He feels it when life leaves Hyrule, he can hear the screams echoing through the forests and the deserts, reverberations bouncing through the mountains like energetic little children. He smells the smoke from the villages, the scent of burning flesh reaching across Hyrule just to reach the ears of their would-be hero, mocking him for his failure even in death.
He feels it when Ganon becomes bored with his newly discovered play thing and drives the air from the princess’s lungs.
He isn’t quite sure how he feels about this. Hyrule expected him to save them, the Goddesses expected retribution for all the times they had helped him on his journey, the sages expected him to be a good little hero and do as they said, putting himself at peril for a world he himself had never been a part of. There was a sort of bitter amusement in listening to their prayers, to hear them call out to HIM in their last moments of life instead of asking forgiveness for their sins to Those who ruled afterwards.
Young children did not simply sleep for seven years and have expectations forced on them upon awakening. For even if the body had grown, the mind had slept. And one with the mentality of a ten year old did not simply take up a sword as an adult. The things he had been forced to endure were enough for an adult to be unable to fully process. The creatures he had slaughtered, the blood he had bathed in were enough to break the mind of anyone.
Their expectations had exceeded his skill, their life had been wasted hoping for some sort of miraculous savior to come and save them all. Their so called savior was a boy who had spent most of his childhood rebuked by his peers for not being normal. He had had no chance to grow into adulthood, merely forced into it at the blink of an eye.
How on Earth could they expect him to save them when they had ignored him for years, playing with his destiny but ignoring the boy himself? Mayhap they believed that the boy in question would be so desperate for acceptance that he would follow their every order without question.
Jump, jump, jump! Higher my boy, you’re not quite there yet!
He had played their game for years. When he was a child he had retrieved their crystals, his childish innocence destroyed and gone forever the moment he had faced his first monster, terrified and crying for help with only a sword, a slingshot, and a tiny fairy to aid him. Not one person had come to his aid, not a single person had rescued him then.
He had grown then, fighting monsters and saving the Hylians, the Gorons, and the Zoras before he even knew what they were. He was rewarded with companionship from the three tribes, placed on a pedestal where no one could reach. He was an icon, a trophy, something that all of Hyrule wanted to hold. They had not wished to know the boy himself, they desired his protection. And when he had unlocked the Temple of Time, drawn the Master Sword from its pedestal, and slept for seven years they had cursed him for not being there to save them.
As an adult they had acknowledged him only after he had saved them from their problems, cursing his absence one minute and placing him back on his pedestal the next. His life was one big nightmare. A whole world of people and only one boy had the courage to stand up for them. Perhaps this had given him a complex. Nobody could beat him, no one could best him, he would strive and strive until he surpassed the Goddesses Themselves.
He would be a God amongst men. A Hero amongst cowards. A single good soul amongst the wicked.
But what was evil and what was not? What would the Goddesses deem good and what would they deem wicked? What went beyond ‘justice’ to cross into the realm of injustice? What was evil? What was good? Was Zelda evil for asking him to take up his sword and fight for Hyrule? Were the evil monsters he slaughtered, tortured, and maimed evil? Or were they just victims of Ganon like everybody else in the world?
Dark had put that question in his head. His extravagant and powerful dark twin had made him wonder.
Link, Link, precious Link. What is evil, my love? One knows not the darkness that dwells within another. Am I so dark and evil that you must run me through with that blade of sacred steel? Or am I good? What is my heart and soul? Is it evil? Blacker than the night I have never seen? Or is it as pure and golden as your own? How evil are you, Link? How tainted are you from the bloodshed and the hate? Are you the innocent hero the world expects you to be? Or are you just as malicious and ‘evil’ as myself?
There was a certain sadistic pleasure he felt as he watched a woman crawl her way towards him, her legs licked with scarlet flame and a hand placed over her torso as she crawled, trying to keep her entrails from spilling out.
His eyes crawled past her, surveying the burning village and the figure making his way out of it. Dark grinned at him, then down at the dying woman, his eyes glittering with a malicious glee that nearly made Link laugh aloud. A murdering wraith such as Dark should never have such childlike glee cross his features.
The woman cries piteously, reaching out to smear blood across his boots.
Please help me! Hero! Help me!
He is laughing when Dark runs his sword through the back of her skull, spattering his boots in blood and thicker things. Dark laughs and laughs as the woman’s corpse smolders, her neat little skirt going up in flames. Dark turns to him, red eyes alight with insanity, grabbing him by the collar of his tunic and kissing him hard.
Dark tastes like fire and blood. His hands are rough as they fist in his hair, tugging him closer and closer until they’re pressed against one another and practically devouring each other.
What is evil?
Dark’s hands are crawling down his sides to clasp at his belt buckle, fumbling the belt with fingers slick with blood.
What is sin?
He moans into Dark’s mouth as his twin undoes his buckle, slipping a hand inside his tunic to play with the tights restraining his erection.
What is sacrilege?
Dark chuckles at the whimper that spills from his mouth when he finally grasps hold of the others erection, running a single digit along the head reverently, plundering his golden haired twins mouth until the boy is shouting his pleasure to the Goddesses above.
Link could ponder these things for an eternity, plundering the world and all its spoils like some low class Gerudo. But he much preferred to live in the moment. To have his hands slick with blood, and his sword cutting through bone, and his lips smirking and laughing his triumph to the world. He was his own self now. Nobody owned him. Not the princess, not the Zora, not the Gorons, nor the Gerudo, and certainly not Ganon.
No, the only person who owned him now was himself.