The Letdown

Five

Sidon:

I practically strut up to the door, raising my hand to rap my knuckles on the heavy stone. I stop myself a fraction of an inch away, though, because Link starts talking. It's almost immediately clear that he's not talking to me, rather, he's angry at someone else in the room. A group of somebodies.

"You guys need to take a chill pill." I can hear him pacing. "Like, seriously. Do you want us to get sent to an asylum?" There's a long pause as he breathes loudly. "Yeah. That's what I thought, assholes."

Nobody replied to him, yet he continues the conversation as if they did. "Yeah. Y'all can't even have the decency to speak in coherent sentences. Just screaming." He inhales sharply. "Oh, shut it. I have every right to be angry."

I raise my hand to knock again, my knuckles hovering just an inch from the door for a long moment. It's rude to listen in and I know it, but this seems to be one of the times where morality is a bit muddy.

"You are the voices in my head, not the other way around. I'm the damn boss around here." His pacing is quicker now, almost a jog in circles around the room. "Useless bastards."

I'm startled by a loud bang, somehow managing not to make any noise. Silence follows, and I try and fail to imagine what could've made that sound. I can still hear Link pacing in quick, erratic footsteps.

"I hid the knives." It's a quiet statement. "Just so you guys know."

The quiet after that is too much for me to think of, so I gather my courage and knock on the door five times. It's a secret knock the three of us used to do, me and him and Mipha, signalling good intentions.

He opens the door with a timid look on his face. "Do you need me?"

"Actually, it might be the other way around."

In the moment it takes for him to process my statement, I'm given time to properly look at him. Loose-fitting clothes are essentially his trademark by now, hiding his from under baggy fabric. It's clear that they're meant to be loose. His hair is up in an elaborate braided bun, and his overall appearance gives off the impression that he's in the middle of getting ready to go out.

"I don't need anybody." His reply doesn't startle me at all. His eyes sort of reflect inward for a moment, then he says with a smug tone in his voice, "however, some company would be nice. Sorry, it's messy."

The small room hardly does messy any justice. This is his home away from home, after all, and who am I to judge how he lives, but Goddesses above, how does he find anything? Piles upon piles of paper line an entire wall, and when I pick them up, they seem to be an odd mix between complicated sheet music and equally obscure drawings. 

Drawings of people, but they're sloppy. I recognize several of Zelda, from very flattering angles at least. Most of them are people I don't recognize. As I pick up more sheets, the drawings go from people to calligraphy to scribbling to portraits to... what? What is that? Its beady eyes stare into my soul, its boar-like snout not even coming close to concealing spindly, demonic teeth.

"Ganon is ugly." Link says curtly, grabbing the sheet and shoving it under a pile of paper. 

"I didn't know you were an artist."

"Most of these aren't mine. The portraits were his, as well as the drawings of people."

"His?"

Link doesn't reply, instead shoving something shiny in an overstuffed drawer. On the walls line more calligraphy, people's names printed prettily on paper. Most of them are names and dates, the rest are little quotes. One stands out, pasted onto a slightly ajar door, its yellowing paper stark against the white door.

Honesty is a one-way gate to hell. 

Underneath was written,  -him.

I always knew Link lied a lot, since Mipha would rant about how honest he was to her in comparison. He lied right through his teeth to Muzu more times than I could count, and I remember being slightly suspicious in my older years of what he said to me. Mipha promised me he never lied to us, and thus we were special. 

"Sidon?" Link waves his hand in front of me, not quite reaching my eyes. Rebutting my apology with another wave, he says, "It's okay. I zone out a lot, too."

Yeah. That's why I'm here. "Actually, about that..."

He stiffens at my words, although it's barely perceptible. "Oh?" His back is kind of turned away from me, hiding half of his face, and he leans on the messy desk, hands gripping the wood so hard his knuckles are white.

"You know, you're an enigma." He smiles at my statement, not a happy smile but a coy one. "And this is kind of bothering me. What happened?"

He doesn't play dumb like I expected. "You haven't seen what I've seen. It's not... the books don't do it justice. That's all. Something up there incited a memory, and it... I don't know."

I'm clearly getting nowhere. I thank him, then walk out, slumping against the nearest wall in the palace.

My goodness, he's difficult.