The dungeon was dark. It always was, really, but today it seemed particularly so.
Heavy footsteps descended down the passage, more than usual, and he rolled his eyes. One of those days, then; they would be using him as an example for the newest knights (that was what they said, anyway; they all knew it was just an excuse to use him as a punching bag).
He grinned as they entered, lips cracking. "All these guests? Just for me?"
The dungeon was dark. It always was, really, but today it seemed particularly so.
Heavy footsteps descended down the passage, more than usual, and he rolled his eyes. One of those days, then; they would be using him as an example for the newest knights (that was what they said, anyway; they all knew it was just an excuse to use him as a punching bag).
He grinned as they entered, lips cracking. "All these guests? Just for me?"
One of the senior knights, Rona, grabbed him by the collar (an impressive feat, considering how ragged it was). "Shut your mouth, you bastard."
"My parents were happily married, actually. I'm afraid I can't say the same for yours… How is your mother doing these days, by the way? I hope she doesn't miss me too much." It was better to just get them angry from the start– they'd play with him like a cat would a mouse if he didn't.
He punched him in the gut. Link wheezed, doubling over as much as the chains would let him.
"Have you gotten weaker?" He asked, struggling to catch his breath. "Perhaps I could give you some training ti–"
A kick to his leg, the one that they had broken and had never healed properly, and he strangled a scream.
Rona cracked his knuckles, and grabbed him by the hair, forcing Link to meet his gaze. Oh, this would be a long day indeed.
---------
They came again the next day.
"What?" Rona mocked when Link didn't look up. "Run out of quippy remarks?"
"Oh, no. I was just wondering why you cur– apologies, blessed me with your ugly mu– beautiful visage two days in a row." And really, he had been– but the bruises on his throat also made speech difficult.
"Lord Dagianis is dead. I thought I would make sure our new recruits knew what would happen if they tried to act up."
It was a blatant lie– the only people there were ones who had been knights for years.
He laughed breathily. "I see the head bastard's actions have finally caught up with him. It's a shame I couldn't have seen it."
"You'll shut up, now."
He smiled at him pleasantly, as if they weren't discussing the death of a man. "Make me."
An ugly grin spread across his face. "With pleasure."
----------
Link let out a gasp of relief, breathing heavily. The shackles dug into his wrists, exacerbating the pain of his shoulder. He was fairly sure it had only been dislocated, but through the haze of pain it was hard to tell. He cautiously tried to move it, and, oh yes, it was very much dislocated.
He took a deep breath, and slammed his shoulder back against the wall. He screamed, the sound echoing through the stone corridors. When the pain receded enough for him to think properly, he cautiously tested it again. The pain was still there, but at least there was a chance of it healing properly.
What would Orville think if he could see him now? Would he be sympathetic? Disgusted by the sight of Link covered in his own blood?
It didn't matter; four years he had been locked up, and that was more than enough for him to move on.
Our wedding would have been beautiful. He thought, somewhat deliriously (he was probably a bit concussed). He could almost hear his voice now, calling his name.
His eyes snapped open; no, that was far too real, for there he was, kneeling in front of him.
"Link!" Orville said desperately, shaking him lightly.
"Orville…" He said softly, voice rasping painfully. "You shouldn't be here."
"Where's that goddamn key?" He snapped, pulling at Link's shackles.
Someone behind him handed it over, and he jammed it into the locks, sending painful shocks through his wrists. He collapsed forward onto Orville as the last shackle opened, barely able to stand.
"Get a healer." Orville demanded, checking him over frantically.
"I'm fine." He said, and hissed as Orville's hands passed over his ribs.
He laughed wetly, covering his face with a hand. "Imprisoned for four years and you're fine. I shouldn't have expected anything different."
"That's… my ring, isn't it?" He asked, staring at his hand.
"What? Of course it is."
(He said it so simply, as if the realization that Orville had given up on him hadn’t haunted Link for years.)
"They're taking too long. You need to get to a healer." He scooped Link up into a bridal carry as if he weighed nothing (which he probably did), careful not to jostle him too much.
"I'm fine." He insisted, but rested his head against Orville's shoulder.
"I heard you screaming, Link." His voice softened. "Do you know how terrifying that was? I was so close to getting you back, and I thought that I had lost you again. Please, don't pretend you aren't injured."
"I'm always injured." For some reason, that wasn't reassuring as he thought it would be. Perhaps his concussion was worse than he thought.
“Who did this to you?”
“Ah, Rona and a few of Dagianas’s other favorites. They were… quite upset at his death.”
“I should’ve tried harder to get you out.” Orville said, avoiding his eyes.
“And end up in the cell next door over? No, I think not. I would rather you be happy without me.”
“I can’t be happy without you, don’t you understand? These last four years… they’ve been hard.” They passed into the brighter light of the castle, and he passed an eye over him, scrutinizing his appearance. “My dear, sweet Link… what have they done to you?”
“You don’t want to know.” He said quietly. “Believe me, please. You don’t.”
He gazed at him for a few moments with an unreadable expression. “Nothing I see will make me love you less.”
“That’s not what I’m worried about… some of what they did to me was horrible, and you shouldn’t have to see it.”
“I want to see it; I swore an oath, and that doesn’t just mean the pretty things.”
“We aren’t actually married.” He mumbled into his shoulder, the only protest he could give. “You haven’t sworn anything.”
“Since when have you cared for what the law says?”
He laughed softly. “You have me there, I suppose.”
“I’ll have you everywhere, if you’ll allow it.”
“In public, Orville, really? Children could hear.”
“Oh, you know that’s not what I meant.”
He wiggled his eyebrows. “Did I?”
He snorted, and glared down at him in mock annoyance. “I had forgotten how bad your jokes were.”
“You know you love them.”
“Yes.” He said, sobering. “I do.”
He swallowed thickly. “Orville, I–”
“This is it.” He said, and kicked at the door until one of the healer’s assistants opened it. “Get the healer, now.”
Her eyes widened, and she scurried away to the back room.
“We can talk later.” Orville set him on one of the beds and bent down, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “I’m going to have… words with Rona.”
“Orville, wait!” He called after him, struggling to prop himself up on his elbows.
------
Later that night, Orville returned, bruises on his knuckles and a cut on his cheek.
“What did you do?” Link asked as he took a seat at his bedside.
“Nothing he didn’t deserve.” He said, and took Link’s hands in his own, kissing the scars over his wrists.
“I can’t argue with that, I suppose.”
His gaze swept across his torso, inspecting the bandages. His eyes widened as he caught sight of something by his hip. "What is that?" He whispered, horrified.
Link glanced down. 'TRAITOR' had been carved into his side in thin letters; that was probably what he meant. He thought that might have been from the early days of his imprisonment– he had known they were doing something with a knife, but he had never been able to see what until now. “Ah, that’s– well. I’m sure you can see.”
“I should’ve done more.” He released Link’s hands, and pressed his palms to his eyes. “Four years, Link– look what they’ve done, what they’ve taken from you.”
He reached out with a wince and pulled his hands down. “We’re still here; they haven’t taken that.”
@febuwhump
23 notes
·
View notes