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“Beautiful.”
Those words slipped out as a sword pierced your side, causing you to let out a gasp. Your wound felt like it was on fire and you collapsed unceremoniously on the ground, the grass trying its hardest to cushion your fall. You pressed your hand to your side, a sticky red substance coating your fingers, but you knew you had to keep putting pressure to stop the bleeding. The entire time you couldn’t take your eyes off the person who stabbed you, his crimson eyes that glowed in the dark were wide with surprise.
Your words had caught him off guard, the awe in your eyes made his hands waver. His killing blow had turned into a wound that would kill you if left unattended. It was a mistake he had never made before, he felt like he was being dissected under your gaze, but not like how he was used to. Normally he was met with harsh glares from beings of light and darkness alike, most of fear, sometimes jealousy, sometimes disgust. Never…he had never seen that look on your face directed towards him before. It made him feel…he wasn’t sure he wanted to understand what this strange feeling was.
The sounds of footsteps along with someone calling your name rang out through the silence. They sounded worried, rushed footfalls rapidly approaching. You finally pulled your eyes away from the shadow-like man, glancing towards the voice of your neighbor, Tobo. You must’ve screamed upon impact. You felt so out of it, not only was it the dead of night, but you had seemed to become entranced with the man who looked like no one else you had ever met, not to mention your hands started to feel cold…how much blood have you lost?
“Dear Hylia, what happened?” They gasped, rushing over to your crumpled form, red coloring the grass under you. You opened your mouth to respond, unsure how to even explain the odd circumstance that led you to this moment. Your eyes drifted back to where you had last seen the entity, but he had disappeared, just like a shadow.
…
The whole night seemed like a fever dream, the only thing reminding you that it was real was the bandaged wound on your side that would pulse with pain if you overexerted yourself too much. Which was hard not to do when you had to take care of your cuccos. Of course your kind neighbors had offered to help, and you did have to begrudgingly accept for the first few days as you could barely stand up without your body lighting on fire. But once you were able to stand and eventually lift things again you were trying your hardest to get back to work.
It didn’t help that your mind kept wandering to the handsome stranger that had tried to take your life. Were you insane for finding your attacker attractive? Probably. You couldn’t help the awe that filled you every time you thought of him, his eyes glowed! Ash grey hair had framed his dark colored skin. Deep, deep down you found yourself wanting to meet again, even if you knew it would be your downfall.
It had been a couple weeks, the skin on your wound had begun to scab, the sign of a healthy healing process. The moon was merely a sliver in the sky that night, the stew you were cooking nearly done. The hearth warmed your small home, the cucco’s silent as they slept in their coop. It was a night just like any other. That comfort was your downfall.
THUD
Your heart jumped up to your throat, blood thrumming through your veins. Your eyes watched the door wearily, frozen in place from fear. Last time you heard something startle your cucco’s was when you had ran into the beautiful man, your wound throbbed at the thought of getting hurt once more. Rapid knocking sounded from your door, adrenaline flowing through you. You stood up from your wooden chair, legs shaking slightly. The knocking sounded urgent. You took a step forward. But what if it was a ploy? Hesitantly you made your way to your window, pushing the curtain to the side just enough to take a peak at who could be knocking so vehemently.
Your world froze. A dark heap laid at your door, dark red eyes scrunched in what seemed to be pain, white teeth held in a snarl, his fist that was covered in a dark gauntlet was pressed against the dark oak door. Your breath hitched. It was him. He was back. He looked hurt. Why was he here? Your brain went into overdrive as you yanked the door open without second thought. Were you being stupid? Yes. This man had hurt you, he had intended to kill you, what was to say he wasn’t here to finish the job? But another part of you tugged at your heart strings, he looked like he was in pain, why would he be at your door if he had nowhere else to go?
He raised his head quickly, glaring at you like you had personally done this to him. His clothes were torn, his hair was a mess, dark purple splotches coated his skin (so dark it almost blended in).
“Can you stand?” You whispered, kneeling down to his level. A low growl left his throat leaving your nerves alight. Everything in your being was telling you to run, to close the door and be done with this whole thing, but you were stubborn for better or worse. “Do you want my help or did you just come here for me to watch you die?” That seemed to shut him up, grasping your doorway to try and pull himself up. You stood up with him, hands hovering beside him in case he took a tumble, leading him over to the chair you were just occupying. Your eyes swept across the dark village before you closed the door, making sure no one had come out to check the racket.
You quickly got to busying yourself. After your serious injury you kept a small box of medical supplies, many thanks to Tobo who basically forced you to take the items. You placed the box next to the chair, rushing over to your boiling stew and taking it off the hearth, grabbing another kettle and pouring water, some salt, and vinegar into it. Once that was on its way to boil, you rushed back over to the wounded man that watched you with hawk-like eyes.
“You have to take off clothes in all the areas you’re badly wounded,” You spoke up again, rummaging through the box and taking out the bandages and stitching supplies just in case.
“Why are you helping me?” He asked, voice gravelly. It was the first time you heard him speak, his throat sounds scratchy with pain, his tone a low rumble. You did your best to ignore the way it sent a shiver down your spine.
“I’m not gonna let someone bleed to death on my doorstep,” You snapped. “Do you know how much of a mess that would be?” It wasn’t the full truth. You weren’t sure why you were helping him, he had tried to kill you not too long ago after all, but a part of what you said was the truth. The thought of having a dead body at your doorstep and having to explain to the villagers who he was seemed like a headache.
The shadowy figure stayed silent after that, his face showing that he didn’t fully trust you, but knowing he didn’t have much of a choice at the moment. You turned back to the kettle, watching as small bubbles slowly pooled at the bottom. Can’t it boil already? This was a dire situation after all. The shuffling of clothing and pained groans came from behind you, with a small glance to try and assess the situation when you felt your stomach drop. You weren’t sure how he hadn’t dropped dead already. Cuts littered his dark skin, dark purple liquid flowing from the deeper ones. It was clear to you he wasn’t hylian, you knew on the night of your meeting. If his bright red eyes weren't a dead give away, then the dark purple substance that seemed to be his blood was more than enough evidence.
You were snapped out of your thoughts as the water finally started to bubble. Taking the kettle off the hearth, you carried it with you, grabbing a clean rag on the way.
“I’m going to clean your wounds first,” You explained, dipping the rag carefully in the hot mixture of water and vinegar. “This is going to hurt a lot.” He merely let out a short ‘tsk’, fists clenching in preparation. You wiped his bloodied skin, your white rag quickly matching the dark purple of his blood. It was a quick process. Dunk the rag in the mixture, wipe at a wound, and repeat until his skin was as clean as you could get it. You were impressed at how he didn’t let out a grunt of pain throughout the process, you had been howling like a wounded pup when your neighbor cleaned your wound, the phantom sense of the stinging pain made you wince.
You let out a sigh, threading your bone needle with catgut suture you had left over. “A few of these need to be closed,” You murmured, seems to be at least two wounds that were particularly deep. “This is going to hurt even worse than the cleaning.”
“Just get it over with,” He snapped. You both glared at the other for a few seconds before you shook your head. He stabs you, leaves you to die, then comes stumbling to you on death's door and he has the gall to tell you to hurry up? You were no doctor, what was he expecting? With a roll of your eyes you lift the needle to his skin, purple blood still slowly oozing from it, you hesitated. Your stomach squirmed at the sight, bile threatening to rise up your throat. You couldn’t even look at your own wound, the blood and flesh and-
No, you need to steel yourself. This was not the time for you to falter. Biting your cheek, you willed your hand to stop shaking, taking a deep breath and pushing the needle through his skin. The squelching of flesh made you even more queasy, but you pushed through figuratively and literally. It seemed this time he couldn’t hold back his pained grunt, muscles pulled taut as he gripped the armrests. You went as quickly as you could, but slow enough to ensure the best suture. You nearly cried when you realized you’d have to do this again. Thankfully, the wound you did stitch seemed to have stopped bleeding. Dipping your hands in the cleaner mixture, blood now added to the concoction. With a deep breath, rethreading the needle, you got to work once more. This time it went faster, the motions becoming just the slightest bit easier. The queasiness refused to go away when you were done, taking out the last of your bandages and nearly wrapping his entire torso with it.
“Are there any more injuries anywhere else?” You asked, voice sounding exhausted, hands finally able to tremble without consequence.
“No,” He shook his head, hair swaying gently with the movement. Now that you were able to look at his face, it seemed you weren’t the only one who needed a good night's rest. You washed your hands the best you could once more in the kettle before picking it up to dump behind your house. You watched the dark liquid trickle out, tainting the grass below. Setting it to the side to be washed another time, and exchanging it for the stew that had grown cold and placed it back onto the dying fire.
You watched from the corner of your eye as the entity winced while leaning down to grab his bloodied and torn tunic. Sighing through your nose, you walked back over, yanking the dirty clothes from his hands. His glare sharped on you as you tossed the clothes into your dirty laundry basket, opened your dresser that sat in the corner and found a clean undershirt that would fit him. You handed him the shirt, raising an eyebrow at his reluctance.
“You shouldn’t put those gross clothes back on,” You grumbled, tossing the shirt at his head when he refused to take it. “Do you want all my work to be for nothing? Besides, it's not like you can leave like that.”
That was how you got stuck with a shadow entity whose name was Knil. He didn’t talk much, if at all, and you had deemed him bedridden until his injuries healed enough to not reopen them or undo your stitches. Were you a hypocrite? Maybe, but it seemed that this was your punishment for being such a thorn in Tobo’s side when they tried to take care of you.
“Sit back down,” You huffed, pushing Knil’s shoulders to get him to sit down on your bed. “Seriously, what do you even expect to do? You take one step out there in broad daylight and the villagers are going to call the royal guard.”
“I’m not some pet you can keep locked up,” He hissed back, glare darkening.
A genuinely confused expression fell on your face, “What?” It slipped out without you even realizing. “Why in Hylia’s name would I keep you as a pet? No, if you move around too much you’re going to do more damage to yourself, in order to heal properly you need to rest.”
“Why the hell do you care?”
You had no rebuttal and you were frustrated with this constant back and forth. This wasn’t the first time you had this argument and you doubt it would be the last. Instead you stomp over to where you kept his tunic and trousers that you had washed and sewn back together. Dropping the clothing on the nightstand next to Knil you snapped, “I don’t. If you wanna leave, give me back my clothes and do it at night when no one can see. Otherwise, under my roof you’ll follow my rules, and rule number one is don’t reopen wounds due to stupidity.”
You shook your head as you grabbed a bucket and stepped out. You needed a minute to cool off and you just happened to be out of water, so might as well grab a pale. A cool breeze brushed over your form, causing you to shiver slightly. In your anger you forgot to pull on a cloak. Hmph, just another small annoyance. Approaching the well, you put the bucket on the hook, turning the handle to lower it into the water below. You listened to the sound of chatter, animals, and footfalls surrounding you. You lived in a small village, everyone knew the other, helping out with chores when needed. It was a nice setting, but it put you all the more on edge when you were housing not only an enemy (you didn’t want to admit to yourself he was a monster just yet), but also the man who had attacked you. If the others found out they would surely send you to castle town hospital as well as kill Knil.
With a sigh, you shook the depressing thoughts out of your head, turning the handle the opposite way to take back your bucket now filled with water. A small grunt left your lips as you used both hands to carry it. Even though your injury was nearly fully healed, the scabs finally started to naturally fall off, but your skin was still tender and over exerting yourself still made your side sting. Explotitives fell out of your mouth when you tripped over your feet, wincing at the searing pain that exploded for a second. You dropped the bucket on the ground to gain your bearings, you hated how weak you felt all due to a stupid stabbing.
“Need some help?” Someone asked. Your eyebrows furrowed as you hadn’t heard that voice before. Looking up you were met with a stranger, deep blue eyes watched you in concern, blond haired splayed across tanned freckled skin. He looked oddly familiar for someone you never met.
“Ah, no thanks,” You smiled politely. “Just getting over a stab wound, no biggie.” With that, you tried to pick up the bucket once more, only for brown leather gauntlets to grab the handle before you. A frown tugged on your lips, gaze lifting to meet the strangers once more, a rebuttal on the tip of your tongue, but once more he got the first word in.
“I wouldn’t underestimate the severity of a stab wound,” The stranger replied, eyes flittering over your form. “Are you sure you should be moving so much?”
You waved your hand dismissively, starting the trek towards your house, it was clear he wasn’t going to let you carry the bucket now, “It’s almost fully healed now, I just need to regain my strength. It’s embarrassing to be a farmer and unable to even carry a damn bucket of water.”
“I’m sorry,” He frowned, following after you with relative ease.
“No reason to apologize,” You sighed. “It’s not like you stabbed me.”
“Who did?” He asked. You side eyed the strangely familiar stranger, still not being able to place where you’ve seen his looks before. Of course he would ask, you just now noticed the sword strapped to his back and the chainmail armor that lay beneath his green tunic, he was probably a knight of some sort. Shit, you really didn’t need his attention near your house.
“I don’t know,” The lie slipped seamlessly from your lips. You had been repeating it over and over again the past month. “It was dark and I could barely see a thing, something scared my cuccos, went to see what it was and the next second I found myself crumbled to the ground.”
The blonde’s eyebrows furrowed, expression looking troubled, “Has there been any other trouble around here?”
“No,” You shook your head, eyeing your door that came closer and closer to you both. You eyed your windows whose curtains blocked your view, but you managed to catch the split second of glowing red that disappeared after you made eye contact. “Thank you for carrying it this far, but I have it from here.”
“Are you sure-”
“Yes,” You nodded, carefully grabbing the bucket and opening the door as little as possible. “Thank you so much Mr!”
“Just call me Link,” The stranger smiled sheepishly.
“Yes, well thank you, Link,” You smiled awkwardly, shuffling your way backwards into your house. It must’ve looked quite silly from the confused look on Link’s face, but you really didn’t want the door to swing open and show off the man who you surely shouldn’t be…
It was then that it clicked. You set the bucket next to the door, closing it softly, turning to face-
Your breath got knocked out of your lungs as you were violently pushed against your door, something cold pressed to your neck. You rapidly blinked your eyes, taking in the shadow that had you pressed against oak wood, something sharp pricked at your neck causing you to push further into the wood.
“Wh-what…?” You breathlessly asked, heart beating rapidly. You were lulled into a false sense of safety due to the severity of his wounds it seems. He was still as dangerous as the day you met him.
“Why the hell is he here?” His tone took on something you hadn’t heard before, absolutely terrifying you.
“Wh-who, Link? You stuttered, flinching when the blade was pressed a bit more into your neck. Wait, was that your kitchen knife?
“He just helped me carry the water back,” You pleaded. You don’t think you’ve ever seen someone’s eyes hold such venom before.
He scoffed, teeth bared in a snarl, “And I’m supposed to just believe that?”
“Why wouldn’t you?” You groaned, you would’ve thunked your head back if you weren’t already pressed as far as you could get to the door. “If I was turning you in he’d already be in here kicking your sorry ass.” Perhaps you should’ve put on a filter when trying to calm down someone who was two seconds away from slitting your throat. A whimper unconsciously fell out when he dug the knife just a bit closer, you could feel a liquid fall down the column of your throat.
“Fuck!” Knil snarled, pulling away and tossing your knife across the room. You took in a shaky breath, clutching at your throat, unknowingly smearing the blood. You watched with nervous eyes as he paced, hands pulling at his grey locks.
“I don’t think he knows you're here if that’s what you’re afraid of,” You sighed, finally pushing yourself away from the door. His bright eyes snapped to your own, his pacing faltering. “Seriously,” You continued, grabbing a clean rag and pressing it to the small cut. “He seemed genuinely surprised when I said I got stabbed and I told him I don’t know how I got hurt.”
“Why the hell would you tell him that?”
“I don’t know,” You huffed, now trying to search for the discarded weapon. “I couldn’t carry a damned bucket of water, do you know how stupid I feel because of that?”
That seemed to shut him up, but you found yourself spilling more of your feelings, “And now I’m being threatened in my own goddess damned home.” You turned your eyes back to Knil once you tossed the knife onto a counter, eyes falling to a purple splotch on your white under shirt. “And now you’re bleeding, are you kidding me?”
Knil watched in surprise as you approached, he flinched back when you raised your hands, but instead of hitting him like he expected, you gently pushed him into a chair, lifting his shirt and undoing his bandages. This whole situation was so confusing to him. You confused him. He could barely remember dragging himself to your home half dead after his last encounter with Link. He couldn’t wrap his head around why you had helped him so easily, or what that look was that you aimed towards him more often than not. He couldn’t understand why you refused to let him go, why you didn’t force him out the second you finished fixing him up, why you hadn’t asked for something in return. Why didn’t you tell Link about him? Why did you stay quiet? Why weren’t you yelling and screaming at him for hurting you not once, but twice now?
The fire that burned within him at seeing you with Link by your side died down, turning to a gentle burn. Your hands, while not soft from your work, were gentle as you pressed a cloth down on his bleeding side. Your face was still contorted into an angry scowl, but you did not take your frustrations out on him…well not physically at least.
“Why in the world would you think I’d turn you in after taking care of you,” You continued to grumble under your breath. “Using my knife against me, the nerve.” He couldn’t help but feel foolish at your scolding, you had a point. Perhaps it was because he couldn’t understand that point that caused him to lose rationale, or it could be due to how inexplicably irate that stupid hero made him, most likely a mix of the two.
“Why…” Knil scrunched his nose at how weak he sounded at that moment. “Why didn’t you turn me in?”
You paused your movements, meeting his eyes once more, “I should with all the trouble you cause me.” He tensed at your response, fight or flight taking over him. It was clear the difference of power he had over you-
“But because I’m an idiot I’m not gonna,” You shrugged, finally pulling away as the bleeding stopped. Knil’s eyebrows furrowed, you still haven’t answered his question. You bit your lip as you turned away, fidgeting with the dirty cloth, “Has anyone complimented you before?”
The question left his mind reeling, what did that have to do with anything? No one had, not until you did that fateful night. You had thrown him off balance, the warm look in your eyes as he went to uncaringly take your life. His silence seemed to answer your question and you continued.
“Has anyone taken care of you before?”
That one seemed to hit closer to him, Knil’s face becoming defensive. No. No one had until you. You could tell. It was why you tried to fight help as much as Knil did. You just simply weren’t used to it. It made you feel weak, useless, like a burden…
“That’s why I won’t turn you in,” You finished, placing all your dirty clothes and rags into the proper bin. “I think you deserve to be given some good that life has to offer.” You were such a confusing being of light…it made him curious to learn more. For once he wanted to do something that wasn’t pummeling that stupid hero into the ground.
“But I hurt you,” Knil pointed out, eyes trailing to the dark red that started to cake up and dry on your throat. It seemed all your fussing on him had caused you to forget about yourself. A strange tug told him to take care of you in return. He quickly snuffed that thought out.
“You did,” You affirmed, stretching your arms over your head and making some of your joints pop. “Do you regret it?”
Once again Knil found himself falling into silence. Was that what he felt when he first hurt you? Was that what he felt when you stared at him in fear when he broke your skin with the knife? Was that what he felt when his stomach churned as you cared for him even after all he did to you? Was that regret? Guilt? You had been churning up so many new feelings in him he had become overwhelmed. He didn’t know what he was feeling, he was born from evilness and anger, from resentment and hatred. He knew he hated Link, hated him for being what he wanted to be, for his existence creating him, for being seen as nothing but a shadow chained to take down the fated one.
You…you didn’t look at him with hatred or anger, even as he split your side with his sword. There was a strange warmth to your eyes whenever you looked at him, your gentle touch left his stomach fluttering, even when you were frustrated with him your words were oddly…affectionate? Was that the word? It was something he had never experienced before. Even now, now that you knew whose shadow he belonged to, now that he had hurt you once more…
You held his cheek softly in the palm of your hand, he was cool to the touch but you didn’t mind, “You deserve a second chance, just don’t throw it away. I won’t put up with any more threats of violence or acts of harm.”
Knil felt his stomach churn at the thought of you tossing him out. Why did he care? He shouldn’t. He was supposed to leave the second his wounds healed up enough for him to be okay on his own, it had barely been a week since he stumbled into your house…why did he already feel so attached to you? The feeling of your thumb rubbing against his cheek caused his skin to feel like it was on fire. Who was he kidding? He already knew the answer, he just didn’t want to admit it. The thought scared him, he already was caged in a sense before, tied to the hero. He didn’t want to be caged in another way. He had seen what affection for someone can do, when he killed people, they would always plead for him to spare their loved ones, or the ones that couldn’t believe when the one they cared the most for would try and throw them under the carriage. It was a weakness, something someone could target to make him crumble, to put him back in a cage…
“Now that that’s over with,” You pulled away, crossing your arms and stepping back. “I suppose I need to wash another load of laundry.”
If this was a cage, then why did he feel like he was being released?