Work Text:
On a Wing and a Prayer
Xxx
Somewhere in the depths of his memory, Link did recall sunlight, the brightness and warmth he’d taken for granted all his life. It was there along with his freedom, his friends and his family, in a time before he’d been betrayed. The only light he had these days was a single lamp hanging from the alcove that housed the thick iron door, and that was more for the guards’ benefit than his. Sometimes, if the timing was right, he'd just catch a glimpse of daylight as a guard arrived or left. Those moments were as rare as fairy dust and he treasured them just as much.
Generally, he tried not to think too much about what lay beyond the cell, in case it drove him insane. Many days he feared he was nearly there already, the long captivity taking its toll on his mind and spirit.
The dreams didn't help. Or rather, they did while he had them, but on waking he invariably felt betrayed by the false hope they gave. Still, they distracted him for a time, and that was enough to make him crave them, no matter how bereft he felt after.
Often, he spent his days trying to recall those dreams, to pull himself back into that world where there was light and happiness and her. Yet all his attempts to do so were doomed to failure. Awake, he could not shut out the cold, damp cell, the rumbling of his stomach or the iron around his wrists and ankles. Nor could he remember her face, though he knew her beauty was exceptional.
He groaned, moving his arms as much as the chains would allow. He was allowed just enough slack to let him sit, lie down and feed himself, but no more. Sometimes, when the guards were in a sour mood, they shortened them, allowing no movement at all. On those days and nights he begged for dreams, as he hung for long hours from his aching arms.
He didn't know how long he had been here, nor did he care to. No one had told him if he would ever be released, and he feared the answer might be what finally pushed him over the edge. He had to believe he’d be free again one day, if he didn’t, he knew he would simply give up.
The unceremonious arrival of his one meal of the day told him it was getting towards night. The bowl was slammed uncaringly down and he bit his lip as some of the hot liquid was deliberately spilled over his bare feet.
When he had first come to the realization that they intended to keep him here for an extended period of time, he wondered why they did not simply execute him. It would have been easier all around, and he did not fear death. Yet as time passed, he realized they didn't want him dead; they wanted him to suffer. By keeping him alive, he served as an example to others who might dare to speak out. Little cruelties, like scalding his feet, were stories he knew the guards would tell in earshot of the common folk.
So he didn't react. Let them instead tell of how their prisoner was unflinching in the face of pain; unbreakable. Let them have hope even if he had none.
Once they left him he reached almost too eagerly for the bowl and the small chunk of dry bread. The soup was thin and bland, made from kitchen scraps and little else. Yet he consumed every drop, savouring the tiny pieces of vegetables as much as he could. The bread was stale but he was used to that, chewing quickly and washing it down with a few sips of precious water. He had learned early on that if he dallied it would be taken away.
With his belly at least somewhat sated, he felt the urge to sleep. He waited though, unwilling to rest at all until the guards had taken the bowl away. They were in Lord Dagianis' employ and he trusted them as much as the Lord himself. So he waited, trying to calm his mind.
Although it could not have been more than a few minutes, by the time the bowl was removed, his jaw was aching from the tension. It was a strange thing, but as the key turned in the lock, he felt the closest he could to peace.
Lying down, he folded his arm under his head to cushion it from the cold stone. As a knight, he'd often slept on the ground, but no forest floor or encampment had ever been so unforgiving on his body. "Ah..." His leg twinged in pain as he tried to settle; an old untreated injury the guards had gifted him early in his captivity.
"Goddess, bring me dreams that I may taste freedom..." The words were whispered low under his breath as his eyes closed, and he shut out the cold floor and the aches of his battered, bruised and chained limbs.
Xxx
"Link..." The voice came from afar. Around him was a soft light, though he could not discern any features of the landscape - if indeed there was one. The only indication of where the voice was coming from was a stronger ray of light, coming just north from where he stood.
He did not hesitate as he stepped towards it, his legs strong again and free from pain. No longer was he clothed in tattered rags, instead he was once again dressed in the full regalia of a Knight of Hylia. He drew in a deep breath, enjoying the fresh air, unexplained relief washing over him as he filled his lungs.
“I am here...” his own voice surprised him, startlingly loud and clear. He blinked, looking around but seeing no source for the voice. “My lady? Where are you?” He waited, almost basking in the warm light that was offered.
The was a laugh, soft and gentle, in response. “Right here, my hero.” The light shifted, changed and took the form of a woman with golden hair, bright eyes and the perfect face that he could never quite remember. Her smile was brighter than the light itself and he felt instantly at peace.
She gave him no name and he never asked. That she knew his, that she cared - that was enough. "How fare you?" she asked. Had he his wits about him, he might have taken more notice of the deep sadness in her eyes at the question, yet it was lost to the light, as all else.
"Well, my Lady," he replied, and in that moment, that reality, it was the truth. No darkness, no pain or loneliness existed here. "And the better for seeing you." Turning, he offered her his arm, the golden spaulder glistening in the light.
She chuckled, her fingers curling around his arm. "You charm me, sir knight." Her voice was soft and smooth, bringing a comfort he didn't know he needed.
Together they walked, going nowhere in particular in the bright nothingness. There was birdsong, though he saw no birds, and the rustling of a breeze through non-existent trees. That it wasn't quite right was lost on him, it felt entirely natural and he was more focused on his companion than anything else. She was everything, and if nothing existed but her, then surely that was just as it should be?
Link was warm, happy and content as they moved, though something troubling lurked at the back of his mind, nameless but worrying. He looked up as he heard a bird fly overhead, chirping loudly. Yet he couldn’t see anything despite the clear light and that only added to the unsettled feeling that nagged at him.
"Speak your mind, my knight," she told him as though she had read his thoughts. Perhaps she had?
"I..." he started and then hesitated. What did he want to say? "I wonder... can it last?" Looking around, again, he saw nothing but felt everything. "Peace, quiet." His gaze turned to his clothes and he frowned slightly. "I was born to fight." He knew that, even if other things seemed distant.
There was a tightening of her hand on his arm. "In time," she said, her voice a whisper. "One day, all you will know is peace. I promise you that. Though you must be patient, as it may take a while."
Link nodded, accepting. If she said so, he believed her. He smiled, pushing aside the something that lurked at the back of his mind. "Shall we stop a while?"
There was a tree and a pond within sight somehow and he led her towards it. Pink and white flowers peeked up around the edge and fish danced in the clear water. A blackbird sat in the tree, head tilted as it watched them curiously. The same bird that had flown over them a short while ago perhaps? It let out a chirp as they moved to stand under the branches, but did not fly away. If anything, it moved a little closer, watching every move they made.
"Oh!" She giggled, staring at the branch the bird was perched on. "Don't be so judgemental!" She smiled, wagging a teasing finger at the tiny creature. "It's all fine. He’s quite trustworthy.”
The bird sang again, flying away to sit on a rock by the pond. As it flew a single feather fell, fluttering gracefully to the ground. Instinctively, Link picked it up. It was red; as red as his cloak, though he'd seen no red feathers on the bird. Not that it mattered. With a smile, he tucked it into his lady's golden hair.
"It suits you."
She laughed. "It suits you better!' With a wave of her hand the feather was now in his hair, tucked neatly between his ear and his cap.
"Ah now, you must know the only feather in my cap is you!" He grinned, pulling her nearer easily, feeling her relax against him. She was soft and comfortable in his arms and he fell silent, wondering at how right it felt, even if things around him felt slightly wrong.
They were sitting before he even thought of it and he leaned in to kiss her, as though there were nothing more natural. Her warm lips met his and he felt her hair brush his cheek. He reached for her hand as the kiss deepened and twined their fingers together, his eyes closing as he allowed himself to simply feel. Her kiss was everything, a breath of fresh air, filling him with life. Just for a moment he wished he had a name to whisper reverently into her ear.
The chirping of the on the rock had increased in volume, but he ignored it; unless the noisy creature was intending to fly between them, he did not care.
Perhaps his lady did care, for she broke the kiss and sat back, though her hand remained in his. “Silly bird,” she chuckled. With her free hand she reached into the pond and flicked water at the indignant creature, who shook the droplets easily off his black feathers.
"My apologies to your protector," Link smiled. "I assure you, I have only the most honourable of intentions."
This only caused the blackbird to ruffle its feathers in indignation and let out a sharp trill before flying off into the distance.
"Oh my! What have we done!" She laughed. The bird had vanished now, though there was still the echo of its song in the air.
"Perhaps he didn't want a bath?" Link teased, amused by the antics.
"And perhaps you do?" There was a wicked glint in her eyes, and before he had chance to react she'd plunged her hand into the pond, dousing him with the cool water.
"Oh!" He laughed, leaning over to return the favour and dampen those golden locks. Her squeal of surprise and delight made his heart soar, and he didn't even move as she made to splash him again. The sparkle in her eyes made this a moment to treasure as her hand met the surface of the pond.
It hit his face and he started to laugh, but then it kept coming. So much of it, running down his face and neck and into his mouth. He coughed, gasped and tried to move, but he couldn't. It was just a little splash, why was there so much water?
“Stop,” he spluttered, hearing her laugh, the laugh he loved so much, turn from joy to malice. “I can’t breathe...”
Xxx
Another bucket doused him and he forced his eyes open. His ragged clothes were sodden and clinging to his body. He shivered as the guards stood over him, his mind still reeling from the dream and his harsh return to reality.
"Told you he wasn't dead!" The taller of the two laughed. Just needed a bath!" They looked over him with sneers and derision on their unshaven faces.
Link retched, turning his head so as not to meet their eyes as he tried to expel the water from his lungs. Although he'd done nothing to earn their contempt, they hated him anyway. With effort, he reminded himself once again not to react, to stay strong and not crumble. Link the hero, they had called him once and a hero he would remain.
As their taunts turned to kicks and punches he steeled himself and tried to keep his expression blank. Gathering what remained of his will, he tried to look through them, to pretend they weren't there and instead, imagine that she was. Newly awake, he could still hear the echo of her voice in his mind.
He clenched his jaw as the smaller of the two kicked his already aching leg, jarring him from his attempts at distraction. The guard was so close it would have been easy to grab him, to give a little back; but he did not. He would never lower himself to those that tormented him.
At last the guards grew bored of their prisoner and, after one last kick, left him alone in the cold dark cell.
Only then did he give in to his tumultuous feelings, an angry sob torn from his lips as he brushed his wet hair from his eyes. He was cold and wet, but that was nothing compared to the bone deep despair that threatened to consume him. What was the point of those dreams? Oh, he knew he'd asked for them before he slept, but every time he had to wake it was worse. The taste of happiness, of freedom and light and love was almost worse than having none. He was conflicted and hurting and no longer knew if he wanted the release or not. How much more could one man take?
There was a small noise from the door and his head shot up, not wanting to let the guards see him in such a sorry state; he still had a little dignity left after all. What he saw when he looked over, caused his jaw to drop.
On the cell door, between the bars, sat a blackbird.
Link stared in astonishment. How had a bird got so far down here? He supposed it explained why there had been a bird in his dream, if he'd been hearing one in his sleep. Poor creature must be lost.
"Go," he whispered, trying to shoo it, though it was out of reach of his chained arms. "This is no place for you. Go; fly free. Do what I cannot." He jangled the chains, trying to get it to move before anyone saw it. The guards cared little for people; they’d have no qualms about killing one small bird.
The bird looked at him, its head tilted, just as he'd seen it in his dream. It stayed there for a long moment, bright eyes boring into him, before chirping lightly and flying away.
Link sighed in relief, though he was sad to see it go. It was the closest thing he'd seen to a friendly face in years that was not the result of his unconscious mind. A dungeon was no place for a bird though, despite his loneliness he would never attempt to keep it.
He slumped back against the wall, ignoring the pull of the wet chains on his raw skin. Glancing towards the door, he saw something small move in the dim shadows. Curious, he strained against the chains to reach it, his joints screaming and skin on fire, until his fingers finally brushed against something soft.
Pulling it with him, he shuffled towards the alcove with its dim lamp light to see what it was.
A feather, dropped by the bird as it flew away. Yet as he looked at it, his hands shook and he pinched himself roughly to be sure he wasn't still dreaming.
Suddenly, he felt something he hadn't thought he ever would again. Hope; strong and surging and flying through him like a bird on the wind. He knew then that it wasn't over for him yet, that there was a glimmer of light in the endless darkness. The goddess had sent him a sign.
The blackbird had flown, and the feather was red.
Xxx
END