with it.