Chapter Text
It's cold, gods it's cold. Link's been freezing for days now, huddled under the mess of threads that's left of his old blanket. His hands are freezing and he just can't catch a break.
The last time he had the strength to get up, he was shaking too badly to hold his sword. He ended up casting thunder to get rid of the hoard of Ganon's monsters that had gathered up outside his cave hideout. It was only a matter of time before they gathered up again.
Always after him.
Always tracking the scent of his blood.
He's not sure how long ago that last incident was. He sleeps, he wakes up, he's cold, he sleeps. The cold is weird, unnatural. It gnaws at him like hunger, but hunger is something he could ignore, not this.
He needs to move, to get out of here. If he stays in one place for too long, the monsters eventually make up a hoard. Then the villagers in any settlements that happen to be nearby get mad at him for not clearing them out. If they're mad at him he can't barter for a heavier blanket. Gods it's cold.
Why can't he think straight? It's only been a little over a week since he's last eaten, he shouldn't feel this bad. He just has to get up. Get out of here. Death mountain isn't too far away, it's awfully hot there. He just has to pick up his sword and go.
Why won't his arm move?
Link panics, alone in this damp cave. His desperate pleas for any part of his body to please just move results in only weak twitching of his fingers. Is this it? He can't die here, they'll find him, they'll take his blood, he can't.
He can't.
His arm finally moves, finding his sword and tightening around the hilt. This is dangerous. It's not good. If his body just gives up on him here...
He's falling asleep again. Tiredly, desperately his eyes scan the cave. If he's dying here, they're not getting his body, or his blood.
With a terrifying amount of effort he's able to prop himself up on his sword and drag his body to a hole in the wall that looks like he could just barely get four of his own fingers into, which means a moblin stood no chance.
For some reason his first attempt to use the transformation spell brought nothing but violent shivers down his back and the metallic taste of bile to his throat.
It worked the second time. He couldn't feel his wings at all, and his legs were going numb. He looked at the hole, now big enough to crawl into, and he saw his grave. He makes it all the way in before everything starts to give out again thankfully.
Nothing will reach him here. He'll rot and ganon will never rise again. As the ice cold fingers of death grab him, he wonders if it's warm in the afterlife. Isn't this giving up? He can't help but think about how he's still alone in the end.
Link selfishly wishes to be happy, after he's gone. Life was hard, but it wasn't bad. He'd like to travel again. Maybe a few friends, some good food. It's a shame to have to go like this. He never did get to see things start to thrive after ganon was gone. Maybe it's just for the best, he probably should have given up a long time ago. It's always been his blood keeping the last of the army going anyway. His last real wish is for the curse to die with him.