Fan Fiction ❯ Love, and Pain, and Darkness ❯ Love, and Pain, and Darkness ( Chapter 1 )
Tormented by the past and possible future, Link remembers innocence lost...
Anime/Manga: Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / | Type: One Shot | Uploaded On: 05.22.2005 | Pages: 2 | Words: 5.7K | Visits: 450 | Status: Completed
Background: It started to write itself. All I had were those first three sentences, not even knowing it would be a Zelda fanfic... On that line of thought, I have no idea exactly what happened or how... but I refuse to blame it on the music I've been listening to lately. Heh. Really, I was just sick of all of the shitty writing concerning this particular pairing. (Not that I'm insulting every author that deals with the pairing by any means--I do have favorites.) I needed one I could really enjoy, so... I wrote it myself.
WARNING!!!! Non-consensual sex on the way! I say "non-consensual" when I really mean "not entirely non-consensual" or perhaps even "mostly non-consensual" but a lot of people don't tend to understand that so it's better to just say BEWARE OF RAPE FIC so one get bitches and proves themselves a big stupid moron for reading and getting offended regardless of my warning. Oh, don't let that stop you, of course. Flamers are fun toys.
Love, and Pain, and Darkness
by Orin Drake
There was love there. And pain. And darkness. But mostly... mostly a homesickness that would not cease. Would not go away, even though he had come back home.
Or at least... what he'd thought had been home. Wasn't that what he'd wanted, after all? To be a kid again, to be young and innocent and... and...
And forget, dammit. He'd wanted to forget... everything. All of the awful, horrific shit he'd been through. Had done. Had been done to him. Oh, Goddesses... leave it dead. Or kill it off again. Please. Please. Please.
Months ago--even mere days ago--he'd been happy. Perfectly happy in his innocence, his ignorance, his lack of all memory regarding that goddamned world outside the village. It had been as though nothing had happened to interrupt his life...
And then the dreams came. Very strange, at first. Mildly frightening, not quite nightmares, but... not good dreams by any stretch. Dreams of a world outside that he certainly had never seen, and yet... seemed too familiar. Of creatures that he was certain he'd never even heard of that knew his name... of monsters and dangers and pain that he didn't care to even dream about. Horrible fears, disturbing places, and a dark thief from an unknown desert that threatened to tear the very world to shreds...
They were all dreams for a while. And he could still wake up and play and be happy... for a while. Until one day when he dreamt of a ruby-eyed guide named Sheik and an empty-eyed enemy that mimicked his own, adult form...
He'd woken up screaming. Saria had come, moments later, to calm him--but it didn't work. Seeing Saria again nearly left him catatonic until she touched him, proved herself real... He'd looked down at his hands, shouting something about a realm, temples, sages... he'd looked at his hands and noticed how small they were. They weren't supposed to be that small. And where was his sword? Where was Epona? The Ocarina. Zelda! What of the princess?
Saria was startled. Downright terrified, in fact--she backed away from her insanely rambling friend, eyes wet with waking nightmare tears. He seemed well beyond the point where he could be calmed down, but she didn't want to run away from him. No, there was... there was no reason to be afraid of him! But... she was. Something in him... something was not right. Something had... snapped. Changed. Been shredded apart and undone. She backed away... then climbed down the ladder. If she couldn't stay with him inside... she would hold vigil outside. That was... the worst nightmare anyone had ever had, she was sure. She was sure.
Link sat on the edge of the warp to Zora's Domain, staring down at his hands and remembering how the knowledge had come back to him. He was supposed to be happy. He was supposed to be innocent. Nothing was certain anymore.
He'd cried alone for an awfully long time. Sobbing until his throat was raw and there were no tears left. For what, he couldn't answer... but it was mostly for himself. He could admit that. But, more... he'd been through every memory of every person he had ever met. How dear some of them had become in that short period of time. And he wondered... if they weren't all safe and unsuspecting right at that moment.
Would it happen again? Was that why the memories weren't completely forgotten?
That's what had gotten him. That line of thought was what had triggered the rage, the guilt, the overwhelming sadness, and there was no other way to deal with it than to break down completely.
Once, he had been a boy. A boy who happily thought he was Koroki, to live safe and warm in the forest, and remain a child forever. And then everything had been torn away from him--all he'd known was no longer true. The world was large and scary; and all on his shoulders.
Never once had he broken down while he was fighting. Even in the harshest of moments, he'd never backed down. Bleeding, badly hurt, bones broken... he had never once shattered. It was now, now that he'd been given a taste of what should have been...
He'd brought his dagger with him. To ease things, maybe. He stared at it through the speckled sunlight, holding it in his palm...
Blood. It was thick, sticky, slippery and the smell was enough to turn anyone's stomach. There was always an ample amount of blood.
So why he wished for more was... almost laughable. Were he able to laugh right then, with the intensity of the moment...
The small Koroki dagger wore the color of crimson, of life itself, only on its tip; but that was enough. To see it again... to feel the wound... he needed this. Oh, Goddesses, he needed this... It hurt, it bled, it got deeper. He looked at the wound, really acknowledged it, and knew it as his own. For the first time in his life, it was a wound he'd inflicted upon himself. And that... felt good.
He knew, though... deep down he understood that if anyone had caught him as he was, he would be absolutely ashamed. But not as much as... as he was because of...
He shivered, closing his eyes against the sudden rush of sensation, emotion. He'd only felt that way once before. It was what he felt at that moment, remembering, that was truly something he should be ashamed of. That shiver up his spine... the warmth... the fear... and that goddamn thing that was so far beyond desire that he had no way of understanding it.
He'd liked Zelda a little, hadn't he? Well, sure... but Malon sort of... made him blush. That was all he'd known about... any of it... before...
He shivered again, barely able to suppress the beginnings of a moan in the back of his throat as his eyes closed on their own accord. Yes, that... that had been... when he'd...
The Water Temple had not been fun. (As if any of the journey could be.) He recalled thinking that it was really the most horrible so far in his travels... even worse than being inside a giant fish. That was stretching it pretty far. All he wanted was for all of it to be over.
Unfortunately, he knew that the room he'd fought so hard to get to held a treasure that he could make very good use of. And, if he were really lucky, whatever the next room held would be able to let him avoid getting wet quite so often. Swimming no longer held any of the fun that it used to.
Of course, from where he stood--panting, trying to give his sore arms and legs a little bit of a rest before the next battle took place--not much held the fun that it once did when he was a child. And an upcoming fight to wrestle a trophy of the temple away... ugh.
With a deep breath, half resignation and half pure need to go on, he stood in front of the door... and it opened. The entire contents of the room, however... was puzzling. Shocking. And pure illusion.
He could feel the very beginning of a headache creeping up the back of his skull, doing everything in his power to suppress a moan. The illusion itself was very beautiful; there was a startling tree in the center of what looked to be a lake shortly after dawn (or perhaps at dusk), the water shimmering softly. Oh, if only the illusion would hold...
He stepped in carefully, almost afraid that he may fall into the water. Of course, he didn't--only illusion. None of the walls showed themselves, but he knew they were there behind the fog. Slowly, carefully, he moved closer to the tree, keeping his senses very much aware. No motions, no sounds, no smells that he could note being out of place... yet. It was a matter of time--the sword tight in his hand, shield readied...
Then, as he stepped within inches of the tree, something flickered beside him. It was a peculiar thing--almost like a trick of the light that had passed out of the corner of his eye. He easily would have dismissed it as a tired trick of his mind if he were anywhere but a temple.
Something sharp pricked the depths of his mind, his instincts telling him to turn and look behind him--but he became nearly sorry that he'd listened. The defender of the room's treasure was indeed flickering to life before him. It looked to be... a dark mirror image of--himself?!
His stomach fell by degrees. Yes, of course. Ganondorf would have such a sick sense of humor. Raising his sword and crouching, he made to lunge--until he gazed upon those answering eyes. Glowing, crimson... and alive. Knowing. Sentient.
Worse... oh, Goddesses, so much worse... the dark being spoke. In the hero's voice. "Link."
He could not answer. He didn't speak. He couldn't. He was... too afraid.
He, the Hero of Time, the boy that stood up to Ganondorf more than once, had made it his life's mission to do so... had been afraid. Of that... mere shadow.
The thought enraged him--and the shadow minion noticed. Link swiped, but the dark reflection rolled out of the way. Again the hero thrust forward and down, but the shadow caught the Master Sword with his own, darkened version of the blade before darting away, out of reach.
With a growl, Link pulled the hookshot from his side, pulling the trigger even before he'd taken the proper time to aim. The chain shot past the dark figure, but not missing by far. Cursing, the hero was forced to wait until the chain returned. Too angry and overcome with the adrenaline of battle to think entirely clearly, he shot again instantly.
Exactly what had happened would never be entirely clear. It was too fast, with too many factors gone wrong to take the time to work out. What did become clear later, was that his aim was only true for the tree. He hadn't realized that until he was already being pulled toward it. The next instant, he'd felt himself slam up against the trunk--but back-first. As he recalled, when he'd tried to dart away and prepare for a slightly more intelligent strike, he'd been unable. The chain had found itself wrapped around him, binding his upper arms so tightly to the trunk that he couldn't so much as flex them without the chains biting painfully into the flesh they already marked.
It wasn't that he wouldn't have been able to work all of that out at the moment it happened... in any usual situation. What made his thoughts falter was the viciously grinning vision of his dark mirror image before him, looking far too satisfied with his hands on his hips. The only thing the hero was able to think, to understand, was a helpless breed of danger.
"This is what you need, my brother..." the shadow-beast hissed. "Accept it. My gift to you."
Link's jaw slackened--shock and confusion ran through him. What the hell was that monster talking about? Some gift, he was sure. He struggled despite the compression of his chest, the growing soreness in his arms, kicked out at the figure--immediately regretful. He'd taken too deep of a breath when he'd prepared to strike out, the chain far too tight. The crushing pain of the hookshot's tightening line was getting worse.
The shadowy mirror only seemed to smirk, pulling a black as night dagger from its belt. "Hold still, hero." It warned, taking an unnaturally quick step closer.
Link hissed venom as his tunic was suddenly, swiftly cut from him. No time to make sense of that. Tensing, keeping his breath controlled, waiting for the moment when he could lash out and--
It seemed his tunic was not the only thing to be cut from his body. He felt the razor's edge of the knife against his thigh as it traveled down and to the side... Stricken by fear, surprise, and the absolute knowledge that any motion he made could welcome severe damage to himself, he was perfectly still. Never in his life did he think it was possible to be that motionless... but he managed.
The fear switched back to shock as his boots were pulled swiftly from him, every last stitch of clothing finding its way into the "water" beneath him. Such a thing seemed... utterly ridiculous. What sort of advantage would a minion of Ganondorf hope to achieve by doing something so nonsensical? Even that aside... his clothes, dammit! How dare that beast destroy his memories of home?!
And then the dark reflection stood straight up again, meeting the hero's eyes with it's own glowing crimson orbs. There was something so... justified in that expression. So terrifyingly certain of what it was doing. In that gaze was the promise of every horror Link had ever dreampt--and more that he never dared to look at. It was so intense that it actually made the hero flinch, his eyes closing involuntarily.
A dark chuckle answered. Full of malice. Of hurt. The desire to inflict terrible pains was never so close, so apparent.
Link's eyes, previously squeezed shut as tightly as his muscles would allow, flashed open in wide, sightless terror. What he felt against his neck... was not a blade. Nor was it the cruel grasp of a hand, or any other weapon... it was... lips?!
Th-that... was not... appropriate. Not... not a fair way to fight...
And certainly not when the lips switched to a warm, moist tongue, sliding gently from his shoulder and up his neck, to just behind his ear--ending in a sharp, unexpected nip. Something in him recoiled immediately... but something else turned his startled gasp into a quiet moan.
The sound was hardly there at all... but the lips against his neck quivered delicately upward. Yes... this would be beautiful. Another nip, lasting longer, biting just a touch harder--before the tongue found the indentation and soothed the pain deviously.
No. The hero's mind could not process the information. There... there was... no sense... to this. It was not something he... knew. Nor understood. W-what... how could something disgust, revolt, pain... and yet... and... yet... Sightless eyes still wide, panicked--a brightest, living blue mirroring a knowing blood red.
Something pressed against his lips without warning. Regardless of the shock, his instincts took over--the fight was again within him.
"Now, now." The shadow image chided in a deepened, breathy voice. "Don't bite or you won't survive." Forcing his fingers past the previous barrier of teeth, he continued. "And you do want to live to defeat the wicked Ganondorf, don't you?"
Too many things were going through the hero's mind to allow him to compute any of the circumstances surrounding the entire incident. Yes, of course he wanted to live to destroy Ganondorf. Did that mean he would have to be still so the monster before him wouldn't choke him? Wouldn't force him to swallow his own tongue? What the hell was going on?! Why were his eyes closing on their own accord as his tongue was forcibly tasting the fingers traveling in and out of his mouth?
The dark reflection finally, almost gently, pulled his fingers away entirely. Taking advantage of the other's closed eyes, he took a moment to appreciate the half-erect sight resting in front of his target. Poor boy... had no idea what he was in for, did he? Of course, neither did the shadow. He was only created mere days ago. Or perhaps weeks. Perhaps months. It mattered little. He was programmed only to destroy the Hero of Time... but, too, he was given something the others were not--a true dark reflection of the hero himself. Tisk tisk--it seemed desire was a strong thing.
The first tentative press against a very surprising area of his body caused Link to cry out and struggle again, confused and scared more than anything else. Unfortunately, his struggles only made it easier for the dark mirror to force a single finger into the untouched entrance, making the hero scream again; in pain.
Music to the shadow's ears, he sighed and relaxed against the other's warm body. Such a shame the chains had to be in the way... such a shame they weren't causing blood to flow. Oh, he would remedy that soon enough. Without giving the hero a chance to adjust, a second finger found its way inside.
Another cry of agony. The third finger wrenched something both sing-song and voice-breaking rom his throat, the scream itself only have voice before it fell into silenced gasping. Warmth... he could feel a horrible, liquid warmth...
That was the dark image's trigger. The smell, the feel, the sight of the blood... he couldn't hold himself back any longer. He needed something so much more... It had grown intensely from the need to merely cause the hero pain, to the need to... express himself further. Only a shadow, he banished the illusion of clothing from his own being.
Link's eyes squeezed shut as tears welled up, throwing his head wildly to distract himself from the most horrible agony that he had ever experienced in his entire life. It was... nothing like he'd felt before. No amount of burning, bruising, poison, shredding... could amount to... The searing pain was mixed with a stripping, tearing, intimate damage that he simply couldn't understand. It seared places that he wasn't even aware could undergo so much pain, traveling all the way up his spine as it burned through him. His voice no longer worked, his teeth too tightly gnashed together to let go a scream anyway.
The shadowed mirror gasped unexpectedly. Even in its short span of existence, it had never experienced... this. What was it? Pleasure? Slick, warm, delicious... j-joy? Seated all the way inside of his programmed rival... he felt... he... he felt. Felt. Truly... felt.
Red eyes snapped shock open, it's dark body reacting more by instinct than anything else. Another rough thrust rendered a horrifying breathy sob from the hero. The dark figure watched the pain-covered face... and could only think of how beautiful it was. How perfectly the torment twisted the features... and how it wasn't all that unlike a look of severe... pleasure..?
The shadowed mirror had reached down for a teasing stroke of the finally, fully erect toy--and somewhere, buried deep within his subconscious, Link understood only that he was not to shy away from the touch. That seemed ludicrous, absolutely insane; until a firm hand rested around his length and stroked.
The pain was still crystal clear, no doubt was cast around that. But... there was something almost as strong in another long, drawn-out motion inside of him, mimicking the ones outside. It was nonsensical, confusing as hell... but not altogether unwanted. He couldn't open his eyes... he could not allow himself the vision of his tormentor.
Blood was suddenly thicker in the air than the stench of ancient water. Blood and... something else that neither of them had ever encountered before. It was strange, bitter... but... but not... not a bad smell...
All possible illusion of control was shattered. Where the delicious torture had turned into only the need to complete what had started... didn't matter. All that existed, all that was valid, was the need to continue--the need to thrust and to rub against. Moans, gasps, pleading and wordless, desperate motions, heat and blood and scents and feelings of things unknown...
Throwing his head back, Link cried out in a way he had never heard before--overcome by a sensation of pleasure so great that it almost seemed to consume him entirely, leaving his limp and strangely satisfied body in its wake. He was suddenly glad for the hookshot that bound him to the tree, keeping him upright even as he could find no strength in his body to stand.
An answering cry sounded from shadowy lips, leaving more burning warmth and tremors in its wake. Slowly, as surreal and careful as a dream, he slid away from the confined body, back into the false pool underneath.
The hero's body slumped forward entirely. His conscious mind was far beneath a sea of grey--but his body told him that he wanted that warmth back. He nearly leaned toward it, the chains still binding him--at first. At that moment, the hookshot's spear end unwedged itself from the tree, snapping back to the handle and dropping Link into the illusion of water.
It woke him. While it may not have been entirely real... it hadn't felt entirely fake. The events of the last few moments were echoed horribly with the severe pain raging throughout his body.
This now... this was rage. Pure, hateful, vibrant. What had just been done to him... he knew. He knew that it could never be undone. Pain. Pain and rage and blood and sickness. Stooping despite the red-hot shards deep inside, he snatched up his shield and sword (had they fallen when he was pulled toward the tree, or had he dropped them..?) resting at the base of the tree, growling toward the still stumping form of his shadowed mirror image. Voice or no voice, to himself he had screamed--driving the blade straight through the chest of the dark form.
If it had stopped there, it still would have been effective. He couldn't stop, though. Just couldn't. He pulled the blade nearly all the way out before thrusting it through again. And again. And again, before he twisted it, ignoring the agonized cries, the sound of bone snapping as he kept twisting, yanking, running through...
And then the illusion of his dark mirror self faded altogether. Alone, triumphant, he stood there. The image of water slowly disappearing all around him, eyes wide. Panting. Shaking. One hand expertly around the Master Sword, the other grasping his shield... but still he did not feel safe.
Ignoring the quivering in his fingers, he placed the shield on his back, put the sword back in its place... then picked up the hookshot with apprehension. He took a moment to look at it... to stare at the thing which had been merely a tool to help him along in his journey. It had been turned... dirty. Had been used for... for things against his very... for his...
With a soul-freezing shudder, he cast the hookshot against the suddenly apparent far wall as hard as he could manage. The tool shattered, the chain falling on the cold floor in broken disdain.
As much as he had found uses for that thing... he could keep it with him no longer. It was too sordid, too painful... and he would simply have to make do without it.
Ignoring all other things, he advanced upon the treasure chest he had just endured so much to obtain. Opening it with some semblance of hope, its treasure stunned him to blankness.
It was... a longshot.
He thought... that he might cry. Wail endlessly, uncontrollably... but there were no sounds. Hardly a breath.
The youth recalled every event as clearly as if it had just happened. Happened again. Would happen again, if he went through this insane time warp all over again.
Damn him. Damn him!!!
He squeezed the blade's hilt, raising it to slice the hand cursed with the symbol of the Triforce clean off. Without the mark, destiny could surely not expect him to go through the insane quest all over again!
He couldn't. He couldn't do it. For one, the dagger was exactly as the dark figure's dagger had been--only lighter.
"Fuck you!" he wanted to scream. To everyone he'd ever known, to the woods themselves.
He could never truly be a child again. He remembered... everything. So much worse than simple bad dreams... so much deeper, harder, more... more horrible...
It'd be so easy, wouldn't it? To take that dagger... to end it all by the water. Both wrists, and then his throat... forever free. Silent. Quiet. Peace.
He closed his eyes, cringing away from his own thoughts. What... cowardice. What horrible, unacceptable thoughts for him to have been having. But... he couldn't really deny their worth, deep in his damaged heart. It was so tempting to say fuck all to the world and live the life that he had been meant to live...
Or had he? Maybe that was... it. Maybe that's why his memories had come back to him... because...
He laid the dagger lightly in the grass at his side, watching the blood as it slowed its stream from his flesh. He didn't... want this. But more... he didn't want anyone else to have to suffer. The thought of everyone he'd met along his journey, ceasing to exist... That was worse, by far.
And besides... he'd been... informed that he liked pain more than he cared to admit. How that sick thought landed a bitter smile across his face, he'd never know. Or, rather... he had some time to figure out. This wasn't over.
I have never felt dirty after writing game yaoi. Until now. Oh, Link... don't kill me. Apparently I prove myself as your tormentor once again... but it's kind of a happy ending! Really! Sort of... uh... yeah.
Anyway, I'm really not sure if this has another part. It seems a little "unfinished", but... I'm not certain yet.