Every Shard of My Heart Belongs to You: Faculty of Sight
"I am sorry, Link. I cannot make you stay. I won't ask that of you." She had too much pride to admit how much she needed him, and not enough heart to chain him down. She wanted him to remain with her, close to her, but more than that, she wanted him to want to. She turned her back to him, her head bowed in sorrow. Silent tears welled in her eyes as she struggled to walk away composedly.
Zelda sighed and eased her tense expression. She continued up the endless staircase, praying with every step that no servant would pass by and discover her absence from the reception. She opened her door as silently as was possible. She looked out the window at the blanketing night sky, at all the stars suspended in the heavens. The moon seemed so much brighter tonight. It shown in the sky like a mirror.
It reminded her of another evening not but a couple months ago when Link was brought in. She recalled his tattered clothing and his hair plastered to his face with sweat and blood, how dead he looked in his unconsciousness. How dead he had been to her for five years and how dead would he still be. Her heart ached for him, but her mind assured her that she could not reasonably demand so much of him. It offered not solace, but only that bittersweet aftertaste a draught of unrequited love could leave.
She slumped into the plush comfort of her bed. No servant being there to release her from her insufferable arraignment, her dress would be subject to remain with her until morning. She buried her powdered face further into her down pillow and kicked the shoes from her feet. She clenched her eyelids shut, feeling the wetness from her lashes dampening her quilt. And she stayed that way, awake yet with a numbed consciousness, for what seemed like hours, until the sweet supplier of sleep granted her reprieve from her troubled heart.
Link did not understand. Did she want him to leave the castle? Hyrule altogether? Had he wounded her so greatly that she no longer desired his companionship? Was she too noble and he too low? Was she too proud to see the veracity of his feelings for her? His questions filled him with agony as he lay awake in his bed. The closer he came to sleep the more erratic his thoughts became until at last his consciousness surrendered his thoughts to the haunting terrors that boiled beneath them.
In his dream he walked along an unfamiliar shore. The moon glowed in an unearthly radiance. The night was gray with haze. The darkness of thunderheads extended from east to west in domination of the horizon. No star could be seen. In the distance a flash of lightning splintered across the sky. The sea awoke with the raging thunder that followed.
Rain fell softly like tear drops on his skin. He looked up at the sickly moon, the rain permeating his thin tunic. He lowered his eyes to the level of the sea. Near the jagged rocks where the perpetual spray of the ocean was caught amongst tide pools, he saw the silhouette of two figures locked in a passionate kiss and lovers' embrace. He heard the faint melody of an ocarina.
He stepped forward. The woman's flaxen hair whipped in the night's sea breeze, its shine wavering in the shadows of the moon. Her lover took her face in his hands and placed one last gentle kiss on her fair lips. His fingers lingered on her cheek before he turned to leave.
He walked towards Link with his head bowed. His boots stepped soundlessly in the dampened sand. He did not lift his eyes or acknowledge him as he passed. Link watched him curiously.
The lightning struck again directly above him, splitting the sky with cracking thunder and illuminating it as if it were day.
Link found himself now looking into the sleeping quarters of a great sea galley, in the midst of another raging storm. The ship rocked violently with the thunderous voices of the sailors aloft. All the bunks in the cabin are empty, save one, in which a young man tossed restlessly in his sleep. He turned and rolled over, much like the ship tossing in the furious sea. The yelling upstairs intensified. Startled, he raised his head. The ship banked sharply, throwing Link against the cabin wall.
Instead of slumping to the floor, Link felt wet grass beneath him and heard the crashing of waves nearby. Slowly his vision focused. He gripped the long green blades between his fingers and lifted himself from the ground.
Several meters away, the young man from the ship lied unconscious in the sand, clutching a splintered plank in his arms. The plank bore the name of the ship, "Ile de Ciel."
A hand extended to the young man's neck, checking for his pulse. Tracing up the forearm, Link saw that it belonged to a woman with long blond hair and violet eyes, the same woman he had seen before in the moonlight. She dropped her basket of flowers next to her. It landed in the muddy sand with a soft thud. Link stared intensely at the fallen basket, watching the flower petals scatter helplessly in the breeze.
The flowers turned to ash; the sky darkened. Link rose to stand. The sand on which he had stood was now the deck of a ship. A towering monstrosity of a man whose dark features are eerily familiar stepped out of a shadow tightly gripping a sword. His hands were gloved in black leather and iron knuckles. Instinctively Link raised his sword arm, but found he bore no weapon. The man crept past Link as if he weren't even there. The blade was meant for someone else—a young man, leaning his tired head against a cargo crate near the bow of the ship. He appeared to be asleep. Link tried to call out to him in warning, but the young man did not stir. Link could only watch in apprehension as the young man sprung from his sleep with a painful cry. The wound was not fatal, but it was enough to startle him. His assailant yelled angrily and slapped him across the face. He must have wanted something from him that wasn't his life. The young man recovered quickly, however, and kicked the sword from his hand, wrestling him to the floor. The young man was greatly disadvantaged in stature against his attacker, but by skill he managed to pin him. He reached for the knife at his belt to further detain him, but stopped abruptly. His eyes clenched shut and his mouth gaped open in a silent scream. He grabbed his shoulder and yanked off the end of an arrow, the tip still embedded in his flesh.
The darkness produced a satisfied woman, smirking ominously with bow in hand and another arrow between her teeth. She was about the same age as her accomplice, middle-aged but with the beauty of youth. She had violet eyes. Her hair was gold. There was a distinct symbol branded into the back of her hand.
The assailant wasted no time in taking the young man's knife and throwing him violently off of him. He then picked him up by his shirt as if he was a sack of feathers and plastered him against the nearest mast, the tip of arrow digging into his shoulder. "Where is it? Where is it?" he demanded furiously. He poked the knife threateningly into the young man's chest above his heart.
"I...don't..." the young man wheezed, "have it."
The assailant plunged the knife deeper into the young man's chest, causing him to cry out once more.
"Then tell me where!" he spat. The young man was silent except for his ragged breaths. The assailant punched him just below the eye and repeatedly in the ribs, leaving him breathless and choking up his own blood. His final blow to the young man's face rendered him unconscious. The two accomplices searched his limp body and whispered to each other. Apparently they didn't find what they were looking for. They left the body and retreated into to the darkness from which they came.