Chapter Nineteen:

Judgment and Mercy

"For he shall have judgment without mercy, that hath shewed no mercy; and mercy rejoiceth against judgment." ~ James 2: 13

All had been revealed. Nothing more was hidden. The prince had confessed everything he had done, including the slaughter of his brother in the skin of a dragon. It had shocked, and pained all who had heard. And now, the time had come.

"With the exception of the king and queen, the vote must be taken – there is no other option. All in favor of the motion we have hereby discussed, say 'aye'."

"Please, gentlemen, reconsider…"

"Sir Rihst."

"Aye."

"Lord Sigil."

"Aye."

"Sir Mor."

"Aye."

"Sir Hathel."

"Aye."

"Sir Grond."

"Aye."

"Lord Ast."

"Aye."

"Ambassador Goth."

"Aye."

"Lord Paur."

"Aye."

"Lady Impa."

"Nay, sir."

"And I vote 'aye'." The pound of the gavel rang loud. "It is done; the motion is carried. With the exception of one, and two votes deemed null by personal involvement, the vote is unanimous: Caine Taure shall be exiled."

Thoron's words pierced Link like a dagger to the heart, and he felt all color drain from his face. Those wretched words reverberated in his head, round and round in pointless circles, taunting him, mocking him. Had the Council truly become so bold as to blatantly disobey their monarchs? He stood from his place on the royal platform in the cavernous courtroom.

"Chancellor!" he snapped, eyes hard and glaring. "You would so brazenly disrespect-"

"In this matter, we hold ultimate authority." For the first time, Thoron did nothing to hide the disdain in his voice. "Being so close to this matter annuls any right to any say you have. Your perspective is skewed; you cannot be unbiased in this. This decision is for the good and safety of the people of our country." The old man swiveled his gaze to the hunched figure at the lowest level of the room, who stood silent and stone still, bound in chains once more. "This criminal cannot be permitted to endanger the innocent any longer."

"But sir-"

"No more objections! We've demonstrated enough mercy to you in dropping the traditional death penalty; we had pity on you! But we will not stand for lax punishment. Exile was the only alternative, and exile will be dealt."

"Chancellor, you cannot-"

The elder cut Zelda off with a sharp glance. "I can, and I will. The document is being written as we speak; the prisoner has already been branded. Tomorrow morning, a party will escort him to the harbor in Hyvä Vene." Thoron then pointed a crooked finger at Link. "You, sire, will accompany them."

"If it's all the same to you, chancellor, I'd rather not."

"It is tradition. There is no choice in the matter. The king is to show the prisoner's tag to the captain before giving it to the prisoner himself; that is how it has always been done."

Link bit his tongue to keep any further argument from leaping from his lips. The chancellor was set, and the council truly did have the authority to overrule any order he or Zelda gave concerning their son's judgment. It pained his heart to admit such things, but there was nothing more they could do.

Caine's fate was sealed.

~-LoZ-~

So that was that. Judgment had been passed. He was to be exiled, banished, never again to pass the borders into Hyrule under penalty of death if he ever disobeyed the order. The courtroom buzzed about him, councilors talking amongst themselves and concurring with Thoron and arguing with the king. Nobody paid the small, withered prisoner on the criminal's platform any mind, save the guards at the door.

He lifted his hand, chains rattling with the movement, and gazed with emptiness at the newly-acquired burn on his skin. A large, red welt in the shape of a capitol 'T'. T for traitor. A mark, a brand that would haunt him the rest of his days. His crimes would follow him until his death, and beyond. Was there no hope for him?

The brand was done supposedly to warn others of the potential danger if a criminal was about. People guarded their pockets if a man with a 'Th' on his hand was near – his brand gave away his label as a thief. A man with an 'R' or an 'F' was to be avoided by all womenfolk. Whatever the letter, all who were judged by the Royal Council left their bounds with a scar, that brand that would forever change their lives.

Whether he went to Termina, or Herclia, or any of the other surrounding countries, all would know what he had done. He would never again be trustworthy, so long as that 'T' embodied his treachery. It would be a difficult existence… but one well deserved.

He felt the weight of gauntleted hands grip his arms and jerk him backward, toward the back door. The chains dragged behind him; he couldn't help wonder why they used them. They hadn't bound him for the past month while they kept him locked in his room. They were simply for the show of it, as the guards paraded him about all the way back now that the trial was over.

What was the aching in his chest? The hollowness that dwelt there? Why did his throat tighten as he looked about his room for what he knew to be the last time? What had happened to that sweet bliss of unfeeling numbness?

The guards shut the door with loud flourish, leaving him to himself and his chains. The slam echoed through the empty chambers, laughing at his loneliness, his degradation. He didn't belong here, in these lavish accommodations, anymore. He didn't belong in the palace. He didn't belong in Keskus. He didn't even belong in Hyrule.

As of tomorrow, the country in which he'd been raised, where he was born, was no longer his homeland. It will have forsaken him with the morning light. The dawn no longer held hope for him. Instead, it signaled the end of his life here. And the beginnings of the rest of it as an outsider, a marked man, a vagabond. A loner.

So much he had taken for granted until now. And all of it, he'd now lost. Even his rights to any sort of royalty; his position as prince had been renounced.

He truly had nothing left. And he felt empty, lost, wandering. Once he left the borders of the only land he had ever known, he had no place to go. He would be utterly alone in a vast world which held no sympathy to an exiled traitor. Simply surviving would require all the effort he had in his young body.

Sixteen years ago yesterday, four days after Christmas, a small child had been born. Caine, the first child of King Consort Link Taure and Queen Zelda the Wise, and prince of Hyrule. Today, that boy had died. In his place stood a murderer, a traitor, an exile doomed to wander for the rest of his days – and at the moment, it seemed like ages. Ages of nothing but friendless travelling, maneuvering from one city to the next in hopes someone would have mercy on him, and ignore the condemning mark on his hand, until the time of his life was utterly spent. Then, he would draw his last breath in a far off lonely place, surrounded by nothing save his few belongings and the precious oxygen his body deprived him of. No one would mourn his passing; no doubt no one would even know he was gone, and all memory of him would pass into legend, and myth.

This was what his life had amounted to.

Rest in peace, Prince Caine of Hyrule. Perhaps at least you shall be missed.

~-LoZ-~

Each soft sob that wracked Zelda's body only made the ache in her heart beat worse. She had fled the courtroom to find comfort in her chambers, but as she should have expected, nothing in her room could console her. Even her Bible lay closed on the nightstand; her tears had hindered her sight enough so that she could read no longer.

She had been so hopeful. So hopeful that with Caine's courageous sacrifice, the councilors might have been merciful. He had saved the king, after all! And nearly lost his leg in the process; even now, the doctors said the limp in his stride would never leave him. Too much damage had been done by that cursed black blade of Thalion's. And yet, the Council judged him ruthlessly, harshly, coldly. There wasn't a forgiving bone in their bodies! She buried her face into her soft pillow, hiccupping on a sob that threatened to choke her.

And now Caine… her son, her firstborn, her baby boy… was to be exiled. To leave the borders of Hyrule, and never return. If he did, he would be killed, no matter what the cause. Either way, she was losing him. And she couldn't get him back.

A hand rested on her shoulder, and she jumped, startled. But the sight of those beautiful blue eyes looking concernedly down at her silenced the gasp of surprise, and she instantly sat up to wrap her arms about her husband. He was quick to return the embrace, and for the longest time, he held her as she cried into his shoulder.

Hours passed, and finally, Zelda's tears spent themselves. Eyes feeling dry and swollen, she continued to sniffle and take deep breaths to try and calm herself. Her hands flew suddenly to her ever-growing midsection as there was a short flurry of movement within her, and she knew that the sudden stress was upsetting the babe in her womb. With a great sigh, she forced herself to relax against Link, who was still content to hold her, and comfort her. The stirring inside of her stilled soon after.

"Why wasn't there more that we could do?" she said in a hoarse breath, her lip trembled. Her throat threatened to close once more, a sob welling in her throat. "Why wouldn't they listen…"

There was no answer, both of them knew. None, beyond the cruel heartlessness that had always shrouded the council of the royal family of Hyrule for generations. A coldness that could not be remedied. And one that, unfortunately for the moment, could not be opposed.

~-LoZ-~

The caravan left early the next morning, just as dawn graced the cold of night with its pink light. The birds began to chirp as they passed the outer wall of Keskus, flitting about the air like so many busy bees, going from tree to tree without a care, oblivious to the gravity of the posse below.

In the midst of the numerous armored horses, accompanying guards, and winter coats, there was no joy. The dawn did little to warm their spirits; particularly, the prisoner among them. He rode at the very center, surrounded on all sides.

Untrustworthy.

He was a murderer, after all. Who could ever trust someone who had killed in cold blood? His hands were forever tainted. And as they walked over the long, silent expanse that was Hyrule Field, he knew he deserved it. Oh, how he deserved it… He had destroyed homes. He had thoughtlessly killed soldier after soldier in battle after bloody battle. And… he had taken the life of his own flesh and blood, his eleven-year-old brother. A boy… A boy with his entire life ahead of him. Gone.

In all truth, he deserved execution, really. But… at least his parents had been this merciful.

It felt like a funeral procession. He could just imagine the coffin carried between the two soldiers at the head, just behind the king. And in his mind, that coffin bore what was once his life. The prince was in that imaginary coffin, and his shell remained.

His gaze fell again to the letter-shaped scar on the back of his hand. He brushed a finger over it, and winced at the tenderness of the skin. It would never heal… just as he would never heal.

It took days of slow travel – and travel was slow, with all the soldiers in full armor; there were still dragons about, and one must always be ready – to reach the docks of Hyva Vene. Upon arriving, they found the city streets vacant, and lonely. A moaning wind made its way through the broken streets, blowing old ash down alleyways. It seemed fitting… It was mocking him, telling him that he was getting what he deserved for burning the homes and bodies of the innocent.

As they went, people began to file out of what sturdy-looking buildings were left. These were the refugees, those who had found shelter in hiding during the draconic takeover. Most wore tattered black clothing, and their expressions were stony as they watched the royal procession maneuver down the streets. Many followed, and a crowd began to grow around them, watching as they grew closer to the docks.

One of the few things that had survived the War of the Dragons was the Hylian fleet. For the most part, it had remained unused, and because of that, the dragons had left it alone. Many of the nation's finest ships bobbed tied to the wooden poles of the docks, sails tied and banners, though singed, fluttering in the wind. The crowd remained silent as they came to a smaller ship called the Deliverance. Ironic; it truly would 'deliver' something, someone into the hands of the wilds of Termina. Deliverance normally had good connotation; now it only served to remind Caine of what his future held. And what an ominous feeling it was.

The crowd remained deathly silent, as if they were watching the march to a tomb. Caine hung his head as he felt the weight of their gazes. They knew, they all knew…

The soldiers fell back, until it was only the king and him riding for the Deliverance. The emotional space between them was so great, and so crushingly lonely, it threatened to consume him. Had all bridges truly been burned…

They dismounted their horses, and Caine followed the rigid figure of the king as he led the way out onto the dock, up the boardwalk, onto the deck of the ship. None of the crew was anywhere in sight. Only the captain stood on a higher deck, by the spoked wheel. The silence in the afternoon air was deafening, broken only by the loud clomp of their boots on the boards.

Caine stayed beside the mast as the king went to the captain, and presented him with the papers that were his tags. The documents that stated in writing, sealed with the royal emblem, his charge of treachery, and his punishment. Upon their arrival in Termina, Caine was ordered by law to keep those documents on his person at all times, for the rest of his life. It had to be presented to potential employers, partners, and anyone else of importance before any further business was done with them. If his brand didn't warn them, those papers would.

He jumped when the king appeared in front of him, and began unlocking the chains that bound his wrists. Caine kept his eyes downward as the man did so, unable to look at his face. If he did… what would he see there? Sorrow? Disappointment? Perhaps hatred… Or even pleasure at seeing this dirty criminal finally punished. Whatever the case, he was too afraid to find out…

The weight of the chains fell away, and he felt himself grow three inches. But he still did not look up.

"I'm sorry, Caine."

The softness of the king's voice startled him, and his gaze snapped upward. Though he regretted it, he was surprised to find a sadness in those blue eyes so deep, he could have drowned in it. The king of Hyrule looked down upon him, not with disdain, or enjoyment, but with a sorrow, as if the king himself was the one being banished. Caine nearly took a step backward in his surprise.

The man attempted – and failed – a reassuring smile, gingerly patting Caine's shoulder before turning back to the boardwalk. He had reached the edge of the deck when the prince finally reacted.

"Dat."

Those broad shoulders stiffened, and he stopped, but didn't turn. Caine couldn't blame him; he had even surprised himself, letting that word blurt off his tongue after so many years… It felt foreign to him, now. But it had worked, nonetheless.

Slowly, very slowly, the king turned, brow furrowed in confusion. Caine could have sworn he saw his eyes glistening. His own throat tightened as he gingerly stepped closer to him, and he sunk to one knee, in a bow of respect. He lowered his head, closing his eyes as they burned.

"I'm sorry…" His tongue seemed content with those words, and decided to give in to the shudder in his voice. Two lone tears fell from his eyes, one dropping to the back of his hand, and a slight, strangled sob wrenched itself free of his throat. "I'm so, so sorry…"

Those floodgates broke. And for the first time in a long time…

He felt again.

But it hurt. It hurt so bad, it jerked the tears from his eyes, and closed his throat so he couldn't speak, save for choking out those same words: "I'm sorry."

It was only when he felt a hand on each of his shoulders that that wretched lump loosened enough to continue.

"I-I know I don't deserve forgiveness… and I certainly don't deserve to be called your son… but I don't want to be alone anymore. Please…" His words were muffled by sobs, and stretched by the tightness of his vocal cords. "Please, don't send me away… I don't… I-I want to go home… I want to go home…"

He felt a crushing embrace envelope him, and he leant into his father's shoulder. It had been years, years since he had ever been so open with him. What had separated them? What had caused their once strong father-son bond to deteriorate so?

He didn't know what passed through the king's head in those few minutes, but after a long while, he felt a heavy hand on his arm.

"No, son… You're coming home… You're coming home."

Perhaps the king did not know the full impact of those words. But at the moment, Caine didn't know whether he would shoot into the sky, or collapse to the ground. He could not put a name to the emotions that filled him; they were so jumbled, it was impossible to tell them apart. But this much, he did know: his father was no liar.

He was going home.

At long last.