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neverchecking · 1 year ago

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Eye of the Storm

ITS HERE I DID IT

Y'all have been feeding me with your own OC's writing and I finally am returning the favor (If any of you are interested at all lmao). So here it is, Part 1 of Aaliyah's (And eventually Sage's) backstory.

CW: Mentions of childhood abuse including whipping, graphic depiction of death and resurrection, canon typical violence.

It’s never something subtle.

If she ever had the choice between refusing the memories, as sharp and biting as they are when they appear, she would. If she ever had the choice between throwing away all that had bred her a title soaked in bile and blood, she’d do it. If she ever had any choice in this bittersweet life that was both simultaneously too long and yet short lived, she’d take it.

But that was the funny thing about destiny, wasn’t it? That you never really had any choice in the matter. Every choice you could’ve possibly made was made up for you already. It was all some sick cruel game that those in the heavens played in a form of twisted entertainment. Expectant that every mortal scurrying under their feet like ants would fall in line or be crushed for disobedience.

She had disobeyed once.

That was something, in a cruel twist of fate, with its dark humor and rotten jokes, that she remembered vividly. She couldn’t recall her mother’s face, or the way her father’s voice sounded, or if she ever had those in her life at all, but she could remember that start of the downward spiral. Of how out of control it had gotten. How the figurative hourglass they had given themselves shattered and sand slid through their broken and bloody fingers faster than they could cradle their broken hope to their chest.

Her duty, first and foremost, was to the Crown. To King Rhoam and his daughter, Princess Zelda. The Sheikah were ever loyal followers, blind to a fault to their flaws, and she was trained to be the same. No, not the same. She was groomed and shaped to be their best.

The prophecies in stories and carvings in loose stone portrayed a beast foul and relentless, power beyond anything this generation, not the one prior, had seen before. A power comparable to the ones the heroes of old had faced in their times; whether it be ones aiming to cast everlasting twilight over the world, shrouding it in dark magic, or ones trapped in demonic masks doing everything to bring their world, and moon, crashing down upon themselves. One that would soon be upon them.

An older woman, Chief at the time if she remembers correctly, had successfully swayed the naive and arrogant king while he was still young and foolish. Persuading him that Champions, warriors blessed with gifts and abilities far more advanced than anything he would see in his life, were to be chosen. To fight for him like valiant sacrifices, piloting technology that not even the Sheikah themselves fully understood. He had agreed and on her third birthday, she was crowned the Sheikah Champion.

In a small blessing, perhaps mercy, she did not quite recall all the ‘training’ they had put her through in order to hone her abilities for the role. In a mocking laugh, the scars on her skin spat back enough hints for her to guess. Lines upon lines painting her back and upper spine, thin lines that have long since dulled white. Swipes along her stomach and rib cage that have sealed, leaving only taught skin in their wake. Wide slits on her forearms, evident she did not go down without a fight before wilting into cries of sorrow for her pitiful soul.

But the worst has to be on her chest.

She remembered it.

Starting at the base of the left side of her torso, it crawled up in a crackled line, leeching across sun-kissed skin, until meeting the edge of the right side of her collarbone. It was what kept her up at night, fingers tracing the raised edges as she clearly went through every play by play of that fateful night.

How they had been caught so off guard, following the princess to another attempt of unlocking her powers. How her and the blond knight had accompanied the other, either in support or by duty she couldn’t recall. How nothing came of the wasteful trip.

She sometimes wondered what it would’ve been like, had she not been born Sheikah. She wouldn’t wish her position unto anyone else, but some days, when she had found a tree with tall enough branches and thick enough foliage no one could find her, she thought. Thought about being blessed a Rito, with feathers rich and thick-- mostly likely a white or brown color-- , free to travel anywhere her heart desired using only the wings on her arms. Thought about being graced with a Zora’s body, all lean muscles and smooth scales, flowing wherever the water decided. Thought about being consecrated as an unbreakable Goron with a body made of stone, steady and unyielding to everything thrown her way.

Alas, she was none of these things. She was simply a Sheikah.

A Sheikah meant to be the picture of ethereal grace and terrifying prowess. A Sheikah with the ability to harness rune extraction and the consequent rune usage. But in a mocking turn of events, not even she could’ve prepared for the sudden laughter surrounding them. High chimed and insulting, echoing in one round after another.

Training was a bittersweet memory to her. The muscle memory it had ingrained into her kept her alive, but it had taken something so precious in return. She had no memories of her childhood, because she simply didn’t have one. Any bits she scrumaged together were of early mornings, practicing swordplay in front of the rising sun. Of late mornings spent running along the village’s walkways while other Sheikah welcomed the start of their day. Of midday sparring sessions against teams of exponentially increasing numbers. Of early evenings spent worrying herself over languages that weren’t her own and history about wars she would never fight in. Of late nights spent in the dying light of an oil lamp, hands held in another set of calloused ones, that were scorchingly warm when compared to hers, too scared to speak above a gentle whisper in fear of being caught and torn away from the only worthwhile being in her life. Those memories, centered around flowers that shined the color of a cloudless sky and hair that put golden threads to shame, were her favorites.

They made the harsh realities easier to swallow. He made it worth it.

His eyes were wide with the fear of uncertainty, darting from where the Princess stood, paralyzed by her own terror, to the Sheikah, watching her every move. She could feel his eyes follow her hands as she grabbed at the stone tablet that rested on her hips. There were multiple options she was faced with here, especially with the skills acquired from years of practice, but only one option saved him. And, by correlation, the princess as well.

He had made so much worth everything. Every scrape, nick, gash, burn, and bruise worth the hits that formed them. All the sleepless nights spent riding from place to place, offering deals or favors to placate the beings of Hyrule in return for their own share of rewards. The hours spent patching wounds, both her own and his, and handling the stress that arose with every battle they were faced with.

Maybe it was the lull of his voice, harmonic and euphonias, that quelled her anxieties. Or perhaps it was the warmth of his soul, so hearty and full that it seeped out of him at any given moment. It could’ve been as simple as his touch was grounding and familiar, something she had become well acquainted with in both the dead of night, when their breaths were nothing more than sharp pants and sweat coated their bodies, and in the light of day, when they laughed in short bursts at the lengths he would allow her to go (Braiding flowers into his hair, a truly blasphemous deed).

His hand had shot out for her wrist the second he clued into what she had decided on. She predicted he would’ve. It was who he was. She had planned for it, angling her body in a way she could push the slate into his chest, and him into the princess behind him, all while drawing her weapon with her dominant hand. Blue peaked in her peripheral vision before her focus was stolen by a flash of silver. It came down too fast for her to truly comprehend what had happened.

The crack of her collarbone and corresponding ribs still haunted her dreams as she felt her entire torso crumble inwards. Blood immediately flooded where it shouldn’t, crawling up her throat and choking her in a gargle of misery. The burn of dirt crawling into her open wound lit her nerves on fire, adding gasoline to the spark when an outraged cry called out in pure pained disbelief at the image before him before it faded along with the rest of him.

She should’ve died there.

She sent him a silent apology.

She promised him so much and it was all shattered in one fell swoop.

How Impa had known about her whereabouts that day remained a tight-lipped mystery to this day. Something she wasn’t even certain she wanted to know about. Not when every image of that memory was of those precious moments spent choking on her own blood, coughing it up and letting it cool on her chin only for it to clog once more in her airway. Of feeling the shards of her bones dig into her organs as that same laughter cried out victoriously around her. Of how empty she felt, laying there and waiting for her own, self-assigned, death.

Come to think of it, she didn’t like thinking back to that aftermath either. How the agony of being moved was red-hot and molten, and how she would’ve preferred death. The feeling of no longer choking on blood but instead choking on something much thicker that invaded her nose and mouth faster than she could cough it out. Of hands pinning her in place as her vision blurred and her lungs screamed for relief before finally giving way.

Fingers clawed at flesh in a desperate attempt at escape, warbled screams crashing against the walls of the underground hut. Whoever had a hold on her was stronger than she accounted for, squeezing against her windpipe hard enough to crush the vital organ while another hand pushed on her imploded ribcage. There were words being shouted above her, but they sounded far off and muffled. As if whatever was currently suffocating her was also making her deaf. Death would’ve been preferred.

It would’ve been a mercy to her as years passed. Day in and day out of an agonizingly slow and searing pain as her bones rebuilt themselves. Minutes ticking by in hellish torture as skin stitched itself together. Seconds fleeting away, taking away her mind and soul with it and scattering it along the land she swore to protect, only for it to stretch her thin enough to snap and feast on her broken remains and-

“You okay, sunshine?”

Blinking, she reeled her wandering mind back into its place, turning to face the concerned male. Those very same eyes watched her every breath, tracing her microexpressions and following her ques.

A part of her wanted to deny him. Wanted to push it all off and lie, say she was fine. More than, in fact.

But she had hurt him enough as was.

Stepping closer, Aaliyah felt an easy smile twist her lips in the same way it did whenever he was there. Here. With her. Her arms wrapped around his waist as her chin settled on his own collarbone, topaz eyes looking up at him in pure adoration. One of his hands, calloused and scorchingly warm, cupped her cheek, thumb rubbing her under eye when she nuzzled into it. Every part of him fits with her. She was made for him no matter what they had tried pushing upon her. She hummed happily at his comfort, keening into the kiss he bestowed upon her forehead.

“I’ll get there.”

She’d make sure of it. No matter how many nights she spent stuffing her fingers into her mouth to muffle her sobs or how long she spent fighting long ingrained habits in an effort to fix herself into the most proficient version she could be for him.

Because while her training deemed her loyalty to the crown, she gifted it to the knight who was once too shy to look her in the eye let alone make such common touches along her skin.

He was worth it.

#yandere linked universe #yandere linked universe x reader #linked universe x reader #linked universe #yandere legend of zelda #legend of zelda #linkeduniverse #link x reader #Link x OC #Aaliyah x Sage #Sage x Aaliyah #Aaliyah is here yall!#Please feed me with your thoughts ;-;

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