Fan Fiction ❯ Twisted Futurity ❯ Guilty By Association ( Chapter 6 )

The Legend of Zelda: Twisted Futurity

 

Guilty By Association

Six

Main Objective: Fire Temple

Side Quest: fire tunic, Bolero of Fire, Goron's Knife

Extra: none

 

 

 

During the journey back to Goron City, both boys' mind was zoned out, their thoughts going in two separate directions-Link's mind being solely on the rescue of the Goron people, and Sheik's mind, although it should have been where Link's mind was, was on Link's parting words to him before entering the House of Skulltula. Even as they went inside to collect their items, the small gap between them was slowly growing into an awkward rift, though Sheik was pretty sure he was the only one who felt awkward about it.

“You came back!” the little Goron prince announced as they passed through the entrance of the city. “I've been waiting for you. Link, here's your Fire tunic!” he announced, grinning broadly as he stretched it out in front of him. “It will protect you from the fires of Death Mountain.”

“Thanks,” he responded dully, taking it from him.

The little boy turned to the younger of the two elves, smiling sweetly. “Sheik, yours is in your room. I just need you to put it on so I can add the finishing touches.”

He followed after his brother without so much as one word to Link. The Hero sighed. He probably wanted to be alone for a minute. Link knew he did.

“Hello?!” A voice echoed through a nearby corridor, startling the young elf. He peered down into the shadows, swearing he saw them flicker slightly. “Is that you little Elf Brother??”

“Yeah,” Link responded cautiously. “And you are?”

“Medigoron!” he answered back. “Come get your gift! I made it just for you!”

“It's not a gift if I have to pay for it,” he groaned under his breath, but went down the corridor anyway.

::-:: ::-:: ::-::

The laces were an odd addition, but the little Prince readily explained them to her. “It might get too tight,” he said, running his fingers over her abdomen lightly. “It's made to fit you this way. For flexibility.”

He stared at himself in the mirror, watching the strings crisscross around his well toned body, barely allowing his skin any room to breathe at all. He liked the way it fit, the way it hugged his lower half in all the right places. Link would like it too, but he also wouldn't be able to concentrate. He already couldn't concentrate.

“I sharpened your knives,” her little brother announced. “I knew you'd need them. Is it too much?”

“No, it's fine,” he answered, faking a smile. His partially-gloved hands fingered the strings carefully, as if they were made of priceless porcelain. Why was he doing this to himself?

“Sheik, why do you hide who you are?” the prince asked, hearing the cloth rustle around his browned skin.

It wasn't like he hadn't been asked that question before, but the answer always disturbed the person who asked. It wasn't because he wanted to protect himself, or even that he had to do it to hide his identity. He did it because he liked it.

“I'm not hiding,” he responded lightly. “I'm just being someone else for a while.”

::-:: ::-:: ::-::

Link didn't think it was possible, but he was actually considering letting Ganondorf rule Hyrule. If the Goron's talked this much under oppression, how much would they talk when they were free? Maybe he shouldn't risk it.

“…And so that's why the Goron's eat bombs…”

Then again, the stupidity of their race demanded that he put someone in charge whose brain wasn't made out of grated cheese.

“Medigoron.” Link sighed, running his fingers through his hair. “I really need a bath before I go up to the scary mountain to rescue the rest of your people, so. If you'll kindly hand me the knife, I can be on my way to find a water source that I can clean myself in before I change my clothes.” He'd never worn red before, but he was sure he'd look good in it. He looked good in anything, and even better in nothing.

“Water source?” Medigoron repeated, as if confused.

“Yes. A source of water in which I can clean myself.”

“Oh…” The Goron smiled broadly, disappearing into the entrance of the large cavern he called home, which was directly behind him. “I have one of those. Water source.”

Link sighed, staring up at the ceiling as if it were somehow responsible for the rock monster's simplicity.

“Water source,” Medigoron repeated, returning with a bucket twice the size of any house Link had ever seen. “See? There's water in here! But you don't have to sit in here. I'll help you bathe.”

Link's face twitched subconsciously. “You'll…what?” The last thing he wanted was to get molested by a boulder. But that, however, wasn't what the Goron had in mind.

The next thing Link knew, he was up against the wall, sputtering and coughing, and more importantly, drenching wet. Because Medigoron had “helped” him in the best way possible-he just dumped the entire bucket of water on the poor elf. It was like being swept away in the torrent rapids of some really awful body of water that rushed all the time. Horrible description, but he couldn't blink. He could barely breathe. He just stood there, soaking wet, trying to recall what just happened to him, as if it were all just some horrible dream. Then he looked up, and saw the grinning Goron with the empty bucket and wondered if a black cat had crossed his path during the past 24 hours, because he seemed to be running out of luck.

“Here's your knife!” Medigoron grinned, dropping an oversized sword at his feet.

Link stared at it, his left eye twitching, his anger vein showing quite visibly though his flawless skin. “That's…a knife?”

“A Goron knife!” he grinned proudly.

A Goron knife. A freakishly huge sword that no one in their right mind would carry around, because it took two hands to lift it, and all of your strength to take it out and put it away.. Except for him. Because he paid for it, and he was pretty sure he wasn't getting a refund.

He shook himself out, and glared. Being the Hero of Time sucked.

::-:: ::-:: ::-::

The Prince suppressed the urge to giggle as he stared at the Hero of Time, whose facial expression mirrored a cat after a bath. He glared at the young Goron child, who smiled innocently, and sweetly, making Link glare even harder. The Goron child opened his mouth to taunt him, but was immediately quieted by his elder sibling. “No taunting,” Sheik warned. “Or I'll tell Father.”

Link's glare immediately softened at the Sheikah's presence, who stared back at him uneasily. He noticed exactly how brown he was under his newest ensemble; quite a creative one.. His shirt was tight, and black, leaving little room for the imagination. His hands were gloved only partially with stray strips of cloth, leather and skin. His pants were made of leather and patches of monster skin stitched together with thick, cream thread that almost looked like rope; the stitching led up his thighs haphazardly, becoming parallel lines the side the start at his hips before ending at the extremely low waist of his pants and hanging there loosely. Knives were held in place to his thighs by leather holsters, only adding to his appeal. His boots were made the same way but laced up his legs to mid-calf. While Link was thoroughly enjoying his view, there were a few strange things about the boy that he had noticed before that were more evident now. For example, his oddly soft curves were now all too well defined. And he had hips big enough for the Hero to notice. In fact, coupled with the slight color on his lips, and his unusual beauty…

Link blinked. That was entirely impossible.

“Pretty, no?” the Prince grinned knowingly.

Link sucked in his breath, muttered a stray insult, and promptly announced “I'm not made of time. I don't have all day you know.” He was sure that would have been funny to one of those people who would ever so annoyingly make the transition of his title-Hero of Time-to that joke. But only if he were one of those people. Thank Goddess none of them were in this room, or else he'd have to hurt someone. Badly.

Sheik brushed a lock of platinum streaked hair from his face, his exposed crimson eye focused only on the Hero. He pulled out his lyre, waiting patiently for Link to catch on-it took only a few seconds due to being absorbed in the staring-before starting his tune. This one was rather different from the other ones that Link had learned, and it took him a few times to catch on. Normally it wasn't nearly so difficult, but he found it hard to concentrate with something so unusual watching him. Finally he got it right, and committed it to memory as Sheik announced that it was the Bolero of Fire, and it would take them into the heart of Death Mountain. Inescapably hot wind surrounded them both, suffocating them in a spray of magic. For a few moments, it was as if nothing existed, not even them, before orange and red faded into vision, and nearly indescribable heat attacked their sensitive skin. The hot air made his lungs rebel against him, but air was air, and after a few moments of coughing, he cleared his thoughts and vision in order to look around.

They were on a stone platform, in the center of which was the Triforce. Dull, premature rock walls glared back at him, the surface of it incredibly uneven, even on the ground. The only opening was miles towards the top, where a teasing hint of blue and white could be seen; he hoped that was the sky. The rivers here ran red and orange with danger and death, and he knew he wouldn't last 30 seconds if he were to fall into one. He stood up, panting slightly, his clothes clinging closely to his irritable skin. A volcano was the heart of Death Mountain. Why was he not surprised?

“Follow me,” Sheik ordered, stepping off of the stone platform. Link did as told, wondering why the other boy wasn't moving as fast as he thought he would go. Perhaps the heat was effecting him as well, though if that were the case, the Hero sure didn't see any traces of it.

After a short walk, they came to a gap. Link was still having trouble adjusting, but at least he could stand. His body was trying to perspire in response to the heat, but it couldn't. All he could do was pant, the heat boring into his face like nails into wood, making him tug in aggravation at his tunic, concluding that it was the one suffocating him, and not the heat. But Sheik immediately swatted his hand away, giving him a light glare. “You'll die in less than one minute if you take that tunic off,” he warned.

“I can't breathe!” Link nearly shrieked, his voice going hoarse from the heat that plunged down his throat.

“You'll adjust,” he concluded shortly, turning back to the gap. “The Temple is much better.”

Somehow, he seriously doubted it.

The gap was crossed via hookshot, and then the boys continued. Link didn't remember exactly how they got into the Temple; his mind was a blur from trying to force himself to adjust to such a harsh environment. But once they were inside, the temperature lightened incredibly-although it was still much too warm for comfort, he could finally breathe easy.

Sheik allowed him a few moments to catch his breath, remembering how hard it was to adjust the first time he'd come into this Temple. But that was a while ago, when he was still a child, unable to think and feel for himself, forced to become independent. The fear of certain areas of this place still clung to him, but not as much as the certainty of saving his kingdom. He pulled out his knives, grasping the hilts firmly, as if they would somehow bring him comfort in his quest. Then he glanced back at Link, who'd taken his last grateful breath, and was now ready for enlightenment. “Try to keep up,” he advised.

“What about the map?” Link questioned, watching Sheik clear the steps in one effortless leap.

Sheik walked up to the door on the left, reaching out to grasp the familiar handle confidently. “I am the map.”

::-:: ::-:: ::-::

The Gorons found beauty in many things. Because of their tribe, people would assume that they found strength appealing, making it a dominant quality in their race. But strength was only appealing when leveled out with an easier quality, like beauty, or even frailty. The more qualities you had to add to your strength, the more pleasing you were. Thus, Darunia concluded as his first-born child stood in front of them, Sheik was quite beautiful. Not only was he physically appealing and had strength equal to that of any grown Hylian, but he was also wise beyond his years, responsible and perfectly capable of being on his own. And yet, he could sense his frailty underneath such a carefully constructed appearance, and his uneasiness. He smiled at his child, whose eyes were drowned in worry as he sheathed his weapons. “Father!”

He dropped to the floor.

Even rock could bleed. Link noted this as Sheik attempted to lift his father up off of the ground, but to no avail. The room they had entered was surrounded by lava, and the doorway they'd come through only gave them a small island of land-perhaps ten or twelve feet but no more. From such a closed space, he could smell the Goron's wound. It was old, at least three days, making it's home through the right side of his chest. It had gotten horribly infected. The skin surrounding the infection was black, the rock cracking and peeling accordingly. Sheik hovered a hand over it, whispering something in Hylian, then nudged his parent lightly. “What happened?” he wanted to know.

“I will be fine,” Darunia promised his son, smiling weakly. “It's just a war wound.”

“It's infected,” Sheik hissed, his voice low and dangerous.

“I will be fine,” he said again. “I will heal. Follow my blood; it will lead you to the Hammer.”

“And what about you?” Sheik wanted to know.

“Leave me here,” he commanded, waving him off weakly. “I will join you shortly. There is no time here; I cannot die. I will heal. Just get Link the Hammer.”

Sheik stared at his father for a moment, as if trying to process his command. Then he stood up slowly, and placed a bottle at his feet-one of the gifts that Doctor Igor had given him. Then he turned to survey the room.

Link's eyes followed the Sheik around, observing their options. To the left was a cage, inside of which was a desperate Goron who seemed to have observed the entire event through his bars. He pulled desperately at his cage, then gestured for them to come across. Sheik made his way towards him gracefully, never breaking his stride. The lava didn't seem to bother him one bit; he showed no sign of being cautious at all as he hopped from rock to rock, before finally reaching the switch to free his tribal brother. The Goron, happy to be released, climbed down front his prison and embraced Sheik in a bear hug that made Link wince. He swore he heard something crack.

“You helped me,” the Goron nodded eagerly as he put the small boy down, “now I will help you. There is a path that leads to the room above the ceiling so that you can do something about the pillar in this room. Thank you!” Then he handed something to the young boy before scampering over the rocks, running past Link with surprising speed and immediately heading out of the door.

Sheik retraced his steps, coming to stand alongside the Hero wearily. He glanced down at his injured father, a twinge of pain spreading through his normally alert red eyes before turning towards the door. If Link had a soul, he would have insisted that they didn't leave Darunia there alone. Anything could happen to him. But then, he could very well get in the way-slow down their progress. Sighing, he looked back at his friend, weighing his options. He'd want to be left behind if that were him, but then…

“Come on,” he grumbled, striding over to the felled Goron.

“What are you doing?” Sheik blinked.

“We can't leave him here Sheik,” Link insisted, grunting under the severe weight of the rock creature as he lifted him off the floor. He didn't have the raw strength to lift him up off of the floor completely, and so he merely had Darunia lean on his shoulders, and secured his place there by wrapping his arm around his neck and holding onto his wrist. Darunia groaned, but nothing else was heard.

“He's injured. He won't do us any good. He'll just slow us down.” Sheik insisted, though the pain in his voice betrayed his words.

“Maybe so, but I wouldn't leave you behind,” Link hissed, narrowing his eyes in defiance for a moment. When no words of protest were spoken, he dragged Darunia towards the door, carefully balancing his weight on his shoulders, while reaching for the door. Once it was open, he strained himself in order to glance back at Sheik, his eyes narrowing once more as he announced “Are you coming or not?”

Sheik snapped out of his trance, and walked over to them, holding the door for the Hero as they exited the room.

::-:: ::-:: ::-::

Time was painstakingly slow, and every second seemed like an hour within itself. The heat was horrible, but the added weight of Darunia made it even worse. Link kept going through, following Sheik faithfully through the rooms as he continuously freed Gorons who, in return, gave them helpful hints and keys from treasure chests they were guarding. Darunia's trail of blood proved most useful, although a bit morbid. Link never lifted a finger towards the few enemies they came across-his instructions from Sheik were to keep his father away from the battle and protected from any mortal harm. This would have been rather confusing if Link didn't recognize the boy's dire need to prove himself useful to the Hero of Time. So mostly Link just watched, making sure that Sheik was quite thorough in his disposal of the enemy.

Thoughts of the other blonde drifted through his head as he dragged the King from room to room, watching Sheik unfold the puzzle that was the Fire Temple. Link couldn't help but notice how determined he really was, so focused, so unhinged from life. His movements, his emotions felt familiar. The more pain he caused, the more focused he became, until he was so absorbed in his task he almost forgot that he had two other people with him.

Distracted. He was distracted and it was a beautiful thing, to watch this precious, inexperienced warrior find his own destructive center, and use its force to wreck havoc on the occupants of the Temple. Link would never again wonder why he was given to the Hero as a companion; he was a great warrior. And perhaps an even better lover. Link would soon have to make the transition; although he remembered his promise, he was getting quite impatient. The way Sheik moved, the way he drew his knife across an enemy's skin, the way he panted, the way his chest rose and fell in response his body's demand for oxygen demanded that Link act on his instincts; he was now tempted beyond what he could bear. He vowed that on their next rest, he'd have his way with the younger boy-promise or not.

::-:: ::-:: ::-::

This was absolutely the strangest relationship he'd been in so far. And he'd been in a lot of them.

Sheik tried to go slow enough for Link to be able to keep up, but with Darunia's extra weight it didn't really do much good. The younger Hyrulian was trying to be patient, but every time he glanced back at Link he felt the uncontrollable urge to be underneath him again. He blamed it on the heat-it caused Link to pant in the most beautiful way. It was deep, and paced, rhythmic and soothing, consistently taunting him, as if beckoning him. He tried so hard to ignore it, to pretend as if a little thing like heavy breathing wasn't effecting him at all, but it was. It triggered something inside of him, the same something that promised Link he could jump his bones the second they were out of this Temple. He was very, very sorry he hadn't made it sooner. It's not like they hadn't had plenty of other opportunities.

They were inside of a room where the walls created a maze littered with rolling boulders that would crush you flat if you weren't out of the way soon enough. He paused, watching one roll past them, wondering exactly how they would get his father across in time not to be crushed. Link could move faster if the King weren't merely dead weight. Why did he insist on dragging him around anyway? He wasn't really doing anything but slowing them down, and the slower they went, the more time Sheik had to spend with Link's erotic panting. And the more he heard it, the more worked up he got. And of course, the more worked up he got…

Maybe it wasn't too late to recant.

He glanced around the room. What was in here anyway? A couple of fire slugs, some boulders, maybe a Skulltula. Oh, and his father. But if his father had been knocked out for this long, then maybe…

No. He couldn't risk it. He'd be so embarrassed, and besides, he wanted a tiny inkling of what he'd dreamed his first time to be like. He wanted to lose his virginity in his own bed after his wedding, but hell, if he were going to lose it sooner-and lose it here-he could at least do it somewhere private.

His eyes roamed the walls frantically, searching for a corner, a door, something. He shifted up carefully, placing himself a fraction of an inch between safety and the rolling bolder, and peered around the corner.

Nothing.

He sighed mentally, racking his brain. He'd gone through this Temple a hundred times-there had to be a small, secluded corner that they could use. Subconsciously he noticed his morals dropping quickly while his level of compromises rose dramatically. It would be ok. He was in love with him and it wasn't like he was waiting around for anyone else; he wanted only him. He'd trained his whole life to be exactly what Link wanted, and now that he knew that he was, it'd be ok. It'd be better than ok. Link had to be a great fuck-his face, those eyes, that body, that smile, that voice, that cocky disposition…

This wasn't right.

Sheik took off, missing the bolder just by a breath, leaving Link in his dust to call after him confusedly. It was the heat. It was driving him up the wall, forcing out instinct, making logic retreat into the background. They couldn't fuck here-what was wrong with him? If they took off their clothes they'd be dead in less than two minutes. He didn't want to kill himself for sex.

…Did he?

He rounded a corner quickly, and, finding himself at a dead end, stood and stared up at the ceiling, as if it had all the answers. He wasn't himself lately. He'd never had anyone who made him hate and love them all at the same time. He'd never had such powerful a temptation before; it woke up a hunger in him that he thought he'd never experience, a need he thought he'd never feel. He pulled on his hair in frustration, a strangled sob caught in his throat. He wanted so bad to make it all go away, to walk around the corner and blink it off, and continue. But there was no turning back. The more he dwelled on it, the more he wanted it, until he found himself on his knees, his tears gathering helplessly on the dust below.

::-:: ::-:: ::-::

“Sheik?”

Link stood a few inches back, as far back as he could stand without becoming the Pancake of Time. He had left Darunia by the door to follow after the other boy who'd taken off suddenly, without warning. Something was bothering him. His very body language told the tale, his eyes and breath becoming so uneasy the deeper they went into the Temple. Link decided not to address it, shrugging it off to the heat-it always made people do the most animalistic things. It fried brain cells-that was his opinion. And it'd killed so many of Sheik's that he'd finally gone off the deep end, hiding in a corner barely big enough for both of them to fit in, on his hands and knees crying hysterically. Link shook his head, taking another step forward. “Sheik…”

“I have to tell you something,” he said suddenly, standing up as if nothing were wrong.

Link blinked, watching the boy wipe his face before turning to face him. What could he possibly have to tell him that turned him a quivering mass of jelly?

“…I'm a girl.”

Link burst out laughing, while Sheik's face remained like stone.

“I'm serious.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” Link howled, nearly collapsing against the wall.

“No, Link, I'm not. Look at me for a minute.” Link obliged, holding back slivers of snickers and snorts as he stared at the younger boy. “Don't you think I'm just a little too pretty?”

“Don't flatter yourself kid,” he snorted, but then nodded soon afterwards. His features were just a bit too soft, he was just a little too curvy, his voice was just a little too light…

Sheik reached for his hand, raising up his shirt as he did so. Link frowned a little, watching as his fingers fell on his soft skin, sending an instinctive shiver of pleasure through him. He started to withdraw, remembering his promise, but Sheik held firm, pushing his hand further up his shirt, past his delicate ribs, between softer flesh, finally coming to rest over….

Link blinked, his emotions suddenly overwhelming him. It was true. Sheik really was a girl.

 

________________________

 

 

Are you a Twisted Futurity fan? Then join the fanlisting! It makes elves and goddesses happy.

http://twistedfuturity.carouselgarden.net/tffan/