With each passing day, he thought more and more on how he would never be let out, forever chained to the walls by his wrists and ankles, left to die alone, forgotten, everything in his life he owned taken away. It was most likely what Dagianis had wanted, and it appeared that he always got what he wanted in the end.
But fate turned the tables, hearing news that something truly demonic had risen, threatening the land, his people calling him the Demon King. And since he had slaughtered Dagianis, his sentence was null void and more then a thousand eyes turned to him to arise and protect them all.
Bitter resentment welled in his stomach at how long it took, how it had to be something like this to free him, how a man who roared like a lion but cowered and scurried from the first signs of a threat like a mere mouse kept them from ever uttering a word, choosing to stay like sheep for it was a far easier life. But he could not blame them entirely, for the man almost ruled over everyone and everything with his money and power and numerous friends in high places.
And their lives were so much more worthy then Dagianisâ. Link would not of wanted someone to die by his hands in his name.
When he was released, he was drawn a bath to wash off the endless layers of grime, sweat, blood and filth, intent on dressing himself in his gear that felt too heavy, the fabrics loose on his malnourished frame, and his sword, always a familiar weight, now pulling him down along with his shield, providing no comfort. Throat dry, his mind was a haze, pounding, made worse from the blinding sun, hurting his eyes, forcing him to squint at the vibrant colours of people that had gathered. He could not remember what he had said in his speech, nor a great deal when he had hesitantly accepted Her Graceâs request, holding the Goddess Sword high, only that there was cheering on his return.Â
As he followed one of the knights, bones tired and eternally bearing that icy chill, so hungry he felt his stomachâs linings were digesting itself and muscles weak, his gaze was set downcast on his feet as it was the only thing he could focus on without his head hurting, not even realising the change from stone to sod until his ears perked at the sound of frustrated snorting and neighing.Â
Linkâs head whipped up to meet with a mare. A very familiar mare, one he had thought he had lost forever and he doesnât hesitate, completely forgetting about how he felt, his pace becoming a jog as he came over, alive and energetic for the first time in years at the sight of Epona, his Epona, well and alive.
In seconds that felt like an eternity, he was with her again, stroking the side of her neck and muzzle with shaking hands, a genuine smile tugging at his lips, turning into chuckling, shaking his head in disbelief as his eyes threatened to start spilling with hot tears. Link leaned his head against hers, a sigh of relief leaving slightly parted lips, his worries suddenly dissipating from pushing down so hard on his chest and lungs for so long, allowing him to breathe. She is alright, she is here, they both areâ Dagianiâs claims, especially a fortnight ago that had left him terrified for her life, making him feel more lost and useless then, were now a mere nightmare.
Closing his eyes, he murmured faintly, all of his emotions pooling in those three words.Â
It seems as if it has been an eternity since she has last seen her master. She had presumed him gone, though that wild spark of hope had never really gone out. She didnât want to believe that he was gone. If Link was gone... then what was her purpose? She was his steed... and so without him, she is nothing.
   So as soon as she sees him, so thin and ill-fitting in his garb, hooves dig into dirt with one final heave, that old post being unearthed as she meets her master halfway. He is real, he is alive, and a low nicker of maternal worry rolls from her throat as those hands find her face, forehead to hers. Large brown eyes close for a moment just to feel him against her. A contact of their bond, and a gentle reminder that she is now safe. There is no cruel king. There are no impatient stablehands. There are no looming threats of death...
But something feels different about this reunion. Not that she has ever had a separation to be reunited from. Though, thereâs something that seems to buzz between them, from her master to the guards that helped him walk out. This is the start of something... They have something to do. Something more than their previous adventures. Sheâs ready for it, though. Sheâs ready for whatever they have to do, because now theyâre together again.
     She gives another soft nicker before she pulls her head back, only to hook it over his shoulder as if sheâs hugging him. Lips find his scarf, something familiar, and she gums at it like she used to as a knob-kneed foal. Another soft reminder to herself that this is her Link... He smells the same, his scarf and clothes are the same, though he may look different...
               She doesnât want to let him go. Not again.
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