Link realized very quickly that he had no way to kill himself while completely immobilized, his arms stretched out to either side of him, his legs barely able to keep him standing anymore. And he wondered bitterly when it had become possible to give up on giving up.
It was the easy way out, he admitted to himself. The alternative would be to endure the sick pains Linebeck had planned for him without breaking, without betraying his Princess.
But as it turned out, such a task wasn't nearly as difficult when he was in so much pain that he couldn't think straight. At that point, words like "where" and "Sheikah" and "hideout" lost all meaning whatsoever. The only tangible thing in the entire world was his own body, and wherever it was that it hurt the most. Often his back – Linebeck assured him that by now, his back had tasted the whip so many times that there was no more intact skin left. Which meant that they turned him around now, and lashed his chest and stomach instead – something that somehow hurt even worse. Probably because there weren't as many bones to act as some sort of protection.
One word alone never lost its meaning. More than a word – a name. Zelda. It drifted through his pain-shattered consciousness every time Linebeck mentioned it, and the first time it was mentioned in each session, like some sort of trigger, like clockwork, he managed to lurch to his feet, stand tall, lift his chin defiantly. He growled out through gritted teeth in a voice as harsh and rough as sandpaper, "You'll never find her!"
And Linebeck merely stood off to the side, a small cold smirk twisting his lips upward. And his grin would grow as he at last kicked Link back to the ground and clucked his teeth disapprovingly. "Such misplaced devotion," he would sneer. "The offer still stands, if you would join us."
And the day's session would begin. Link had yet to beg for mercy, for the attacks to cease, and he fought hard to hold his tongue in that way.
In what hours he had to himself, he often considered the offer. Not – not actually joining up, of course. But if he just said he'd join, if he just told Linebeck that he'd agree, then maybe he could… he could mislead them, or act as a spy, and then once he had his strength back maybe he could get away for good.
Yet the thought of giving in even that much made his empty stomach clench with painful nausea. He knew full well, from Linebeck himself, that taking even the smallest step down a dark path could change everything.
And besides, he had determined from the beginning that he would not give, even in the slightest. Though he felt like no more than a beast, feral and savage, a little glimmer of hope still burned that someone would see, someone would notice how still he tried to cling to his dignity, to his pride, to his morals as a worshiper of the Goddess Hylia. Not for the possibility of his rescue, but rather for the possibility of other soldiers deserting. Giving in to the enemy would betray all of that.
They had him chained to the floor, now – his body was in too much pain to permit him to stay standing for hours at a time, enduring the torture with just enough food and water to live. Days that they didn't bring in the whip, they brought other things – burning things, fingernail-pulling things, heavy sledgehammer things. Other days, it was just their fists and feet, and they beat him until he couldn't breathe and was left curled in on himself retching and coughing on the ground, a pathetic pile of bloodied rags and bone and slowly-atrophying muscle and skin.
Two weeks – that was how long he'd been here. He could see the movement of sun and moon through the grates in his window, and he used the iron edge of his manacles to scrape a marking into the stone immediately next to his chains, keeping track of each of the fourteen days of misery.
So what options do I have? he thought desperately, his body wracked with shivers of cold and pain, as he lay, every inch of skin raw and throbbing, on the bloodstained dungeon floor.
He couldn't escape – he'd lost his chance. Thanks to Fort Tabantha's position atop an icy peak near the northern snowfield, it was more than likely that escape had never been an option; he would have died of exposure before reaching safety.
But neither was death an option, inasmuch as he lacked the mobility to take his own life and Linebeck continued to keep him alive, through agonizing cauterization and sterilization of his wounds.
So what is there?
Pain filled his consciousness like a heavy fog, making his thoughts feel disconnected and hazy. Link furrowed his brow, struggling to concentrate. As… as long as they're caught up with questioning me… they're not doing anything else that could be… more harmful to the rebellion.
If nothing else, then… I can at least buy time.
Maybe eventually, they'll give up on torture.
He would not break. He couldn't. Too much was at stake.
He fell asleep picturing her face, her sweet, gentle smile. He imagined the sound of her light laughter, the sparkle in her eyes when she looked at him – the whole-hearted trust. He could almost hear her voice, firm and encouraging. "Don't give up. We'll beat them back, even from the shadows. We can defeat Ganondorf."
There was something… something she'd wanted him to fetch, he recalled dully. A sword. She had sent him a message, just before the raid that led to his imprisonment. The sword's location. He'd burned the message, then joined his men to get into position for the attack…
I wonder if any of them got away, somehow…
His consciousness drifted away into a haze of pain and half-present thoughts, as close as he got to actual sleep these days. The pounding of heavy footsteps coming his way however many hours later alerted him to his tormentors' approach, and he pushed himself into a sitting position, grinding his teeth against the pain that sparked up in his back and arms. By the time Linebeck and the two guards accompanying him arrived, Link was sitting in an almost meditative position, regarding his enemies coldly and calmly.
Irritation flashed at once in Linebeck's eyes; Link had wondered how long it would take the man to grow frustrated at the lack of progress. Evidently we've reached, or at least approached, his breaking point.
"I don't suppose today will be the day you change your mind," Linebeck growled.
"I don't plan on it," Link rasped, his eyes narrowed into slivers of hatred upon the man.
Linebeck's lip curled in disgust. "Perhaps I can convince you, then," he sneered, gesturing rigidly for the prison guards to open the door and let him in.
He had brought the hammer-looking tool this time, Link noticed. And one of the guards had set an iron of some sort into the brazier outside of his cell. He inhaled as deeply as his bruised lungs would allow, then exhaled slowly, calmly.
Linebeck had his lackeys beat him back to the ground and hold him in place, face-down, spread-eagled. "You pride yourself on serving the so-called Princess," Linebeck taunted. "And how well can you do that with this!"
He slammed the hammer down on Link's right hand, at once cracking the finger bones and drawing a strained hiss of pain from Link's throat. And then the hammer came down again on his wrist, and then each finger one at a time, and by then Link was clawing at the ground with his left hand, screams grating out from between his clenched teeth. When the onslaught ceased, his hand felt full of splinters, any movement sending sharp pain up his arm.
"You're useless to her now," Linebeck's voice drifted through his ears, oddly distorted through the roaring of blood in his ears. "You've always preferred your right hand – you could never fight again."
And there was part of Link's soul that seemed to shrivel at that – at the idea of never again taking up arms for his Princess.
But that wasn't ever a possibility if I couldn't escape, another voice reasoned. And I can't escape.
Zelda… will just have to find someone else to wield that sword she wanted me to find.
He felt the cold iron on the back of his left hand and tensed. A threat – perhaps even a promise.
"I suppose you could still learn to use this one," Linebeck proposed thoughtfully. "You're just stubborn enough to try it. My decision depends on how you answer – would you fight for the true King, or for a dethroned orphan?"
Grunting from the effort, Link lifted his head enough to meet Linebeck's gaze. "I don't need my hands… to fight against you," he snarled, breathing heavily. "I don't even need… to be able to stand. Break every bone… in my body… I don't care… Every second you spend here with me… is another second that she is safe. I'm fighting you right now, without even lifting a finger."
Linebeck's features twisted into a beet-red mask of undiluted rage, and with a roar of fury he pounded the hammer down on Link's right arm and shoulder, further mutilating it past the point of usefulness, cracking bone after bone until Link sobbed from the pain, tears burning in his dry eyes and dripping from his face to the stone beneath it.
"There," Linebeck panted, drawing himself back to his full height. "Here you lay, broken and helpless before me, weeping! You are broken, you are defeated – admit it!"
"N-no," Link whispered, his body shaking like a leaf driven by autumn winds. "You… you've got it wrong." He clenched his intact left hand into a fist and whimpered from the agony splitting his right arm. "You lost my respect when you betrayed Hyrule. I'm not – not afraid of you. So you… hold no power over me. There's nothing you can do… to make me fear you. You… will never… get what you want… out of me."
"I'm the traitor?" Linebeck echoed in outrage. "I fight for the true King of Hyrule! Already he works to expand our borders, claim more resources, lead Hyrule into a golden age of power!"
Link scowled, anger sparking in his heart, giving him strength enough to lift his head again. "He's a ruthless conqueror," he spat. "He's a thief, stealing from our neighbors just as he stole Hyrule herself! And while he musters his power, our people grow poorer and hungrier, while their sons and fathers are forced into his service! I fight for them, with every breath! I will give everything I have, everything I am, in pursuit of restoring Hyrule to the Goddess-blessed rule of Princess Zelda!"
He noticed the two prison guards exchanging a glance, but before he had time to puzzle out what that meant, Linebeck stormed from the cell in fury and snatched the iron that had been heating in the brazier. The characters upon it were glowing a deep, ominous red – the Hylian word for 'traitor,' encircled by a snake. "You're the only traitor in here, and everyone will know it!" he roared, thrusting the smoking red iron downward into the center of Link's back. The horrible smell of burning hair and flesh and boiling blood, and Link was at once aware of nothing but his own screams and the searing agony ripping through his already-ravaged back, and pressure on his shoulders and waist forcing him still even as his body struggled and fought and writhed. His heart pounded hard in his ears, gaining speed, gaining volume, until it was all he could hear –
And then there was nothing.