Work Text:
They are eating him. Golden light and demise. He’d never dared to think, before, that he might be allowed to die in pleasure.
Hylia’s hand encompasses the back of his head. She is twice his size, demise maybe thrice, maybe, maybe it’s just the lighting, or the embers, or—
—Hylia, and her hand is—
—Soft. And warm. demise burns like a brand.
She mouths at his chest, peels vivid red muscle from bone. A hooked beak, or needle teeth. There is a hand on his inner thigh, immovable and desperate. demise bites down just below the curve of his hip and its teeth glide, skillfully sharpened blades through rich fat meat. Excellently cured, this one, demise says. Don’t speak with your mouth full, Hylia says.
There are soft bits inside of his chest, never meant to be seen or touched. ( Ecstasy , is this? Is he ecstatic? They will make poets of him, these gods.)
Oh, but the way she touches him. Oh, but he is a small animal thing. He is a small creature. This one he has devoted his life to, this one he has devoted his life to destroying. O, devotee, my sweet thing, Hylia whispers, while demise groans in animal satisfaction.
His back arches, he presses a hand helplessly over his mouth to try and muffle— stop whatever horrid breathless noise is tearing free from his throat. demise rumbles sub-vocal, an earthquake of a laugh, and when Hylia coos to him blood flows from her lips. There is a scrap of fabric caught between her needle teeth. He is clothed head to toe, but he is torn asunder so wildly that it doesn’t matter. Hylia fingers his ribcage and demise cracks open a femur. Bones rattling, the touch echoing through his whole body, and his eyes roll back and a torrid whine slips through his fingers, until Hylia catches his wrist
My Link
until demise pins it down
Warbling little thing. No wonder you coo over him so much
until what he does not know he is waiting for and more and more. A pound of flesh, here and there. The marrow in his bones on Hylia’s jagged tongue.
Perhaps this is coercion. If his lungs were whole, he thinks he would tell her he loved her. She would eat that, too, he thinks.
She presses her lips to his. Mouthful of iron and salt. Oh goddess. O, Goddess.
Hylia is a supermassive star. he keeps his eyes closed in her presence, in her True presence. only once does she try to tempt him into opening them. soft whispers in the night, on a night when he is alone with the stars. she does not touch him then.
he sees demise’s true face every time they meet on the battlefield.
demise laughs like the crack of earth as magma spills forth. Devotee indeed, it cackles. It pulls loose a mouthful of meat with its teeth, still laughing. When Hylia lunges it does not let go of Link’s body and neither does she. Every part of this is fated. Lady Hylia of the Shining Sun, Guardian of the Triforce, and the demise of all life. Link meets its eyes like wildfire as the deity rears back with claw marks in it’s face and a handful of radiant feathers and it laughs at him. Oh, how he looks at me! Hylia is behind his head but she snarl-shrieks at it and pulls his head back thoughtlessly by the hair, so sharply he think it might break his neck, would that he could lay his eyes on his lady, his lady so merciful to let him die in pleasure do not look at it i am not the one who will bury him alive beloved you should cover his eyes
Link awakes with a gasp and a pounding heart and heat between his legs and the words “Hylia fuck me please— ” caught in the back of his throat, just barely swallowed. Soaked in sweat and lungs heaving, and he doesn’t go back to sleep for the rest of the night.