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adrift-in-thyme · 8 months

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Febuwhump Day 6: "I Love You" (Time/Malon)

Ao3

This takes place pre-lu

CW for blood and injury, multiple threats of death, and temporary character death

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The worst dreams are always the ones where she can do nothing but watch. The ones where her body is paralyzed, the ground as uncooperative as quicksand. The ones where something terrible occurs. Something so horribly, vibrantly, gory that the only escape she has is to awaken from it, choking on hot, wet tears.

Never before had she realized how lucky she was to have that escape. To be able to curl into her husband’s waiting arms and let the images drift away, carried on the tide of his steadily beating heart.

Malon wishes she could do the same now.

This, however, is anything but a dream. The blood splotched across the ground, the sword lying useless amongst the green grass, the limp form crumpled beside it – it is all too real. As is the tall, lizard-like figure who stalks forward Link’s fallen body.

The Shadow grins and it sends shivers down her spine.

She thrashes again, straining helplessly against her bonds. Coarse ropes dig into her wrists, a tightly tied rag bites her cheeks until they ache. Somewhere behind her, a monster looms, claws slicing into her shoulder. Shards of pain travel down her arms, following the thin trails of blood.

But she has to get away, she has to. Link is right there, only a few feet away, broken and bleeding and helpless. She must reach him.

The Shadow extends talon-tipped fingers and drags Link up by his hair. He slumps in the monster’s grip, eye half-lidded and dazed. Blood dribbles from his mouth and nose and mars his clothing. He coughs and more splatters onto the lawn.

“So, this is the famed Hero of Time.” The Shadow shifts and his very being seems immaterial. Malon can see now how he got his name. “I’ll admit I’m disappointed. You went down so quickly.”

Blood-red eyes flick to Malon. A forked tongue zips out of scaly lips, quick as lightning.

“Love has made you soft.”

His grip tightens and Link lets out a sharp hiss.

“Let her go,” he croaks, “l-let her go or I’ll make you wish you were n-never born.”

The Shadow’s laughter rings out across the lawn, making the horses rear and dart further into the paddock. All except for Epona, who bucks and whinnies, trying desperately to reach her master. But the chain the Shadow had conjured around her ankle remains unmoving as ever.

“Make me wish that I was never born?” He jeers, tightening his grip on his captive. Link falls backward, bumping against his side. “Oh, my dear, dear hero! Are you unaware of your current situation? I recall you being smarter when we last met. Perhaps, you hit your head a tad too hard. That was quite the noise your skull made against my sword.”

The air flickers and suddenly, his ebony sword is back in his hand as though it had never disappeared. He fits it snuggly against Link’s neck, right over his jugular. Malon’s breath hitches.

“No!” She screams, kicking out, blindly. A clawed hand slaps her smartly across the cheek and her head snaps back. Before she can even recover, cool metal nips at her throat. She swallows, tasting icy fear.

“Malon!”

Link jerks in his captor’s hold, terror and fury battling in his gaze. The Shadow yanks him back, tilting his head in calm contemplation.

“Now, let me see. Which one of you should I kill first? I came here to slay the Hero of Time, but to find him with a wife…well, that was a pleasant surprise.” He pauses, that cursed gaze fixing itself firmly onto Malon. “Yes, I believe that is the answer. The wife goes first.”

“No!” The scream tears itself from Link, hoarse and desperate and agonizing, even as the words wash over Malon like spring rain, slowly seeping into her thoughts. With them comes a distant sort of terror, so close it turns her palms clammy, yet so far she hardly knows it is there.

Another monster grabs a hold of Link, claws digging into the wounds already marring his body. And the Shadow stalks towards her.

“Hello, dear,” he croons.

With a taloned finger, he removes the gag, allowing it to flop limply into the dirt. Malon fixes him with a glare.

“What makes you think killing us will help with anything?” She spits, straining to keep the fear from her voice.

He chuckles as he straightens, looking over her like an obsidian statue.

“Your husband is a hero, a blessed one of the gods. And as such, he has only furthered the relentless cycle that grips Hyrule. Without his demise, it will continue, unceasingly.

“As for your death, well — ” He shrugs — “that is merely for my own enjoyment. I wish to see your precious Link’s anguish before I slit his throat.”

“No!” Link screams again, fighting desperately against the monster who holds him fast. Chains have appeared around his wrists now, though Malon cannot remember seeing them before. They sing with every panicked movement.

“Don’t you dare touch her! It’s me you want, not her!”

A tear skitters down his cheek, glittering in the noonday sun. The sight of it breaks Malon’s heart.

Oh, fairy boy.

“I’m the hero,” he chokes, quieter now, defeated before his fate has even been set in stone. He raises his eye to the Shadow, a plea behind the fury in his gaze. “I’m the one who killed Ganondorf. Your vendetta is against me and me only. So, let her go…please, just let…let her go.”

The Shadow grins, all sharp teeth and shifting shapes.

“The Hero of Time groveling. It does me good to see a sight like that. I doubt anyone has seen it before, now, have they? Such a display of weakness is not to be taken lightly.” He gestures to the monster who holds the sword over her neck. “She is every bit as important to him as I hoped. So, go on. Do the deed.”

Something leaden and sickening and absurdly calm settles in Malon’s chest.

This is the end, her mind mourns. This is the end and there is nothing to be done now. Nothing to be done but to accept it.

“Link,” she calls and there is something hopeless in the way she does it. He looks at her, blood draining down his face, chest heaving with every panicked breath, pain and fear bright in his eye. But for a moment, she can see him as he was only this morning, gazing at her as though she is the most precious thing in the world, calloused hands cupping her face as he whispers that he loves her.

She smiles through her tears. His expression shatters.

“I love you.”

The Shadow grins, the monster begins to move its sword…

And the world comes to a screeching halt.

Malon remains still for a beat, waiting for the pain of metal slicing skin, waiting for the sensation of choking on her own blood. It doesn’t come.

The claws holding her are motionless. The weapon held against her neck doesn’t budge. The Shadow stays where he had come to stand, lips parted, fangs glinting, hand outstretched towards her. Off to the side, Epona remains reared up, hooves kicking at the sky, mane flying out in frozen strands of silken white.

The only person that moves in this strange place of living statues is Link.

He stumbles towards her, half-dragging his left leg. Chains still encircle his wrists, but now he holds his gilded sword in one hand. Behind him, a monster stands, a spurt of blood frozen in the space between his neck and chest.

“Link…what?”

She gazes around again, mind stuttering as it tries to catch up. She is no stranger to the oddities of her husband’s powers and adventures but this…this is something she has never seen before, nor heard of. As far as she knows, he has no power over time except by his ocarina. And that currently lies in a locked bedroom drawer.

He looks over her, fast and calculating and bitter. Then, with one swift movement, he drives his sword into the monster behind her. Malon cringes, awaiting a stream of gore that never comes. In fact, the monster doesn’t even budge. Like its companion, it merely remains where it is, gripped by the fate that does not yet have full reign.

Link kneels before her, now, knocking away the weapon that threatens her life, slicing at the ropes that bind her. He pulls and they fall away.

She raises her hands, rubbing dazedly at her aching wrists.

“What is this, fairy boy?” She murmurs, awed and terrified all at once.

“I’ll explain later,” he replies, quickly, shaking his head. And she knows that he will. “But we have time. Only…only a little, but we do.”

He reaches out, knuckles ghosting her cheek. She leans into his touch and draws a shaky breath. To feel him here warm and real is more than she could have hoped for after today’s events. In that terrible moment, she had believed that their only reunion would be in the icy embrace of death.

“They hurt you…again.” His voice cracks, shattering like a piece of pottery. “Malon, I’m…I’m so, so sorry.”

Lifting a hand, Malon rests it over Link’s, fingers intertwining with his.

“Oh, fairy boy, it’s not your fault.”

He gazes at her, broken and vulnerable. Then, slowly, he pulls away and gets to his feet. Holding out a hand, he helps her rise.

“I’ll fix this,” he says, voice growing tight and determined. “I promise you.”

And she has the strangest feeling that she has heard it before, that they have done this before.

What had he said earlier? That they had hurt her again?

“Link.” She steps after him, worry taking hold of her heart once more. Something is strange here. Something is wrong. “You’re keeping something from me. What’s going on? What’re you gonna do?”

He looks back at her, danger and grief in his eye.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers and time jolts back into normality.

No sooner has it done so, than the Shadow rushes forward and slits his neck.