Chapter Text
You are shrouded in darkness, but you can hear the slight sounds of crying. A miserable, wailing kind of crying, the kind that, with every sob, the ground underfoot trembles beneath you and the world stops spinning in it’s entirety.
It was no sobbing that an idle heart could muster, only a forlorn one. Pity pulls at your legs to walk closer, and a hallway lights up before your eyes, torches along the wall becoming ablaze with flames that illuminated the cold corrider with scorching light.
With every step you take, the sounds only seem to grow farther, fainter—but increasing in anguish. You break into a sprint as the hall around you begins to fall apart and buckle under it’s own weight, but your legs are heavy, your movements near lethargic.
“Please, no! Not my sister!”
It’s as if your lower body has been pulled underwater. No matter the amount you flail and push forwards, you remain stationary. The sobbing is fading, slowly replaced by the light chime of a bell.
“Who’s there?” Your hands grab onto the wall and you call out into the unending hall in ahead of you, straining your ears for an answer. Under your weight, the wall besides you crumbles and pieces of asphalt fall around you loudly. “Hello? Are you alright?”
As soon as you take another clumsy step forwards, piece of tile falls from the wall and shatters at your feet, forcing you bring up an arm to shield your face from the explosion of shards.
The faint ringing of a bell is the only thing you can hear above the chaos around you, despite there being nothing but debris and torches around you. It’s distant, but echoes in your mind, like an old, forgotten lullaby you can’t quite remember. Suddenly, there’s a loud crack above your head and the sound of stone giving away, before you are once again blinded by darkness.
A hand balled the front of your shirt and yanked you up and out of your short and fitful slumber.
“Get up.” He snarled, giving you a brutal shake. “We have no time for idling about.”
You groaned, your body still aching painfully from the previous day and sleep clouding your vision.
Blearily, you turn to look out the window, unsurprised to see that the sun had barely broken through the horizon. The stars still visible in the darkened early morning sky, hanging low and gradually fading into the sunrise.
Unfortunately, your brute of an alarm clock was too impatient to wait. He gave your shirt collar another vicious tug, snapping your head back and forth before he released you with an unneccessarily hard shove.
You weren’t too pleased to be awakened so early, especially in such a rude manner.
You had been tossing and turning all night, trying to think of ways to escape. Silently, you desperately prayed to Nayru, Din and Fafore that the Kokiri children had sent someone to save you from this horrible lair, for someone to give you strength, for something to explain how Link was here, but so very different.
However, even with all the scraps hope you managed to scrounge, you knew all of your prayers were nothing than foolish, forlorn wishes.
The goddesses only stared down at Hyrule from the heavens, almost deriding in their continual silence in response to your ceaseless begging.
You tiredly glare at your assaulter through resentful and bloodshot eyes, still swollen and raw from the tears shed the night before…
If one were to listen carefully, perhaps it would be possible to hear a broken heart slowly mending itself back together, only to be halted and crushed underfoot once again.
Every time your eyes laid upon him, you were reminded of the blond-haired, blue-eyed Kokiri you once knew, his ruby gaze was reminiscent of something you once held dear, yanked out of your grasp and hung above your nose.
In the light of the rising sun, the clone’s features were much more defined. You wondered if you had mistaken his identity yesterday because of the lack of light, or because you were seized by a fit of desperation.
As he stood before you, you found your mind numbed. He was everything, and nothing like Link at the same time.
He had grown, but kept the shape of his younger body in his stance and bearing, hostility shaping his rigid posture. His face was familiar to you, from the slight tilt of his head to the slope of his nose. The dirty blond hair you remembered so vividly from your daydreams had faded out to a lackluster silverish gold, sending your heart twisting painfully.
You force yourself to remember that this man wasn’t the boy you knew as an innocent child.
The proud green robes the Kokiri children wore were shed for something more lacking in color, a blend of muted gray and black that reminded you of Hyrulian funerals.
Haughtily, he held his nose in the air such as a dignified noble would, though the sword that rested on his back told you of his true standing. He was a swordsman, and a dangerous one too, if the look in his eyes was anything to go by.
With the essence of death staring down at you in vile hatred, you knew that even wisest and bravest men would flee in utter terror. But sorrow is a powerful force, and as foolish as your decision may seem to many, you chose the easier option of simply watching the man, leaving your heart to ache and soul to cry out sadly. If you allowed your focus to wander, you could swear you saw a flash of brilliant blue within his otherwise crimson orbs.
Always narrowed; why was he so suspect of you?
You moved his grip from your shirt, sluggish in your movements. “What… Have you come for?”
He answered your question with the tip of a sword pressed against the nape of your neck threateningly. From the look on his face, he wasn't pleased that you had touched him so casually.
You inhaled sharply at the cold metal pressing against your flesh, your heartrate picking up slightly. But you remained still, your gaze on the man unfaltering.
Something within you tugged, and you exhaled shakily, shifting uncomfortably with brows furrowed.
The sword at your neck nicked your skin painfully and the boy next to you growled, his voice chilling you to the core.
"Do not dare touch me again."
The look in his eyes alone was enough to send blood rushing through your ears, but as the odd sensation in your chest throbbed again, you shivered and begrudgingly gave a quick nod of your head.
Even after that however, the sword wasn't removed.
"Hmp."
He began to dig through a bag that was slung over his shoulder, eyes glued to your meek form on the bed.
Uncerimoniously, a couple of strange items were dumped onto your bed: the first item being a crystal container of putrid, viscous-looking liquid, then a dangerous collection of glass shards.
The syrupy liquid inside of the crystal vial looked to be a mixture of dark, unidentifiable purple goop, and gut-churningly filthy water, pieces of filth and foreign growth festering wildly.
The handful of glass on your bed looked like it had once been a beautiful hand sculpted ceramic pot, now reduced to nothing but pieces of sharp, deadly shards.
You could only stare at the contents sitting on your thin bedsheets, wondering why he had presented them to you. You push the nagging curiousity aside. Questioning him would surely set off the irate man, and you valued your head.
Thankfully, he did the explaining himself.
"Do you see this room?” He asked, referring to last night, "See that light? See this blade? Who are you to thank?"
The sword at your neck pressed further, and soon you could smell the scent of iron on steel, scarlet dewdrops beading on the edges of the wound . You let out a strangled cry of agony.
“Well?”
"Y-You." You fight to keep your hands at your sides, fingers itching to push the offending blade away.
Satisfied with your response, he lessened the pressure on the sword a tad, a sick smile lifting his lips and swelling his cheeks.
"Me.” He repeated, ruby eyes glowing. “I saved your life yesterday, hm?" He tutted, sliding the sword lightly against your neck. You tremble at the sensation of splitting skin, your skin becoming undone and pulling apart like a zipper.
Suddenly, he stopped. He allowed a humorless chuckle to slip.
“Tell me. When exactly was your sight stolen?”
You gulped, the rise and the fall of your throat pressing tightly against the sword. “D-during entry to the castle.”
"If that’s the truth, that must mean you know that Hero of Light. He started his statement merrily, only to spit the last phrase like it was poison on his tongue. This piqued your interest, and you strained to listen as he mused to himself aloud. “…That makes sense.”
Who was this Hero of Light? You didn’t know too much about Hyrule’s history, but even the thickest moblin could see the clear connection between the name ‘Hero of Light’ and Ganondorf’s title ‘Lord of Darkness.’
Perhaps all was not lost, after all? Your lips pursed, and in a shaking voice, you tried to pry for answers.
“I… Know of no such person. This Hero of Light you speak of… Who are they?”
“No one of importance to you.” He bit out, knuckles whitening on the hilt of his sword.
"…You would be a stiff corpse by now if the Stalfos realized you were blind. They are notorious for being unhonorable scum. Although it would've been amusing to watch them rip you from limb to bloody limb, it could never live up to the show I'll be enjoying for as long as your meager existence persists.”
He gestured to the items on the bed.
"Nonetheless, you owe me with your life.” He smirked as the blood drained from your face.
“Oh, do not worry. I will make your short life worthwhile.” His face twisted into something that you could only describe as a horrific, sadistic smile. "-For me, that is.”
Your body was tense from sitting so rigidly for such a long time, the sharp weapon at your neck forcing you to cramp up. His blantant threats did not help to ease this matter.
"Put this into Gannondorf's goblet. If you are wise, you will hold the empty vial close to your persons, lest someone find it."
He pointed to the strange concoction, then to the glass shards.
"Then slip the remains of a shattered vase into the cauldron in the middle of the kitchen. If you fail to do so..."
He grinned and traced the blade over your already-torn skin, blurring your vision with pain.
"...Smart Kokiri child, aren’t you? Will you heed by my direction?"
Meekly, you nodded and avoided his smug gaze.
Your throat cried out in pain as you finally fell from your held position, the clone removing the sword from your nape and chuckling mirthfully as you gripped at the cut, pain almost intolerable. Throwing you another glance, he swept out of the room.
You spent the rest of the morning trying to solve the puzzle lying in your bed.
There was something about this odd ordeal that didn’t sit right with you, but you were stumped in figuring out what it was.
Even if you did manage to figure it out, would you dare to disobey? You weren’t too keen on becoming the next headless Halloween exhibit.
Sighing, reached up to touch your neck, the dried blood chipping off your skin and onto your fingertips. You winced. The medical supplies required to heal yourself were nowhere in this room, and it still stung.
Even if you asked politely, you were sure that the Dark Lord would only sneer at your request for a healing kit. The only way to obtain such a luxury was to eventually steal, and although you were normally above such shady behaviors, you sure wouldn’t feel bad about it after yesterday’s events.
You knew now that your assailant hadn't scratched you to scare you, but also to show other monsters what an easy victim you were, injured on the first day of being in the castle. Well, nothing to be done about that now.
You pocketed the glass vial of liquid and hid the glass shards in the fabrics of your dress. Heaving a shaky sigh, you began your journey out of your room and down to the kitchen.
You had run into a few Stalfos on your way to the kitchen and they had done either one of two things. One: attempt to trip you, or two: sneer at you and walk in the opposite direction.
There was an array of skeletal people, each of them still wearing bone chilling armor, though some, you noticed with a raised eyebrow, donned uncharacteristically cute aprons. The kitchen was bustling with activity, the loud clamoring of metal pots and whistling kettles filling the air.
Rudely, the skeletal warriors shoved each other left and right; not giving a damn if injuries would come of it. As long as they could continue their jobs, they didn't seem to have any other concerns.
There were open fires on nearly every stove, and boiling water around in every cauldron. With all this pushing and shoving, you were sure that you'd get hurt if you overstayed your welcome.
Although Stalfos couldn't be hurt by these minor things, you certainly could.
You wanted to accomplish your mission then get out of here as soon as possible.
Quickly, you made your way to the biggest pot in the center and peered inside. It was full of a brownish-reddish slop, and you grimaced at it. Was that food or pig slop?
After a few quick glances over your shoulder, you dumped the glass shards into the large pot.
“Watch it, lassie.” A Stalfos behind you reached over and added carrots to the mixture, stirring the muck in the pot, miraculously not seeing what you had done.
You swore that you saw your life flash before your eyes as he mixed the contents and a telltale scraping resounded, but he only grimaced, looking disgusted.
“Workin’ our damn boney asses off erryday, only ta be repayed with this shit.” The stalfos turned away from the pot, muttering lowly about the food as he grabbed more vegetables.
Your feet stutter for only half a second, walking away awkwardly and in shock. As soon as you were at a safe distance, you slipped away, hightailing to the other end of the room to locate Ganon’s drinking cup.
"How in the world am I supposed to find one cup in this cluttered hell hole?" You mumble, threading your way through the crowd of bones and armor.
Although it seemed easy enough, locating a single golden goblet in a massive kitchen bustling with mostly cranky and impatient Stalfos was hard.
Asking for assistance in this hostile environment seemed like a suicide mission, so you decided to hunt down the cup by yourself.
You checked every drawer and cupboard in the kitchen, eventually finding the golden cup in the hands of a Stalfos that was strangely determined to slice all the fruit as thinly as possible.
Carefully, you edge over to the Stalfos and brush the cup off of the counter, only sparing him one strange look over your shoulder when you walked away.
The goblet sat cold in your hands, the rare stones embedded within the cup pressing smoothly into your palms. Rubies and emeralds galore glinted in the afternoon sun, intricate swirls on the edge of the cup showed that it was only meant for the most powerful of royalty—or the flashiest.
You set down the goblet in a somewhat-isolated corner and eyed the vial of bubbling liquid one last time before uncapping it. It comes apart with a small and satisfying "pop," but the scent is anything but pleasant. Scrunching up your nose, you pour the disgusting mixture into Gannon's goblet, slipping the bottle carefully into your pocket.
All that is left to be done is returning the cup from where you’d found it, but even that proved to be a difficult task. You had returned just in time to see the fruity Stalfos accusing another of taking his cup away.
"I always knew you was a thief!" He screeched, jabbing a bony finger in his victim’s sternum, "Gimmie back the goblet, or so help me!"
The Stalfos he was talking to retorted angrily, it's jaw unhinging and clicking back into place as it spoke. "Don’t go accusin’ me of such blasphemy! Why don’tcha go back to turning your food into confetti, idiot?"
The angered Stalfos continued to bark insults at one another, voices raising steadily, a fight threatening to break out. A small circle was beginning to form around the two screaming skeleton, and you could distinctly hear other Stalfos putting out bets on who would go down first.
“Take that sonuvabitch down, Arastoo!” “Rah! He brawls better than any Hylian guardsmen!” “That’s bullshit! Ain’t swords banned in fistfights?”
Taking the swelling chaos to your advantage, you hastily place the goblet back on the table, and flee from the scene, wiping your clammy hands on your dress.
You could only hope that the drink left Gannon crippled or dead, that brute had it coming to him from miles away. You couldn’t stand anything about him- not the way he intentionally terrified people to gain an advantage, or the way he invested in pretty little accessories to brighten his ugly, dim, world. It was what he deserved after what he put you through- after what he had done to Saria.
You hoped he would wrap his fat lips around the goblet and swallow his drink whole, only to end up sputtering in pain, his beady eyes bulging and red from choking on his own swollen tongue. He would slam a beastly large hand on the table before toppling over in his seat, emptying his stomach’s contents through his mouth and nose, laying facefirst in his waste like the disgusting garbage he-
A hard chest collided with your back, a hand wrapping around your arm before you could be sent flying.
“Lost in thought, are we?”
You turned, irked at the implications. “Weren’t you were the one who ran into me?”
When your eyes connected with crimson ones, your jaw hung slack momentarily before snapping back up, just barely scraping the tip of your tongue.
Instinctively, you flinch back and hold a hand up to your neck.
“Sharp tongue. Mind it, or it may end up missing.” He either didn't care or didn't notice that you had shielded your neck, or that he had run into you. "Have you finished your tasks?"
You stare at the sword sitting in his sheath a while longer, fear ebbing away as you remember your earlier accomplishments. “…I have.”
He cocks his head to the side in the direction of the noisy kitchen, and you sheepishly duck your head at the sound of battling stalfos. Unknown to you, the shadow dons a small smirk on his face, the tiniest amount of mischievous approval in his visage.
He shifts his hand from your arm to your shoulder, dragging his fingers in a way that makes you want to both pull away and lean closer. His warm breath fans over your neck and ear as he chuckles darkly, the sound low and rich, reverberating in your ears and shooting straight to your plummeting heart, which suddenly stops midfall.
"…Good work."
After hearing those words, your heart pounds a bit more quickly, almost irregularly. You shiver involuntarily, and you are unsure if it is from disgust, or something else. Link’s smiling face flashes through your mind, and there’s a tug within your soul again. Suddenly the need to put space between your two bodies is overwhelming.
In a moment of haste, you jerk out of his touch and step away from him, casting a weary look over your shoulder in time to catch his lips fixed in a straight line.
“Keep your hands off of me.”
You hold your breath for one, two, three heartbeats.
A long silence falls upon the both of you, perhaps because of the shock you have for your steady, unfaltering tone, or because of the uncanny way that he looks at you, eyes gleaming with an undeniable edge of danger, and something akin to reluctant interest.
Unbeknowst to both of you, your unprecedented reaction to the shadow has set a chain of events into motion, cobwebs falling away from a tale so rotted with age that it creaks with wear. The fate of Hyrule, after being held at a standstill for so long by two unseen forces locked in a silent duel, finally begins turning like rusted clockwork again.
At last, the minute hand starts scratching away at the face of time, counting the days before all will fall into turmoil.