Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Master Kohga, the princess has been sighted in the depths. We found her.”

Kohga had dreamed of hearing those words for as long as he could remember. Well, perhaps not those exact words, but he wasn’t about to be nitpicky about the semantics. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity! The princess could be used as bait to lure the hero down to their level, to finally, finally, kill him off once and for all. And then perhaps handed over to the Great One, along with whatever remained of the hero. Or killed alongside the swordsman, their graves unmarked and never to be discovered.

It seemed a fitting fate for a pair that doomed his kind to fade away like the dying coals of a campfire no longer needed, ash kicked over the embers gone cold and lifeless.

Torches held high by his lackeys, Master Kohga, leader of the infamous Yiga Clan, strolled across the rough, shrouded terrain, led by the lucky one who had brought him the news. They were a young one, fresh from the clan’s hideout and barely into their first expedition in the dark depths of the kingdom's underbelly, and had just apparently stumbled upon the fallen princess. The clan leader had been absolutely ecstatic at the news, barely taking a moment to call together a small group before hurrying to follow the lucky soldier.

They came upon her, torches held ever higher, glinting off that iconic golden hair. Or, rather, came below her, as the princess was dangling above them all by her belt from a branch of one of the strange feathery looking trees that filled the underground. Her long hair hung loose from what was once a tightly wrapped braid, washed out yellow strands and pale wrappings dangled, hiding her face from view.

 A pack that could only be hers lay on the ground, burst open and its contents scattered from the impact. Among them was a startling number of Sheikah made daggers, more than he’d thought a princess would carry. Even one so connected to that clan. A quick poke through the rest of the items revealed that, apart from the daggers and a small ornate harp, everything else seemed to be average equipment for a traveler.

“Master Kohga, shall we take the princess back to base?”

He ignored his lackey, nudging one of the daggers over with his foot. It gleamed in the torchlight, the etched eye symbol mocking him. He looked up, studying the pale hair. Was it just him, or did it look different than he remembered? He swore he’d heard rumors that the princess had cut hers very short since reappearing a few years ago. Had his intel been wrong? Someone was gonna get put back into basic training for that.

“Cut her down. But carefully! We need her alive if we wanna lure that Link down here.” he said finally.

His word was law. His lackeys went to work before the words could fully leave his mouth, mere extensions of his will. They didn’t bring any axes to cut the branches, they hadn’t expected the princess to be hanging out in a tree, hacking at the wood with sickles. 

It took way too long for his liking, Kohga resorting to sitting on the cold hard ground for way too long while waiting. He couldn’t risk the princess escaping this time. He had plans to put together! A certain hero in blue to lure to certain doom!

A final swing, the branch was severed, and the princess fell. The single blademaster that accompanied them caught the princess. He did not turn, his back remained turned to the clan leader for a disrespectfully long time.

“Master? I.... do not think this is the princess.” he said finally. It was only then he turned, bringing the blonde to Kohga.

“Wha— whaddya mean it’s not the princess!?” Master Kohga bounced to his feet, steam metaphorically erupting from his ears. He could already feel the headache coming on. He needed a nap.

“I’m sorry, Master. But just what I said.” he lowered enough to present the blonde to the clan leader. Blonde hair swept aside, Kohga could easily see what the man meant.

Even with the mask pulled up over nose and mouth, the unconscious individual was most certainly not the princess. Three triangles over the left eye, a teardrop shape under the same eye with very fine lines curling from the corners of the same eye, all in the same red-orange color. A quick swipe of his thumb over the marks told Kohga that it was definitely inked into the skin. No princess would ever be allowed to have Sheikah markings inked into her skin, not even temporarily.

“I hate that you’re right. But then just who is this?” he prodded the blonde’s face harder, peeling the mask back. Face fully exposed, and he still didn’t recognize them. He couldn’t even tell if they were a boy or girl, if either. His most pressing concern, however, was why they looked nearly identical to the princess. Supposedly. He didn’t know either well enough to begin to tell the difference, if there even was any. And he had never actually seen the princess in person before.

They stirred at his much harder poke, a rattling, wet cough ripping out of their throat. Blood splattered his gloves, he recoiled with a yelp, shaking the dark, goopy substance off his hand. It clung too tightly, droplets flung into the darkness letting off a faint hiss upon hitting the ground. Not just blood. Gloom. Malice. Whatever it was called these days. He felt mildly ill, almost nauseous.

“Gross! I just washed these gloves too!” he complained, his protests drowned out by the coughing fit wracking the blonde’s lean frame. They sucked in air between coughs, blood staining the pale mask and scarf draped around their neck. The blademaster abruptly turned them over, letting them hang over his arm.

The coughing slowed, then stopped. They drew in wheezing breaths, a weak cough breaking up the noise from time to time. He couldn’t tell whether or not they were even aware of their surroundings.

He could just have them killed. Or leave them to die. They wouldn’t survive in the condition they were in, coughing up all that blood and gloom.

“Master Kohga? What do we do with them?” the blademaster asked. Blood was getting all over his arm, staining the already red fabric a darker red. He could just leave them. Let them die.

A particularly wet cough brought up more gloom, more blood.

He could just let them die.

“Master Kohga?”

But damn if he didn’t need an edge over the hero. And some answers.

“Take ‘em to that fancy spring. The one near the abandoned mine. Stick them in, and let them heal for a while. Just don’t let them drown or escape.” the order was quiet, barely more than a whisper. An order just between him and the blademaster.

No confirmation was needed. The blademaster took off like a Keese out of the afterlife, a much smaller soldier holding a torch to light his way. The light faded off in the distance far too quickly, the darkness swallowing them whole.

Master Kohga turned to the rest of his remaining lackeys, giving a little clap. “And you guys! Grab their stuff, make sure it stays locked up nice and tight. We don’t want any pesky heroes snooping and getting good gear.”

Contrary to popular belief, Master Kohga was not tired from walking. He just preferred not to. It was boring, and he didn’t enjoy it. Besides, they have plenty of weird old tech from some forgotten civilization to use, and use it they did. Most of the time. When they could get it to work and not fall to pieces immediately after turning on. He still remembered the horror of chasing after a runaway wheel. He could’ve been napping instead, but no!

He sighed, rolling his shoulders. Light flickered across the papers strewn over the table, the tiny flame in the bowl just big enough to give him the light to read that the lantern above could not quite reach. Reports were such a pain to read, but someone had to do it. And that someone was him. Had he known being leader of the Yiga Clan would involve going over reports until his eyes fell out, he would’ve definitely just let someone else take the spot.

Probably not.

He grumbled, picking up some of the papers, glaring holes in them through his mask. Supply runs were often enough he didn’t need to worry much about his people running out of anything. Except maybe these new flowers they were collecting, which they unfortunately needed very badly down in the all consuming darkness. Walking across patches of gloom was very common, it was almost impossible to avoid in some cases. Without the hero constantly beating down his soldiers, it was very possible the gloom itself might eradicate them on its own if they weren’t careful.

He’d made notes specifically to set aside a few of the flowers if they had any to spare. If not, Master Kohga would just do without his share. It’s not like he was walking across the plains himself, it would be fine. He needed their hostage— prisoner? Whatever the blonde was, he’d figure it out later— to recover. At least enough to talk. If he was feeling generous, maybe enough to be mostly alright after whatever led to them hanging from a tree, coughing up blood and gloom.

He hadn’t been down to the spring yet. He needed to, to check on how the blonde was healing. But he really didn’t want to until he had the food and flowers on hand. Something easy to eat in their condition. He just needed them alive, not dying, that’s all. Nothing weird about wanting his hostage to heal. He just needed information. And he needed them to heal to get that information. It was perfect logic.

It had nothing to do with the Sheikah tattoos. Nothing to do with the possibility they may be a member of the tribe, even if they don’t exactly resemble most Sheikah. Sheikah weren’t blonde, usually.

But Sheikah also wouldn’t etch that symbol the skin of someone who wasn’t one of them.

Kohga sighed, plopping the papers down and leaning back in his seat. He was getting one massive headache thinking through everything, and it was annoying. If everything had just been straightforward, things would’ve been so much easier. He liked easy, it was much nicer.

The shipment from the surface was arriving soon. He could see the bright lights in the distance. Thank the goddess for weird lost civilization technology. Even if it was stupidly more advanced than current day tech. For some reason. Where was the logic in that?

He got up from the table, stretching until he could feel something in his back pop. The gate was open to let the team roll right in, supplies and all. It was safe, just a straight shot from the chasm right to their camp. Mostly, excluding rocks and boulders and trees in the way. And the lake. Okay, so it wasn’t exactly a straight shot, but it was close enough.

One of the smallest and quickest members had been sent ahead, a bulging bag slung over her shoulder, another slung across her body, sickle at the ready just in case. She sprinted across the plains in the dark, archers trained on the faint light giving away her position, ready to fire should any monsters pop up out of nowhere.

She made it without a hitch, practically just appearing in the camp, breathing hard from the mad dash. The bags were presented to Kohga, open to show him the contents. He let her take the moment to catch her breath before speaking, separating out the items inside for what he needed.

“Master, I brought the flowers.” she managed to get out between breaths. Kohga was proud of her for going all the way, the dedication was awe inspiring. He tossed a small bunch of bananas her way for her troubles, gathering up the rest of the items back into the bag.

“Nice work, kid. Take a breather, have a snack. We shouldn’t need another shipment for a while, so make sure you all rest until then.” he said. He didn’t wait for her to respond, hauling the bundle of flowers and other ingredients with him as he left. No one could call him an ungrateful leader without lying through their teeth. He made sure his people were taken care of, as they should and deserved to be! 

He needed everyone in tip top shape to kill off one pesky hero, among other things. Which meant plenty of food and rest for everyone, no exceptions. Absolutely none.

The trip to the spring was a bit of a long one, navigating in the pitch black darkness with only torches and maybe some old piece of tech to light the way. Occasionally a small plant fought the darkness along their path, blooming with a bright white glow. Kohga had them planted the first chance they had, at least along their most frequently traveled routes. The fact that they grew on literally any surface, including water, was both a blessing and wildly weird.

He’d had some placed around the spring to light it up, a beacon in the darkness. Well, any light at all was a beacon in this all encompassing inky shroud, but his point still stands. The spring itself wasn’t exactly being used, they didn’t need it. In fact, very few of his clan actually knew it existed. Just the ones that had been so injured by gloom and battle that nothing else would help them recover. An open secret. The spring was not to be used except for emergencies, lest they be followed and the secret discovered.

And right now, one dying prisoner, ravaged by gloom and a pretty nasty fall, certainly constitutes an emergency.

Wooden steps had been fashioned where there were none, allowing Kohga to simply wander on down to the very edge of the spring, crouching near the edge of the stone. The blonde lay still in the hot water, a makeshift net under them to keep them from floating too far away from the edge and drowning. His people had fashioned a makeshift pulley system to lift their hostage in and out of the water periodically without having to get in and grab them.

It had been designed rather quickly after the first time one of the Yiga Clan had nearly been lost to a combination of gloom and injury, the jostling from pulling them in and out of the water had nearly been the thing to kill them. With the net and pulley system, it was much safer and more efficient. Kohga was envious of his own genius, adding a raft to the design to let other members work the device from more than one side. Plus it kept everything and everyone from floating too far into the spring’s center and getting stuck.

The blonde was in the process of being lifted out of the water, one of the medics holding onto the net to gently swing them over the stone and lower them onto a pile of towels and other soft fabrics. Four straight days of being in and out of the spring water every half hour, changing bandages, and every kind of medicinal herb they had access to and they still weren’t getting much better. It was the gloom, aggravating and preventing any true healing. The spring was only keeping it at bay, the blonde was never going to recover without the bundle of flowers Kohga was bringing.

The medic was tired, he could see that clearly, even through the mask. Her demeanor drooped,  even in the presence of her great leader, movements were slow and less energetic. He didn’t blame her. She would be getting a much deserved break soon, he promised that much. He was no medic himself, but he couldn’t possibly make things any worse, right?

“How’s blondie doing?” he asked, plopping the bag down beside the makeshift bed the prisoner lay on. The rise and fall of their chest was slow, but shallow, their lungs trying to hold in air for as long as possible before letting go of the precious resource.

“Well, he’s not getting any worse.” she said, pulling a thin cloth over the blonde. “But he’s not getting any better either. The gloom is hurting him far worse than I’ve ever seen it hurt anyone before. If he doesn’t get better soon, we might have to take him up to the surface.”

‘Him,’ huh? So, definitely not the princess in disguise. Damn. Kohga hummed, tilting his head as he studied the injured man.

“Think blondie’ll make it to the surface? I’m no expert, but looking at him, I think getting flicked too hard will do him in.” he said.

“I don’t know. But if he doesn’t get better, the shrine above will be our only option left.”

She was peeling back the wet bandages, dabbing at the bruised and bloody mess beneath. Now, Kohga hadn’t seen the extent of his injuries until that exact moment, so he didn’t know how much of it had healed, but it was startling to see. It was his first time seeing just how badly their prisoner was hurt, and in his very expert opinion, he was completely flabbergasted at the fact the blonde was still breathing at all. Any normal person would’ve died on impact, and succumbed to their injuries in minutes if the fall hadn’t outright killed them. It was a miracle he was alive in any capacity.

The Goddess must favor him greatly.

“Right. Well, if these flowers don’t make him perk up enough to get this process sped up, we’ll take him topside. If he makes it there.” Kohga said, hopping up. He had work to do. Emptying out the contents of the bag, he plopped them down beside the stone pot perched over a crackling fire. Someone had hauled it down here after the first day, though who it was specifically, he didn’t know. But it was necessary, they couldn’t have even one of their medics starving because a food delivery was delayed or lost to the darkness.

The fire popped in the silence, crackling flames heating the large stone, slowly bringing the water inside to a boil. He added the milk. Then tossed in the rice. Threw the flowers in last, and just let it all cook for a while. It didn’t have to be good, it just had to work. And the blonde was just a prisoner. Prisoners didn’t get to complain about free food. In fact, he should feel honored that the great Master Kohga was going so far as to help out.

The contents were scraped into a bowl, and brought over to the prisoner. The medic had replaced the bandages by this time, a thicker blanket thrown over him to keep him from freezing while out of the water. If he didn’t know any better, Kohga would’ve sworn the man was dead already, his breaths were so shallow.

He handed over the bowl to the medic, sitting back to simply watch. It was almost painful to witness, seeing her try and force the watery goop, albeit gently, into a man who seemed barely alive. But it helped. By the Goddess, it helped. The color returned to the man’s face bit by bit, and his breathing grew steadier. She couldn’t force the entire bowl’s worth, not right now anyway, but it didn’t matter. The man was beginning to heal.

He would recover.

The fire crackled, flames popping quietly in the silence. The medic was resting, so tired she had fallen asleep before her head had even touched the pillow. Four days of trying to heal a dying man had done a number on her.

Master Kohga didn’t like making her work for so long, but gathering those flowers took time. Time he’d quickly grown worried their prisoner might not have had, even with the aid of the hot spring’s healing waters. But they had done it, in the end. Their prisoner was on the mend, and Kohga would soon have his information. He needed a name, first of all. He couldn’t just keep calling him by various descriptors like ‘blonde,’ or ‘prisoner.’ 

Well, he could. But knowing a name and having the choice not to use it would be nice.

He lounged on the hard stone, legs dangling over the ledge and just barely touching the water. The fifth day had dawned, the blonde was back in the water for what felt like the millionth time. He floated peacefully, unaware of the painstaking labor Kohga had gone through to work the pulley system all morning. Really, he should have his lackeys doing the job for him. But that would defeat the purpose of having the spring stay as much of a secret as possible.

Kohga would have to pull him out of the water again soon, but he really didn’t feel like getting up. A nap sounded really nice, he wished he could take one right about now. He faintly wondered if napping in a hot spring was worth getting completely soaked for. Or if it felt nice.

I should try it someday. Have one built in the base. Can one build a hot spring? Should probably figure that out first.

Water swishing snapped him out of his thoughts, and he sat up. The blonde was moving, a hand weakly lifting out of the water. Kohga moved quickly, pulling on the cord to raise the net. The blonde was lifted out of the spring, the leader of the Yiga Clan grabbing the net to swing it over the ledge, then lower him down again.

“Rise and shine, sleepyhead.” he said, plopping down beside the bed. One hand propped up his chin, the other rested on his knee. The blonde didn’t respond, a shaky hand coming up to touch his head. As far as Kohga knew, the man had no head injuries. At most probably a killer headache. Gloom could do that to a person.

The porridge had long ago gone cold, but it was fine enough to eat. He nudged the bowl towards the man. “Better finish that off soon. Don’t want food going to waste. And your sorry self needs it.”

The blonde slowly sat up, the towel used to cover him pooling around his waist. He just held his head in his hands for a long moment, long pale hair a curtain between him and the rest of the world. Finally, finally, he spoke. Kohga was surprised by how monotone his voice was, how hoarse. It could have been from lack of use, but he was genuinely expecting something higher pitched. Like the princess.

“Where.... am I?” he asked. He seemed like a quiet speaker, even through the rough hoarseness of coughing up a lung for nearly five days.

“Eat first, blondie. Then we’ll talk.”

The man parted his hair, startlingly vivid red eyes staring through the strands at him like Kohga had gone and kicked his front door down. Personally. And then raided his food stash. Twice.

After a moment, that harsh stare was finally turned away from him. The bowl was picked up. The man’s face twisted ever so slightly at the first taste.

“This is terrible.” he said flatly, continuing to struggle through what was left of the meal.

“Hey! Show some respect, I happened to make that.” Kohga protested.

“I pity whoever is unlucky enough to next suffer your cooking.”

Kohga almost got up and kicked the man back into the water then and there. The audacity! “Be grateful, me and my lackeys saved your life!”

To his credit, the man did pause, if only briefly. He struggled to force down the last of the porridge, setting the bowl down as far away from him as he could manage without moving all that much. He seemed much better now, able to take in his surroundings. And how thoroughly soaked he was.

“Why am I wet?”

“Part of the healing process. You were pretty much dead. You get two more questions before I start asking mine. Deal?” Kohga said. “And no more comments about the food. Be grateful.”

The blonde nodded, and instantly regretted the action, reaching to hold his head as he suddenly swayed. He took a moment to breathe, fighting it before eventually just sinking back down into the bedding to rest. “Where am I?”

“Beneath Hyrule. We found you hanging from a tree, mostly dead. You’re lucky to be alive. The Goddess must really like you.”

“Yes.... the Goddess.” he said. For the briefest of moments, he looked lost in thought. Like he was very far away, not in his own body. The look was gone as suddenly as it came, he was glancing up once again. “Why did you help me?”

That shouldn’t have been a hard question. But it was.  

“I have questions, and you dying would answer exactly zero of them.” he said, making an ‘O’ shape with his hand to emphasize his point. “And since you used up all of yours, it’s my turn to ask. First things first, blondie. What’s your name?”

“Sheik.”

“....Are you serious?”

“Completely.”

Kohga was entirely sure now that this man was playing him like a cheap flute. There’s no way this man was from the Sheikah Tribe. Who in their right mind names their kid after their race? It had to be some elaborate disguise. Or a very, very dedicated fan. Or something else equally weird.

“Okay, Sheik, if that is your real name—”

“It is.”

“Quiet.” he jabbed a finger in the blonde’s direction. “What I want to know is why you look like the princess. Now, things may have changed, I’ll acknowledge that. But last I remember, the shadow folk don’t exactly go around letting people join their tribe, or even go so far as to tattoo them with their precious symbol. Especially on someone who could pass themself off as royalty, or even a body double of the princess herself.”

Sheik was quiet for so long, Kohga considered repeating his question. If it weren’t for the slight tilt of the head and the faint hum the man gave, he would’ve thought Sheik hadn’t heard him at all.

“It is complicated. In truth, I am not certain why we look alike. We simply are. But I am of the Sheikah Tribe. I have sisters, even a niece. Or, great niece, technically. Your thieves and assassins have probably seen them in the village.”

Kohga brushed off the bit about the great niece. As strange as that was, it was not the most important part. “My thieves and assassins, huh? You seem to know who you’re dealing with. Don’t look too scared about it either, kid. How come?”

“One, I am your age. I am not a child.” he said, holding up a finger. He held up another. “Two, I do not believe I have reason to be afraid. Had you any intention to kill me, you would’ve simply let me die instead of going through all this trouble to keep me alive.”

“I could still kill you now.”

“You still need me for information, so no, you won’t.”

Kohga chose not to respond to that. “Next question. What happened to bring you down here? It seemed like you fell, but you’d also been infected by gloom. What’s that about?”

“I…. fell. As you said. Before that, I was helping with an investigation. Zelda and her swordsman went under Hyrule Castle, I chose to seek out another way deep into the earth. There was a bottomless pit in Gerudo Highlands. Evidently, it was not bottomless, as I am now here.”

“So you just.... fell in.” Kohga said. 

“Yes. All I can recall after that is waking up here.”

Now, that explained how he got down here. It sounded like the same path Kohga had come to find himself underground. That just left the gloom. Which he somehow didn’t remember.

Funny that was the one thing he didn’t recall.

Kohga hummed, tapping his fingers against his mask. He could push for more information, he didn’t quite believe that he didn’t remember something as significant as being infected by gloom. But was Sheik willing to give up any more information was the question. He seemed willing enough, considering he’d answered every other question up until this point. Though how truthful he was being could be called into question. It could be he was simply biding his time to escape, feeding Kohga what he wanted to hear, with just enough to keep him coming back with more questions.

A very valid course of action, he would’ve done it himself if he had been in that position. But there was the very small chance he was telling the truth. Sheik was still hurt, and on his way to falling back to sleep again the longer the silence stretched on. Or was already, Kohga couldn’t tell.

The poor fool was probably freezing. Kohga had just yanked him out of the water the second he’d woken up, nothing but a wet towel to cover him up. Not to mention the bedding was probably just as cold and wet, and sleeping on a pile of soggy blankets and towels was not fun.

But those injuries had needed serious healing. And still did, not that he was about to check.

Kohga got to his feet, pulling on the cord to lift the net. He swung it back over the water, and lowered the blonde back into the spring. If nothing else, at least he wouldn’t freeze to death in the hot water.

He was prepared to just sit back down, to just be alone with his thoughts until either Sheik or the medic woke up again, maybe go over reports, when Sheik spoke. Words slurred, though not to the point they were unable to be understood.

“Can I have my clothes back? And the rest of my stuff?”

“I’ll consider getting you your clothes. No can do about your stuff. Not a fan of the idea of handing over weapons to a stranger.”

“My harp?”

“....We’ll see.”

Kohga sat back down, lounging on the stone, legs dangling over the edge. He was going to be there for a while. He should really send for another medic. Make them take turns. And he would, if the darkness down here didn’t mean sending teams to recover the wounded and take them topside before gloom and creatures made of gloom killed them.

He really better find something down here that was worth all the trouble.

Chapter Text

The sixth day, Kohga had a set of clothes sent to the spring. Not the clan uniform by any means, goddess no. Just a simple loose tunic, pants, and shoes. Not very protective, but it was at least something. Better than a wet towel anyway.

On the eighth day, he was informed that Sheik was well enough to at least stand and walk a bit. Which was good. He was probably more willing to talk again, to give up more information. Kohga was too busy to make the trip down. New mines had been discovered, abandoned but filled with weird ore, crystals, and heaps of ancient tech. He had to distribute all of it, delegate tasks to newly formed research teams, figure out that weird hand symbol locking up half of the places they found. He was just too busy. 

It was on the tenth day Kohga met with Sheik again. By walking into the clan’s encampment and finding the blonde sitting cross legged on the table, candle bowl held close as he read the scattered reports Kohga had left on the table.

“Whaddya think you’re doing!? Get off the table! Stop reading those!”

Sheik glanced up. His hair was being used in place of his mask, one hand holding it in place over his mouth and nose. “You should have had better security for the hot spring. You can not expect me to linger with nothing to do. And your medic could use a break.”

“How did you even get here?” Kohga snatched a report away from the man, gathering up the rest so they could be safely put away. Sheik did not even attempt to read more, the bowl placed back on the table.

“I walked.” he said simply.

“And you didn’t even try to escape?”

“No. You have my things.” Sheik said. He raised a hand, gesturing vaguely at their surroundings. “And this is the safest place I could possibly be with no way to defend myself. The darkness means my death, an experience I would rather not come close to again. And it is not as if I have any way to get back to the surface on my own.”

Kohga could understand that. Safety in numbers and all that. Or something. “Find it hard to believe my medic just let you walk all the way here by yourself.” he commented.

“She came with me. I thought that was obvious.”

“Then why didn’t ya say so!? And I thought I said to get off the table!”

Sheik just stared at him for a long moment, like the answer was supposed to be obvious. Kohga’s question was ignored. “I felt ready to leave the spring, as I am no longer in danger of dying. And I wanted to ask for my things again. In person. Your people are not very inclined to deliver requests from prisoners.”

“And I said no.” Kohga dragged the chair around to the opposite side of the table from Sheik and sat down. He had so many things to do, and Sheik’s presence was not helping. “Giving weapons to a stranger is not high on my list of priorities. I have big plans, blondie!”

“And those plans are?” Sheik asked. He wasn’t looking at Kohga anymore, instead looking out towards the darkness. He was still holding his hair over his mouth and nose like a mask. Maybe it was a comfort thing. Or some Sheikah custom that had developed after the Yiga split into their own clan. He didn't know.

“None of your business. Unless you’re willing to answer more questions.” he said, shuffling through some of the papers he’d taken away from the man. A delayed shipment, just his luck. Of course he’d have to deal with a delayed shipment on top of everything else. Why couldn’t things be easy?

“I do not believe I have a choice.”

Kohga didn’t answer that. “Righto. First question! Tell me about this investigation. Especially the part about Link and the princess going under the castle! I wanna know exactly what happened.”

Sheik continued to stare straight ahead into the darkness, posture wobbly but decent. He ran his fingers through a section of his hair, untangling the pale strands. “People were getting sick. The gloom was rising up from under the castle, and Zelda took her swordsman to investigate. I wondered if there were other ways to get there, to see how far the gloom had spread.”

“So you went to the Gerudo Highlands?” Kohga asked. He got a nod in return.

“It was the only way I could think of. Then.... the castle rose into the sky. And I fell.” Sheik said, picking apart a particularly stubborn tangle.

“You mentioned that part already, but not the part about the castle.”

“I did not feel the need to. I assumed it was widespread news the moment it happened.”

“And that’s how you ended up down here. An investigation gone wrong.” Kohga said. A nod confirmed his statement. Still, he felt like there was more to the story. He picked through the papers, skimming over some of them. Other than delayed shipments, everything seemed normal. No pesky heroes had started meddling yet. Kohga would absolutely know if that was the case. In fact, that hero he hated so much hadn’t been seen anywhere. At all.

“So how did you fall, blondie? Trip on a rock? Pitch yourself off the edge for the sake of exploration or knowledge or whatever?” he asked.

He had to look up to see why Sheik was so silent this time. Sheik was staring up into the void, so silent and still he may as well have been turned to stone. Very pretty, sunshine colored stone.

Wait a minute.

Sheik was speaking now. He’d address that thought later. “Have you ever had a feeling like there is too much of something?”

Kohga blinked. Huh? He tapped his mask, just staring at the blonde in the hopes he would elaborate. When he did not, Kohga leaned back in his seat, and tried to figure out how to answer. Whatever the question meant, he didn’t know, but it sounded important. And maybe a little ominous. It struck him with a weird feeling of déjà vu. And the sense he should avoid spooky hooded men with glowing orbs of doom.

“Depends. Too many bananas? Never. Too many cuts and bruises? Yes.” he said finally. That was good enough of an answer, right? And he was absolutely right about it, opinion or not. One could never have too many bananas.

“That is not what I meant.” Sheik sighed. He took another long minute of silence to formulate his thoughts, that time in which Kohga finally started to sort the papers into piles. “I meant as in.... there is too much of something. And it is pulling you in two different directions. One is the direction you can see, the one you’ve always followed. And the other is.... somewhere.”

“And then one day, one of those directions you are being pulled to just vanishes. And you are left with just one, which feels right, as if there was only ever supposed to be one. But you have had too much for so long, it feels wrong. It is too little. And the perceived emptiness is so sudden, you fall. Through rising gloom, down, and down, and hit something. The impact should have killed you. But you survived. And that feeling continues, pulling you towards something. Always. But stronger now that it is not fighting against itself. ”

“....Did you eat a muddle bud?”

“....Nevermind.”

Kohga had never been more confused in his life. Well, maybe he had, but this took the cake. It sounded very much like he was speaking in riddles, or at the very least, metaphors. He wasn’t about to play doctor to some identity crisis, he didn’t have the time. He was keeping the guy around for information, no other reason. Nope.

Okay, maybe he could spare a little time. If it sped up the whole midlife crisis Sheik was going through and made him more willing to give up secrets. He was clearly close to the royal family, and that pesky hero by extension. He had to know something.

Kohga could play nice.

“Sheik, blondie. Take a break. Your brain’s gonna melt out your ears if you keep thinking so hard. Get a snack, take a load off, relax. You’re making me tired just watching you.” he said. He finished sorting the papers, three small stacks the fruit of his efforts. He’d worked hard enough for the day, it was break time. Maybe he would take a nap. Eat a banana. Nap and eat a banana. The possibilities were endless.

Sheik was staring at him, mouth and nose still covered by his long hair. He just sat there, staring, not blinking for so long Kohga felt his own eyes water. “What? Something on my mask?”

“No.” Sheik shook his head. He did not elaborate further, changing the subject. “What do you mean by, ‘get a snack?’ As a prisoner, as you keep informing me is my status, I do not think I am allowed to simply get up and ‘get a snack.’”

“Do I have to do everything around here?” Kohga lumbered out of his seat, leaving the stacks of paper be for right then. He wandered a few feet before realizing he was not being followed. He turned. Sheik was still sitting on the table.

“Are you coming or not?”

Sheik blinked. He uncrossed his legs and slowly climbed off the table, one hand gripping it for stability. His stance was wobbly, every step seemed uncomfortable at the very least, and painful at the worst. Ah, right. Kohga remembered. The man was still recovering, spending over a week doing mostly nothing but sleeping and laying in a bed just to survive. That would certainly do a number on a person’s ability to walk.

He sighed, walking back to hook a hand under his arm, gripping tightly and supporting most of the man’s weight. The blonde was a bit lighter than he expected, lithe and built for speed now that he was up close. He could probably put up a good fight if he wanted. It explained the daggers being seemingly his weapon of choice. Quick and silent, like the blonde himself.

He didn’t warn him of what he was about to do, he didn’t even think of it. He simply did. Disappearing in a cloud of smoke and paper talismans, only to appear moments later in a completely new location.

Sheik was clutching his arm, visibly off-color and clinging onto Kohga for support. Without it, he would’ve certainly just crumpled to the ground, maybe even thrown up. Kohga almost felt bad, patting his back lightly.

“Whoops. Sorry, habit.”

Sheik just breathed, legs shaking, hands gripping so tightly Kohga’s arm might actually be bruised. “Just.... warn me before you do that again.”

Kohga just continued to pat his back, not particularly apologetic. Maybe if he had been one of the Yiga Clan, he might’ve felt more sorry about it all. But, as just a prisoner— just a prisoner, one he needed for information only, he reminded himself— he didn’t care much. In theory.

“Sure thing, blondie. Now, feast your eyes upon my glorious storeroom. Pick a snack, and actually feast.” Kohga made a wide sweeping gesture at the small room, the boxes piled high in the corners, a couple chests set against the back wall. It was one of many, every encampment had one, each filled to various degrees. 

“Pick a snack.” Sheik repeated. He was slowly recovering from the sudden shift in location, but didn’t seem keen on doing that again anytime soon. Unfortunate, because it made for great dramatic exits.

“Yeah, pick a snack. Something to eat. Fill your belly before the next meal, a little something for the road. Food for thought. I can keep going.” Kohga said. Sheik slowly unlatched his hands from the clan leader’s arm, managing to at least stand on his own. He glanced at the boxes for a minute.

“Why are there so many bananas?”

Chapter Text

Asli’s eyes narrowed under her mask, fingers lightly twanging the string of her bow. She had not yet notched an arrow, her quiver leaned up against the wall she sat at. While it was not yet her turn to guard the prisoner, it did not mean she wouldn’t still keep an eye on the man.

The prisoner seemed oblivious to her observations, sitting in the small shelter built at the heart of the camp. He was on the table, legs crossed with his head propped up in one hand. His hair pulled up and twisted around his face to hide his mouth and nose, he seemed shy and even harmless. No weapons, not even a scrap of armor to protect him from a stray arrow.

No matter how badly she wanted to skewer the Sheikah, Master Kohga had forbidden it, and the Master’s word was law. She would never disobey. Even if the blatant disrespect the man showed towards their glorious leader was overwhelming her with the want to just sink an arrow in his skull.

One of the blademasters was standing at the table, organizing the papers left behind by their wonderful leader. The prisoner seemed not to care for the man’s presence, folding blank sheets he’d been given to keep him occupied, twisting them into different shapes. He held one up, inspecting the folds of the paper. He set it back down on the table after about a minute, pressing down on one end.

He flicked backwards, launching the creation the opposite direction and right dead center of where the blademaster was trying to organize. Like a frog hopping.

And oh, how Asli wanted the blademaster to just up and backhand the prisoner. She gripped her bow, leaning forward to watch. The wicked smile hidden under her mask twisted her features, watching the blademaster slowly look from the folded paper creation and towards the blonde. The prisoner just stared back, unblinking.

Asli’s disappointment could not be measured when the blademaster simply mimicked the action back, sending the little paper hopping back at the blonde before returning to his organizing. She’d been hoping for action. Something, anything was better than the borderline acceptance of the man’s disrespect. The man suffered no consequences for his actions, it wasn’t right!

She slumped, a harsh sigh leaving her. She grumbled only for a moment before sitting back up to continue her quiet observations. The blonde had gone back to twisting paper into new shapes, mostly one handed unless he needed to pick up the paper for whatever reason. It was maddening to watch.

Eventually the watch changed, the blademaster leaving and the medic assigned to keep their prisoner alive taking his place. Asli could see her scolding the blonde, gesturing emphatically about something she was too far away to hear. And while it was not much, it was sort of nice to see the prisoner being scolded for something.

She sighed, leaning to rest her back against the wall. It was frustrating, the level of disrespect the man had been allowed to get away with. Other prisoners had been killed for far lesser things, and she couldn’t even remember half of them. Not that she wanted to recall either. There had been a lot of them.

But apparently, with the blonde man still in recovery from whatever idiot stunt had landed him on death’s door, and the possibility of very useful information, Master Kohga had forbidden the clan from treating him harshly. And no one would ever think of disobeying him, and the Master’s word was law.

Asli watched the medic make the blonde sit properly, and do other various doctor-y things she didn’t quite understand the point of. She barely reacted when someone sat beside her, fingers tightening around her bow the only sign she’d moved at all.

“Asli. Are you still watching the prisoner?” he asked. She huffed in response.

“Tama. Aren’t you supposed to be guarding the prisoner?” she asked.

Tama shrugged, spinning his blade in circles idly. “Yeah, but Korril said she could handle him on her own while she did her doctor thing. Said he was fairly obedient about it.”

She grumbled. “Sitting on a table and flicking paper at a blademaster does not look very obedient. I’m sure there was something important on that paper too. Why would he just let the prisoner get away with it?”

“Other than Master Kohga giving the word to do so? I couldn’t tell you. Maybe because he’s hurt? Though, compared to how he was, it’s a miracle he was able to come back from it at all.” he said.

“I didn’t see how he was, so I’ll take your word on that.” she said, twinging the string of her bow. The blonde had been left alone now, the medic scribbling onto a blank sheet of paper. Asli presumed a medical report to be given to the Master. Again. How many was that now?

Tama nodded. “Want to guard the prisoner with me? Maybe you can scare him into being less disrespectful or whatever you think he is.” 

“Because I’m a scary woman?”

He leaned to bump their shoulders together. “Because you’re my favorite scary woman.”

Asli stood up, slinging her bow across her back. She almost felt like she was smiling. A gentle smile, not her usual wicked grin “I can’t say no to that.”

Tama got up to join her, blade sheathed, and walked across the camp. The medic was still filling out her report, barely glancing up at them as they approached. She gestured to the blonde, who had gone back to flicking folded paper across the table.

“I’ll be done in just a moment, feel free to pretend I’m not here while you do your thing.” she said, putting her quill back to the paper.

Tama leaned against one of the corner pillars holding the shelter up, arms crossed, just watching the blonde. The prisoner didn’t seem too bothered, he just continued to flick the folded paper. One of them launched pretty far, landing just a few feet shy of the man assigned to watch him.

The smallest hum left him, and he went to fold another instead of getting up to grab it. How lazy could the man be? Did he expect Asli or Tama to get it for him? She certainly hoped not. That would be too much for her, she already could barely handle the fact he wasn’t being properly punished for his disrespect.

“If you seeth any louder, the dead could hear you.”

Asli prayed to whatever higher beings there may be that she would be allowed to put every single arrow she had into this one specific man’s eyes. The blonde was not even looking at her, he was still folding that piece of paper into something he could make hop across the table again.

“I’m not seething.” she hissed.

The blonde inspected his creation for a brief moment, then went back to folding. “You certainly had me fooled, then.”

She hadn’t thought she’d been that obvious about her feelings about the whole situation. But oh, how she hated that their dumb blonde prisoner had noticed. She eyed Tama, who only shrugged. Was this sort of behavior normal for the man? It had to have been, if no one else was paying it any mind. How irritating.

“Whatever. I’m not seething.”

“You are not seething, then.” the blonde echoed, placing the folded paper on the table. He pressed down, flicking backwards and launching the paper into the air. It bounced off the wood, landing helplessly on the ground below. He just stared at it, then at the lack of paper he had to fold into a new one.

Either he really didn’t care, or he was amazing at hiding it, as he just turned to tracing patterns on the surface of the table he sat on. Asli faintly wondered if the man was bored out of his mind, she knew she would be if she had nothing to do except sit around waiting to be herded from place to place.

Their prisoner probably deserved it.

The medic finished up her report, then jabbed the quill in the blonde’s direction. “Don’t do anything stupid to make your injuries worse. I’ll be back.”

And with that, she was gone, leaving Tama and Asli to watch the prisoner. Goddess help her, she was going to die of boredom watching the man.

Tama had invited her to watch the prisoner with him again. The medic was nowhere in sight this time, off doing who knows what. Asli wasn’t a doctor, she didn’t know much about whatever it was they did besides heal patients.

The blonde seemed.... not alright. He was sitting on the table once again, it seemed the most common place for him to sit for some reason, and Asli had never seen him sit anywhere else in the limited times she’d actually observed him. He was sitting stiffly, posture wobbly and almost too proper. He was unusually silent this time, not even his little comments about Asli seething and not seething were unaccounted for. 

It felt only a little weird to her. But she was neither a healer, and nor did she truly care about the man’s well being. He could die for all she cared, and she sometimes wished he had when they had originally captured him. 

Members of the Sheikah Tribe were not to be trusted in any capacity.

The blonde had been slowly swaying on the spot, trying to stay upright. He was just breathing slowly, legs crossed with hands clasped around ankles, sort of just staring off into the distant darkness. Focusing on something maybe? She didn’t know. But if he was trying not to show weakness, she could give him points for effort.

Only a few, he was doing a terrible job of it.

Still, she stayed with Tama to keep watch. Not that there was much to watch, it was even more boring than the last time she’d tagged along. She idly strung and unstrung her bow as she stood with him, adjusting the tassel on the end, fiddling with the sharp spikes protruding from the curved wood.

Tama had infinitely more patience than she, the man leaning against the pillar, arms crossed, only occasionally twirling his blade. It was probably why he’d been chosen for the prisoner’s guard rotation, instead of her. She did not envy him.

The blonde swayed particularly far at one point, balance wavering and almost tipping over, the smallest pained hiss escaping as he rightened himself. His breathing had gotten worse, more shallow, sharper. What little that could be seen of his face was paler than usual, clammy, as if something was really hurting him.

She paid it no mind. Tama might’ve, if how much closer he studied the man was any indication.

The telltale sound of a smoke cloud poofing into existence and paper fluttering in the nonexistent breeze brought her out of her bored musings, and she turned. She had been expecting another soldier, maybe Korril, or even a blademaster.

She was not expecting Master Kohga himself.

She yelped, quickly slipping into a salute, fist held over her heart. She elbowed Tama hard to get his attention, hissing at him to do the same. She would’ve done the same to their prisoner, had he been close enough for her to actually discreetly encourage it. Showing respect to their great leader was the least he could do.

They greeted their Master when he entered. He rolled his shoulders, shaking out the stiffness. Asli was genuinely surprised he wasn’t bothered by the prisoner not greeting him too. “Afternoon, lads. What’s new and exciting over here?”

“Nothing, Master Kohga. It’s been the same as usual.” he said. Their leader nodded, strolling over to their prisoner.

Asli had not actually seen the great Master interacting with the blonde before. She hoped the man had the decency to feel honored. And maybe secretly hoped he would actually suffer some sort of consequences for daring to be so disrespectful. She really wanted to see the man get socked in the jaw, maybe earn himself a black eye on top of all his other aches and pains.

Their Master was silent, leaning close to the blonde. He hummed quietly, head slowly tilting this way and that. The blonde had leaned away slightly, the smallest furrow of his brows giving away that he felt any emotion at all besides passive acceptance and maybe boredom. Because Asli was fairly sure pain wasn’t an emotion.

“Tama. How long ago do you remember starting your watch?”

“Uh, maybe a few hours, Master? I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you the exact time.”

Master Kohga waved him off. “Do you remember him always being this pale? Or is this recent, do you think?”

Tama came closer to the prisoner, with Asli quick to follow. Up close, the blonde did look paler than she remembered. Maybe it was the faint circles under his eyes, or how stiffly he still moved, but she did not remember really considering that he was pale. And not the usual sort of pale she’d seen in other Sheikah and even Hylians, he had a distinctly unhealthy pallor.

“It’s hard to tell in the candlelight, but I think this might be more recent.” he said. The blonde leaned further away from the scrutiny, inhaling sharply at the particular way he twisted.

Master Kohga grabbed his elbow to keep him from moving, no longer paying attention to his loyal soldiers. “That didn’t sound good. Blondie, don’t you think you should be laying down?”

It wasn’t a question, or even a request. For their prisoner, it was a command. But still, Asli could see the man was considering it like it was a question. She couldn’t comprehend why their great Master was letting the silence go on, why he was letting the prisoner even think about considering it as a request. It was unheard of, a borderline insult to their glorious leader.

Finally, he nodded, slowly uncrossing his legs to place his feet on the ground. He was still wobbly, shrugging off the hand on his elbow. “I suppose.”

Tama and Asli backed up immediately to give him space, while Master Kohga lingered by the man’s side. The prisoner braced his hands on the table and stood, posture swaying. Master Kohga’s hands hovered in the air, like he considered helping steady the man. 

Asli didn’t think the prisoner deserved it.

He took a moment to steady himself, then the Sheikah let go of the table. A single step forward and his legs buckled immediately. Master Kohga dashed to catch the prisoner, hands locked under his arms and hoisting him up, supporting most of the man’s weight. Their Master was more or less carrying the man at that point, letting him lean against him to stay standing. The blonde breathed sharply through gritted teeth, and Asli faintly wondered how the man wasn’t outright screaming in pain.

He spoke after a moment. Just one, simple word. “Ow.”

“‘Ow?’ Sheik, you almost ate Depth dirt, and all you have to say is ‘ow?’” the Master said. He was still holding the man, letting him carefully wobble into the next few steps when he could stand without looking like he was being tortured.

“‘Ouch’ seemed too strong of a reaction for a little stumble.”

Master Kohga just led the prisoner away, shaking his head and muttering none too quietly about the man’s lack of reaction. Asli and Tama just watched until they could no longer see their Master, remaining silent the whole time. Tama slowly turned to her after a while.

“Was Master Kohga.... did he seem strangely gentle about all of that to you?”

“Oh yeah, definitely.”

“Huh. I thought I was imagining that.”

—————————  Ⓐ  ⮞ ⮜  Ⓐ  ⮞ ⮜  ⮞  Ⓐ  —————————

Lotus stood unseen, his arms crossed. He watched over the encampment from one of its higher points atop the wall, concealed in magical illusion and the non magic shadows of the natural darkness the Depths provided. It was not his first time, he was often on watch from various high points at his Master’s orders. A simple task in theory, though a much harder task in practice.

He scanned the lack of hustle and bustle in the camp, watching the nonexistent dust settle and the faint light of the lanterns flicker. Really, how was anyone supposed to see in this darkness? It was a wonder the people of the ancient past even survived long enough down here to leave behind so much pristine technology and abandoned mines. There was only one person awake in the camp at this hour besides him.

The blonde prisoner was sitting at the table for once, lounging in the one singular chair provided with his legs thrown over the arm and his back leaning against the other. He didn’t seem to be sleeping anytime soon, even with a pillow providing a barrier between his back and the hard wood. And that wasn’t for lack of trying, he’d watched the man try to sleep for the past hour, moving from the bed provided to him near the medic’s small tent to the chair at some point during the night.

He sympathized. He was still healing from the fall, and while they were trying to extend the periods of time he spent outside of the secret spring, it was clearly doing a number on his ability to sleep through the pain. If he wasn’t on guard, he half considered just taking the man to the spring himself, just so he didn’t have to watch him struggle to sleep all night.

The blonde man shifted in his seat for the thousandth time that night, probably the hundredth time that hour alone even, arms a vice grip around himself. He never made a noise, never cried out in pain even though he was visibly suffering. He bared it in silence, somehow. While he seemed a naturally quiet man, this was almost too much quiet.

Lotus heard the sound before he saw it.

His Master was often up at this hour, and had been ever since Lotus had been born probably. Though he seldom actually saw it for himself, he’d always known it was just something the Master did. They all knew.

Master Kohga didn’t seem overly surprised to see the other man up, putting a few items on the table. Lotus could tell they were speaking, but not about what. He was both too far away to hear, and would never dare to eavesdrop on his Master’s private conversation.

The blonde had moved to get up, only to settle back down when the Master waved his hand. A moment of presumed back and forth with small gestures, the smaller man held out his hand. He looked only vaguely confused, Lotus gathered his sheer exhaustion and lack of painless sleep left him too tired to function properly.

Master Kohga set a banana in his outstretched hand, ignoring the highly exaggerated exasperation from the injured man. He waved him off, plopping down to sit on the floor and eat his own. The man in the chair may have rolled his eyes, peeling the fruit with mock disdain. He picked at it piece by piece, popping small chunks into his mouth to eat as the Master spoke. The whole scene was fascinating to watch.

Master Kohga was known to be loud. Borderline theatrical even, with wild, flailing movements. And while he still was, he was quiet enough to not be heard from a distance. A conversation meant only for him and the injured Sheikah sitting in the chair.

Lotus would never know what caused it. But the Sheikah had paused, staring at the Master. Master Kohga had also paused in his movements, arms raised high, like he was presenting a wonderful surprise to the man. Nothing happened for a long moment, the apparent silence seemed to stretch on forever.

Then, with pinpoint precision, the Sheikah flung the banana peel, smacking the glorious Master Kohga dead center of his mask. He almost toppled over backwards, the surprise doing more to knock him off balance than any real damage. He heard a distinct yelp, a gasp, and what vaguely sounded like the word “Sacrilege!” coming from his Master.

The Sheikah had his hands clamped over his mouth, the occasional lurch wracking his frame as if he was trying desperately to keep his laughter in. Master Kohga seemed not to notice, too busy scraping the yellow peel off of his pristine white and red painted mask. Lotus almost laughed at the absurdity of what he was seeing, then instantly felt appalled for doing nearly so. He couldn't dare laugh at his own Master.

The blonde man didn’t suffer any consequences, in fact, Master Kohga hadn’t seemed to mind at all. They moved past it just as quickly as it had happened, the peels from their late night snack discarded on the table to be taken care of later. Master Kohga had turned to the table, taking a few more of the items into his hands again, and sat back down on the ground.

They turned out to be papers, presumably reports. And Master Kohga went over them in silence, the injured Sheikah seemingly content to just watch. And the Master let him. They just sat in a comfortable quiet, not speaking to one another for the rest of their time together that night. At some point, the blonde fell asleep in the chair. Curled up uncomfortably, the blademaster was sure he would have the worst sore neck in the morning.

That was until Master Kohga set the reports aside, and got up. He strode over to the chair, looking down at the man sleeping in it. After a moment of consideration, he knelt, slowly gathered the sleeping man in his arms, and lifted him out of the chair. Oh so cautiously, he carried him back to the bed by the medic’s tent and laid him down. Drawing the blanket up over his sleeping form, the Master returned to his reports.

The whole process took perhaps less than a couple minutes, but it had felt like an eternity. Lotus had a distinct feeling he had not been meant to see that, that it hadn’t been meant for anyone to see. That it hadn’t been meant for anyone but Master Kohga to know, so late at night it had occurred.

It had been so casual. So calm, so collected, and so gentle. Master Kohga was not like that to outsiders, let alone one supposedly meant to be a prisoner. Though now, Lotus severely doubted that Master Kohga considered him that anymore, regardless of if the leader had acknowledged it or not. And he would not bring it up, not unless the Master brought it up first.

Lotus had a bad feeling.

That bad feeling lasted for a while, longer than Lotus had hoped it would. Bad feelings always left him on edge and much more jumpy than usual. The bad feeling got so bad in the passing days, he offered to personally watch the prisoner in place of the usual guard. Tama did not seem to mind, the Yiga had things he would rather be doing than watching one harmless prisoner.

So, Lotus made himself busy, flipping through notes left behind by members of the clan, keeping an eye on the visibly bored Sheikah. Giving him paper seemed to appease his boredom the first time Lotus had been asked to fill in for the watch, so there was no reason not to give the man more paper to play with.

He turned one of the most recent pages, humming at his discovery. There was a shipment coming in today it seemed. A bit early, but something good must’ve been discovered if that was the case. He read over the expected contents. Flowers, food, essentials, even a selection of monster parts it looked like. And of course, more paper. Good. Perhaps there’d be some to spare to keep the prisoner occupied.

Lotus would not admit he’d been secretly just the littlest bit amused by the discovery the man knew how to fold it a certain way to make it leap across short distances. He saw no harm in it. Though he did wonder what he did with the previous papers. He’d have to ask later.

The Sheikah was slower to fold today, fingers defining creases in the flimsy sheets. Every so often he would look up into the darkness, unmoving. And after a moment, he would return to his paper folding in silence. This repeated often enough that he just had to ask.

“Is something the matter, Sheikah?”

The blonde looked up, folded paper half twisted into what looked like a vague frog shape. “You are asking a prisoner, Yiga.”

Which, yes, was technically correct, but not an answer he was looking for. Did Master Kohga always have such difficulty getting answers out of him? No wonder he’d stayed around for so long. It must be a Sheikah thing.

“I ask because you keep looking at nothing.” he said.

“Not nothing, something.”

“What are you looking at then?” Lotus asked. He was starting to wonder how his Master could stand to handle being around the prisoner for so long, if this was always how he spoke.

“The shadows can tell you a lot, you know. And the shadows tell me your clan is either very brave, or very foolish to contend with the darkness down here.”

Lotus waited for him to continue. He hadn’t a clue how to respond to that, beyond maybe asking if he was feeling okay. For all he knew, it was the drain of recovering from near death talking, or just some Sheikah thing. He’d never met someone from the Sheikah Tribe before, he assumed all of them were this way in some form or another. Though perhaps not to the extent this man was. 

And he’d felt the cracked bones, felt the way the man’s ribs knocked against each other, loose and picking apart his body from the inside. He’d felt the sickening gloom, the way it dragged a person down and stole the very lifeforce from their being. It had been nerve wracking to carry the blonde all the way to the spring without aggravating his innumerable injuries, and almost a miracle he’d survived long enough to be lowered into the hot spring.

It was a miracle he’d come out of it being able to speak clearly at all. The last person Lotus took to the spring hadn’t been as lucky.

“I do not know what lies in the darkness beyond the gloom that almost claimed my life. But what little plants I can see hiding beyond the light imply there are very big and very dangerous things down here. I wish to know what dangers lie beyond the safety of this camp, if you are knowledgeable enough to inform me.”

Lotus slowly set the notes down, looking over at the blonde. He was folding something new now, it looked like it had wings of some kind. The frog shaped paper was finished, sitting on the table beside the prisoner.

“....You could have asked with less words.”

“Now why would I devolve to so few words that, while they do their job, the flowing vernacular of the language I was taught to speak currently is more than sufficient to suit my needs?”

“You pretentious airhead.”

The frog was launched, bouncing off Lotus’ shoulder. It didn’t hurt, but it got the point across. He relented with a sigh.

“There are monsters in the dark. Similar to the ones above, but either infected by or made of gloom. And skeletons. And some kind of frog creature that is small and eats rocks for some reason. That’s all we know of currently.”

“Small? I was under the impression they were as big as a Hinox.” he said. His brows were furrowed, head tilted to one side in consideration.

“No, they’re small, one eyed frog creatures. About the size of a Hylian retriever.” Lotus held a hand at about knee height to demonstrate.

“I could have sworn I saw one much, much bigger. While being escorted here this morning, it looked like a small moving hill in the darkness. One eye, tusks, and eating anything close to it.” he said.

Lotus paused, squinting under his mask. A thought had occurred to him suddenly at the mention of the creature. He turned to face the man fully. The blonde had paused, a half folded winged creation in his hands. Watching warily.

“Which direction was it heading?” he asked.

“I.... suppose it was heading the same direction we were, at the time. I do not know which of the cardinal directions we were facing at the time, so I can not tell you for certain.” he said.

Lotus nodded. “And how big did you say it was again? The size of a Hinox?”

“More or less, yes. From far away at least, I did not attempt to get any closer. I was having enough trouble walking as it is, and I did not particularly feel like leaving the safety of the lit path.” the blonde said.

Lotus had a very, very bad feeling. He pointed at the prisoner, then at the table. “You wait here. Don’t. Move.”

He didn’t wait for a response, turning and vanishing in a puff of smoke and talismans with a brief gesture. A telltale second smoke cloud gave away his arrival at the wall, perched on top of the sharp spikes the wooden logs had been whittled to. A much smaller soldier nearly toppled off their platform in surprise at his arrival.

He supposed it must’ve looked silly, such a big and bulky man being perched like a bird, but that did not matter. The safety of his clan overtook any feelings of silliness.

He surveyed the limited land he could see in the thick gloom, squinting into the all consuming darkness. Nothing, no movement, not even a flicker. Was his bad feeling all for nothing? Was he just concerned for no reason? Was his momentary panic unjustified?

He hummed, slowly willing himself to lose the tension in his shoulders. He turned, one foot on the platform to step down. Walking back would do him some good.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, something in the darkness shifted.

He focused, staring hard into the inky blackness once more. Something large shifted, as silent as the underground was dark, very impressive for something that looked about the size of a small hill. Deep in the blackness, it shifted, an orange glow piercing the dark. An eye, huge and definitely staring at the vaguely lit encampment, practically a beacon in the shadows of the underground.

Without warning, it leaped. Faster and more agile than any monster that size had any right to be, slamming into the ground with such force the very earth rattled with its weight. Lotus felt the walls tremble, felt the wooden spiked posts knock against each other.

Its roar took out the nearest torches, plunging them even further into the darkness than they already were. Lotus almost lost his balance, the much smaller soldier beside him wasn’t so lucky, completely toppling from their post to the ground below. Their bow snagged on the spikes, dangling precariously, its owner left on the ground safely inside the camp. Though certainly not as safe as they could’ve been, all things considered.

There was not a soul nearby who hadn’t been alerted after that, soldiers scrambling to grab weapons or pack up the most important supplies in case the camp was destroyed. As the only blademaster around, Lotus could not let that happen. He would not.

Even if it cost him his very life.

He leaped from the wall, blade drawn, and hit the ground running. He trusted he would not be hit by a stray arrow, even as he attacked the beast head on. It was slow moving, Lotus was much faster than it. But by the goddess, that thing could jump. Every time Lotus thought he had a head start, it would close the distance in an instant, landing so close and so hard he was knocked off balance every single time.

He didn’t dare teleport, lest it lose interest and go after the camp again. Or worse, the incoming shipment. He swore he could almost hear the makeshift caravan’s approach, even over the sounds of the horrifying creature trying its hardest to eat him alive.

He lost track of where he was, the monster chasing him down in circles, he could barely see, only the faint light glinting off his blade and the odd rocks on the back of the monster gave him any indication of where he was. That is to say, not at all.

He didn’t see the rock. He didn’t see the rock. He didn’t see the fucking rock.

He stumbled, hit the ground hard. His blade stuck in the ground, sinking deep into the dirt. The earth shook, he could feel the thing breathing on him. He was going to die. So be it. He hoped he’d bought enough time for the others.

Something whistled through the air above him. A twinkling sound, followed by a near blinding burst of light. He rubbed at his eyes, trying to blink his vision back into existence, scrambling to get up and away. His vision returned spotty, colored dots clouding his vision. The ground trembled with each leap as the creature lumbered off, chased away by whatever had caused the light.

He saw the second shot before it landed, just barely closing his eyes in time to save his vision. The twinkling sound came again, and the monster roared. Opening his eyes again revealed, sort of, the creature still lumbering away into the darkness. Apparently bright lights scared the thing. Or hurt it enough to make it lose interest in him and the camp altogether.

He retrieved his weapon, leaving it unsheathed just in case, and made his way back to camp. There was a bright, vibrant light at the top of the wall, he could not tell what it was before it was fizzling out. But what he did see, just mere moments before he was disappearing behind the wall again, was the prisoner.

Standing, albeit very unsteadily, bow in hand with an arrow nocked and ready to fire.

Lotus found him at the base of the wall inside the camp, half collapsed, half leaning against the wood. The bow he’d seen him using was in his hands still, a crutch to help him stay upright. He looked so much more exhausted than before, visibly paler breathing heavily. A small breeze could’ve knocked him over.

Lotus helped him sit, the bow and arrow safely discarded in the dirt. He seemed to breathe a little easier, resting with his back to the wall. There was a fruit nearby, oddly shaped and sparkling for some reason. He vaguely recalled something like it being in the storage with all the other fruits. Except now it had a small puncture, like it had been stabbed by something.

“What was that?”

He didn’t answer, not until he could take in a full breath without sounding like he had just finished sprinting across the entire kingdom.

“Tiring. Do not ever let me do that again, please.”

Lotus hummed, taking him by the elbow to stand him up again. He could not imagine letting the man handle a bow again, he could’ve easily taken off with the weapon in all the chaos. Why he had stuck around was beyond the blademaster’s understanding.

“I certainly won’t.” he said. The blonde would have to go back to the spring again, Lotus could only imagine what he had done to his injuries. Master Kohga would be unhappy, he was certain of that. He still needed the man alive, for information. Supposedly.

Though, Lotus would not deny that he felt easier about keeping the Sheikah around. Saving one’s life, whether reluctantly or not, had a tendency to do that to a person.

“May I ask your name?” he asked while they walked. Or, rather, slowly stumbled. The man was not moving all that fast, so neither was the blademaster. He was okay with that.

“....Sheik. May I know yours?”

“Lotus.”

“Well, Lotus, I appreciate you not killing me the second I got my hands on a bow.”

“And I appreciate you.... doing whatever it was you did back there to save my life.”

“You are welcome.”

It took too long to make it to the spring. Sheik was swaying with every step, his breathing labored. Lotus was almost carrying him down the stairs to the water now. A bad decision to not carry him most of the way in retrospect, but the blademaster couldn’t exactly go back in time to change that. Oh well.

He prepped the net while Sheik struggled to wiggle out of the loose tunic. His bandages were stained red, the skin underneath presumably torn from sudden twisting movements. Lotus helped him into the net and into the water.

He lingered, watching the man visibly relax in the water. He would be okay, as long as that didn’t happen again. Something told him it would, somewhere, somehow. He may not know the man’s past, but Sheik’s current track record for getting himself injured was not reassuring. Even if it was only the one time so far.

“Why didn’t you run?” he asked.

Sheik didn’t answer for a while, just floating in the water. He didn’t even bother to open his eyes to speak. “That is certainly the question.”

“You don’t know, do you?”

“....No. I do not.”

Lotus sighed. So much for that line of questioning. A spur of the moment decision, perhaps, one that he was grateful for. He did enjoy being alive, after all. He tapped his fingers against his mask, turning his gaze to their surroundings. He’d be there for a while, at least until the medic could get there. Boredom would set in soon.

“Would you go back and change your decision if you could?”

“Hmm...” Sheik barely cracked his eyes open in thought, squinting up at the darkness high above. “No, I do not think so. There is no point in dwelling on what may have been. Time flows ever forward, like that of a river. There is no going upstream through the rushing waters, so there is no use lingering on past decisions that could have been.”

“....I’ll say it again. You could’ve said it in less words.” he said.

“And I will reiterate. Why would—”

“Yes, I know.” he waved his words away. “I honestly wonder how the Master is able to deal with you at all. You're pretentious.”

“I wonder that myself.” Sheik said. “Though I will admit I can not tell whether or not he is truly bothered by how I speak.”

“Oh, you’d know. Master Kohga makes it abundantly clear when he is annoyed.”

The blonde was silent now, tiredly picking at a tangle in his long hair. He stayed like that for so long, the blademaster had considered the conversation over. Apparently it was not, as he found out several minutes later.

“I suppose he does.” was all he said, a thoughtful quality to his usual quiet monotone. Lotus couldn’t begin to understand, and quite frankly, he didn’t much care to. But honestly, talking did win out over sitting silently in boredom until the medic arrived at the spring.

“I take it he doesn’t get annoyed with you very often.” he said, and received a negative hum in return. “Consider yourself lucky that he is so lenient with you, then.”

He only got another hum in response, it seemed Sheik was done talking for the day. He didn’t blame him. He was probably exhausted, and understandably so. If Lotus weren’t on duty, he’d be getting some proper rest himself. Falling asleep on the job was not an option, not now, and not ever. And while he didn’t exactly need to worry about their prisoner pulling an escape, it never hurt to be diligent.

Though, somehow, Lotus didn’t have nearly as much of a bad feeling as he did before. Standing there in the quiet of the bubbling healing spring, arms crossed and on guard, he felt almost at peace.

Chapter Text

Kohga had lost count of how much time Sheik had spent in the Yiga Clan’s care. If he wasn’t at the leader’s side, he was with the medic being checked over as he recovered, or otherwise kept under constant watch by whoever was on guard duty at the time. Or at the spring, but few people knew about that part.

He had come to decide Sheik was an odd fellow. Unbothered by being a prisoner, being in the Depths, or even by the fact he had nearly experienced death. It wasn’t right. He expected the man to be at least a little bit bothered by it all, but no. Outside of the few, deadpan complaints about not having his equipment or the times the pain was just a bit too much to really hide, Sheik didn’t seem outwardly phased by anything. More resigned and mildly annoyed than anything, if Kohga had to venture a guess. Though he didn’t have a lot of time to be making guesses.

Kohga was a busy banana, the nature of being the leader of the Yiga Clan meant he was always bouncing from one camp to another, going over reports, checking out leads with the Zonai tech as he’d come to understand it was called. The information had come to him through some journal one of his underlings had snatched off some researcher on the surface.

And being such a busy man, he didn’t have much time to spend questioning the blonde. He often went days without actually seeing the man, his only updates on him being the medical reports occasionally sent his way with all the other reports he had to go over. Each one went into a specific pile designated for his prisoner. Along with detailed notes he’d make after the fact of whatever information he’d managed to get out of the man.

Notes of which were beginning to get less frequent, less detailed, and ever shorter. He really needed to just take time and really interrogate the man one of these days. He didn’t know when Link would be spotted, and he knew for sure Link would rescue the Sheikah the moment he caught wind of the man’s capture. And then it would all be over.

Kohga sped through his reading of the reports to give himself enough time to properly interrogate the man. He would not be distracted by riddles, metaphors, nothing. Not the pleasant quiet when neither had nothing to say, not the way Kohga could absolutely not control the man and was often on the receiving end of his unamused, flat stares. Not a single thing could distract him from his goal.

He was getting sidetracked.

Kohga strolled into the spring as if he owned it. Which, honestly, he may as well have, considering no one else had claimed it. By default, it was his. The logic was sound. He carried a bag with him, more of a sack really. He was too lazy to grab a proper bag.

The medic was poking at the fire, something was bubbling in the stone pot. It didn’t look anywhere near ready. The medic didn’t look up, pointing with the stick she used to poke the flames. “He’s in the water, Master Kohga. After this, he should be more or less fully recovered. I still have yet to check his wounds today.”

He nodded, heading towards the water. He dropped to sit on the stone, legs dangling over the ledge. Sheik had his eyes closed, floating in the water on his back, beautiful golden hair a halo around him. He was wearing pants, thank the goddess, but that was it apart from the bandages. He seemed to be at peace.

“Rise and shine, sleepyhead.” Kohga said, dropping the bag onto the stone beside him. Sheik didn’t bother to open his eyes.

“It has been a while. I was beginning to think you had no more need of me. Plan on killing me finally?”

“Nah.”

“Came for more answers then?”

“You know it.”

Sheik gave a hum, waving a hand vaguely before letting it fall back into the warm water. His bandages were soaked from being in the spring, but they no longer tinged red, they stayed the same, sterile white as a fresh bandage. That was a good sign.

Kohga had been tired of seeing the bandages stained red every time he visited. Sheik, while he did certainly have red eyes as most (if not all) Sheikah did, was far more suited for the blues and greys he’d originally been found in. Like the night sky just before the last dying rays of the sun fully faded from the world, leaving stars scattered across the deepest indigo backdrop.

Where was he going with that?

Kohga shoved that thought away. “You’ve been here a while. Any ideas when that pesky hero might come to your rescue?”

“Hmm. Never, probably. No one is aware I am down here, after all.” Sheik said. He finally cracked his eyes open, though barely. He looked tired. More than someone who was almost fully healthy again should be.

“Oh…. Well, why not?”

“I have a tendency to leave for long periods of time without notice. My sisters sometimes do not even realize I have left until I have already returned. It became a habit over the last hundred years.”

“What, not even a husband or a wife to notice you’re gone?” Kohga tilted his head, squinting through the mask at him. He faintly wondered if Sheik could tell.

“None. I am a shadow, nothing more. Shadows do not have spouses.”

“Depressing.” he muttered, leaning back on his hands. He only got a hum in return, so he continued. “Just how old are you anyway? You keep mentioning this hundred years thing, and the numbers ain’t adding up.”

“I did not physically age a day past the moment Zelda was sealed away to keep the Calamity at bay. I still have yet to understand why, beyond that we are connected in some way. Whatever the case may be, I am about your age, I believe. Give or take a few years.”

Well, damn. He’s aged really well for an old guy. Better than me. Kohga didn’t voice his thoughts aloud, instead settling for a slow, impressed whistle. He almost swore he saw the smallest smile on the blonde’s face.

“So you were just hanging out the last hundred years? Doing what?” he asked.

Sheik drew shapes in the air with his finger, tracing words through the empty space. “I spent most of it traveling. Thinking. There was not much to do besides live life as best anyone could after the Calamity. Without Zelda and the champions, and with Link sleeping away the decades, I simply wandered. Found a shiny stone. Composed music. Well, it was less composing and more just plucking strings until it sounded correct, and writing down the notes. But I had never gotten the chance to do so before, so I tried it. I found that I enjoyed it.”

Kohga nodded slowly. “Explains the harp. I didn’t know you could actually play it.”

“You never gave it back, and it never came up in your interrogations. I had no chance to reveal it naturally. Nor was I about to simply say, ‘I can play the harp’ without warning.”

“That would be pretty weird.” he agreed. He nudged the bag closer to the water. “On that topic, I did bring you something.”

That got Sheik to sit up, floating in the water, supported by the net. He pulled himself to the ledge, arms resting on the stone, peering at the sack. “You, the great Master Kohga, brought me, a lowly prisoner, something?”

“Yeah, yeah, make fun of me.” Kohga waved a hand. “Be grateful, I had to walk all the way here. I suffered for this.”

“Oh no. Walking. Such a tragedy.” Sheik struggled just a bit pulling himself out of the spring, warm water drenching the stone beneath him. He picked open the sack, cautious of getting any water on it or its contents.

He pulled out folded blue and greyish fabrics, white scarf and wrappings, little tiny bits and pieces, a familiar upright eye and tear symbol emblazoned in red front and center. Sheik unfolded the fabrics piece by piece, laying them out delicately, mapping out where things should go, until he had a nearly full suit laid out on the stone. The only pieces missing were the actual armor pieces, the shin guards, the shoulder pieces. Those sorts of things.

“You brought me clothes.” he said. “My clothes.”

“Yeah. Consider it whatever. I was tired of seeing you in a plain tunic. Looked way too weird compared to my lackeys.” he gave a dismissive wave. That was the best reason he could come up with for giving back the man at least some of his stuff. It was good enough. Sheik had been a good prisoner, he could reward that.

Weird way to think about it, he knew. But was Sheik really even a prisoner anymore? He wasn’t being kept away from everyone else, he wasn’t in a cage or anything. He could move relatively freely. Kohga suspected Sheik could’ve easily stolen back his equipment and escaped as soon as he’d been able to walk reliably. And that had been a while ago.

Sheik had proven before he was a master of stealth, consistently sneaking into the encampment— supposedly accompanied by the medic, though he was seriously starting to doubt that was true— and just simply appearing in places he shouldn’t have been. Like sitting on a table, reading reports. Kohga still didn’t know how he got past the guards that time.

Kohga had been fairly well informed of the blonde’s movements, whether it be from the medic’s reports, an observation from one of his underlings, or the times when Sheik was just with Kohga himself. There was never more than a moment when the man was unaccounted for. It was almost as if he was just slowly being absorbed into the clan. Unofficially.

He’d even faintly recalled a moment when Sheik had assisted a soldier, holding an object in place so they could affix it to a larger contraption. That had been downright helpful, no asking required.

So why was he still around? Kohga couldn’t have been mistaken, Sheik was both healthy, skilled, and smart enough to escape on his own, without need of a rescue. Just what was keeping the guy as a willing not-prisoner?

He should really stop calling him that.

Sheik had nodded sometime during his musings, remaining silent as he studied the laid out clothes. Trying to decide if it was a trap? Kohga could promise it wasn’t. Believing that promise was another matter entirely.

“Would you mind turning around for a moment?”

Kohga blinked, staring blankly at him for a moment. Sheik stared back, holding the shirt up to his chest. Moments passed in silence. All of a sudden, it clicked.

“Oh!” he shuffled around until his back was to the blonde. He really should have some kind of curtains put up in a corner or something. A future project, if he could find someone to do it between everything else he had planned.

He sat for a while, twiddling his thumbs and listening to shuffling fabric, the cracking of the fire, the distant but sudden pick up of the winds above them. The quiet didn’t feel awkward, far from it in fact. It was sort of nice, he could almost consider taking a short nap.

He was reconsidering the logistics of napping in a hot spring again when Sheik spoke, his voice as quiet as ever. But more relaxed somehow. Happier maybe? Kohga didn’t know, but there was certainly a different quality about the way he spoke now. It was nice to hear.

“You may turn back around, if you wish.”

And Kohga did, shuffling around until he could let his legs hang over the edge again, just shy of touching the warm spring water. Sheik was fully dressed, in the process of braiding his hair and wrapping the braid up. His mask was on, his hair was no longer being used to cover his mouth and nose anymore. His fringe was swept forward, the tattoos around his eye completely hidden by a curtain of pale gold. All in all, Kohga could see maybe a quarter of his face, if that. It would’ve made an excellent disguise for the princess, not that he would ever say it out loud.

Sheik was wrapping the leftover white fabric around his head now, a red cord looped twice and tied to hold the knot in place. He looked every bit the warrior a member of the Sheikah Tribe could’ve been, in a different time.

The change was fascinating. Kohga didn’t mind one bit.

“You look prepared for battle.”

“I happen to be the most comfortable this way. The less people see of my face, the less I am mistaken for or compared to Zelda.” he said, sitting cross legged on the stone. He would need to undress again later to change his bandages, and he was still damp from being in the water, but he seemed much more at ease than Kohga had ever seen since finding him. Comfortable indeed.

He faintly wondered what it would be like to fight beside him in battle. Fast paced, no doubt. Or would there be any battle at all? He could prefer a more stealthy route, taking out enemies one by one until none remained under a cover of darkness, and slipping away as if he’d never been there at all. It was also entirely possible he did not prefer battle at all. There were many possibilities.

He should stop thinking about it.

“So you just walk around like that all the time?”

“More or less. I have other clothes, but I did not bring them with me on my journey this time. I left them in my home in Kakariko.” he said. Kohga really should not have been surprised, but with as much of a wanderer’s air the man gave off, he was only a bit startled to hear he actually had a physical home. An entire house.

Probably empty, with Sheik stuck down here.

He responded honestly. “Huh. Didn’t expect that. I don’t know why I didn’t, so don’t ask.”

“I was not planning to. But I do have one question, if you are willing.” Sheik said.

“Just ask, you don’t gotta ask for permission to ask, blondie.”

Sheik paused for a brief moment, brows furrowed, before speaking. “Why do you not delegate the task of interrogating me to another? Why do you insist on speaking with me yourself?”

“Okay! No more questions. I think the medic wants you, so hop to it!”

Sheik somehow managed to look absolutely bewildered through his mask, Kohga barely registering the expression before he was getting up and walking away. He did not actually know how to answer that question, if there even was an answer at all. The steps carried him up and out of the sunken hot spring, leaving the light and warmth behind.

A bit cowardly, not answering, but he did not feel like explaining how he couldn’t answer. It had certainly started because he wanted answers, information, something he could use. Somewhere along the line, he’d gotten completely sidetracked, and was learning more about Sheik and less about things he could use against his enemies.

He really needed to stop thinking. Or maybe think more. He couldn’t keep Sheik forever. There was no way the man would ever join the Yiga Clan, he was unfortunately loyal to a fault. All the Sheikah were, especially to the royal family. Even after everything. It was what the tribe was known for.

It was part of the reason why the Yiga clan formed in the first place, all those tens of thousands of years ago.

Kohga just needed to sit down, and think it all over for a while. Probably more than once. He was left with two options, seeing as Sheik surely would never join. The first being he could simply let the man go. Risky, but who would believe him that the Yiga Clan would just let someone so important go? None, he was sure.

The second option was to kill him.

Kohga was no slouch, he could easily kill a man if he wanted, Sheik would be an easy kill. Child’s play. One good stab in the back would do him in. Holding him underwater would be just as easy, he was in the hot spring so often these days, he would never see it coming. Or he would kill him off with sheer numbers alone, swarming the blonde and leaving him stuck full of sickle blades and arrows like a grisly pincushion.

Either option meant he was gone, out of Kohga’s hair forever. He wouldn’t have to deal with the flat tones, dead eyed glares, the slow blink and tilt of his head when Sheik was considering something. The faint smiles hidden behind a makeshift veil of hair when he was amused.

He wouldn’t have to deal with the calm quiet, the audacity of being mocked without meaning insult. The conversation that would inevitably develop when the interrogations got off track. The occasional spat about food when Kohga’s one attempt at porridge was brought up. He still wasn’t sure how he messed that one up, but he did apparently.

He wouldn’t have to deal with the presence that was Sheik.

Kohga had time to make his choice. Kohga had no time to make his choice.

Master Kohga, leader of the Yiga Clan, had made his choice.

Chapter Text

Kohga visited more often.

Sheik was almost always by his side now, just a few steps behind, following the larger man as their developed routine dictated. Kohga was not one for a routine, really, he did things as it suited him, there was no real set time for anything. Especially not in the Depths, where time slipped away, where there was no dusk and dawn to signal the passage of the days. Nothing to signal the passing of the hours.

Well, there was one thing that signaled the passing of time, but honestly, he was not inclined to tell anyone. His own little secret. Hidden in the darkness high above, ever circling the deep dark gloomy underworld, unseen except for a faint shock of white tendrils and the ever subtle present violet glow. Whatever it was, he couldn’t tell in the thick darkness, the shadows taking on almost a physical quality whenever it passed overhead, almost hiding it in the inky blackness.

It was just his luck; it never seemed to be near when Sheik was awake, or he might have pointed it out to him. Just to know if he could see it too.

He might, eventually. Should it ever pass by at the right time. Perhaps they could sit and watch it together. Sheik might be able to see it better than him, eyes unobscured by a wooden mask, perhaps even aided by the tattoos around his eye. Should it have magical properties, of course. He wouldn’t put it past the Sheikah to do something of the sort.

But first, he had things to do. One very, very specific thing he had to do.

He brought Sheik with him this time, there was no need to keep him at the spring with only the medic and occasionally Kohga for company. He walked with a purpose, his blonde trailing behind him on the long journey away from the spring.

He would’ve taken one of their Zonai contraptions, or even simply taken Sheik’s arm and vanished with him in a puff of smoke and talismans. But they had none to spare, and Kohga knew very well what his blonde thought about the sudden change in location. He did not seem quite over the first time Kohga had done that without warning, even so much as suggesting it earned the nastiest expression he'd ever seen from Sheik. And Kohga did not really feel like having that particular look directed at him for any reason. 

So he wouldn’t. Not without permission, anyway. Or in a life or death situation, though that would certainly never happen. So no smokey teleporting for either of them.

“Is there any particular reason you are having me accompany you? Surely there are others of your clan that would be more suitable than one lone prisoner.”

Sheik was trailing behind him obediently, like he’d been trained to do so, his voice barely above a whisper in the darkness. A glowing plant lit their path, casting light over the desaturated terrain. It kept them from being in complete darkness, though Kohga would prefer more light.

Easier to read the man’s lack of expression, and no other reason.

Kohga waved a hand dismissively, gesturing for the man to come a little closer. He waited until he was almost next to him— practically an honor, to walk beside the great Master Kohga— to speak. “I wanted you to come along, blondie. And don’t call yourself that.”

“What? Blondie, or prisoner?” Sheik asked. Why was that even a question?

“Yes.”

“I.... what?”

Kohga continued to walk, the man keeping pace with him rather easily. Sheik would understand what he meant very soon. But he wanted it to be a sort of surprise. Not quite a gift, that would imply he was giving him something. Which technically was true, in a physical sense. But not in a metaphorical one.

Sheik had never really been his prisoner, Kohga had been very deluded about that. Sheik may not have been able to leave while injured, but he could’ve done so very easily once he’d regained his ability to walk. But he hadn’t.

He’d stayed.

Kohga knew the biggest reason was because his stuff, perhaps mostly the harp and knives, were still not in the blonde’s possession. Perhaps once he had them, Sheik would be more inclined to stay out of a want, instead of an obligation. And obviously the ability to come and go freely, he wouldn’t trap him. But perhaps he would stay anyway. He hoped he would stay anyway.

He very much liked that idea. They could be pals. He could maybe learn more about the man, without him being expected to answer. Learn about him more naturally, like a friend. Yes, just a friend.

A friend who listened to his thoughts, playfully mocked him without insult, even smiled in amusement when Kohga was rightfully outraged at the audacity. He hadn’t heard a real laugh yet, but he was sure it would happen.

Yes, just a friend. A quiet one, as silent and shining as a falling star fragment in the night, but a friend nonetheless. A friend he could perhaps take his mask off around. Maybe one day. Maybe. Would Sheik like that? To see him without a mask? To gaze upon his obviously stunning good looks?

Wait a minute.

Kohga really should stop thinking, it was getting out of hand. So lost in his own thoughts, the leader of the Yiga Clan had not actually noticed they had reached camp. The gate was open, letting the pair just waltz right in. It closed behind them, sealing them in and the monsters hiding in the darkness out.

It was now or never.

“This way. I have something for you.” Kohga said, clamping down hard on that ugly feeling suddenly screeching life in his chest. “Close your eyes. And no peeking!”

Sheik just stared at him, hidden expression unreadable save for the slight raise of his brow. If he was hiding the urge to roll his eyes, he was doing an unimaginably great job, because Kohga couldn’t tell. But Sheik obeyed, closing his eyes.

Kohga worked quickly, vanishing in a cloud of smoke and talismans, reappearing the same way, though now with a few key items. He placed the heaviest at Sheik’s feet, then took a moment to rearrange the blond’s hands. Sheik's hands were warm, strong but delicate, with near invisible calluses on his fingers from a century of playing music. 

He didn’t want to let go.

He released Sheik’s hands, placing the last of the items safely in his grasp, the glint of gold and silver reflecting in the faint light of the torches. He stepped back, striking a pose, hands waving dramatically, as if he’d handed over the very secrets of his clan. “Ta-da! You can look now.”

Sheik opened his eyes, brow furrowed, head tilted. Calculating. He looked down at the items in his arms and at his feet, just blinking. He slowly looked up, his silence speaking for him. Kohga was sure he understood it.

“You are officially free to go!” he declared, before quickly adding clarification. “Not that you needed official permission, of course. Just thought I should say it anyway, in case you somehow didn’t know.”

Sheik stared, his one visible eye wide with shock. He did not move, holding the harp and set of knives in his arms as if they were precious artifacts, and a single wrong move could have them crumbling to dust. Or they would be snatched away, a cruel prank, teasing him with his freedom and instead offering only death and betrayal. His bag, armor and equipment all accounted for, Kohga made sure of that, sat heavily on the ground, waiting for its owner.

Kohga stared back, expression unknown behind the inverted eye painted on his wooden mask. His stance confident, even cocky. Arms outstretched as if presenting a great gift dedicated to the goddesses, proud and expecting.

Sheik was free to go. He always was, really. But handing over the things Kohga had kept from him just sealed the deal. He could leave, Kohga would let him.

Kohga was certain Sheik would stay.

Sheik turned and ran.

Little more than a blonde blur, the man was leaping, no, launching himself over the walled barrier that surrounded the Yiga encampment, dropping out of sight. A plucking of strings, three notes repeated twice, and a half dozen tiny orbs of light sped off upwards into the darkness, out of sight within seconds. The archer at the wall was looking between the vanished lights and down at the ground outside the camp.

There was no trace of Sheik, his boot prints in the dust ended where he had landed. There was nothing left.

Master Kohga, leader of the Yiga Clan, so confident of his certainty. So sure that the lithe, blonde warrior with the vibrant scarlet eyes would stay, he’d returned all his things, and told him he was free to go, that he always had been, truthfully.

Master Kohga, leader of the Yiga Clan, was left with nothing but an empty space and the howling of the upwards shifting winds, the twisting of the shadows taking up physical space, darkness becoming thicker, disturbing the dust that had settled in the wake of Sheik’s flight.

Chapter Text

“Why can I not come with you both? I have always gone with you before.”

Sheik stood behind her, the rhythmic snipping of the scissors the only sound in the silence that followed. He was fixing the haircut the swordsman had attempted to give her, smoothing out the choppy ends, small cuts feathering out the once blunt ends. Really, who tries cutting hair with a sword?

He would not cut his hair. He prided himself on the long yellow locks, regardless of the fact he had originally only grown it out because Zelda had. He’d hated it at first. Long hair was a pain, it took effort to maintain, and got in his way so much he refused to take it out of his braid when he was working.

He grew to love it. A few alterations and he could sweep his fringe over his eye to hide the tattoos he had. In an emergency, makeup could achieve the same effect, but he preferred not to wear any.

Reserved for royalty, even nobility a hundred years ago. And despite all he had done, all the times he had taken Zelda’s place so she could go exploring, the promises of leading the Hyrulean army when she took the throne, to possibly help rule and advise. Despite the fact they were as close as any blood siblings, the fact he was her guide, her invisible guardian in the castle.

They’d shared a room growing up, he’d even had his own right next to hers as they aged, the balconies connecting to one; their own private shared space, decorated with furniture so they could just sit and talk.

He did not mind that he was forced to keep his hair long, or exactly the same as whatever length Zelda decided she wanted. She liked matching with him, he could not say no. Not under the King’s watchful eye. A small price to pay for having a friend, a confidant, for life. He kept his hair long, making such minor alterations no one would care to notice. Zelda helped him with that. Helped him keep some semblance of his individuality. He loved her for that.

Despite that he may as well have been Zelda’s brother, a prince in all but name and renown, afforded luxuries most Sheikah would never know, her very twin by the will of the Goddess.

Royalty, he was not.

He kept cutting, scissors snipping away golden strands piece by beautiful piece, a halo of loose, shining gold lining the legs of her chair.

“I just think it would be better for you not to come. We don’t know what’s down there, and if something happens to us, you will at least be left to restore Hyrule.” Zelda said, hands clasped politely in her lap. A habit she’d never get rid of, along with the constant fidgeting, tendency to wander off in search of new discoveries, and trying to get the people closest to her to lick frogs.

He was never going to let her forget that one.

“You mean make me assume your identity and rule in your place. Because Hylia knows the people would never knowingly allow the Sheikah to rule.” he said. Her hair was going to be fairly short, he knew. But it would look good on her. She had gone through so much, she deserved to have something nice for once.

Zelda sighed, tilting her head back to look at him. He was forced to stop cutting, for fear of ruining the haircut. She didn’t deserve that. “Sheik, no. You’re my brother, the people of Hyrule love you. They would accept you as their king if something happened to me, I’m sure.”

“Zelda.” he put emphasis on her name, mimicking her tone for just a moment as he gently guided her head to look forward again. “You remember how we had to dig up those Divine Beasts. Then how everything fell because of the Guardians, all of which were Sheikah tech. How many died because of our technology? The kingdom is not a welcome place for my people.”

“But that was a hundred years ago!” she protested. “People will remember how they defeated the Calamity just five years ago. And that the Sheikah Tribe made it possible. The people of Hyrule will remember the good things.”

Sheik shook his head, resuming the constant snipping of his sister’s hair. “Zelda. I do not plan on ruling in your stead. Whatever is down there, you will come back alright. You have your swordsman at your side, and the blade he wields will protect you like nothing else in the realm. And I will be there too, because I have always gone with you. I do not understand why you do not want me there this time. You have yet to give me a reason.”

“Sheik. I don’t want you to come.”

If Zelda noticed the slip of his scissors, she didn’t mention it.

Zelda continued. “I know we’ve always shared our discoveries, but I want you to stay behind this time. Please. Just this once.”

Sheik continued to cut. His scissors continued to snip away at the golden locks, shortening already short hair. He finished in silence, running a comb through her hair. He produced a small mirror from a drawer, nothing more than a shard of glass, for her to inspect her new haircut.

She loved it. It was new, freeing. Sheik could evidently see she was finally feeling like herself for the first time in at least a hundred years. Perhaps even longer.

“I’m sorry, but you understand, right? Sheik?” she asked, eyes pleading, apologizing. Did she even remember she had never asked him to go along on those adventures? Always asked him to take her place. Take those lessons, let her go see the world, discover the secrets of his own people’s tech, and come back happy and excited while he had to summarize and teach her what he had learned for her that day? When he had his own training to deal with?

Royalty, he would never be.

“Of course, Princess.”

Sheik stood in front of the mirror, the only sound in the quiet was the sharp snipping of scissors. He was trimming the ends of his hair, snipping off the split ends that had grown from his time in the depths of the underground.

It was barely less than an inch of hair lost, even less for his fringe, but it still hurt. Long hair required the occasional trimming to keep it healthy, and while he knew that and would go to any lengths to keep his hair nice, trimming any of it felt almost painful. It brought back memories he did not wish to remember, at least not while he was concentrating on keeping his haircut even.

It was much harder to do on himself, but he trusted no other to do it. He barely trusted himself to get the job done.

His stealth suit lay on a line outside, hung out to dry after a thorough wash. The reds, grey blues, and beiges of Kakariko Village's more traditional attire was all he had left to wear, and wear he did. He was glad to be home, to see the sun shining instead of the eternal night.

He pinched rough hair ends between his fingers, holding them straight down and snipping them off delicately. That had been the last section. He combed through it all, shaking out the waterfall of pale yellow.

It was paler than it used to be, a hundred years of wandering in the sun fading it closer to the white of the rest of the village. It would always be blonde, but perhaps one day it would be pale enough to pass as white before he died. Most likely not, but there was always hope.

He looked okay in the mirror, his reflection in the highly polished metal showing him he was at least decent enough to be seen wandering the village. He looked tired at most, not like he had just escaped the clutches of death.

Not like he had just fled from the man who had been kind enough to return his things before he had to resort to stealing them back.

Not quite like the princess anymore.

He threw a blanket over the metal, fixing his mask back on over his nose. His hair was brushed and braided in his usual style, daggers stashed in hidden pockets just in case, and he left his home.

Kakariko had changed much since he’d been gone. The collection of ring shaped ruins dotting the mountains around the town were the most striking. He’d been blown away by the discovery, the destruction they’d caused, raining from the sky.

With the arrival of the ruins, came the travelers wishing to see them. The fact outsiders were freely allowed in now was just as shocking, his village had always been a secluded one.

The changes had been jarring. Sheik had hidden in the safety of his home, thankfully untouched by the falling debris, and watched from the shadows for a good while before finally venturing out. To figure out what was going on.

Paya was the first one he spoke to. He had spooked her, showing up so suddenly in her home. Impa had been who he was looking for originally, but she was nowhere to be seen. So, he sat to speak with his niece (really his great niece, but no one truly cared for the details) instead. They spoke for a very long time, only pausing the conversation to eat.

Sheik had barely noticed the sun setting. His niece had, and had walked with him back to his home, the conversation continuing for a few minutes more. Sheik had just too many thoughts for one mind. It helped to speak them aloud, even if they were both usually quiet and reserved individuals. It was nice to see his niece again, after however long he’d spent underground.

He’d told her of his fall, of waking up and healing in a spring far below the surface, shrouded in darkness and gloom. Of his tale, he omitted a few minor details, ones that would surely frighten the much younger woman, should she hear of everything all at once.

Minor details included such things as the Yiga Clan, and the very strange form of questioning their leader had put him through. And the return of his things, willingly ‘allowing’ Sheik to go free.

And the strange, lingering feeling that called to him, drawing his desire to go up, up, up. Into the sky, perhaps even higher than the now present islands floating in the clouds. An ever constant upwards, sometimes directly above, other times off in the distance, but always up.

If Kohga could not understand it, why should he ask another? He loved his niece, knew her well, he’d watched her grow up. But he could not burden her with his questions. He could not burden her with the sudden, yawning void that had once been drawing him under Hyrule Castle, then disappearing completely.

He was left only with up.

No, he could not burden her with that. Not with the horror knowing she was gone. Or not, he couldn’t truly know anymore. His senses were fried, the sudden disappearance left him mistrustful of it.

He shoved it all deep, deep down, throwing a metaphorical lock on it all and swallowing the key. He would not touch those thoughts save for late at night, staring up at the stars, wondering if he saw one of them move, just a tad, and wondering if that one was Zelda.

It all led to where he was now, walking the paths of the village, pausing just a moment to take in the ruins. He was meeting with Paya again today, they’d planned it specifically around her studies and the investigations of the ruins.

She was waiting for him, poring over endless sheets of paper, notes scattered over the desks haphazardly. Sheik slowly peered over her shoulder, taking in the unfamiliar writings and much more familiar translations. Was she trying to translate something?

“Paya.”

The woman squeaked, papers sent fluttering through the air as she whipped around. “Uncle!” she scolded.

He managed a small smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Apologies.” was all he said.

She sighed, taking a few deep breaths to calm her heart. She clasped her hands as if praying, probably for his downfall in the light of his latest accidental scare. “You are forgiven. I didn’t realize you were there. I.... I just thought I’d get a little studying done before you came. I’m sorry if you were waiting long.”

“Do not be sorry, I only just arrived.”

“Oh, well then. Good? I mean, good that you weren’t waiting! I mean.... nevermind. You’re here now. It’s good to see you again.” she said. She led him over to a table, dishes piled high with food covering the surface. Two teacups sat among the plates, steam rising from the hot liquid inside.

Sheik was grateful for the variety, sitting with her at the table. He was quite frankly, tired of goddess forsaken bananas.

He pulled down his mask to speak, letting the cloth rest bunched up around his neck. “You saw me just a few days ago.”

“I’m always happy to see you! You’re gone so much, I hardly get to see you. It’s always nice to catch up, you know?” Paya said, holding out a bowl to him. He took it, and they both began portioning out food for themselves from what was on the table.

“It is.” he agreed. “With hope, I should be around more. I do not plan on dramatically falling into the dark underbelly of the earth again.”

She smiled, taking a small bite of fish. “I’d hope so. It was scary, hearing about how badly you got hurt down there. You were so fortunate to survive that.”

“Fortunate indeed. I was lucky enough to have found a spring to rest in.”

Paya nodded. “Speaking of, how did you find that spring anyway? You never really talked about that part. You sort of breezed past it actually.”

Sheik chewed thoughtfully on a chunk of pumpkin, head tilting. How to phrase it without mentioning exactly who had helped him. It would not hurt to mention he was helped, right? Paya was not a child anymore, it was okay.

He swallowed before speaking. “I was brought there. You recall how I mentioned I fell? I.... was found by someone in the dark, and brought to the spring. I do not actually recall much of it. I may have been unconscious.”

“You were unconscious!?”

Whoops.

Sheik held back the urge to flinch, taking another bite of food to prolong the silence. “Oh. I must have forgotten to tell you that. My apologies. I was a bit frazzled when I returned.”

“That’s fine, please don’t apologize! But tell me about your rescuer! I have to know who to thank for saving my favorite uncle if they ever stop by.” she insisted.

Hylia strike him down.

“I am your only uncle.” he said instead. Paya gave him a smile in return.

“Which of course makes you my favorite. Now tell me, before I have to find out on my own! Please?”

Sheik let a chuckle escape. He knew she meant good on her threat, she always did. He finished a few bites of rice before beginning.

“Well. I did not actually see their face.” he said. “It was pitch black down there, except for maybe a few odd flowers and a torch to cast any light. I never ended up seeing much of anything of them, really. Maybe the odd detail here and there.”

“Oh. That’s a bit disappointing. I was hoping for a bit that you were going to have a handsome rescuer, like something from the old legends.” his niece muttered, sipping her drink. He took a sip of his own, considering the dark, slightly sweet contents. The tea tasted no different than usual, but he found himself studying it nonetheless.

“He had a nice voice, I suppose.” he admitted slowly, gently swirling the cup of tea. “He was kind of tall. Big and imposing. And I think he had dark hair. It was difficult to tell.”

He didn’t register the quiet for a bit, studying the inside of his cup as if it was the most interesting thing in the world. He was telling the truth, technically. What Paya didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her, and he absolutely could not just tell her exactly who had saved his life. The poor girl would simply pass away. He took a sip of his tea.

Wait a minute.

“Uncle.”

Sheik looked up. How long had Paya been staring at him like that? Her stare was unusually flat. Almost piercing. He was reminded of Impa, all of a sudden. “Yes?”

“You were smiling.” she said.

Where was she going with this? He blinked at her. “Was I? I did not realize.”

“Uncle. You never smile. You barely smile around me, Grandmother, and Aunt Purah. And just now, you smiled.” she whispered, leaning over the table. She was wide eyed now, and smiling. Sheik couldn’t tell if it was a happy one or she was just shocked. “You smiled, talking about the he who saved you.”

He had said ‘he’, hadn’t he? Well, that was unintentional, but he could let it slide. It didn’t hurt. She would never find out who had saved him, he was sure. “I do not see what is so significant about that.”

Paya sighed, sitting back down. She shoveled food into her mouth, chewing, then swallowing before speaking. “It is! I know I’m not experienced in these kinds of things, but Grandmother once helped me understand something I think is similar. And she would agree!”

“Would she though?”

“I’ve already told you the symptoms. Uncle,” his niece pointed at him with a piece of fish, the meat practically taunting him. “You have a crush! At least, I think so.”

Sheik’s hand had frozen halfway to his mouth, the carrot and pumpkin chunks on his spoon threatening to fall back into his bowl. It was the most absurd accusation he had ever heard in his very long life. And yet, it could explain so many things, should it be even the slightest bit true.

Sheik would not deny he had been thinking about his fall, and his time spent recovering in the Depths. A lot. And while a lot of it had been spent sleeping and floating in water, another big portion of it had been spent being interrogated.

In conversations that slowly ceased to feel like interrogations. And slowly felt like talking with someone who had cared about him. Him, not his role as Zelda’s shadow. Her backup. Her servant. Him.

Sheik couldn’t deny that the thought had made him feel indescribably happy. The thought that he wasn’t just an extra body, just someone meant to take Zelda’s place should the worst happen, solely because he resembled her more than anyone else in the kingdom, was so incredibly appealing.

That someone might just consider him a person, an individual, separate from the princess. That they weren’t just a pair, weren’t just twins without being twins. It had made him want to cry on more than one occasion.

But no, it couldn’t be a crush. He was just grateful, that was all. Eternally grateful.

“I do not think so. I am simply grateful he saved my life, that is all.” he said, spooning the pumpkin and carrots into his mouth before they could fall.

Paya all but dropped her head on the table, her heavy sigh and slumped shoulders radiating suffering and disappointment. “But I was so sure. You looked very happy for a minute before I mentioned it. It’s possible you could run into him again. Will you not even consider it?”

Sheik reached across the table to pat her head. “Alright. I will consider it. I will not say it is true, but I will consider the possibility. If that makes you feel any better.”

He received a small nod, the woman smiling just slightly. “A little. And I’m sorry, I got a little too excited. I just want you to be happy, uncle. It’s nice to see you smile for someone that isn’t family.”

He offered a smile in return, giving one final pat to her head before sitting back. “You are forgiven. Why don’t we talk about something else? How are those studies of yours going?”

True to his word, he considered the possibility. And in truth, he himself did not see it. The possibility was there, he didn’t deny it. He just simply didn’t see it. He was grateful, that was all. He was sure of that.

He and Paya parted ways soon after they finished eating, Sheik staying long enough to help clean up after their lunch. He lingered outside, wandering the village paths for a while longer, only returning to his home on East Hill once the sun had started to set. 

He did not yet enter the house, instead idly wandering the area surrounding it.

He’d had a garden once, maybe a hundred years ago. The flowers were no longer there, his long travels and far too frequent stays at the castle left them neglected, eaten by the wildlife that wandered the surrounding forest. He could start it up again, maybe actually take care of it this time.

The small wooden bridge over the sunken pond in front of his house needed upkeep as well, perhaps replacing entirely. He did not find the idea of falling into the water one morning while crossing it particularly fun. He did not have the resources, nor time, nor skill to do it, however. He’d have to ask for help.

He could probably do without the bridge. It was no big deal if it broke under him.

He wandered around to the back, sidestepping the small stones and rubble cluttering his path. Really, it was a miracle nothing had destroyed his home. He faintly recalled having a platform in his backyard, and later a shrine. Something to do with Link, he’d assumed. It hadn’t been there before Link had woken up, and it had suddenly appeared after an important heirloom had been stolen. He’d never gotten the full story, but it was always safe to assume Zelda’s beloved swordsman was involved somehow.

It wasn’t there anymore. The land looked as though it never had to begin with. How odd. Where could an entire shrine have gone? Sheik didn’t pay it much mind, but it certainly felt more empty without it there.

And hadn’t there been a fairy fountain nearby as well? Where had she moved to? The emptiness felt cold. Too much had changed, like the world— no, his very home— had moved on without him.

The sun had set, night settling over the village like a blanket. As much as he hated the darkness of the depths, something about the dark of the night was calming. Especially in Kakariko. Sheik walked slowly through the trees, settling beneath one to just watch.

The forest became alive. Little motes of vibrant, green light blinked through the trees and foliage. Mushrooms and bell shaped flowers bloomed with a shocking blue glow, the dancing colors a bright pop against the deep green of the woods. Far off, he could perhaps see a few deer settling down to sleep, hidden in the bushes away from the world, wrapped in warmth and safety.

To his far left, the chasm gaped open, gloom spilling out into the once beautiful and vibrant landscape like a sickly, open wound in the earth. No wildlife dared go near the ominous purple sludge, glowing with a red aura meant to siphon the very lifeforce of the creatures it touched.

A pity it had to open so close to his home, to the only place he’d ever felt truly safe. The only upside was that people could see it easily, there was no fear of accidentally falling in. His people avoided, and he wished he could too. 

Too bad his house had to be the closest one to it. Just his luck.

The atmosphere changed. There was an upward draft, the wind picking up dust and blowing it all gently skyward. It was nothing new, it had happened for as long as he could remember. He looked up. There was nothing to see. Perhaps at most a faint, wobbly and vaguely serpentine shape in the air. He’d been able to see something when he was younger, but his memories of it had long since faded. His sister had once joked about him seeing mythical dragons, though he was sure they hadn’t looked like the things he’d seen.

He watched it descend into the chasm, disappearing after a few minutes, taking the wind with it. That part was certainly new, he’d never gotten so close before. He stayed sitting for several minutes longer, then slowly stood. He stretched, something deep in his spine popping loudly. He was really starting to feel old now, his actual age steadily beginning to creep up on him after a hundred years of stagnation. He turned to head back home.

The wind picked back up again, the night growing darker. As if the shadows had grown more solid, taking up physical space. Sheik turned.

And saw a dragon.

Horns like branching antlers, a flowing mane of white gold nearly half the length of its body. It ascended into the sky, scales as dark as the night it blended in with, the occasional white scale dotting its length like stars. The spikes along its back glowed an eerie violet, drawing Sheik’s eyes even as it floated up, up, and up. Ever higher into the sky, above the clouds, off into the distance, curling and twisting between skybourne islands until he could no longer see it, taking with it whatever magic made the shadows twist and take up space.

Sheik stayed standing there, staring off into the heavens long after the dragon had disappeared. For a brief moment, he felt drawn in the same direction, pulled towards the southern horizon. It didn’t last, that pull slowly shifting its draw on him in another direction. It rather felt like being circled, in a strange way.

He went inside, shutting the door. Instead of sleeping, he spent his time committing the sight to memory. It kept him awake. It felt familiar, he couldn’t even begin to discover why. He’d never seen something like that before, not even once. He certainly would have remembered.

He slept fitfully that night, his few dreams haunted by strange apparition.

Chapter Text

Paya was not woken by the knocking on her door, the rhythmic, six note tapping a familiar sound from her life. Her favorite, and only, uncle. No one else knocked like that.

She was confused, setting down her quill and rising to her feet. They had just met the day before, it seemed oddly soon for him to be calling on her again. She knew he had a habit of disappearing for days at a time, gone on mysterious adventures he’d occasionally tell her of when he returned. But barely a day between seeing one another again? That was honestly a surprise, a rarity even. She was quick to open the door, afraid he would simply vanish again if she took too long.

“Uncle? What is— oh.... are you alright?”

Sheik looked awful, even with his face as covered as it was. His one visible eye had dark circles underneath, his hair lackluster, shoulders heavy and slumped. “I am fine. I just did not sleep well. May we talk?”

She blinked, opening the door wider to allow him inside. “Yes, yes, of course. Come in, please!”

She followed him back into the house after closing the door, fretting over how tired he looked. Offering tea, not accepting his “no thank you”s and pressing a cup into his hands anyway. She made him sit, taking a seat beside him, her own cup of tea in her hands. It was their little ritual, they always had tea together when they talked. Though these days it was her making it instead, rather than the other way around that it had used to be when she was young.

She waited for him to speak, sipping her drink in the lingering quiet. Her uncle would speak eventually, she just had to be patient.

“Have you ever seen a dragon, Paya?”

She almost choked on her tea, slowly setting her cup down. Drowning in sweet leaf juice was not on her list of things to do that day. She cleared her throat. “I.... I think so. Maybe.”

Sheik nodded, staring at the contents in his cup. He hadn’t drank any yet, it was still as full as it had been when she poured it. He must’ve been really deep in thought this time.

“I saw one too. Last night.” he said.

She slowly turned to face him, wide eyed and silent. Her shock could’ve been cut with a spoon made of leaves; it was so all encompassing. She couldn’t help it, she had to ask. “What did it look like?”

“It was a very dark blue, I think. With pale specks, and I think a white mane. Or at least close enough. It came out of the chasm, and flew off into the sky somewhere.”

Paya nodded, tapping her cup as she thought. She could’ve sworn she’d seen something similar, at least she thought. It had been a while ago, when the chasm first appeared. She’d been very tired, she almost considered she had dreamed the whole thing.

But if Sheik had seen it too, then maybe it hadn’t been a dream.

“I think I saw it too. After the Ring Ruins fell. I thought it was a dream.” she admitted. Her uncle nodded, finally lifting his cup to drink from it. Replacing the mask back over his mouth when he was done.

“Well, it is good to know I’m not the only one. Thank you, Paya. That was all I needed.”

She smiled a little, leaning up to press her forehead to his. Had his tattoos been on his forehead instead of around his eye, they would’ve nearly matched. She smiled more when Sheik returned the affection, humming happily.

He pulled away first, giving her forehead one final tap with his own. He set aside his now empty cup, rising to his feet. “Thank you again. I apologize for disturbing you.”

“It’s alright, I wasn’t too busy. Come visit again soon! My door is always open.” she insisted, waving goodbye.

Sheik returned the wave, disappearing out the door just as quickly as he’d arrived. She wasn’t sure when she’d actually see him again, but that was fine. As long as he came back. She didn’t want to lose any of her family.

She’d stop by the statues to pray for his safe return. Both the frog and the Goddess statue to be extra sure. She didn’t know if the Goddess could hear her prayers, but it never hurt to try.

—————————  Ⓐ ⮟ ⮝ Ⓐ ⮟ ⮝ —————————

Sheik could not go back to bed.

He spent the time in the early morning he could have been sleeping tending to the remains of the garden instead. Not that there was much to the remains, it was mostly grass and weeds now, nothing worth calling a garden in any capacity.

Armed with seeds given to him by a Hylian researcher, he carefully selected the sunniest spots in his backyard for them to grow. The ground was hard to dig into after a century of disuse, even with the proper tools. Not that he had many. Tending the garden had been more of a forced hobby to begin with, a way to be left alone to his own devices. An excuse to say he was busy when it was impolite to just simply say no.

Of course, he’d neglected to learn how to use the tools properly, choosing instead the most stubbornly slow manner of hardening known to Hyrule. No one would know, with his home being so secluded in comparison to the rest of the village. But it was how he liked it. He could be at peace here, where no one could see his face should he decide to go without his mask. And that’s exactly how he was now.

Though he was certainly starting to wish he’d learned how to garden properly, now that he was trying to be of some practical use to his village. It would be embarrassing to go asking for help now, after a hundred years of supposed gardening.

He would deal with it.

A hole was dug, dirt displaced just beside the earthy cavity. A seed was placed, more like thrown, really, and the displaced soil scraped back on top. He repeated the process for each seed he had been given, and for every other seed he planned on planting. Just flowers for now, he didn’t think he could keep any sort of crop alive with the way he bounced around the kingdom. The one’s he’d picked didn’t need that much attention, just to be watered occasionally and plenty of sunlight. They’d last year round, so he prayed he would never have to plant any ever again.

He discarded his tools, leaving them by the back porch, and snagged the old, rusted watering can on his way. Thoroughly worn out by lack of sleep, skipping breakfast, and being bent over in the hot sun until past lunchtime, he did not notice he was no longer quite as alone as he thought.

He knelt at the sunken pond, tossing the watering can in, only a rope to pull it back up once it had filled. He balanced on the edge, perfectly perched despite the tiredness weighing down his shoulders. The quiet rippling of water filled the air, chirping birds having suddenly grown silent.

A flash of reflected sunlight, cold steel pressed to his throat, every muscle in his body tensing. He did not so much as flinch, only the barest twitch of his ear in the direction of his surprise attacker gave away his startlement. He remained perfectly still, fingers clenched around the rope.

“So. He planned to have me killed after all.” he said simply. He should have known, should have expected it. It was the Yiga Clan he’d been dealing with after all, he should have known better than to trust any of them. They were all lying, cowardly traitors.

Still, he couldn’t help but feel hurt. An unfamiliar tightening in his throat, a burning behind his eyes. It was difficult to swallow.

Why?

“No.” a woman’s voice hissed in his ear. “I just really, really wanted to make you pay.”

He thought he almost recognized the voice. The seething guard who seemed to hate his very existence, perhaps? It was the only one he could think of, he had not met many of the Yiga Clan during his time underground. Not many that he could pick out their voice, anyway.

“Pay for what? I do not believe I did anything to personally offend you or your clan.” he said. He was suddenly grateful for the natural flat monotone in his voice, he would never be able to sound calm otherwise.

The blade at his throat faltered, then pressed harder into his flesh. It had not yet broken skin, a miracle in and of itself. “You know what!”

“Do I?”

“Yes!” Sheik realized his mistake too late, the smallest drop of blood trickling down his neck. He had to stand, slowly, backing away from the metal that followed him. But it let him see the face of his attacker. A Hylian woman with fierce eyes and even fiercer expression, seemingly permanently twisted in rage.

“You were an insolent, disobedient,” she fumbled for words in her anger. “Awful! Idiotic! Disrespectful! Prisoner!”

With each word they got a little farther from the pond, Sheik was backed up a little further, the woman was a little more enraged. While Sheik never quite learned her name, he had no doubts about her identity. The Yiga member who had definitely hated him, he was certain.

“With all due respect.” and Sheik very much valued his life, so he would not say how much respect he felt was due (none). “I do not see how I was any of those things. Your master seemed fairly.... unconcerned with that.”

The woman very nearly stabbed him right then and there, the point of the blade pricking his skin just enough to leave a scratch. “You...! You were just lucky! If he hadn’t been so infuriatingly gentle with your dumb blonde self, you would’ve been killed day one!”

“Now wait a minute—”

“But no! We had orders not to harm you! We had orders to keep you alive! And you were so awful that you took up all of our Master’s attention! When he could’ve been doing more important things!”

“I- wait—”

“—And then you just flee!? What kind of coward are you that you run from our Master?? You should have died where you stood! But nooo! The Master had to be gentle with you, the Master had to let you get away with everything, and you aren’t even grateful!”

Oh so carefully, Sheik nudged the knife aside with two fingers, just far enough he wasn’t in danger of having his throat punctured. “On the contrary. I am very grateful for having my life both saved and spared. However,”

He did not miss the way she pushed the blade against his fingers, moving it straight back to his neck with the speed and fury of a thousand suns. “It may just be my limited perspective on things, but I do not see how he was gentle with me. I was just a prisoner?”

For a moment, Sheik thought she would simply stab him right then and there. He did not have high hopes he would survive, but if he was careful enough, or perhaps lucky, he might make it out of this with his neck intact. Whether or not he’d be able to speak afterwards was another story.

Then the woman sighed, the sound halfway to a frustrated snarl, gripping the handle of her weapon so tightly her knuckles were white. “Of course you don’t know. You weren’t lucky enough to be born into our clan. You haven’t known our Master since birth.”

“You are correct.” he said. “Would you perhaps be inclined to explain? Before you decide to carve out my throat, that is? I at least want to know why you are so upset with me before I am brutally murdered in my own yard.”

She blinked, face scrunched in a sort of angry bafflement. It was gone in an instant, that twitchy, angry expression taking over once again. “Fine. But then you die.”

He inclined his head just so, remaining silent. He was not willing to risk upsetting her further with more words. He very much wanted to live still. Or at the very least, not die at the hands of someone who hated him.

Blade still pointed at his throat, she began to speak. “Our glorious leader doesn’t tolerate prisoners doing as they please. He doesn’t let them sit on tables, he absolutely does not help them stand up and lead them away.”

“He’s not lenient, and he certainly doesn’t just give prisoners their stuff back and let them go! Half the time, he barely bothers to do the interrogating himself, or even to give the prisoners fresh clothes to wear! That’s someone else’s job!”

Sheik tried to nudge the blade away again. “Well, I certainly see your point. My situation does sound quite unusual in comparison.”

“Exactly! He was gentle, and it was strange, and I do not like how disrespectful you were to my great leader! And when you left he started acting funny! You could have poisoned our Master for all I know!”

Any closer and the knife would have been rammed through his windpipe with how the woman was brandishing it at him in her anger. He pinched the cold metal between careful fingers, guiding it away from his neck. A small trickle of blood ran along the razor thin edge, a single drop falling to the grass. He pulled at his clothes, humming at the startlingly small amount of blood staining the dark fabric. He thought he’d be seeing more than he was. He’d still have to wash it.

“I did not mean any disrespect. He allowed me to do those things, I assumed it was alright. I simply wanted to stay alive.” he said. “I can assure you, I did not poison anyone, let alone him. But for the sake of understanding, define ‘acting funny’ for me.”

“He grumbles, picks at his food, and a bunch of other things! He’s not his usual self! I know you did something! You had to have done something!” she insisted. She could not move the blade back to his throat, held in place as it was. She was an archer, not nearly as skilled with daggers as Sheik was. Unfortunately, the inverse was also true for him. His only saving grace was that she seemed to have wanted to get up close and personal to finish him off.

“I swear by the Goddess, I did nothing. It sounds more like he is simply moping. Moping will not last forever.”

“Aha! So you know what’s wrong! That sounds like you’ve done something!”

“I did not.”

“Tell that to—”

A twig snapped somewhere in the forest partially surrounding his home, a loud, menacing crack. Sheik’s fingers half closed around the dagger hidden in his clothes, the woman’s rage directed at whatever was enough to cause the sound echoing among the trees. A voice spoke, one he thought he might recognize. The woman certainly did, her anger diffused by something that seemed like startled shame.

“Asli.”

She stood still, blade still poised but no longer trying to force it back and through his throat. Sheik chanced a glance to see what she was looking at. He didn’t know whether to be grateful or even more wary.

A blademaster stood amongst the trees, blade sheathed and arms crossed. An odd effect surrounded him, almost like a mirage. His form wavered faintly, the same way a distant landmark in the desert might, affected by heat and the burning sun. The woman, Asli he now knew, did not comment on it, so he decided he wouldn't either.

“Sir. I didn’t expect to see you.”

The blademaster seemed unimpressed, more an instructor scolding a student than anything malicious. “You left without a word. Of course I came to find you.”

“Well, yes, about that—”

“Why are you threatening him? I recall Master Kohga let him go.” he said. He cut Asli off again before she could speak. “Leave him be.”

She groaned, stomping away from the Sheikah, her knife stabbing at thin air angrily. Sheik could breathe fully again, no longer at risk of being cut open and his innards becoming his outtards. Hopefully.

Fingers brushing lightly over his throat and coming away only faintly bloody helped him assess the damage, though he’d certainly be inspecting it in the mirror when he got the chance. He wasn’t dying, thankfully.

“You are not here to kill me, then?” he asked, not looking at either clan member.

“No. I don’t think Master Kohga wants you dead, Sheik.”

He nodded. He knew who he was talking to now. In retrospect, it should’ve been obvious. But he was tired, he’d barely slept, and he’d been digging holes all morning. He was not in the best of shape to be thinking coherently.

“You sound so certain, Lotus.” he said, pressing his fingers a little more firmly to his throat to discourage the bleeding. He wandered back to the pond, kneeling to fish out the rope he’d long since dropped and get his watering can. He was too tired for this shit. And doing something mundane helped keep him calm.

“I have my reasons. But I’d stake my life on it. Master Kohga does not simply let someone go.”

Sheik paused at that, rusted watering can dripping wet in his hands. He stood back up, heading back towards the remains of his garden. Closer to his home, and closer to an escape and safety should he need it.

“So it would seem.” he hummed. He focused on watering the seeds he planted, breathing deliberately slow, dragging his thoughts into some form of calm, speakable coherency. “Would you happen to know why?”

“....Perhaps he valued your individual presence in some way.”

Sheik stopped watering.

“It’s only a guess. No one really knows what Master Kohga thinks, I could be wrong.” Lotus inclined his head as a sort of apology for the near murder, taking the still stabbing at thin air Asli and whisking her away in a cloud of smoke and talismans.

Sheik did not resume watering for several long minutes, dazed and probably slowly drowning the seeds he’d spent so much time and pain planting.

‘Perhaps he valued your individual presence.’

Sheik would not deny those words were bouncing around in his head, context be damned. They caused an odd feeling he could not quite describe. Light, fluttery, even warm. He couldn’t be sick, he knew what being sick felt like. No, this was something else entirely.

He rather liked the feeling.

Chapter Text

The next time Paya saw her uncle again, it was a couple days later and he was lounging under a tree, the one nearest to the Goddess statue. He was plucking the strings of his harp almost idly, no true rhythm to the strumming from what she could tell. He was deep in thought, unresponsive to her approach. But he looked much better than the last time she’d seen him, more energetic, more lively.

She swore she could almost see a smile crossing his face, as hidden as it was. The telltale crinkling of the corner of his eye, the smallest change in the tilt of his brow. A real, genuine smile, however tiny and brief it was.

She found herself smiling.

“Good morning, uncle.” she sat beside him, legs tucked up under her, hands resting in her lap. “You’re happy this morning.”

“Hmm? Am I?” he asked, eyes remaining shut. He didn’t stop in his strumming, plucking the strings without thought, weaving an unfamiliar and aimless melody in the air. 

“Content then, at the very least. It’s nice to see you playing the harp again.” she smiled.

“Are you going to beg me to play something fun so you can dance around again? Pretending you are a child of the forest again?” he asked. Finally cracking open an eye to look at her.

Paya hid her face, the flush rising to her cheeks a beacon against the backdrop of her pale hair. “Stop it. I was so young! You can’t tease me like this!”

One of his rare chuckles escaped. “I just did. And you are still young.”

She shushed him, waving a hand at him as she tried to control the blush, willing it to go away. It didn’t work, but she could pretend it did. “I didn’t bother you by coming over to talk, did I?”

Sheik shook his head, putting the harp down for the moment. “No. I was just thinking, that is all. Nothing of note.”

“Thinking about what?” she asked.

The silence after the question told her she would not like the answer very much. And she did not, it worried her greatly, actually. “About leaving the village again.”

She frowned. “So soon? You only just go back, it feels like.”

“I know. But I promise to return, as I always do. There are simply things I must do. With Zelda missing, it falls to me to help Link once more. As it did five years ago when he finally awoke.”

Paya nodded, looking down at her lap, hands clasped. She did not look up for a while, instead only slowly turning her gaze towards the musician, head still bowed.

“I will ask the Goddess to watch over you, and make sure you stay safe.” she said finally. Her hat suddenly felt too heavy for her. She wished her grandmother would return and take it back. Even if the wish lasted only a moment.

Sheik nodded instead of giving any verbal response, lifting the harp to pluck at the strings, filling the silence with lilting music.

They stayed like that for a while, Sheik playing his harp and Paya sitting in silence with him under the tree. Admitting he was leaving was rare, but it meant he’d be leaving that day. It felt too soon. She didn’t want to be by herself again so quickly.

“Will you play the harp for me tonight? At least until I fall asleep?” she asked, barely above a whisper.

“Of course. Anything specific you wish to hear me play?”

“....Can you play that lullaby? The one you used to play when I was young?”

“Of course.”

—————————  ⮜ ⮝ ⮞  ⮜ ⮝ ⮞  —————————

Master Kohga hadn’t been to the spring in a while. No one had needed it since their very unlucky blonde had fallen down to them. And with him gone, there was no real reason to visit the place yet.

Kohga just felt like going.

The spring was silent, save for the creaking of the wooden stairs he’d had his people add to the broken stone path down. The water was still, flat, unbroken by ripples or waves. The pulley system had gone unused since Sheik’s recovery, net hanging from the wooden supports over the stone, ready and waiting for the next patient lingering on the razor thin line between life and death.

He sat on the stone, legs crossed, elbows propped on knees so he could rest his chin in his hands comfortably. He stared out over the steaming waters, taking in the near absolute silence. He watched the light from glowing plants bloom out over the sunken spring, reflecting off the still water, glinting beautifully despite the overwhelming darkness. The only warmth came from the spring, the fire usually crackling beneath the stone cooking pot had long been put out, coals cold and lifeless.

The stone he sat on was just as cold, seeping into his flesh through his uniform. He didn’t pay it any mind, remaining firmly in place. He didn’t feel like napping, or even having a small snack to pass the time. It didn’t feel worth it. The space next to him felt empty, more than usual. It felt as though someone blonde and much more lean and lithe than himself should be sitting with him, or floating in the water by his knee.

He had not anticipated missing Sheik’s quiet presence so much.

He turned his attention downward, staring at his vague reflection in the water, distorted by steam and bubbles rising from the very bottom of the hot spring. He did not think he’d be seeing the man again, and if he did, it would not be under any good circumstances.

It hurt more than he thought it would. He’d been so sure, so absolutely certain. He played over the scene in his head again, remembering just how quickly Sheik had turned and fled. The motes of light, the flickering torchlight, the changing shadows.

He’d misjudged something, clearly. But what? What had gone wrong? What had he done wrong? What had he missed? What did he still miss? He couldn’t remember how often he’d replayed the scene, over and over, second guessing every detail, no matter how minor, just to try and attempt to figure out the answers to the questions he had.

Maybe the way he’d said it had set Sheik off. Or the way he’d gone about handing over his stuff. He would never know, so it didn’t matter. He couldn’t turn back time to redo it all, to fix it. But he couldn’t help but mull it over anyway. He grumbled, unfolding his legs so he could lean back more comfortably, hands braced against the cold, unfeeling stone.

Thinking so much hurt his head. There was an ugly feeling in his chest, one he couldn’t really identify. It wasn’t anger or hate, he knew what that felt like. His defeat at the hands of Link half a decade ago taught him those feelings very well, on an individual level.

No, this feeling was something different. It felt heavy. Like someone had jabbed him particularly hard in the chest, and left him to bleed out and die alone. But metaphorically. Or something. He did technically have a name for it, but it had been so long since he’d felt it this badly, he barely recognized it.

The last time he’d felt this sort of feeling, someone very close to him had laid down his life to save Kohga. Someone he’d considered a son. He’d never even gotten to say goodbye.

It was the same feeling, thinking over how Sheik had fled. But a bit different, the thought of considering Sheik his son made him about as comfortable as eating a live fish fresh out of the water. Covered in slime. And gloom. And every other nasty substance he couldn’t think of at the moment. Kohga would only ever have one son, and he was long gone. Sheik would’ve simply been a friend. Perhaps a close friend, a very close friend.

Oh, who was he kidding? Moping around in denial was not a good look for a leader, he would have to get over it soon. Sheik was not coming back, he was sure of that.

He sighed, grabbed the edge of the stone platform to push himself up and stood, brushing the dust from his suit. A bit of charcoal had been streaked over the red fabric. Where had that come from?

He looked at his hands, finding the same charcoal smudged over his fingers. He looked around, finding nothing. He retraced his steps, thinking for a moment about everything he had touched since noticing the dark smudges. He checked the ledge, kneeling and twisting uncomfortably to see what he could find. He was not a flexible man, not to the point some people were.

There was a part of a musical score, though it could barely be called that. Etched in charcoal, many renditions mostly or completely smeared away, leaving dark smudges all along the stone just above the water, right where Sheik had usually floated. His touch had smudged a bit of the only legible piece, presumably the final draft. About six notes in total, assuming Kohga hadn’t accidentally erased any, in an unknown key, for an unknown instrument.

He had a feeling he knew, but he couldn’t assume much. Sheik had mentioned composing once, but had never actually shown the process. He left the etchings alone, standing back up.

He was a very busy banana, he had many things to do, plans to see through to the end. But perhaps he’d visit the spring again. Bring something more permanent to write the musical score on, preserve it. Maybe have some musician try and decipher more for him. Just to see what it might sound like.

Chapter Text

Kohga visited the spring again. He brought with him papers, a quill, and something less rough than the cold stone floor of the spring’s platforms to write on. The spring felt far too empty still, since a certain someone had left. But his curiosity could not be sated, he had to know what those notes he found scrawled across stone meant. What they sounded like, at least in some way.

Perhaps it was just a way to hold on. At least if Sheik would not stay, he’d have something that would remind him of the man. He could not, and would not force the blonde to stay. If they were meant to stay enemies, then so be it. He could cope. He would just be upset for a while. He could bounce back.

He would definitely not be upset for the rest of his life, nope. He was not that dramatic. Or attached. Nope, not at all.

He strolled into the spring, familiar wooden steps faithfully carrying him down to the water. It was a path he knew way too well now, both from injured members of his clan and spending so much time there because of a certain Sheikah.

He spread out the papers, sitting way too close to the edge to make it a little easier to see the charcoal markings without twisting too much. He wanted to be as accurate as possible, if only to preserve the memory. They were still there, thank the goddess.

He went to work, putting ink to paper, the scratching of the quill filling the cold, empty silence around him. He went back and forth, leaning over the water to see the etchings, then back over the paper, back and forth. Back and forth. The lines that gave the notes meaning were constantly redone after every mistake or smudging of ink, sheet after sheet of paper filled with mistakes and tossed aside. He was usually not so picky, or so slow about it, but he wanted to make sure it was as perfect as could be. It was the principle of the thing!

At some point, he became aware of a presence in the secret spring. The silence was no longer suffocating, but he distinctly felt watched. He scowled, not in the mood to be interrupted. He looked up, and every word about to spill from his lips at the intrusion died in his throat.

Sheik sat on the opposite side of the spring, legs crossed, elbows propped on knees and chin supported by hands. He was just watching from his spot underneath the giant mushroom tree, blinking at Kohga. His head tilted, long braided hair sliding off his shoulder to hit the ground with a near silent thud. His harp was off to the side, leaning against a root. His knives were strapped to his thighs, sheathed, almost blending into his clothes if it weren’t for the dangerous glint of metal.

He looked every bit the Sheikah warrior, ready to strike at a moment’s notice and slip back into the shadows unseen.

Kohga sensed no danger.

Master Kohga, leader of the Yiga Clan, launched himself into his teleportation, smokey clouds and paper talismans giving away his reappearance across the spring, almost launching himself into Sheik like a ball shot out of a cannon.

Sheik hadn’t moved. Not even when Kohga, in all his shocked, hasty, uncoordinated glory, stopped barely inches from colliding with him. It surely would’ve hurt, behind him was a very sturdy tree he would’ve been slammed into. He at most just went wide eyed, blinking at the man.

Kohga hastily stepped back, brushing off invisible dust, and just generally tried to act like he hadn’t just about body slammed a man half his size. He crossed his arms, cleared his throat. “So. You’ve come back.”

“I have.”

Kohga honestly couldn’t believe it. It seemed like a dream. Or he had finally lost his mind. Neither seemed like a good option. “Why?”

Sheik shrugged. “I needed time to think. In truth, I was not certain you were truly just returning my things to me and ‘officially’ letting me go. And I wanted to spend time at home for a bit. It was.... enlightening.”

Kohga tilted his head, humming quietly. “So.... we’re good? You’re not gonna stab me in the back while I sleep?”

“As long as you do not do the same to me. Are we in mutual agreement to do no stabbing to one another?”

Kohga hummed again, making a show of hemming and hawing over the decision, a real hard one to make, of course. He grinned beneath his mask, putting out a hand. “No stabbing it is.”

Sheik’s own hand fit nicely into his, delicate fingers disguising the man’s startlingly strong grip. They shook on it, Sheik disengaging from the handshake first. He leaned against the tree, stretching out his legs. “So, what were you doing over there? Across the water?”

Kohga had completely forgotten about the ink and paper he’d dropped in his haste to get over to the man. His work was probably ruined, his efforts gone to waste. But maybe it was okay. Sheik was back. And assuming he would be just an occasional visitor, not a permanent companion, he could always just ask.

“Saw some writing on the stone and wanted to copy it down. No idea what it means, but it looked important.” he said, moving to sit next to the blonde, leaning heavily against the tree. Teleporting so fast, without much of a thought, was definitely something he would not do again. A very bad idea in hindsight. There was a distinct burning behind his eyes.

Sheik stared across the water still, squinting a bit more than usual. Like he was looking through an invisible, floating telescope. “Was it music notes?”

“How did you know that?”

“It is the only thing I can think of that would be considered writing. And I wrote it. Recall how I mentioned composing? You presumably saw my process.” he said.

“Lotta scribbling involved in that process of yours.” he said, holding his arms behind his head. What he wouldn’t give to have something softer to lay on down here. “What’s the song?”

“I usually have a harp, so that one was much more messy than usual. I had to guess my way into the music. It has no name, because I haven’t given it one. I only played it once so far.” Sheik said.

Kohga glanced at him. “Huh? Since when?”

“How do you think I got here?”

“Falling?”

Sheik gave him a look like he’d just been asked the most stupid question in his life. Then reconsidered it. “No, not falling. As dramatic as that would be, I have much better methods.”

“And those methods are? Come on, Sheik. Don’t leave me hanging!”

Sheik tilted his head, considering the answer for a long while. What felt like an eternity to Kohga passed, he even thought about repeating the question again. But as always, even if it took a minute, the blonde spoke.

“The song I played. The one you were trying to copy. It brought me here.” he said.

Again with the riddles. Kohga could see the appeal in speaking only in riddles, it seemed almost fun to confuse people. But not when he was on the receiving end of those riddles! “Okaaay? What, you just wrote a magic song that magically teleported you here? Through magic means? With a magic harp or something?”

“Yes and no.”

“Excuse me, that was a rhetorical question!?”

Sheik laughed. 

Sheik.

Laughed.

Kohga could hardly believe it, startled into leaning forward, absolutely bewildered. He’d thought the man beside him had just started choking for a minute, a hand over his mouth to muffle the wheezing laugh bubbling up from his chest. Light and airy, and so high pitched compared to his usual flat monotone. He’d even call it a musical laugh, the sound lilting quietly through the air.

It was over as soon as it came, Sheik composed himself quickly after his bout of giggling. But he seemed lighter somehow. Like he had really needed to laugh for a very long time.

“Let me put it this way. There is music everywhere. In both places and people. I listen to that music. I listen for the notes, and weave them into something coherent. Most of the time, they do nothing. But sometimes, certain arrangements of notes have an effect if I concentrate hard enough. I have to will it into existence.”

“Some, like the one I played to arrive here, take me from one place to another. Others, if played in specific locations, have a very special and specific effect. One will awaken a person, another will put them back to sleep. I am not sure what causes these effects. I think of it less as composing the songs, and more revealing them. Unfortunately, I cannot do much more than warp from place to place, anything else is much too advanced for me to handle. Does that make sense?”

Kohga could not do much more than nod, having settled back against the tree to listen to him talk. It made sense, in a weird, mystical sort of way. Maybe it was ancient Sheikah magic or something. The Sheikah had a way of getting into everything in the kingdom.

“Kinda poetic when you put it that way. But people having songs? That part lost me.” he admitted.

Sheik gave a nod. He picked up his harp, plucking the strings in quick succession. It sounded catchy, like it was bouncing all over the place, full of energy as if preparing for an epic and fun battle, for lack of any better descriptors. He was not a musical guy, but he could appreciate a good song. The little snippet he’d just heard would probably be stuck in his head all day. 

“That one was yours.”

Kohga blinked. What.

“You. Sheik. He who supposedly hears songs.” he pointed at the man, then turned it on himself, incredulous. “Played my song. On the spot. And it sounded like that? ”

“Yes.” Sheik had put down the harp, letting it rest against his side. “Is that so surprising?”

“Yes? Listen, I’m no musician. But that was very, very surprising. I didn’t even know I had a song!” he protested, flailing his arms as if that would emphasize his words.

Sheik calmly leaned down to dodge a particularly wild hand flailed in his direction, narrowly missing being nailed in the forehead. He sat back up. “You do. I have spent enough time around you to pick up your notes. The way you carry yourself, how you voice your thoughts and feelings, it all contributes to your song. And your song is very loud. It commands attention.”

“And now you’re just describing me like I’m a musical number. I think I need a nap, this is hurting my genius brain.” Kohga complained, grumbling as he slid down against the tree trunk, rolled over, and crossed his arms.

“Your song conveys that too.”

“Hush, I’m trying to nap here.”

Master Kohga of the Yiga Clan, glorious and undefeated save for one time that absolutely didn’t count because it had been unfair, fell asleep to the sounds of harp strings plucking out a gentle tune.

Kohga woke slowly, greeted by a serene quiet. Not unusual, it was very common actually. And he liked it. What made it unusual this time was that he distinctly remembered falling asleep to some kind of music. Harp strings, if memory served him correctly. 

His eyes opened a little wider. How long had he been napping? It was a nice nap, but he did have work to do. Was Sheik already gone again? He couldn’t decide if he was hoping the man had stayed or not. He rolled over.

And nearly rolled right onto Sheik.

He scrambled to catch himself, making a rather undignified sound for a leader, just moments before accidentally rolling onto his apparent napping buddy. He rolled the other direction, clambering to his feet. Sheik hadn’t moved at all, fast asleep, stretched out on the ground as if it was the most casual thing in the world.

He slept like he was dead, laid out in a coffin, his hands laced over his stomach and his harp resting on his chest. He barely moved, even his breathing was slow, the rise and fall of his chest so slight Kohga almost missed it. It was.... uncomfortable to look at.

He cleared his throat quietly, brushing dust and dirt from his suit. He couldn’t just leave the man there alone, even if he felt bad about waking him up. He probably needed the sleep badly, if he was napping all the way down here instead of his own home.

He crouched, putting a hand on his shoulder and giving the blonde a small shake. His one visible eye snapped open, staring up at him, unblinking. After one, very brief, very tense moment, he relaxed. “Oh. It is just you.”

“Just me.” he confirmed with a nod. Though now he was unsure if he had actually been asleep, and had just been pretending the entire time. No one could wake up that fast, right? “Didn’t wanna wake you from your nap, but I have stuff to do. Felt like a bit of a bad guy just leaving you here by yourself.”

“So you woke me instead of leaving me to the monsters in the darkness. How noble of you.” Sheik said. He sat up, bracing the harp against his chest before it could slide away.

“That’s me, the great and noble Master Kohga. And don’t forget it.” he said.

“I will be sure to remember, then.”

That simple promise did something to Kohga’s chest. Barely even a promise, more of just an offhanded response really. But it still did something to him.

“I’ll see you again, then?”

Kohga didn’t dare hope. But the subtle tilt of the blonde’s head, the faint hum, the idle touch of the harp strings, made him want to. Finally, he inclined his head. Just a single nod. It was all Kohga needed.

“Undoubtedly. I have my own duty to perform. We will cross paths again.”

“Weird way to talk about a job, but I’m looking forward to it, blondie. Don’t make me wait too long!”

Chapter Text

Kohga was not fully prepared to see Sheik again. He was, technically, but not the way he’d shown up. He’d known Sheik wasn’t invincible. Stupidly lucky, to the point it had to be a blessing from the goddess, but not invincible.

He didn’t know what possessed him to turn around, perhaps he’d heard something. The slightest change in the air, the faintest hint of footsteps, even the smallest clinking of metal or the lingering of music. He’d just been looking at reports, studying the latest one about a certain hero lighting up a portion of the Depths— it turns out there was a purpose to those giant, orange root-like structures after all— and definitely not getting distracted by a piece of sheet music that had definitely not been a gift from a certain blonde man. And he’d just gotten the feeling he should turn around.

And turn he did. Just in time to see Sheik stumble into the little space used as a sort of unofficial heart of the base, hand pressed hard to his side, blood pouring through his fingers and down his leg. He wore his mask and scarf, same as usual. But his clothes were shades of beige and greyish blues, the sash keeping his coat closed had been sliced, barely hanging on by a thread. His harp clattered to the ground.

Kohga almost didn’t catch him, chair shoved backwards out of the way. Hands gripping Sheik’s arms tightly, supporting most of his weight when the man’s legs buckled. Sheik was leaning on him so heavily, he may as well have not been standing at all. He led him to sit in the chair, tugging at his coat. The sash was a lost cause, he simply ripped the remaining thread, pressing the fabric to his side to soak up the blood.

“You were gone for two days, what could’ve possibly almost killed you this time?” he muttered, trying to keep his voice low. The sash wasn’t soaking up as much blood as he liked, Sheik just wouldn’t stop bleeding.

Sheik was almost laying in the chair, barely able to prop himself up. He looked thoroughly exhausted. He was flushed, though the paleness as a result of blood loss was winning that particular fight. He was shivering, his skin was cold to the touch. And was that snow stuck to his eyelashes?

“Some old Zonai tech. I couldn’t hear it over the wind.” he gasped out, fingers trembling as he struggled to pull the coat aside enough to let Kohga see the cut. Something had sliced through the layers, leaving his side a bloody, cut up mess. It would need stitches.

Kohga guided Sheik’s hands to hold the sash over the wound, pressing hard. It would probably scar, but there was no avoiding that. And they were too far from the spring to make it there quickly, especially with one of them injured. Again. Seriously, what was with blondes and getting themselves fatally injured all the time?

He vanished, returning with needle and thread, among a couple other things he’d grabbed in a hurry. Sheik was coughing at the amount of smoke conjured up, leaning to avoid the dematerializing talismans. It made more blood gush out of the slash, seeping through shaking fingers. “You are one lucky man.” he muttered.

Kohga pried the hands away from the wound, pushing the man until he was nearly sideways, and went to work. Stitching someone up wasn’t that much different from sewing, and sewing he could definitely do. Even if it was much more bloody than he expected.

Stitch by stitch, he wove the jagged gash closed. Sheik was laid out heavily over the arm of the chair, twisted awkwardly to accommodate the treatment. He was still shivering, although the snow and frost was beginning to thaw. Kohga finished, tying the threat, and borrowing one of Sheik’s knives to cut the remaining.

Kohga cut the tunic, cropping it far too short for a shivering man’s well being, and used it to soak up the rest of the blood. Folding it neatly, he used half a roll of bandages to keep it in place, tying a neat little bow to hold it all together. He stood, leaning against the table.

Sheik barely seemed to notice, stretched out in the chair like he was. He struggled to pull the bloodstained coat closed around him, trying to conserve whatever warmth he had left.

Not how Kohga wanted to spend his night, but whatever.

“Do I even wanna know how you got yourself into this?” he asked. He didn’t really expect an answer, Sheik needed rest more than anything. Rest, maybe something hot to eat. Even a soak in the hot spring again if they’d been anywhere near it, anything was better than this.

It was late, Kohga still had things to do, and now he also needed to clean up all the blood on the floor. And on his hands. Hopefully the gloves weren’t ruined.

“I was doing my duty.” Sheik said, his voice resigned. Tired. They shouldn't be having this conversation, Sheik should be resting.

“Uh-huh. Duty.” he said. He set it aside. He could find out the rest of the story later. Right now, Sheik needed his help. Again. He really hoped this wouldn’t become a theme. Injuries sucked. The bloodier they were, the worse they sucked. He sighed. He could deal with everything in the morning.

Kohga moved close, stooping to lift the smaller man into one arm. He didn’t miss the way Sheik hissed in pain, even as subdued and quiet as it was. Putting on a brave face, or just naturally quiet in the face of anything? He didn’t know.

He tried to be gentle. He really did. Snagging both the dagger and harp on his way, he left the little enclosed space. He could deal with the mess of blood and reports later. “I’m gonna teleport. There’s gonna be lots of smoke. Think you can handle it?”

He waited for an answer this time, trying to stay as still as possible. He could wait a while, however long it took. It was late, no one was gonna see them. Any Yiga standing guard were facing outwards, not inwards towards the camp. Sheik responded simply with a nod after a bit, leaning to press his face into the fancy collar Kohga wore as part of his uniform. “Just go.”

He needed no other confirmation, the aforementioned smoke and talismans taking them away from the encampment. Sheik kept his face firmly pressed into Kohga’s collar, even when the whole journey took less than a second. He just patted the man’s arm lightly, placing him down on the bed. Harp and knife were placed next to him. “You can look up anytime now. We’re here.”

Sheik took several deep breaths, finally pulling away. The paleness had given away to the faintest green tinge, though the clan leader was sure rest would return the color to his features. “Where is here?” he asked.

Kohga swiftly spun around, heading off to the opposite side of the room. He had been hoping Sheik wouldn’t ask but no luck. It had been his first thought to bring him here, to make sure he actually recovered. And it hadn’t been far. It was the easiest place to get to on such short notice, without stretching his own magic to the breaking point, as limited as it was.

“My place.” he said casually, stretching the kinks out of his back before rummaging around in a chest. He tossed a tunic in Sheik’s vague direction. It was about the only thing that would fit the man, so it would have to do. “Get changed, blondie. Then sleep. You need it more than I want it.”

He continued rummaging around in the chest. He would not turn around until he was sure Sheik was done. Did he know that? He should mention it.

He mentioned it. He didn’t get any response other than a vague humming in acknowledgement. 

He waited a long while for any kind of signal that it was okay to turn around, or that Sheik was even awake to begin with. He could hear a faint sort of shuffling, and what could’ve been a frustrated huff. Then another. And another. By the fifth frustrated huff, followed by a pained hiss this time, Kohga was already out of his suit and into something he could comfortably sleep in. Mask on still, of course.

“Do you need help?” he asked.

“No.”

Kohga waited. A few seconds passed. And then:

“....Yes.”

Kohga turned. There was a pile of cold, bloodsoaked clothes on the floor, knives and harp stacked on top of them. Sheik was standing by the bed, wobbly and shivering and holding the way too large tunic up to his chest to cover him. Once again, he was reminded that the man was half his size. Very short. The tunic would be a dress on him.

And still wearing his own mask. Go figure.

Kohga walked up to him. “What’s causing the problem?”

Sheik was silent. He could almost see a hint of red flourishing under the mask. “I can not bend.”

Kohga waited. Sheik did not continue. He stayed silent, tunic clutched to him. The clan leader looked down. Ah. He saw the issue. “You can’t get your shoes off. Or pants.”

“No. It hurts to bend.”

“I’ll bet.” he said, crouching in front of the blonde. “Now sit. Or lay back. Whatever hurts you the least.”

Sheik lowered himself back onto the bed, swaying just the smallest amount. Kohga helped him slip off his shoes, one after the other. The pants were harder to get off, soaked with blood and clinging tightly to the man’s skin. He went slowly, peeling the fabric bit by bit until he could dump them on the floor. They were a lost cause, there was no salvaging them.

“Arms up.” he said. He was surprised the Sheikah listened, hands raised in the air. Kohga helped slip the tunic over his head, half falling off his shoulders. He was right, it was way too big on the blonde. It fell almost past his knees. But it was clean, and wasn't soaked in freezing cold blood, so it was automatically better.

He avoided stepping on the pile of clothes, climbing around the man to get into his own bed. He had no issues sleeping in the same bed as another person. Their desert base didn’t have nearly enough space for everyone to have their own bed when he was young, so he’d grown up sleeping in piles, or at least right next to other people, like every other child born into the Yiga Clan.

Sheik evidently did not grow up similarly, so stiff he was just sitting on the bed. Maybe it was the mask. But Kohga wasn’t taking it off. He could sleep in it, no issue. It was just uncomfortable.

“You can lay down, blondie.”

While he could not see Sheik laying down, he could certainly feel it. He did not roll over, keeping his back to the man. Maybe that would help him loosen up. Or not, if how stiff the man was was any sort of indication.

“Would you rather sleep next to the wall?” he offered.

“No, no thank you.”

“Then get comfortable, and sleep.”

“I.... I will try.”

An hour later, and Sheik still wasn’t asleep. Neither was Kohga, but that was besides the point. Kohga could feel every tiny movement, Sheik wasn’t being very subtle about it. The man was clearly uncomfortable, shifting bit by bit and letting out the occasional pained gasp, cut off and muffled. He was at least trying not to keep Kohga awake, as ineffective as that was.

“Sometime tonight would be nice, Sheik.”

“....Sorry.”

More time passed. Sheik still did not sleep. And by extension, neither did he. Kohga slowly turned to look over his shoulder at the man. Sheik was lying on his side. His injured side, every minor twitch causing him pain. Most of that pain being from trying to stay curled up, and shivering from not being under the blanket. The same blanket he was laying on. At the edge of the bed. Kohga never felt like smacking someone in the back of the head more, at the same time feeling almost bad that the man seemed so miserable and uncomfortable.

Even if he was doing it to himself, just a little bit.

Kohga sighed, twisting around to lift the man up. Sheik audibly yelped, the sound laced with pain. He made it quick, placing him closer to the center of the bed and throwing the admittedly small blanket over him. It didn’t quite cover the both of them completely unless they were basically pressed against each other, but that was definitely not going to happen.

“Now sleep, for the love of me.”

Kohga couldn’t roll back over without taking the blanket with him, so he was stuck lying on his back. Not the most comfortable thing, but he would deal with it. Sheik was lying still now, at least, not shivering as badly as before. He was still stiff as a board, but Kohga chalked that up to being uncomfortable. 

“Thank you. For helping me.” Sheik whispered. Less than a whisper really, the words barely spoken as if fearing to be heard at all. Kohga just accepted he was never going to sleep.

“You were the one collapsing into my arms, I really had no choice here.” he said.

Sheik turned his head, peering at the clan leader over his shoulder. “You could have let me die. Again.”

“Didn’t feel like dealing with a body.”

“Still. Thank you.”

“Thank me by going to sleep.”

Kohga didn’t know how much time had passed. Seconds? Minutes? Another hour? Neither of them had fallen asleep. Not for lack of trying, he could tell that much. Sheik was still curled on his side, probably the most painful position for his wound. Why he didn’t try and shift to something more comfortable was beyond him.

Kohga had exactly one question picking at the back of his genius brain. In retrospect, he should’ve asked before they had tried to sleep, but he had been a little preoccupied with the amount of blood everywhere. It had been a lot, too much for Sheik to have lost and come out of that okay. He would take him to the spring tomorrow, even if it meant holding the harp for the man while he played whatever song he needed.

He tapped a rhythm on his stomach, taking a deep breath. “Soooo. Since we’re not going to sleep anytime soon, can I just ask? Why come to me? Not a single one of your Sheikah or Hyrulean buddies could’ve helped you? Not even the pesky swordsman?”

Maybe Kohga was mistaken. Maybe his blondie had been asleep, the silence greeting his question was very indicative of that. Just his luck. Maybe he was the only one not sleeping, maybe blood loss and sheer exhaustion had knocked the man next to him out cold.

Then. So quiet he almost missed it, a single sentence flitted through the air to register in his head. Tucking itself there like it would never leave.

“I did not know who else to go to.”

Oh.

Kohga didn’t know what to say to that. He only had more questions now, and it seemed like he would always have more than any answers he’d get. What kind of life did this guy have anyway?

“That’s.... uh, pretty depressing.” he said.

“I am floored by your overwhelming sympathy.” was the deadpan reply. Kohga raised a finger.

“Hey now, I am plenty sympathetic! But.... seriously. If you have no one else to go to when you’re this hurt, then by all means, come to me. If not me, then my medics can patch you right up. Just don’t go falling down a bottomless pit again.”

That almost got a chuckle out of Sheik, a faint, wheezing breath leaving him. “I think I am done doing that. I have found I do not enjoy free falling as much as the hero.”

“The hero likes what?”

“Free falling. Be glad you are not bound by duty to watch him pitch himself off cliffs to collect frogs.”

“What.”

Sheik did not answer, his wheezing laughter turning into a weak cough. Interrupted by a violent sneeze. A loud groan told Kohga that it hurt really bad.

“Okay, I’ve had it. Roll over.” he said.

“I.... what?”

Kohga didn’t pause to give an answer, lifting the blanket. “Roll over. Nonono, not that way, towards me! You’re gonna freeze to death rolling that way.”

It took some finagling, but he finally got the blonde to move the way he wanted, all but tucked into his side, lying so his injury was facing up instead of being laid on. Kohga’s arm fell on the outside of the blanket, trapping the man in under the cloth. It was not the most comfortable position in the world for either of them, but at least no one was freezing to death. If Sheik had any complaints, he did not voice them aloud. Instead he let out a rather quiet but surprised “Oh!”

“You are very warm.” he said, his tone one of quiet amazement.

“I’m a big guy. My strong, burly muscles keep me warm.”

Sheik hummed, shifting just a bit closer. Not quite snuggling, but close enough to leech off his body heat. The shivering stopped. “I see.” was all he said.

Then, finally, finally, Sheik seemed to fall asleep. His breathing deepened, leveling out and slowing. Now, Kohga was not one to pray, but he sent one to the goddess in the hopes that his little blonde leech would actually stay asleep until morning. Sheik was relaxed, limp against his side, almost peaceful save for the injury. He needed the rest.

Kohga would take him to the spring in the morning, or whenever they woke up. Whichever came last. With Sheik finally asleep, he plucked off his mask, reaching to place the painted wood on a hook on the wall just above the bed. He settled back down to finally try and sleep.

Kohga slept strangely well that night. Better than he had in years. The morning came, and Sheik was still sleeping. Rather than wake him, Kohga moved silently as he went about his morning routine. Sheik was still asleep by the time he was done, so he just ended up carrying the sleeping blonde all the way to the spring.

The time he spent healing was much shorter than the first time, barely a few hours in the spring and he was more or less fine. Sheik lingered longer than that, content to leech warmth from both Kohga and the hot spring before he had to go.

Kohga was a bit sad to see him go so soon, but duty calls, or whatever it was that kept Sheik bouncing from location to location like a squirrel hooked on rushrooms. One day he would find out what it was, but not today.

He just hoped that one day would come soon.

Chapter Text

Master Kohga, great and glorious leader of the infamous Yiga Clan, was fed up.

Defeat after defeat after defeat! He was sick of it! Link was the bane of his existence, and Kohga was absolutely determined to win this time. Even if it killed him. Which it wouldn’t, because he would be the one killing Link. He would make sure of it.

He sat on the cold stone, legs crossed, almost meditating. He would not win if he let his rage get the best of him, but it would be a real close call. Just the thought of the hero was enough to send him into a rage today. For three straight days, he and Link had battled. Thrice. And thrice, Link had beat him and everything he had thrown at him.

Today, the fourth and final day. Master Kohga, leader of the Yiga Clan, would finally defeat Link once and for all. He was prepared. He would win, no matter the cost.

He breathed slowly and deeply. Link would be here soon, he had to focus. Focus was key. With enough focus, Kohga would win. Having an ancient secret weapon at his command definitely helped too, but mostly focus. And rage.

He could see Link in the distance. It looked like there was someone with him, but it was hard to tell in the darkness. Kohga sat and waited, watching him draw closer. It was only when Link tossed a seed to the ground, a plant instantly growing and blooming with bright light, that Kohga registered who was with him. He almost broke out of his meditative pose completely.

It was Sheik.

Sheik was following Link. Well, less following, and more constantly getting in front of him and falling behind as Link continued to walk. Link was signing, hands forming fluid gestures. Whatever he was saying, it was visibly upsetting Sheik.

Kohga almost got up. Whatever was enough to visibly upset Sheik, it couldn’t have been good. He did get up when Sheik physically grabbed the hero, giving him a shake. Link just stood there and accepted it, bobbing back and forth, trying to sign at the same time.

It would’ve been funny, if Sheik hadn’t been so upset it was visible from a mile away.

While he could not hear Sheik’s response, he would see them. Somewhat. Sheik had stopped shaking the hero now, instead he was pacing in rapid circles, hands pressed together like he was praying. He stopped. He lifted his head. He seemed to speak. A question maybe?

Link shrugged, then signed again, too quickly for Kohga to catch most of it. He did catch one sign, however. That sign was dragon. Sheik’s response? To sit down, fingers pressed together over his mouth, and breathe deeply. He stayed like that for a while. Link signed a little more, then gestured in Kohga’s direction. Sheik just waved him off, and went back to what he was doing.

Link left him to it, and walked towards Kohga. He just had to ask. “What was that about, hero?”

Link just shrugged, signing a few words. It’s complicated.

That explained absolutely nothing, but okay. Kohga would not question it. Or the outfit Link was wearing. They were going to fight, and Kohga was going to win. He didn’t check to see if Sheik stuck around. This battle was far too important.

Kohga would win.

Kohga did not win.

Instead of a glorious victory, Kohga was sent barreling into the darkness by his own creation, up through the chasm, and into the sky. By the goddess, were those islands in the sky!?

It didn’t matter, he was falling, and falling fast. He was going to die. He. Was going. To die. Was he screaming? He was screaming. This was not how he planned to go, it wasn’t fair. He was supposed to defeat Link! He was supposed to win!

Why couldn’t he just have one, just one victory over the hero?

He tumbled through a cloud, immediately getting drenched. It felt like getting pelted with a thousand tiny pieces of ice, wet, painful, and absolutely freezing. He didn’t even have the good luck to die dry, noooooo he had to die feeling like a block of ICE!

He was thoroughly outraged. Upset, miserable! All the negative words he couldn’t think of right now. Who was going to lead the Yiga in his place? Who was going to keep his lackeys from kicking the bucket? Who was going to keep the Yiga from falling apart? Who would make sure things were run smoothly?

Who was going to keep Sheik from getting himself killed?

He was going to die. He was going to hit the ground and the impact would turn him into a bloody smear on the rocks. No one would find enough pieces of him to bury. He wasn’t even going to be buried, if he did, he would be buried with a spoon for a coffin. That’s how little of him would be found.

He’d never even get to say goodbye. To Sheik. To anyone. He stopped flailing. This was it. This was how he died. He was not okay with it. But there was nothing he could do about it. The ground was getting awfully close. He didn’t want to see it. He covered his head.

And hit something soft. Slowly uncovering his eyes showed a sea of platinum blonde, softer and silkier than anything he’d ever laid on. And there was so much of it. He was almost tangled in it. He was extremely careful in sitting up, smoothing back the material from where he’d disturbed it from his landing.

He’d landed between a pair of enormous branching antlers, in some kind of creature's mane, facing backwards. In front of him stretched out a long, serpentine, dark scaled body. White scales dotted the dark like stars and sharp, jagged spikes glowing the same beautiful violet as the antlers ran down the creature’s spine. Its claws were the same color for all three pairs of legs, the same gorgeous violet.

He turned around, and nearly tripped in the mane again, stumbling onto the forehead of the beast. The fur on its face was shorter, he wouldn’t be in danger of getting tangled. The beast had a narrow face, a long snout, with eerie, predominantly red eyes nearly as big as Kohga was tall.

One of its eyes had a trio of triangles etched above it, and a teardrop below it. A spirit that devout Sheikah would pray to then? Or perhaps where the origin of the symbol came from.

The beast let out a quiet cry, head tilting downward. It only registered just then that they were still high in the sky, surrounded by islands, camouflaged by the darkness of the early night.

Kohga was riding a dragon.

The dragon kept its head level for the most part, swimming through the air among the sky and the islands. It seemed to know he was there, why else would it stay so still instead of throwing him off? It had to have felt him crashing into its head, Kohga was not a small man. But compared to the dragon, he felt tiny. Tiny, but safe. It seemed content to carry him along its journey through the sky, not even showing the slightest inclination to try and eat him. It was.... surprisingly peaceful.

Kohga sat carefully, crossing his legs, just to watch the land creep by below them. It’s not like he was going to get down anytime soon, so he might as well enjoy the ride. The dragon gave off a warmth, as big as it was, he didn’t feel like he was freezing. Beaten, bruised, and thoroughly soaked like a wet cat, but not freezing.

He knew he’d seen it before. It was surely the same creature he’d seen underground, the shocking pale mane and violet glow of its spikes gave it away. He’d known it was large, since he’d been able to see it from so far away before, but he never imagined it was a dragon.

And such a calm one at that. Borderline kind even, if it had caught him on purpose. He doubted it, but it was a nice thought.

He should really think about how he was going to get down.

He did not end up getting down until near morning.

Kohga had been napping, there was no use in staying up all night when he had no way of getting down without dying, when the sudden tilting of the dragon’s head woke him. And kept tilting. He fell off, hitting the sandy ground with a yelp and a thud.

The dragon continued to tilt, turning into a slow roll. It floated up, rolled until it was rightside up again, and slowly began to descend into the chasm Kohga had just been dropped near. He watched the dragon descend, disappearing into a very familiar, formerly thought to be bottomless, pit.

The sun had started to rise by the time the dragon had disappeared, rays of golden light chasing away the night and the dragon that flew through its dark skies just hours ago. Kohga just sort of stayed there, half lying, half sitting in the sand in a very familiar arena he’d designated as his napping spot so many years ago.

Kohga was alive. He was alive.

Master Kohga, glorious and death defying leader of the Yiga Clan, was back in business!

Chapter Text

In the coming weeks, members of the Yiga Clan sighted both Sheik and Link in various places around Hyrule, the most common occurrence being Sheik being found just waiting around for long periods of time before Link eventually showed up. Kohga couldn’t quite make sense of the reports on the incidents he received each time it supposedly happened, half of the things described seemed almost improbable. One of the most memorable involved…. Link apparently falling from the sky and hitting the water so hard there was a geyser of water from the resulting splash. Repeatedly. While aiming for the center of a circle of lily pads? For some reason?

Kohga had to see these things for himself to believe it, so he set out to discover some of these incidents for himself. With a small entourage of lackeys, of course. It wouldn’t do to get ambushed while he was away, now would it?

That and he may have been just a little bit bored out of his mind.

He managed to locate Sheik easily enough. He could follow those harp strings anywhere.

Sheik was sitting perched on a leafless tree, fingers gliding over strings to form the notes of an unfamiliar tune. Eyes presumably closed, swaying slowly in time to the music, he looked at peace in a way Kohga had only seen when the thoughts of whatever duty he had to perform was far away. He could’ve watched for hours, even if he was hiding as the bushes with half a dozen of his clan.

He tried not to let Link’s arrival affect his mood too much, even if his defeat still stung like an entire hive of vengeful bees were after him. Link arrived riding a red horse with a pale mane, green tunic and green hat making him nearly disappear into his surroundings. He had not seemed to notice Sheik yet, staring down at the device in his hands then up at the roads.

Sheik stopped playing. He tucked the harp away, then stood. He leaped from the tree, landing with a sort of agility Kohga had not seen yet from the man. Link climbed down from his horse, and for a moment they just stood facing each other, several feet apart. Perhaps they were speaking, and Kohga could just simply not be close enough to hear.

They were at the foot of Death Mountain, on the crossroads of the path to Goron City and the path to a forest shrouded in fog that not even his people could figure out. Sheik had his arms at his sides, standing with a propriety drilled into only the royals of the kingdom. He was speaking, if the way his hands gesture was any indication.

Somehow, it was like watching them follow an old script, one they’d both memorized years ago but still knew, even if the exact wording was forgotten. Like it was something they’d done time and time again, repeating over the years. It felt like something he was absolutely not part of, nor would ever will be.

All too soon, that feeling of following a script ended, Link signing too quickly to make out properly. Sheik shook his head, a wide sweep of his arms towards the mountain and a faint bow the only response Link seemed to get. Sheik walked backwards, a faint wind picking up the dust between them. He threw something to the ground, and a blinding flash of light blindsided everyone in the vicinity.

Sheik was gone by the time Kohga’s vision returned, Link was left standing alone with his remarkably unstartled horse, wincing and rubbing his eyes. Link just seemed to sigh, then climbed back onto his horse and flicked the reins. The horse calmly sped up into a canter, heading up the forest path.

Kohga sat for a minute, scratching his head. “What was that about?”

One of his clan, a rather short woman, shrugged. “Maybe it’s some hero thing? Or a Sheikah thing?” she suggested.

“Huh, maybe. Seemed real weird either way.” he said. He gave a signal, and they all vanished without a trace.

It took a bit to locate Sheik again. For the seemingly only blonde Sheikah in the entire tribe, and literally one of three in the entire kingdom, the man was ridiculously hard to locate. To the point Kohga maybe started to wonder if there was some sort of actual magic at play. It was certainly possible.

Sheik was standing a short walk away from the top of a hill, arms crossed, remaining almost perfectly still if it weren’t for the light breeze pushing his hair and scarf around. There was nothing at all happening, and hiding in the trees to watch from a distance felt fairly useless all things considered. There was nothing to watch, he was simply standing around.

Occasionally, he glanced around, taking in the dull but picturesque scenery at random intervals. How long he had been standing there before they had stumbled across him, Kohga didn’t know. But from the faintest tapping of his fingers against his arm, a quick and complicated rhythm the Yiga clan watching couldn’t hope to replicate, he suspected it had been a long while.

Sheik was frustrated.

Kohga couldn’t fathom what could possibly frustrate such an infinitely patient man who spoke about time and memories and feelings in borderline riddles, but he genuinely didn’t want to know. Something about being scared of the fury of a patient man was a phrase for a reason, he knew that much. He’d almost witnessed it once, and it was not an experience he’d care to repeat.

Sheik stretched, letting out a loud, tired sigh. His arms dropped limply at his sides, the man staring at the sky as if it would provide him with answers. Somehow, he looked even more frustrated in the few moments he took to stretch and loosen up. He must’ve been waiting for longer than Kohga originally thought.

The ground beside his foot glowed an ancient green, the same sort of color the weird ore in the Depths tended to give off. Sheik’s ear twitched, and his brows furrowed. The leader of the Yiga Clan thought he heard a “Hmm?” escape the blonde. Several things happened all at once.

The first and most startling was Link popping out of the ground. Sheik’s foot was knocked out from under him, and the man let out an honest to Hylia squeak.

The blonde rolled forwards into a leap, some kind of twisting acrobatic stunt landing him back on his feet, daggers in hand, wide eyed and tenser than even Kohga had ever seen. The man’s voice went up an octave, the only sign that Sheik was so startled he couldn’t think.

“Where did you come from, and how did you do that?”

Link pulled himself out of the ground, the green glow fading once he was standing. He shook his head, hands combing nonexistent dirt from his hair. He fingerspelled something quickly. Sheik still didn’t move from his scrunched stance.

“What do you mean you can swim through the earth? I was anticipating you to fall from the sky again.” he said.

Link signed. Whatever it was, it made Sheik drop his stance, gesturing with the point of his dagger. He didn’t even speak, just silent gestures as if he couldn’t even begin to comprehend whatever the hero had just said. Eventually, he gave up, sheathing his weapons and rubbing his eyes tiredly. A deep sigh gave away just how utterly exhausted he was.

“Of course.” was all he said.

The same vaguely scripted air overtook the conversation from there, if a bit dampened by the fact Sheik seemed more wrung out and exhausted than before. It was almost strange how quiet it was from there, and that they could no longer hear the words being spoken. But again, Sheik vanished the same way, a brilliant flash of blinding light from something he’d thrown down.

And again, Link went on his way afterwards, a quick jog heading off in a direction Kohga didn’t particularly care to take note of.

One of his clan slowly peeked out a little further from the sea of leaves he hid behind. “Did anyone else know the hero could do that?”

There was not a single nod in response to the question. It seemed not even Sheik knew, which Kohga found extremely odd.

“Are we stalking myself now?” a voice just inches behind them spoke.

Master Kohga, glorious leader of the Yiga Clan, absolutely did not fall from the tree. He definitely jumped down gracefully and elegantly as is befitting of such a handsome leader such as himself. (on a completely unrelated note, ow his back)

Kohga scrambled to stand, brushing grass from his uniform after the definitely not a fall, his clan members jumping after him and gathered around him like worried ducklings. Sheik was perched in the trees where they had been, one hand against the trunk of the tree. Going by the glint in his eyes, he was almost amused.

“We’re not stalking anyone.” he insisted. His clan backed him up, nodding and murmuring their agreement. Sheik shifted to sit more comfortably, crossing one leg over the other and resting his chin in his hand. He just hummed, looking down at Kohga and his entourage.

“Are you certain of that? I myself was almost certain I saw someone observing our interaction from afar on at least one different occasion.” he said.

Kohga crossed his arms, the action mimicked by the clan members present. “And what if you did? Can’t prove it was me, can you?”

“I suppose not. But I am certain of what I observed. And since I am so certain,” his foot swung idly, his free hand dangling limply in his lap. “I must ask that my observers not interfere. Observation is certainly fine, I have no means to prevent that. However, interfering I can not allow.”

“And why not?” Kohga couldn’t help himself, he had to know. His entire job kind of relied on knowing things like this.

Sheik did not speak for a long time, just swinging his leg and almost pinning the group where they stood with his stare. Kohga was unperturbed, returning the stare with a rather defiant one of his own. Finally, the blonde spoke.

“Our next destination is Death Mountain,” he said. “Should you wish to observe. I may tell you sometime soon, but on exactly one condition.”

“Let me guess, don’t interfere?” he asked, head tilting to one side. The way the corners of his eyes crinkled, Sheik almost looked like he was smiling.

“Perhaps you do have the genius to back up your claims.”

“Hey!”

Sheik neglected to hear his protests, false as they were. He uncrossed his legs, drew his harp, and plucked out a little tune. Six short notes, vaguely fiery and intense and repeating. Sheik faded, enshrouded by little motes of vibrant scarlet light, each one breaking apart and speeding off into the sky. He was gone. 

Well, he supposed it couldn’t hurt to follow, right?

They arrived at the mountain top long after the insanity ended, Kohga was not willing to risk his hide trying to get close while Link flew around launching Gorons at monstrous rock creatures. Seriously, what the fuck, hero?! Who does that??

He and the others hid themselves amongst the rocks, perfectly disguised as just another part of the scenery. It made Kohga’s eyes burn a little to be so close to the opening of an active volcano, but his curiosity knew no limits. 

Even still, Sheik had beaten them there, though he only showed himself after the battle ended. Kohga didn’t know where the Goron from earlier had disappeared too, though he wasn’t too invested in that. Sheik was standing by Link, hands on his knees and peering over the edge with the boy. For the first time, they were actually close enough to hear the conversation.

“You are certain?”

Link nodded.

Sheik’s ear twitched in his direction, and he slowly looked between him and the depths of the volcano. “Down there. In the darkness. A voice told you there is an entire temple. And you let Daruk’s grandson, and a potential Sage, just jump down there?”

Link nodded again.

Sheik slowly pinched the bridge of his nose, breathing slowly. He was visibly sweating in the heat, his hair and clothes plastered to his back. Despite the lack of an expression and easily discernible body language to decipher, Kohga could tell he was miserable.

“Link. I admire your courage, even if it borders on foolishness.” he ignored the little huff the shorter man let out. “But you simply can not just leap into the darkness on the promise of a voice telling you it is where you need to go. Hearing voices, does not a wise decision make.”

Link just shrugged, then backed up a few steps. He then sprinted off the edge, flinging himself into the volcano. Sheik let out a half shriek, staring in disbelief at the man crazy enough to toss himself over the ledge.

Kohga watched the blonde take a deep breath, then another. The man clasped his hands together as if praying. Then, he drew his harp, and stepped over the edge. And judging by the abruptly cut off yelp, he had immediately regretted it.

Together, he and his lackeys slowly shed their disguises, moved closer and peeked over the edge. There was nothing to see except the infinite darkness that the leader of the Yiga Clan knew all too well.

“....Are they going to be okay?” one of them asked. Kohga remembered her name was Belle. A sweet girl barely old enough to be out on missions yet, she usually stayed behind at the hideout. But he’d made an exception this time since it was just mostly following a trail. 

“Knowing the hero, he’ll be fine. It’s Sheik that might not be.” he replied.

She pressed her fingers to her mask worriedly. “That’s the one who’s almost died twice so far, right? The one you like, Master?”

“Kid, you’re adorable, so I’m gonna let that slide.” he said, straightening up. “But! For the record, I do not like him.”

If Kohga was secretly relieved when Sheik reappeared during their journey down the mountain (avoiding the roads of course), he kept it to himself. Evidently the blonde did not stay, appearing in a bundle of tiny motes of vibrant scarlet lights.

He half collapsed on the ground, fingers frantically prying at the metallic pieces of his armor. His harp clattered to the ground, small rocks disturbed from their resting places in the dirt. The end of his scarf was singed, portions of his clothes were badly scorched, Kohga could almost see the reddened  and blistering skin beneath.

Something had happened. Something had happened for Sheik to get hurt, and clearly fairly badly. Again.

Kohga didn’t care what had happened. He was at Sheik’s side before he had time to register that he’d even moved at all. It was a testament to how badly the blonde was hurt that he didn’t get a knife in his gut for appearing so suddenly. Kohga liked to think it was because he was so likeable, instead of pain so great that Sheik’s reaction time suffered.

Sheik’s head jerked up, eyes wide and unblinking as he stared up at Kohga. Kohga didn’t bother with a greeting, reaching for a metal armor piece. And immediately yelping in pain, wildly startled by just how burning hot it was.

Still, he pried it off, letting it fall to the ground. Then he went to work on another.

He didn’t have to issue an order for the members of his clan to gather around and help. One of them had a canteen of water, uncorking it and pouring it over the remaining armor. It sizzled, steam instantly rising in swirling coils.

It took too long to pry all the metal off, some of the pieces taking cloth and layers of skin with them. Kohga scooped him up without hesitation once that was through with, careful not to touch the worst of the burns.

“Belle, stick those metal bits in a bag or something, blondie won’t wanna lose them. Rillo, get the harp, it’s important. We’re heading to the nearest source of water, now.”

One by one, the members of his clan rushed to follow orders, each one vanishing in a telltale puff of smoke. Kohga was last to go, giving Sheik ample warning before whisking him away.

They landed in some kind of ancient spring, old stone pillars and platforms somehow withstanding the test of time. Kohga stood in the deepest part of the water, barely up to his waist, and lowered Sheik into the fresh, cool waters.

Sheik groaned, still clinging to Kohga even as he floated weightless in the water. The whole situation gave him such incredible déjà vu it was almost alarming. At the very least, Sheik wasn’t as in danger of dying this time than literally every other incident he’d saved him from. It was almost frustrating how often Sheik got hurt.

“Sheik. What happened? And don’t give me the whole ‘doing my duty’ shtick.” he said.

The blonde did nothing but breathe for a long while, his gaze somewhat glazed over from sheer overwhelming pain. Kohga was willing to wait for an answer, even if he suspected he wouldn’t like it.

“What if that is the answer?” Sheik asked through gritted teeth. His face was distressingly blank, even more than when they had very first met. It stung. It stung hard and in a way he was not at all prepared for.

“Then that would be depressing.” he said instead. One of his clan approached, a small bottle filled with thick red liquid in their hands. The cork was already pulled.

“I am floored by your overwhelming sympathy.” he deadpanned, untangling his arms from around Kohga’s neck to reach for the bottle. Kohga didn’t miss the way his brows furrowed when the burns on his skin stretched, nor did he miss the way he tried to twist away to hide his face when downing the elixir, muttering about hating burns.

It gave him a bad taste in his mouth. Like they’d suddenly taken several leaps backwards from where they had been the last time he’d helped the man heal.

Sheik passed the bottle back, now empty, and simply settled back to wait for the elixir to run its course. He was almost relaxing in the cool water, bits of dirt and burnt fabric sloughing off in the spring. He did not speak, nor did he offer a chance for conversation to start, eyes closed and seemingly asleep for all intents and purposes.

The silence could’ve been cut with a dull spoon, Kohga passing the time by humming quietly and idly tapping out a rhythm against the blonde’s back. He prayed someone would start talking before he was forced to.

No such luck, it seemed.

“So,” he began. “Since when were you a fan of free falling into active volcanoes?”

Sheik barely cracked an eye open at the question. Still, it was progress in his mind.

“You witnessed that.”

“Yeah. You told me where you were going to be.” he said. He was barely holding him now, the man supported mostly by the water. He just kept a hold of him to keep him from floating away.

“I did not think you would show.” Sheik admitted. A quiet admission, but he had said it nonetheless.

“We gotta unpack that later. For now, relax and heal up. Some of those burns looked pretty serious.” he said.

Sheik lifted his fingers to look at them. The faintest of burns were slowly healing over, though those faint calluses from years of plucking harp strings remained. Kohga didn’t want to look at the rest, the one on his lower back had looked excruciatingly painful. The blonde let his hand drop back into the water, letting his eyes fall shut.

“Alright.”

And there they waited, Sheik resting in the cool waters of whatever spring they’d found for him, and Kohga awkwardly holding him. The rest of his team waited on the stone platform, one of them shaking water from their shoes. A second dose of elixir was needed for the worst of the burns, but Sheik was healing nicely otherwise.

While it was not nearly as deadly as the last couple of times, it still felt pretty damn deadly. The clan leader was genuinely starting to question if all blondes were just flat out cursed to suffer deadly injuries all the time, and if so, it was no wonder there were literally only three blonde people in the entire kingdom. Two of them were consistently facing death and the other went missing for hundreds of years at a time.

Kohga thanked his lucky stars that he wasn’t blonde.

Sheik eventually felt well enough to sit up, at that point Kohga was lifting him out of the water and carrying him back to sit on the stone platform. Sheik swayed a little, but otherwise stayed upright. His harp was returned to him, and Belle handed over the bag containing the rest of his armor. It was a testament to how much he trusted them not to steal or tamper with his things that he just swung the bag over his shoulder without checking them over.

Or he was too tired to consider it, that was also an option. But Kohga preferred the other one.

“Heading out already?” he asked. He continued when he only got a nod in return. “Seriously, we gotta talk about all this duty stuff sometime. It’s exhausting seeing you almost die every time we meet up, there's really gotta be a better way to do this.”

He’d meant it as a joke if Sheik had seemed weirded out by it; he was pleasantly surprised when the man actually seemed to consider it. At least he hoped that was the case.

“I will recover.” he said, his head bowed apologetically. “And I suppose we could.... talk. I did say I might tell you if you remained as simple observers. You technically did not interfere.”

Kohga grinned, arms outstretched as if presenting a great gift. “What can I say? I’m good at watching other people do all the work.”

“Evidently. I will return when I have a free moment. And am no longer soaked to the bone.”

“Wait, weren’t we going to talk now?”

Sheik was walking away, bag tucked under one arm to run his fingers over the strings of his harp.

“Sheik! Don’t leave me on a cliffhanger here!”

Chapter Text

He was left on a cliffhanger. For close to the better part of a week, even. He wasn’t sure if Sheik was purposefully yanking his leg or if the man was genuinely busy and couldn’t find a free moment to find him. It was nearly impossible to tell with that man.

And so, Kohga spent that time in the Yiga Clan hideout. He went over reports, ate, napped, did quite literally everything he could possibly think of to pass the time. His gallivanting all over Hyrule trying to track down one singular Sheikah had worn him out, and he was absolutely not ready to go after Link after the last fiasco. Combined with the absolute insanity he witnessed at Death Mountain, he didn’t think he could handle facing the hero so soon. If at all.

He lounged around in his office, the same one that served as a sort of meeting room once upon a time when he still had a competent right hand man. The long table, ancient wood creaking, was piled high with papers. Maps both new and old, vague sketchings, even that new thing some Hylian started up called a newspaper. A fascinating thing that was incredibly useful when they managed to get their hands on a copy.

He was cross referencing what was in the newspaper to information his scouts had gathered, a quill scribbling over a fresh sheet of paper that was already starting to fill up with notes. The newspaper was more story oriented than pure straight facts in a list, but it was still a veritable wealth of information in its own way. And he might just like reading it in general, though it might be better if someone added a page for puzzles. Puzzles were always fun.

At some point, he became aware he was being watched. His brain worked quickly, narrowing down to exactly one option. Because of course no one in his clan would simply enter and not speak up. He finished the particular sentence he was writing, then looked up.

Sheik was sitting across the table from him, having traded the usual blues and greys of his stealth suit for something more casual. It almost looked like a similar outfit to the one he wore the time he’d stumbled into Kohga’s arms, half frozen and bleeding out. The only true difference was that this time there wasn’t a gaping wound in his side. For once, he seemed actually unharmed.

How in the goddess’ name did he get in here??

“Uh, how long’ve you been watching?” he asked.

Sheik shrugged his shoulders, his scarf shifting slightly off center at the motion. He had forgone his turban for once, though his hair remained braided. “Watching you actually focused and working is nothing short of fascinating. You are rather quiet when you do so.”

“I think you need a better hobby than watching people work, Sheik.” he said, setting the quill into the inkwell and pushing himself up from the table to stretch. “So, what’s up?”

To his complete surprise, the blonde lifted a set of packages onto the table. Well, small to the clan leader at least. “I brought tea, among other things. I wanted to thank you properly for helping me. Once again.”

Kohga waved him off, coming around the table to look at what he had brought. Sheik remained seated, pushing the packages towards him. He inspected them curiously, humming at each new surprise. He hadn’t been expecting gifts of any sort, ignoring the fact he hadn’t been expecting Sheik at all. It was kind of nice to be getting gifts, and gifts of food at that.

Not bananas of any kind, but hey, he wasn’t one to turn down free food. 

“It is not too much, is it?” Sheik asked after a moment. His fingers were twisting the end of his no longer singed scarf, the poor material wrinkling.

“Yeah. Let’s share it.” he said, scooping up the packages. He couldn’t exactly grab the blonde while carrying everything, so that was a problem. He jerked his head. “Come on. This stuff isn’t gonna eat itself.”

Sheik hesitated before getting up, an even more hesitant hand lightly holding onto his elbow. He followed half a step behind Kohga, almost completely vanishing in his shadow as they walked the near deserted halls of the hideout. The few they passed didn’t quite stare, offering a polite greeting as if they didn’t see Sheik. 

The grip on his elbow was the only real sign that Sheik was still with him as they walked, the hold faltering just a bit as he led them through a door half hidden as a wall. Kohga pressed on, kicking the door shut before depositing the packages on a low table beside a few half melted candles.

The room was delightfully cool in comparison to the heat outside the base, Sheik no longer looking like he was in the process of wilting in the heat. Paper lanterns hung from ropes strung across the ceiling lit the room, one massive lantern dangling from the center. One entire corner was taken up by a pile of plush pillows and blankets, the bed underneath couldn’t even be seen. Only a single wooden chest marked where the end of the bed was.

A desk that looked almost completely unused save for the various items piled on top of it was shoved up against the opposite wall, rugs covering nearly every inch of the hard stone floor, tapestries doing the same for the walls. The room was undeniably comfortable, despite the lack of any actual windows.

Sheik had wandered a few steps away to look around, humming curiously. “This room is a fire hazard.”

Kohga sighed dramatically, going for the chest to rummage through it. “Relax, blondie. It’s perfectly safe! I sleep here every night and I haven’t died yet!”

“Every night save for when you were in the Depths. For all you are aware, one of those nights sleeping here could have spelled your death.”

“Details! Now hush.” he said, emerging from the chest with a triumphant “Ha!” and an old teapot with mismatched cups in hand. He sauntered back to the table, grinning smugly and plopping the items down on the table.

Sheik just sort of looked at them, then around at the room. “I admire your enthusiasm, however, I have some concerns.”

He motioned for him to continue, poking through the packages to find the one with the tea. He was not a huge tea drinker by any means, but he wouldn’t turn any down if offered.

“The first being the fact you don’t seem to have any sort of designated area to make the tea. I reiterate, this room is a fire hazard.”

Kohga had been pouring tea leaves into the empty pot willy nilly, eyeballing the amount instead of actually measuring. He set the little pouch aside, then pointed towards the desk. “Grab the pitcher there, yeah?”

He went to do as he was told, mildly surprised at the fact there was indeed a pitcher full of water on the desk he hadn’t seen before. He passed it to Kohga, who simply poured until the teapot was full, then set the pitcher aside. With just about the most smug grin he’d had to date (that Sheik couldn’t see but could definitely assume was there), Kohga just held the pot by the handle, and with one single gesture honed by years of training, conjured a small flame in his hand. He held it under the pot, and stood there waiting for the water to boil.

Sheik was silent and staring, wide eyes reflecting the flames. His gaze slowly dragged upwards to look at the man, blinking in a way Kohga had come to understand was a sort of stunned amazement.

“How.... How did you do that?”

Kohga would’ve flipped his hair dramatically if he’d had his hands free. His glee was immeasurable. “It’s only a sacred art passed down from master to master of the Yiga Clan. Pretty neat, huh? I’m not just all about summoning spikey balls and illusions, you know!”

“Kohga. Are you not aware of how indescribably rare that is?” he said.

“Oh, I know. That’s why I’m showing you, I thought you’d get a kick out of it!”

Sheik gave a nod, still so wide eyed Kohga thought they’d fall out of his skull. He looked like a stiff breeze could knock him over. He sincerely hoped that wouldn’t happen, his hands were kind of full at the moment and he couldn’t really catch the man.

Sheik gripped the table to steady himself, leaning his hip against it. “I supposed I do. I am simply.... stunned, I suppose? I certainly was not expecting it.”

He laughed. “Isn’t expecting the unexpected your tribe’s whole thing?”

“The pot is boiling.” he said, head turned away from him. Kohga laughed again, and promptly found out that the pot was actually boiling. A quick flick of his wrist extinguished the flames, and he went to fill the cups. He got one filled before Sheik hesitantly cleared his throat to stop him.

He looked up, teapot tilted precariously. Sheik almost seemed like he was regretting something.

“Would it be too much trouble if I prepared my own cup?”

He raised an eyebrow. “What, afraid I’m gonna try and poison you? Come on, you know me better than that!”

For a moment, he thought he saw a hint of a smile. “Well, we did only promise not to stab one another. No one said anything about poison.”

Sheik really was a man after his own heart, Kohga was surprised he hadn’t considered it himself. Kohga grinned widely back at him, even if he couldn’t see it, he was sure it could be heard in his voice.

“Should we promise to do no poisoning to each other?”

The blonde pretended to consider it, head tilting before he held out a hand. “Very well. We are in mutual agreement to do no poisoning to one another.”

They shook on it, and Kohga filled the second cup. He held it out to Sheik, their hands just barely brushing as he took it. Sheik held his in both hands carefully, not taking a drink just yet.

Kohga brought a few cushions over to the table for them to sit on, the man wasting no time before picking through the food to try and decide what to try first. He wasn’t hard to please, and all of it honestly looked really good.

Sheik hadn’t touched any of it, sitting with a straight back, just slowly sipping his tea. The mask came back up every time. The quiet was only the smallest bit awkward, but Kohga knew it would end eventually. He plucked some sort of steamed fruit, lifted his own mask to pop it into his mouth, and lowered the mask just as quickly.

It really was good, Kohga honestly wouldn’t have cared if it had been poisoned because he would’ve died a happy man. He picked through more of the steamed fruits, going after his favorite pieces. “Where did you get these? I want seconds.”

Sheik tried to be as inconspicuous as possible when trying to hide more of his face, the faintest pink tinge coloring the space under his eyes before the mask fully covered it. “I made it.”

“All of it? I’m impressed. Are thirds an option?” he asked.

“I suppose I could make more, but that would require me to go home.” the blonde said.

Kohga nodded. “Maybe next time then.” he said, pushing the fruit towards Sheik.

The thought of there being a next time was both enticing and enough to make all his thoughts stop at the same time. He wasn’t entirely sure how to feel about a next time, he’d have to process this time first after Sheik had left.

Willingly walking into the Yiga Clan hideout, without the intent to steal from or kill him (and without being seen!!) was not something Kohga took likely.

Sheik had taken a fruit while Kohga mused, placing a rice ball in its place. Kohga tried that next, and found he liked that too. The fruit was still his favorite though. Together, they picked through the food Sheik had brought, Kohga more than Sheik. Still, every time he pushed something in the man’s direction, he took it.

Eventually, it was just Kohga picking through the food again. Sheik was leaning his elbows on the table, cup brought to his lips though he was not quite drinking. He was half zoned out it seemed, deep in thought. The clan leader let him think. He wasn’t sure how much time the man spent running around to the far corners of Hyrule, but he knew damn well he probably wasn’t getting as much rest as he needed. And if Sheik had just come to bring food, maybe chat a little, and most importantly rest, then he would let him.

And maybe he liked sitting in silence with the man. His presence was a welcome one, he felt just a little bit less like he wanted to nap the day away with him around.

Sheik slowly lowered his cup.

“You are of Sheikah descent.”

The steamed tomato slipped from Kohga’s fingers, plopping onto the table and rolling away. Sheik reached over to capture the runaway frut, placing it back into the package it’d come from without looking over.

“That’s one way to get a guy's attention.” he muttered. “Wasn’t this supposed to be about you and not me?”

“I am getting to that. You are of Sheikah descent at the very least, of that I am certain. How much of the tribe are you aware of?” he asked.

Kohga exhaled sharply, scratching the back of his head. “You’re sketchy, secretive, and live a supposedly simple life even though your whole shtick puts that into question. You’re unfortunately loyal to the royal family, even though it was them that caused my clan to form in the first place. Uh…. that’s about it. Unless you count the stolen secret arts and all that stuff.”

Sheik hummed, pulling his mask back down and lifted his cup to slowly sip at his tea. He stayed like that, the cup hiding a good portion of his face. “As I thought. Just a bit more than the bare minimum.”

“Uh-huh. Question.” he leaned against the table, his own teacup set aside, hands clasped under his chin. “How in the name of me did you figure that out?”

“Sheikah blood is poison.”

What.

“You wanna run that by me again?” he said slowly.

“Recall the night I bled all over you after I was attacked by stray Zonai tech? You touched my bloodstained clothes with bare hands. You were not adversely afflicted, thus you are of Sheikah descent. Sheikah are immune to poison as a result of our blood. Our most ancient texts detail testing poisons on ourselves, the results being our blood is just as much a poison as any concoction that can be crafted.”

Kohga remained unmoving, only his head tilting from side to side as he processed everything. It…. made several things about his youth make an unfortunate amount of sense. He’d always wondered why a bokoblin that had managed to get the drop on him had suddenly dropped dead after a particularly bad gash had sprayed blood everywhere. Why some of the flowers had died in the days after.

“In my case, it is deadly simply through skin contact, though I try to mitigate it through drinking far too much health elixir. Though I had not done so leading up to bleeding on you. Yours I presume is fatal upon ingestion, due to the generations of separation. But that is how I know. On that same note, do not go licking anyone who is not Sheikah. Saliva has similar effects.” he said, sipping his tea as if he hadn’t just sucker punched Kohga with even more information.

He took a deep breath. Unsettling implications aside, he could deal with it. Poison blood was kind of cool, right? He hoped he would never bleed again after knowing about it, but still cool! Right?

“Okay? And what does this have to do with you?” he asked.

Sheik had gone still at that, pausing mid sip. He slowly set down the cup, hands pressed together as if praying, his head bowed to hide in the pale locks of his hair. “Those ancient texts also state my duties, and those that have come before me in the form of myths.”

“Oh.”

He simply nodded. He didn’t speak for a long time, sitting so still Kohga had started to think he’d fallen asleep. Then, Sheik traced a peculiar, triangular pattern in the air.

“There is always a hero, one who wields the sword that seals the darkness.” he said. “For every hero, there is a guide. Their purpose is to, well, guide the hero. That is what I do. I have no other purpose.”

“And your whole thing with the princess? Is that part of this guiding thing too?” he asked.

Sheik groaned, rubbing his eyes tiredly. “No, but please. I can not get into that now. In addition to being missing, things are…. very complicated currently. Another time, perhaps.”

“Okay. Another time then.” Kohga said. He pushed one of the packages towards the blonde, waiting for him to lift his head a little. “Whenever you’re ready, I guess.”

It was a while before he accepted the food, some kind of pre-sliced bread that was still a bit warm, picking apart a slice into even smaller pieces as he ate. Kohga waited for him to finish before speaking again.

“I do have one question about this whole duty thing.” he said, waving an apple slice at the blonde accusingly. “When do you sleep? I don’t think I’ve seen you sleep once when you weren’t actively dying. And naps? Once, and I still think you weren’t actually napping.”

“At night, of course. Occasionally.” he said. The clan leader squinted, leaning forward. His companion shrank in on himself a bit. “I rest when I can? In a bed? Sometimes?”

“If a suspicious look is all it takes for you to crack, then you ain’t resting well enough.” he sighed. “How do you even relax? Do you not have any hobbies? Besides ‘uncovering’ music, whatever that means.”

Sheik’s head tilted slowly, as if he were seriously considering it. Master Kohga, leader of the Yiga Clan and supreme advocate for rest and relaxation, was appalled.

“Seriously? Not one hobby? What do you do all day??”

“....I garden sometimes.”

Kohga breathed deeply. He needed a nap, but settled for taking another apple slice to eat. “Do you enjoy it? Or is it just something you do to be a loner?”

Sheik’s silence spoke volumes. More than usual. Kohga pushed another package towards the blonde, then sat back and crossed his arms like a huffy child.

“Then what do you like to do? Ignoring all the issues you have with the princess thing and your job. Don’t tell me, just think about it for a second, for the love of me. Because you can’t keep almost dying on me and dropping startling pieces of history on me. That can’t be all of our conversations. You’re going to give me a fatal migraine at this rate.”

The blonde’s head tilted further, his brows furrowed. He slowly ran fingers through his hair, unbraiding and rebraiding the pale golden strands. It was times like this that Kohga remembered how long his hair was, it never seemed like it hung down to his waist when it was tied back. He wondered faintly if it was as soft as it looked, hiding the twitch in his fingers by snagging yet another piece of fruit.

Sitting there in the light of the numerous lanterns, his mask not quite drawn up over his face, Sheik looked somewhere between handsome and pretty. Or both, Kohga was indecisive. Fingers working through his long hair, lips pressed into a little frown, arms and shoulders exposed after the man had set aside his coat, he looked comfortable. Comfortable in a way that he hadn’t seemed before. It was a pretty good look on him, downright attractive even.

Wait a minute.

Finally, Sheik’s fingers paused, his hair half braided. “I like music. That is a given. Sometimes I simply like to just play, no song in mind. I like playing for my niece, and for my sisters once upon a time. I…. do not know if I like anything else. No one had ever thought to ask.”

Kohga nodded, tapping his chin thoughtfully. Really, he was just processing that statement. It seemed wildly unfair. Sheik was an interesting guy! Why wouldn’t someone have asked? He could see it being because the guy was just about the stealthiest person he had ever met, to the point Kohga was just waiting for a heart attack. He didn’t have enough information about the guy’s life to really go off of, so he was pretty much just taking a shot in the dark.

“Okay. Well, what about dancing? That’s sort of related to music.” he suggested.

Sheik shook his head, finally pulling his mask up properly. “I was trained to dance as a child, but no one has ever asked me.”

“Huh. Okay, uh,” he floundered for some kind of activity that someone like Sheik might do for fun. “You know, I’m kinda at a loss here. What do you want to do?”

The blonde just sort of looked at him for a moment, the same way one might when seeing a falling star. No one had ever looked at Kohga like that that he could recall. It did things to his chest that should definitely not be happening. Then he looked away, and Kohga felt he could breathe again.

“I think I would like to do this again. You are quite easy to talk to, despite your reputation.” he said finally.

“And my reputation is?”

“The horrifyingly scary leader of a death cult. Who murder babies and kidnap travelers.”

Kohga hummed, nodding. He grinned a little. “Huh. I kind of like that. Makes me sound pretty tough and menacing! Nothing about my good looks though? Not a word about how handsome I am?”

Sheik sipped his tea, though it had probably gone cold by now. Was he smiling? “No. Nor anything about how childish you can be.”

The clan leader’s head hit the table with a thud, a long and drawn out dramatic groan the only sound he made for a good bit. “Way to crush a man’s ego. You’re cruel, blondie.”

He didn’t even lift his head at the quiet chuckling coming from his companion, the blonde reaching past him to pluck a slice of cheese from the package by his elbow to nibble on.

“I am not the one who fed a sick and dying man barely edible goop.”

“You’re never going to let that go, huh?”

A light tap on his shoulder made him look up. Sheik was grinning, the way his eyes narrowed and the corners crinkled made it obvious. “No.”

He groaned, sitting back up. “You’re a cruel man.” he repeated. It earned him nothing more than a chuckle, the blonde seemingly finished with the conversation.

“How about this, I teach you that trick with the fire, and you let that go?” he tried.

Sheik glanced over. “Perhaps. That depends on when you teach me.”

Kohga held out his hands, gesturing him closer. “No time like the present! And don’t start waxing poetic about time again. It hurts my genius brain.”

Sheik let out a half chuckle, barely more than a breath of air as he moved around the table to sit beside Kohga. He settled just beside his elbow, peering at his hands curiously. Kohga had to resist wrapping an arm around his shoulders, his brain focusing probably far too much on the memory of the blonde sleeping tucked into his side to stay warm.

He arranged Sheik’s hands to match his, releasing them reluctantly before performing the gesture to summon the flames. He used a different version than the one he’d used originally, two hands instead of one, the flames crackling to life in his palm.

Sheik tried to mimic the gesture after a moment of study, though nothing happened. He huffed, and tried again. Maybe a hint of smoke this time, if anything at all. “I do not think this is working.”

He let the flames extinguish, taking the blonde's hands in his and slowly guiding them through the motions. His hands felt unusually warm, he was squinting as if under a bright light. Kohga paused for a moment, brushing his hair out of his eyes, fingers lightly pressed to his temples. Warm, same as his hands.

“You’re forcing it, blondie. You’re gonna hurt yourself doing that.” he said, ignoring the way the blonde was staring at him. “Relax, it took me years to learn this, you ain’t gonna learn this in an hour.”

His shoulders came down from around his ears, forcing himself through a deep inhale and exhale. He nodded, flexing his fingers. “Sorry.”

Kohga shrugged, smoothing pale hair back into place. “Don’t be. Just takes practice, which I have years of. I didn’t become Master Kohga just because of my good looks, you know!”

He nodded again, repeating the gesture, much more slowly and methodically this time. His hands barely had to be guided after a while, even if no actual fire was summoned. Kohga almost thought the conversation was over, the quiet comfortable as he helped the man through the motions. Very, very occasionally, a wisp of smoke was produced, but nothing more than that.

In all fairness, Kohga had always had an affinity for any kind of magics involving heat or summoning things. He didn’t know what kind of magic Sheik had an affinity for, but he was fairly sure it wasn’t the same. The fact Sheik was trying at all was nothing short of inspiring, even if he didn’t seem to be any good at it. He was almost envious of the amount of effort the man was putting into it.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed while he helped his blonde practice, but it was long enough he could tell the man was getting tired. Practicing magic that one had no affinity for was tiring in a special way, draining a person of their energy far more quickly than other kinds of magic. A bit like trying to swim in freezing water and just barely reaching the edge before your limbs stopped moving. And while it was a morbid way to put it, he could think of no other comparison.

He interrupted Sheik’s latest attempt at summoning the flames, clasping the man’s too warm hands together in his own. The blonde lurched into a more upright sitting position, blinking in the low light of the lanterns. There were dark circles under his eyes, the reflection of the lanterns in them just a bit dimmer.

“You look like you’re gonna fall asleep sitting up. Take a break from the magic, and get some rest. Think you’ll be able to make it home without passing out?” he asked.

Sheik glanced down at their clasped hands, and Kohga immediately pulled away. The blonde glanced around, wincing at the building headache. “As long as I have my harp, I will be fine.”

“Well, yeah, that’s a given. But do you have the energy for the whole dramatic vanishing in balls of light thing?” he asked.

Sheik’s silence and bowed head was almost an answer all on its own, though he wasn’t entirely sure if the man wasn’t just too tired to speak the obvious. Kohga just nodded, then took him by the arms and hoisted him up. (Gently, of course, he wasn’t a complete jerk)

His chest did flips at the tiny yelp he let out anyway, half clinging to the clan leader to stay standing. He steered the blonde towards the bed, nudging him forward when the man’s legs seemed to lock up and refuse to bend.

“Nap time it is! My favorite time of the day besides snacks and world domination.” he grinned. He swore he almost heard a laugh as Sheik sat down, nearly sinking completely into the pile of blankets and cushions.

“I was not aware that world domination was on your itinerary.” he said, unlacing his shoes and leaving them off to the side. The harp Kohga had long come to associate with the blonde went with them, as did no less than eight knives, four of them being his usual daggers. The clan leader would’ve been offended if he hadn’t known that was simply how Sheik was.

He was more happy that the man was in his bed and not bleeding out for once.

Wording, Kohga. Wording.

The blonde curled up on the side closest to the wall, his eyes already struggling to stay open the moment his head was against a pillow.

He just shrugged, flopping down onto the bed next to him with a grunt. “Eh, some days I feel more ambitious than usual.”

“Mhmm,” Sheik hummed, losing the fight to keep his eyes open. “You know, I am not entirely certain that there is a bed here at all. Just cushions.”

“Maybe I like to keep you guessing, blondie.”

“....”

Kohga glanced over at the lack of response, and found Sheik was already asleep. His chest rising and falling slowly, limbs tucked close to his body in a vaguely uncomfortable looking position. He didn’t really recall a moment when he’d seen him fall asleep so quickly or easily, it was rather odd. Maybe he was just that tired, a pang of regret twisting Kohga’s gut that it was partially his fault the man was so tired in the first place.

He reached over to twitch the corner of a blanket over the blonde’s bare shoulders, somehow managing to arrange the covers over the sleeping man completely without waking him. It seemed to make him breathe a little easier, though he did not stir. The sight was doing all kinds of things to his chest.

He decided to sleep it off and hope the feeling for his maybe friend went away.

It did not.

Chapter Text

Sheik visited more often.

It wasn’t that he felt obligated to visit, they had long since established that he was more or less free to drop by whenever he wished. And Sheik absolutely wished.

It was thrilling, slipping in and out of the most heavily guarded base in the entire kingdom, the places Link dragged him to notwithstanding. A single slip up meant the potential for getting skewered with an arrow or a curved blade designed to be debilitatingly painful, it was a decidedly interesting way to continue honing his abilities in stealth. He didn’t truly get the chance to actually buckle down and train those skills anymore, so he welcomed the opportunity, the potential for causing heart attacks aside.

And with the Yiga having the tendency to stab first and ask questions later, it gave him extra incentive to be good enough to make his way all the way to wherever Kohga happened to be without being seen. And just simply using his harp to do so felt a bit like cheating.

Even as he clung to the shadows, crouched so low he may as well be laying on the floor, a knapsack slung across his body, he still was of the mindset of not using his harp to make things easier on himself. Torchlight bounced off the walls, held aloft by a menacingly tall blademaster patrolling the halls, passing just on the other side of the stone he was hiding behind. Quick movements had Sheik skittering across the ground as soon as the blademaster’s back was to him, skidding to a stop behind the next stone.

One of the soldiers’ heads whipped around, not going back to their work on some Zonai contraption until they were sure they hadn’t actually seen anything after all. Sheik was grateful that shadows cast by firelight were so unsteady.

Scaling the fairly smooth walls of the narrow stairways to stay out of sight was a much more difficult task, but nothing that he wasn’t up to the challenge for.

It was slow going, a recent set of bruises to his arms making it hard to stay steady without the wounds throbbing and distracting him. But he’d had worse, so he could certainly handle it. The cleanup was honestly the worst part of any injury.

He made it to the main area in record time, slipping between shadows as if he was one with them. A wavering, wobbling mirage like that of a distant landmark in the desert heat marked the start of a familiar hall, and he slipped through it easily. It was more deserted, he barely needed to do more than just walk silently as he usually did to avoid drawing attention to himself.

This part of the hideout was not one that any intruder had ever seen according to his knowledge, not even Link had mentioned it when retelling his journey of reclaiming the Thunder Helm a few years ago. Then again, he doubted anyone but him could visibly see it, and it was presumed that the people living here simply knew their way around by heart, hidden by illusions or not.

He passed by door after door and hallway after hallway, sliding around the outskirts of a second, more home-y main area and squeezed through the farthest door on the right, the one with a slightly more ornate version of the Yiga Clan symbol. He continued on, his back a little straighter as he walked, his steps a little lighter.

An ear pressed to the first door told him nothing, so he moved on. The second door had no sound from behind it either, even to Sheik’s exceptional hearing. The third door held the faint sounds of a quill scratching against paper, and he repressed a smile. Turning the door handle so slowly, he slipped through soundlessly, no longer repressing his smile quite so hard.

Steps as silent as the fog descending upon the land, he slid closer, moving the long way around and taking the seat closest to the man bent over a million maps and reports. Movements slow and deliberate, his bag was set on the ground, and he rested his elbows on the table, fingers laced under his chin just to silently watch.

While Sheik had enjoyed the challenge of sneaking in, he was infinitely more relaxed now that his stealth suit had been repaired so he could do the job properly, not that he actually wore it this time. Something about their meetings made him feel at ease, enough he did not quite feel the need to wear it for just a simple day of conversation.

He still brought weapons, he wasn’t stupid. Just relaxed.

It pleased him immensely when the quill paused after finishing a particular sentence, wavering just slightly before looking up. His amusement almost couldn’t be contained when Master Kohga, leader of the Yiga Clan, nearly toppled out of his chair with a yell. Grasping the table for support, the quill abandoned and dripping ink onto the wood, Kohga squawked.

“When did you get there?!”

Sheik hummed, taking the moment to clamp down on the giggles threatening to escape against his will. “Not as long as you are thinking. You noticed rather quickly this time. I am impressed.”

The man pulled himself back into his chair, fingers rubbing at the spot on his mask where his eyes would have been and a hand on his back. “You’re gonna kill me one of these days, blondie.”

“It will be a shame when that occurs. You are remarkably easy to talk to after all.” he said. It was not a lie, other than his niece and sisters, Kohga was startlingly easy to speak with. He found himself talking far more often than the short, to the point conversations he often had with others outside his village. It was nice talking with someone who would listen, someone who hadn’t known him since the day he was born.

Someone who, by the words of people who should by all means want him dead, apparently valued his presence. Those words had tucked themselves into his brain, worming their way in so deeply that Sheik could not get them out without the risk of destroying his memories completely.

“Thanks? I think?” Kohga said, plucking the quill to deposit it in the inkwell. Sheik lifted his bag from the floor, standing with the man. A hand lightly grasping his elbow, he followed the taller man down the halls he was beginning to know by the number of steps alone, hidden in the shadow of his companion. 

A familiar fire hazard of a room welcomed them, Sheik letting go to place the knapsack on the table. Motions practiced from the amount of times he’d done this for their little meetings, he unloaded the packages he’d brought, placing one near Kohga. The man snatched it up, a pot and mismatched cups the blonde had come to know very well already set out and ready to go.

Sheik hadn’t gotten any better at the ‘fire trick’ as Kohga put it, and he would begrudgingly admit it stung a little. He knew it was irrational to want to master something so quickly, but he couldn’t help it. He didn’t watch this time as he opened up the packages one by one, the knapsack empty and placed on the floor now that they no longer had need of it.

The tea was poured, and they sat at the table. The cup was warm in his hands, the heat seeping deep into his fingers. A pleasant feeling, though it did not quite get rid of the chill he often felt when he was away from the sunlight.

“Where did we leave off last time?” he asked, sipping the still too hot contents of his cup, wincing just slightly at the burn.

Kohga was already picking through the fruit the blonde had brought, a greater amount than the first time after he’d noticed the man seemed to prefer that over anything else he’d brought. “You complaining about almost drowning in the waterfall from those sky islands over Zora’s Domain. Seriously, you’re a magnet for near death experiences. I think it’s the blonde in you.”

He hummed. “That certainly could be one cause. It could also be because I hate most forms of water.”

“That’s how I feel about sand.”

“Yet you live on the Gerudo Desert’s doorstep. I at least have a valid reason for my hate.”

Kohga hummed, pausing in the act of picking apart an apple. “What’s that?”

“Wells.”

“What.”

Sheik offered no explanation, instead stealing an apple slice when the man wasn’t looking. There was no explanation to give, except that he’d had horrific nightmares about creatures with too many hands lurking in wells ever since he could remember. It made him hate most bodies of water if he couldn’t see the bottom as a result.

How Link could climb down every single one he came across was nothing short of excruciatingly terrifying to him, and was one of the few things that could provoke a visible, visceral reaction from him.

“What is your reason for hating sand?” he asked, suddenly very keen to shake the memories of monsters that had no right to exist from his head.

Kohga grumbled, swallowing a piece of apple whole. “It’s rough, it’s coarse, and it gets everywhere.”

“I suppose that is true.” he said, setting his cup down. He wasn’t all that hungry, picking very lightly at whatever package the clan leader pushed his way. The calmness made him feel vaguely drowsy, his shoulders loose and slumped. His harp lay with his knapsack, and for once he did not feel like playing it to pass the time in the quiet. He was content.

Their meetings, while only occasional due to the nature of his own duties and the sporadic tendencies of the man beside him, were a very welcome addition to Sheik’s hectic schedule. It was a time he could just rest, whether or not that involved actually sleeping or not was entirely up to the events that preceded it. Even though more often than not, he did find himself waking up in various states of being buried alive under numerous blankets.

He never really recalled how he ended up like that, save for the gentle nudges and insistence that napping was a required activity. He never felt like arguing, always sinking willingly into the cushions and letting his consciousness fade away. The space was safe, he had no worries of Kohga trying to slit his throat in his sleep, the man had proven time and time again that he would not hurt him. He somehow slept better than he had in years.

Occasionally, he would wake up and Kohga would be asleep too, which was not unusual. More unusual were the times he’d wake up and the man would be doing some kind of work involving maps and other pieces of paper scattered around the floor. Those times, Sheik would lightly doze on and off as he watched.

More than once, he’d awoken to Kohga lightly poking his shoulder. Apparently he had a tendency to sleep like a corpse in a coffin, which was something he certainly hadn’t known about himself until that moment.

Kohga’s voice roused him from his thoughts, and he dragged himself from them to catch the tail end of what he was saying.

“—and then, the kid runs me over with my own device! How brutal is that?! I’m cursed, I tell ya! I can’t win against him!” he huffed, arms crossed and looking every bit an upset child and none of the vicious, murdering leader of assassins and thieves that the rumors stated he was. It was almost funny, the dichotomy of the two. Though he was sure the rumors had some truth to them, the Yiga weren’t known for being exactly merciful.

Sheik hummed, running a finger around the rim of his cup. “I am not surprised. About you being run over, I mean. It is entirely possible the Goddess has blessed him with her favor, he wouldn’t survive half the things he does otherwise.”

“That’s all kinds of unfair.” he grumbled. 

He hummed again, offering a slice of cheese to the man. “All things considered, you are lucky to be alive.”

“I can’t tell if that’s a threat or just a normal comment coming from you.”

Sheik could not resist just smiling in the silence, though it became more genuine when he accepted the food. Their mutual agreements to not stab or poison one another had silently extended beyond just those specific inclusions, becoming broader until it more or less encompassed doing no harm to each other in general. It was nice knowing he did not have to worry about being hurt by someone he'd come to trust, in a strange way.

Sheik did not think he could bring himself to take out the man anymore, should he actually interfere with the duties that bound the warrior to his place. His chest ached at the very thought, taking much more than a little sip of his tea in the hopes the burning down his throat would distract him.

Kohga was stretching, the quietest hiss making his ears perk, the blonde's attention caught like a fish in a net.

While he could not see the expression he made under the stark white mask, the way he’d tensed, the even fainter smell of blood that Sheik was so unfortunately used to, told him all he needed to know. He put the cup down harder than he meant to, the thunk startling the bigger man. His mouth twisted into a frown. Why hadn't he noticed earlier?

“You are hurt.”

“Wha— One, how do you figure these things out? Two, it’s fine.”

“I smell blood. Where are you hurt?”

“Creepy. But seriously, it’s nothing to worry about.”

Sheik held up a hand to halt any more protests. “You have helped me heal time and time again. Regardless of the severity, you are hurt. Let me return the favor. Please.”

He did not know why he waited for a response. If it had been anyone else, he would’ve helped without waiting for any response at all. His hesitation was borderline uncharacteristic, he almost considered the thought that he was ill somehow.

Kohga sighed, making a vague gesture towards his back. “Go crazy then.”

Sheik stood, moving to kneel behind him. There were no visible bloodstains, so that made it difficult to determine how badly he was hurt. He placed a hand on the man’s back, ignoring the startled twitch. Nothing stuck out to him. “You’re going to have to take this off if you want my help.”

“Yeah, yeah, give me a second, will you?” he grunted, grabbing at the buckles holding his whole fancy ensemble together. Sheik took a step back as the ornate collar was put aside, as well as the oval shaped pauldrons that the blond had thought were attached to the collar until that moment.

Though now, the longer Sheik looked, the more confused he was about the entire outfit. Was it a red jumpsuit over a grey one? Shirt and shorts over a grey jumpsuit? Why the seemingly two layers of gloves? Were those gauntlets over them? What even was the belt? Why had he only just now noticed these details?

Why was Sheik spending so much time thinking about this?

He pushed all his confusion about the outfit aside, deciding not to hurt his head any more than necessary, and focus on the task at hand. That being, assessing the damage and figuring out the best course of action. 

A cut about the length of Sheik’s arm spanned across the bigger man’s back, multiple other, smaller lacerations and scrapes decorated his already heavily scarred skin. Sheik did not wince, even knowing the man couldn’t see him. The pile of bloodied bandages used to patch him up (and rather badly at that) sat coiled just off to the side. The cuts were already bleeding again.

Sheik left his side for but a moment, retrieving the pitcher of water and using his own scarf to start cleaning the worst of the wounds. Was that gravel in his skin? “What did you do to warrant this?”

Kohga had gone very quiet at his question, which was only a touch unusual. Sheik was usually the one taking the time to answer questions, not the other way around. Still, even if it felt strange to be on the receiving end of that silence, he let it go.

“I uh, might’ve been testing contraptions with the boys.” he said sheepishly.

“I see.” he said. He did not see. “And what sort of contraption caused this?”

“One that knocked me down a cliff?”

Sheik took a deep breath, returning to cleaning up the cuts and scrapes. His scarf was going to need very, very serious cleaning after this. “And you were the one who scolded me for getting injured all the time. You are no better.”

“It’s not my fault! Someone put that cliff there to spite me! I nearly got peeled like a banana!” he protested.

Sheik’s stare could’ve killed a man, so dead was the look in his eyes. He was too tired for this shit. “Do you have proper medical supplies in this room, or do I have to raid your clan’s medical ward?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, no. I keep a stash in the chest.” he waved in the general direction of the bed, immediately wincing when the movement pulled on the cuts in his skin. Sheik pulled himself away to dig through the chest, half pulling himself inside to dig through the very bottom. Medical supplies he did find, if a very scant amount. How often did he need to use it instead of going to a medic? Did he even go to his own clan’s medics at all? A question for the ages.

He returned with supplies in hand, and sat once more to properly begin. He was no healer, but he’d done his fair share of bandaging up wounds in the midst of a battle, and even more of taking care of his own while on the road. Nothing exceptional, but it would have to do.

He used the very tip of his dagger to gently pick pieces of gravel out of his skin. “Is there a reason you did not go to your own medical team?”

“....Yeah. Don’t really like being in a room where people lay on beds while dying. One person? Eh, stuff happens. Half my clan? Noooo. No thank you.”

Sheik had not been expecting the tone in the man’s voice, though he didn’t comment on it. A scar that looked suspiciously like a half missed laser from a Guardian covered a decent part of his shoulder and arm, even trailing up towards his neck under the mask, layers of skin down to the muscle missing and long since healed over. It just sort of looked like a strange dent in his flesh.

Sheik threaded a needle, and slowly began to stitch up the deepest cuts. It was not very neat, but everything was at least going to be clean. If it was painful, Kohga did not react to it.

“I see.”

Sheik tried his best to be gentle, he really did. Over a century of being trained against that very notion made it incredibly difficult. He’d been trained to kill, not to heal. The only ones he’d never had any trouble being gentle with were his family, his niece especially. If only because he’d known them all forever. Goddess, he'd held his niece when she'd been a newborn, being gentle had been the utmost priority.

Kohga was not fragile by any means, he could honestly snap Sheik like a twig if he wanted. Even still, something made him want to try and be as gentle as possible when dealing with his injury. Regardless of how stupidly he’d gotten it.

He tapped the man’s elbows, making him hold his arms up as he reapplied the gauze and bandages. He tied it off, then went to put the supplies back in their place. “I have finished.”

“You work quick.” the man commented. Sheik only hummed, closing the lid to the chest and returning to the table.

“One has to work quickly and efficiently when dealing with wounds. I am no healer, but even I have some experience.”

Kohga almost shrugged before he remembered the stitches, fumbling only slightly to get fully situated again, the collar and pauldrons giving him the most trouble. “Any medical advice, doc?”

“Do not fall off a cliff.”

“Don’t worry, I wasn’t planning on it.” he laughed. “Now, can we talk about something else? Hopefully something more fun than falling off cliffs?”

Sheik tilted his head. “I suppose. I have not told you about the time I watched Link being attacked by Cuccos, correct?”

“No?! This I gotta hear!”

“Well, it was during his very first visit to Kakariko....”

Kohga was not in the room with the long table when he slipped into the hideout for another of their meetings. Sure, he had a tendency to arrive unannounced, but he’d always been able to find the man in that one room every time. It threw Sheik off for a moment, standing in the doorway, the interruption of their routine leaving him at a loss.

He slowly shut the door, looking both ways down the hall. He had not been in any of the usual rooms he usually checked on the way in, but there were a few more doors to check that he usually never had to. Kohga was predictable in that he could be usually found doing a few sets of things at any given point in time.

One was napping, which could honestly be anywhere. Another was something with a thousand papers surrounding him, and yet another was with his clan members in some way, shape, or form. The most recent place he could be found was with Sheik, but that obviously wasn’t the case now. And so, the only course of action was to continue looking.

The other doors in that hallway were a no go, so Sheik continued on past them. He poked his head into various rooms, just in case he was overlooking a possibility, and came up with nothing.

He would feel rather stupid if he didn’t check the (still a) fire hazard of a room before searching the entire hideout top to bottom, so he did just that. And he was infinitely glad he did, because the man was there, and Sheik would’ve been very frustrated if he’d searched the whole hideout for no reason.

Kohga had not yet noticed his presence, his back to the door. He was reading. Quietly. A few papers littered the table in front of him, but they were all ignored in favor of the book in his hands. Sheik felt strangely like he’d stepped into an alternate dimension, it felt minorly unnerving.

Still he shut the door behind him silently, creeping up until he was right in the man’s personal bubble, peering over his shoulder curiously. It was Hyrulean text, looking to be some fairy tale. He hadn’t known Kohga was interested in reading fairy tales, it was news to him. He couldn’t decipher the title from the little context he was getting from the pages he skimmed through, but it seemed like it had something to do with a knight who was cursed to turn into a wolf. The page he was skimming was a lot of complaining about the curse part.

Kohga turned the page, and the blonde leaned a little closer to continue skimming. His braid slid forward, slipping and thumping the seated man’s shoulder. He barely twitched, pausing to glance at the long blonde hair attacking him. “Oh. I wasn’t expecting you today.”

Sheik nodded. “What are you reading? I do not recognize it.”

“Eh, just some old story one of my lackeys liked.” he said, stuffing a loose scrap of paper between the pages and closing it. The cover depicted a wolf, a pair of princesses, and some kind of fairy companion. “No idea what it’s called.”

He nodded again, standing up straight. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but something seemed.... off. Kohga was less energetic than usual. And Kohga was always energetic, even if he’d just woken up from a nap.

He swept his braid over his shoulder, to discourage his hands from unbraiding and rebraiding it. “I can go. If today is not a good day.”

“No!” Sheik almost recoiled at the shout, taking a very swift step back. Kohga flailed his hands a little, clearing his throat. “Sorry, that came out weird. I meant, no. You can stay, don’t worry about it.”

“....Alright.” he said, slinging the knapsack from his shoulders to place it on the table. Outbursts were nothing new, Kohga was a loud and boisterous man. But he couldn’t deny he’d been startled. This whole day seemed faintly off, Sheik only hoped that feeling would fade as time went on.

He really needed someone to speak with right now.

He placed the pouch of tea leaves he’d brought onto the table, though by now Kohga probably had enough to start a small collection. More packages were transferred from bag to table, placing the bag on the ground once it was empty.

Kohga was less talkative than usual, he was usually the one filling the quiet as the tea and food was set up. Sheik wondered if it was just an off day for him, he wouldn’t fault him if that was the case. Even Sheik had off days, though those ones usually involved him ending up severely injured in one way or another.

Kohga’s off day seemed to include an overall quietness around him, like the world was a little muffled. The only sounds he’d made so far since telling him to stay were the ones made by the water as it boiled in the pot, urged on by the faintly blue tinged flames in the man’s hand.

They sat at the table, the quiet still ongoing. Sheik tapped at his very warm cup, just taking in the sight of the steam swirling in the air for a moment. Kohga was barely picking at the food, at least in comparison to how he usually was. While they had their quiet moments, something about this quiet felt wrong. It was not the comfortable quiet he’d come to be accustomed to during the lulls in conversation or when he dozed while Kohga worked. He did not know how to start the conversation for once. It was not something he felt he could just come right out and say.

“So. Haven’t fallen down any chasms recently, have you?” Kohga asked.

He shook his head. “I am more cautious of that now. Save for when Link decides to dive all the way from an island in the sky to the Depths below.”

“Right, right. Forgot the guy does that.” he said, nodding. “You mentioned he likes free falling.”

“Indeed. We had this conversation last time, if you recall.”

“Huh? Oh, sorry.” he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Sorry, it’s been a day. Haven’t had my daily nap yet, you know? Whole schedule’s out of wack!”

He nodded, pulling down his mask to speak a little more clearly. And the faint hope it might help him relax more if Sheik wasn’t so hidden. He could deal with having his face a little more visible if it was just the two of them. “That is fine. You are allowed to have an off day. Your inattentiveness is forgiven.”

Kohga let out a half hearted laugh, weak and nothing like his usual laughter. Sheik was used to his laughter being loud and unapologetic, even perhaps a little maniacal. It was a nice laugh, one he missed dearly. So lost in his thoughts he did not notice how badly the man winced when he’d taken a sip of his drink, fingers pressed hard to his mouth. The blonde went to drink his tea, still mulling over the strangeness of everything, inattentive to the flailing hands trying to get his attention moments too late.

“Sheik hold on wait—!”

The cup clattered noisily, barely a yell escaping before both hands were clapped to his mouth. Sheik curled in on himself, pressing his fingers to his lips so hard he was sure there’d be bruises on top of burns, tears collecting on his lashes.

It burned so badly. He scrunched in on himself harder, barely registering the hands on his shoulders. He tried to breathe, his muscles unwilling to unclench much farther than it took for him to sit sort of upright. It was not so much the pain that got him, even though it was really painful. It was that he wasn’t expecting it that got him the most. That it had happened in the one place he felt safest in the entire damn hideout.

So focused on the pain in his lips and throat he did not fully register the hot dampness in his coat, the tea slowly seeping across the table and endangering the papers Kohga had left there.

He managed to wave off the thousand frantic apologies, breathing deeply, tears stubbornly falling even though he willed them not to. He sat a little straighter, one hand pressed to his mouth while the other blindly searched and set the fallen cup upright.

“‘M fine.” he gritted out, gripping the cup so hard his knuckles went white. It was still warm, the traitorous thing.

“Sheik, that burned the literal Goddess out of you. Don’t tell me you’re fine.” Kohga said, taking the cup away from him. “Come on, get up. You’re soaked.”

“‘M fine.” he said again, an arm looped around his waist hauling him to his feet.

“Sure. Wait here, I gotta go find ice.” he said, muttering none too quietly to himself as he left in his signature cloud of smoke. It was the first time Sheik was aware of being left by himself in the room. Tentatively removing his hand, he winced, hissing faintly as more tears ran unbidden down his cheeks. He took deep breaths, trying not to touch his mouth, blinking through the tears and agony. He hadn’t known tea could hurt this badly, it was almost unfair.

He shed his coat, just a tad bit chilled with his arms and shoulders bare. But at this point, he really did not feel like being warm after his own tea tried to kill him so brutally.

That left the remaining tea spilling across the table. He hastily scooped up the papers, rescuing them from a tea stained fate. A practiced motion from years of rescuing his sister’s and later, Zelda’s research notes from spilled tea after countless late nights and unintended naps. At most the corners on a few got wet, but that was still a little too close for comfort.

He went to put them on the desk, moving a few items so he could at least try and lay the papers out to let the corners dry. A picture frame fell from where a loose rag had snagged its corner, the thing clacking facedown on the crowded desk. He set it back up, pausing at the painting set in the frame.

It was Kohga himself, that part was not what had Sheik pausing. Next to him, standing tall and stern, was an unfamiliar blademaster. Incredibly professional, and completely unperturbed by the way Kohga had seemed to be dancing around, and pointing at the man in what could only be described as utter joy upon his masked features.

Now, Kohga was not a small man. But this blademaster made even him seem tiny in comparison, dual wielding a seemingly special set of windcleavers that were easily as long as Sheik was tall.

Sheik had been all over the hideout, and had not once seen any sign of this unfamiliar blademaster. He surely would’ve noticed such a giant of a man, completely ignoring the unique hairstyle and weaponry. Especially if he was so important as to be painted alongside the Master Kohga himself, and as what looked like an equal no less.

The contrast was so drastic, it was almost enough to give a man whiplash.

He tore his gaze from the painting and directed his attention to the papers, his original task long forgotten. The handwriting he would not recognize in any case, so he ignored that part. He focused on the contents.

Reports, a few detailing incidents he had heard of in passing, some he’d never heard of at all, but could gauge the time frame from context and the faded ink alone. They’d been written over a hundred years ago, not a single one was earlier than a century.

None of them were signed by name save for the first one, though the ink had run there in curious splotches. Something with an ‘S.’ They all had the same splotches, though only the name from the first was rendered completely illegible by it.

Whoever this Right Hand of the Inverted Eye is, he’s clearly important if he warranted such a menacing title like that.

The door smacked open in the middle of his impromptu investigations, it took everything he had not to jump. He was getting far too comfortable here if simple sounds could catch him off guard, he was losing his touch. He needed to train more, and better.

He turned. Kohga was staring at him, bag in one hand. Shame coiled in his chest, sinking deep and taking root like an infection. He slowly set the papers down. “I am sorry.”

Kohga’s head gave a little shake, as if clearing his head instead of rejecting the apology. He brought the bag over, shaking the contents. “Ice. Cold water. Rags. Should help those burns.”

Sheik nodded, taking them gratefully. The canteen of water was so cold it almost burned him on its own, a wet rag wrapped around a few small chunks of ice pressed to his mouth. It soothed the burns better than he’d been able to imagine in the moment. “Thank you.”

“Yeah.”

The silence lingered longer than either of them would’ve liked, neither man moving, and neither speaking.

Sheik broke the silence first, lowering the rag slightly. He did not quite look at his companion, he could not.

“I was trying to save the papers from being soaked. I thought to put them here. Then I saw the painting. I was not intending to snoop, and yet I did. For that, I am sorry. I.... will understand if you wish me to leave.”

“....As long as you don’t do it again. I can forgive it. It’s.... not like he’s gonna mind anyway, those reports are old.”

Sheik slowly chanced a glance at the man, and found he was not looking at him. He followed Kohga’s gaze towards the painting.

Somewhere high above, a lantern was lit.

“Oh. My most sincere apologies. I was not aware.” he whispered, pressing the rag to his lips once more. Suddenly, pitching himself into a well and letting the creatures of his nightmares take him didn’t seem so bad after all. Anything to cure the aching, roaring shame choking his lungs. But he could not bring himself to leave the man's side.

Kohga shrugged, habitually rubbing at the spot on his mask where his eyes would be. “Nah, you’re good. You couldn’t have known, I would’ve been pretty shocked if you did. Pretty sure he was a Hylian anyway. He wouldn’t have lived more than another eighty years at best, however old he was.”

Sheik nodded, tilting his head at the painting. He stepped closer to Kohga, resting a hand on his shoulder. He stayed silent, just offering his quiet support. What could he even begin to say? No amount of words would make things better.

“You probably woulda liked him.” Kohga was sniffling. “Great guy, never let us down. Real quiet, sorta stood in the shadows all spooky like. Waaaay sneakier than you’d expect from such a big guy. Best fighter our clan ever had besides me.”

He hummed, unwinding his scarf and holding it out to the man. He took it, one end scrubbing at his face. Sheik pointedly did not try to look, his gaze focused resolutely on the little framed painting.

The scarf came back a mess of tears, snot, and kohl. He almost did a double take at that.

“I can’t imagine he’d let anything other than a battle take him.” he said quietly, folding the scarf to slip into one of his many hidden pockets.

Kohga laughed humorlessly. “You’re right about that. Those Guardians were pretty ruthless.”

Things clicked together like puzzle pieces, and Sheik did not like the picture it created. He would’ve thought that worshiping the Calamity would have granted the Yiga Clan some level of protection from being attacked by the rampaging Guardians. Clearly he was sorely mistaken.

“My most sincere condolences, Kohga.” he said, lightly patting his shoulder. The man sniffled again, and Sheik felt like he had to do something. Perhaps just lending an ear was the best he could do for a loss so deeply wounding that the effects could still be felt over a century later. And while he had known what day today was, he hadn’t imagined Kohga would’ve been mourning too. Really he should’ve put things together sooner.

For a split second, he had the wild notion to lean up and touch his forehead to the other man’s. So inexplicably wild was the notion, he almost actually went through with it. If hesitation hadn’t paralyzed him, he would’ve done it.

That moment of hesitation was all it took for him to back down from that notion, to change course. Hand already in the air, he just sort of.... retracted his hand and hoped it went unnoticed. He lowered his head to lightly press his forehead against the man’s shoulder instead. Just a light tap, nothing more. It was all he could offer right then.

“Is there anything you need?” he asked.

“Honestly? Not a clue.” Kohga said. “Don’t really do much when this day comes around. A nap sounds nice though.”

Sheik nodded, humming quietly. He tilted his head, taking the rag away for a moment to tap at his burn. Not awful, but he certainly didn’t feel like eating or drinking anything anytime soon. He placed it on the edge of the desk away from the papers.

“Then you should rest. If it helps, I can play something to help you rest easier.” he offered. It was an offer he made to very few, perhaps a bare handful of people. But it was one he would continue to offer until he could no longer play.

“Guess it wouldn’t hurt to try. But uh, I didn’t see you come in with a harp.” Kohga said. 

Sheik responded by pulling his harp from behind his back, and gesturing towards the pile of blankets and pillows that passed as a bed. Because he was fairly sure there was no actual bed.

“Wh— Sheik, where in the name of me did you pull the harp from??”

The blonde was already nudging him along, pretending he hadn’t heard the question. Kohga didn’t give up questioning, though he was considerably quieter about it, as he half collapsed into bed. Sheik sat next to him, legs half tucked beneath him, pausing just a moment with his fingers on the strings.

“Do you happen to possess any specific requests?” he asked, testing each string to make sure it was in tune. They always were, but it never hurt to check.

Upon receiving no specific requests, he began to play. He had not thought of anything incredibly specific to play, though a few choices within his knowledge were certainly better than others. He plucked the strings, weaving a slow, flowing melody he remembered hearing when he was young. He’d never been able to place it, except that it had sounded familiar somehow.

A ballad, if he was correct. Though the words haunted the very depths of his most faded memories that did not quite feel like his own, his tongue could not form the sounds necessary to do it justice. If he was being honest, he did not think he would be able to put it to paper if he tried.

He was not sure how long he played, fingers moving from note to note to form the song floating through the air. He was only sure that, when he drifted out of his thoughts, it seemed like Kohga was asleep. Not an uncommon reaction to half the music he played, a lot of his music ended up as lullabies or other equally sleep inducing songs. It was the nature of playing slow songs on a harp.

He stopped playing, fingers frozen over the strings, already half prepared to transition to a different song. He lowered the harp, the glittering gold instrument held limply in his lap. He simply sat, unmoving, staring off into nothing.

After a moment of quiet contemplation, he slumped, back pressed against the mountain of pillows that covered the bed. His temples ached, and his eyes burned. This was the first chance he’d gotten to rest in what felt like a week, and yet he couldn’t feel anything but restlessness.

He pulled a stone from his pocket, holding it up to the light and turning it over. He’d never seen anything quite like it before, the engraving unfamiliar to him. But something had compelled him to pick it up, and he still had yet to know why. He supposed the glow was nice to look at, but he didn’t know what he was supposed to do with it.

He let his hand drop, the strange, glowing stone enclosed in his fist. Of course, it would be just his luck he’d end up finding more questions than answers. And questions that weren’t all that important in the grand scheme of things.

Zelda was still missing, he still felt that strange draw into the sky, and now it turned out that the Zelda so many people had been seeing was just a puppet controlled by a severely dehydrated and decrepit mummy. One that apparently had shattered the legendary unbreakable sword that was supposed to be the only thing that could destroy evil. Really, the bar of things Sheik could handle hearing from Link was getting lower with each passing day.

Sheik had had a reason for coming here today, beyond just casual conversation. He’d hoped to have someone to listen to his grievances, perhaps even receive advice or help. Link either would not or could not give him answers, and at this point he didn’t even know which he disliked more.

Link was no longer looking for Zelda. No one was. No one had answers, and it seemed like they’d just simply thrown their hands up and went to do something else. People were starting to look to him like he was Zelda, trying to approach him about the rebuilding efforts, the monster cleanup crews. The whole thing with the school in Hateno.

He couldn’t stand it, hiding away in the farthest corners of the kingdom, searching high and low as if that would save him from what seemed like the destiny he'd been trying to avoid for so long. Scouring texts until his eyes burned and the sun rose, picking through every ancient ruin he came across. It was how he found the little stone, in truth. His new good luck charm, found in the depths of what had once been shadow covered ruins.

He’d come across one old text while he’d visited home again that had given him an idea, but it felt.... Final. He’d read the text before, he knew he had. Many times. How he’d missed an entire two pages in a language that he could neither read nor write, but still stirred an understanding deep within his soul, he would never know. It felt like a sign from the Goddess, one that the implications of scared him.

And so he’d come to Kohga, hoping for advice at the very least. Perhaps even help searching for Zelda, though he was not counting on that. But the man had more pressing matters to deal with, and Sheik couldn’t simply not help the person who occupied his thoughts the majority of the days.

It was fine. He was fine. He could make the journey alone. He did not want to, but he did not yet possess the courage to ask.

He held the harp to his chest, idly plucking a couple strings. The stone still clutched in his hand glowed just a bit brighter, the notes of his harp resonating a little more, the shadows growing a bit longer. He barely noticed it, his thoughts were far, far away.

He could make the journey. But he had preparations to make before then. For now, he could rest, his decision made.

He just hoped to see Kohga again afterwards.

Chapter Text

He found Sheik completely by accident this time. He’d been on the surface for quite some time now, updating the clan’s maps. Mostly noting down the opened chasms and other important things of interest. And he was busy making a map for the dark underworld he’d just been recently cast out of with the help of his lackeys still working down there. It seemed mostly the same as the surface from what he’d found, just inverted. For some reason.

That was definitely one mystery he absolutely did not feel like solving. He’ll leave that to future historians.

He’d met Sheik in the old Temple of Time. It was a great spot to survey the land from, and Kohga really did not feel like being near the ground. A small hope of seeing the dragon flying around did color his decision to go to the old temple, but not that much.

He’d just walked in through the front doors, or lack thereof, and there Sheik was. Sitting with his legs tucked under him at the statue, his harp leaned up against its base. The man did not seem to be praying, but there was not much else to do at the statue that he knew of. He was glad to see the man looking unharmed.

Kohga approached slowly, sitting beside the Sheikah. He didn’t acknowledge his presence, but he would soon. He always did. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Sheik hummed. His eyes closed, only the slightest twitch of his ear in the leader’s direction gave him the indication he was paying attention. Kohga continued. “So what brings you here? Haven’t seen you here on the surface before, didn’t know you were one to pray to the goddess.”

“You were not on the surface before to see it.” Sheik said. Which, yes, he was technically correct. But they weren’t gonna talk about that.

“I am now. Feels great to be up in the sun again.” he said, stretching his back out. Now that he wasn’t distracted by cryptic words and trying to take care of serious injuries, he noticed Sheik looked a bit different in the sun. More tan, less washed out like he was in the torchlight. More lively. It was nice to see.

“I am sure it does.” the blonde commented. His eyes opened, and he looked over at Kohga for real this time. “You never did mention how you returned to the surface. I thought you would go back underground eventually, seeing as it was so advantageous for you.”

Kohga grumbled, his mood simultaneously plummeting through the earth and soaring into the sky. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Sheik nodded, twisting something over in his hands. Whatever it was, it was small enough to be completely hidden in one hand, and seemed shiny. Probably a rock of some kind if he had to guess. Did Sheik like shiny rocks? Something to keep in mind.

“Very well. We do not have to then. Whatever makes you the most comfortable.”

Kohga felt something in his chest squeeze at that. Was he having a heart attack? He prayed it didn’t kill him.

“Well, I was here for a reason, but you seem like you’re here for something pretty important if you’re praying to the Goddess. Feel like telling old Master Kohga why?”

Sheik almost laughed, a huff of air escaping him. “I suppose. I am going on a journey, of sorts. There is another temple, with another Goddess statue. The biggest in the kingdom, and perhaps the oldest. I am going to see it.”

Kohga blinked. That was not what he’d been expecting. It sounded like a pilgrimage of some sort. Do the Sheikah do that now? “Oh. I thought the one here was like, ‘the one.’” he crooked two fingers on each hand as he said it.

“Most do. It is not a well known statue, but it is there nonetheless. And I am going to go see it.” he said. Whatever was in his hands was tucked into a pocket. He reached for his harp, taking it into his hands and plucking a string or two. “Link.... Link has suspicions about where Zelda has gone. He will not give me a true answer, other than he suspects it has to do with time and the dragon spirits. And.... I want to see if the old temple has any answers, because this one has none. It is my last chance to find out.”

“You sound like you’ve thought about it a lot.”

“I have. Extensively. Which is why I am here. Asking for a safe journey.” he said.

Kohga nodded, propping his head up with his hands, humming in thought. He spoke after a moment of consideration. “I could help. The Yiga are all over Hyrule. I could send out an order to look out for you. Keep your road clear. Or put you on a safer one.”

“You.... would do that? For me?”

“Yeah, why not? It’s no trouble. You asked for a safe journey, right? Boom, here we are, handing you a safe journey.” he said, hands outstretched as if presenting a gift. “Your prayers have been answered, in the flesh. Bow down to the great Master Kohga.”

Sheik blinked, glancing between his hands and the wooden mask hiding Kohga’s face. And burst out into quiet, contagious laughter. He clapped his hands over his mouth immediately to muffle the sound, bent over double to contain it all. His shoulders trembled with the force of his poorly contained giggles, lasting only moments before he was straightening up again, composed once more. Mostly, the occasional giggle slipped from him still.

“Thank you. Your kindness is much appreciated.”

Kohga waved away the thanks, shifting to a more comfortable sitting position, leaning against what remained of the ancient stone railing. “Don’t mention it. You’ll have to pay me back for it eventually though.”

“I will. Perhaps one day I will save your life, as you have saved mine.”

That brought up memories. All of them upsetting. “Let’s hope it won’t come to that. Why can’t we just have a calm time for once? All this saving lives stuff is getting repetitive.”

Sheik nodded in agreement. He almost looked like he was smiling for a moment, however small that smile may be. “It certainly is.” he said. He plucked a couple strings on the harp, the same two notes over and over. Kohga raised an eyebrow.

“Something on your mind still?”

“Perhaps. Would it be too much to ask if you would come with me?” he asked. The strings were plucked a little more quickly now, more notes added. It almost sounded like a song, quick and nervous as it flitted back and forth.

Kohga could’ve said no, easily. It would’ve been no effort on his part. But he’d come this far, offered so much already. What was a little more? He nodded.

“Sure. But if you’re gonna make me do any cooking, don’t even think about complaining, alright?” he warned.

“The thought will not be voiced.” Sheik assured him.

“Oh, but you’ll think it?”

“Undoubtedly. I am still emotionally scarred from your attempt at porridge.”

“It was one time!”

They were both laughing this time, Kohga couldn’t help but join in for once. He would never live it down, but he was okay with that now. As long as Sheik was the only one who knew. And it felt nice to laugh with a friend. Just a friend, yep. Nothing more. Definitely not.

He was not going to be considering the thought of being more. Not now.

Sheik moved closer, faint chuckles escaping. Without so much as a warning, Sheik’s forehead was pressed to his mask, and would have been against his own forehead had the mask not been worn. Kohga’s laughter was cut off immediately, and he just sat there, blinking. It was over as quickly as it happened, the blonde pulling away barely a moment later.

Was Kohga seeing things, or did he look almost flushed?

“I am sorry. I was not thinking.” Sheik said, sentences short and clipped.

“No no, it’s fine. Just. Why? What was that?” he asked. It was one of those times he’d be waiting a while for an answer it seemed, with how Sheik had turned away, his back facing the bigger man.

Eventually, Sheik’s head turned in his direction, just the tiniest bit to direct his next words at Kohga. “It is just something my tribe does, particularly those of my village. I would rather not speak of it currently. Just know it is not a negative thing.”

“Okaaaay then. We won’t talk about it.” Kohga nodded, still processing the action. It had been weird, out of nowhere, and he wasn’t sure what it had meant. He hadn’t been born into the tribe, though it was his people and culture, technically. He should’ve known the meaning behind it.

And he would’ve, had his ancestors not split from the tribe and formed the Yiga. Had the royal family not betrayed his people. He might’ve even been born in Kakariko, had things been different. Perhaps in another world he was.

But he much prefered this one. In this one, he knew Sheik as he was, not what he might’ve been. And that was enough. He rather liked knowing Sheik.

He changed the subject, clapping his hands together. “So! When’s this big journey of ours gonna set out? You weren’t thinking about hitting the road today, were you?”

Sheik seemed grateful for the shift in topics, shaking his head and finally turning back around. He stood, stretching his legs for a moment. “No, nothing like that. I was considering tomorrow morning, but that was before I asked you to accompany me. Perhaps in a day or two then? If that is not interrupting anything you have planned?”

“That’s fine. Did you want to meet somewhere or are you just going to find me?” he asked. 

Sheik held up the harp in response. “I will find you, you will know where to meet. Be ready in two days. We will go from there.”

“Will I need a horse? How are we getting to this temple?”

Sheik was already walking away, halfway out of the ruins. 

“Sheik! Please tell me we’re not walking the whole way there!”

Kohga’s question was answered when Sheik next returned, and he was eternally grateful that they weren’t actually walking the whole way. The blonde had arrived just a couple of days after that initial meeting at the old ruins, the reins of a brown and white painted horse in hand, said horse trotting happily along beside him.

The plateau towered behind Kohga, the man now standing out in the open, still in uniform, but otherwise fully prepared for travel. Mostly. He wasn’t the one who brought the horse. Sheik was giving him a look, stopping a few feet away and crossing his arms. The horse pawed at the ground, huffing at having to stop.

“You can not wear that for our journey.” he said firmly. 

Kohga mimicked Sheik’s stance, staring him down. “Well, why not?”

“Because we are taking the main roads, and stopping at the stables for the night when we are near one. You can not be flaunting your identity as one of the Yiga for all to see. Do you wish to cause panic?”

“Well, now that you mention it....”

“Kohga.”

He held his hands up in surrender, admitting defeat. It was Sheik’s journey, he was just along for the ride. “Alright, alright! But no watching! Okay?”

Sheik shook his head, spinning on his heel to face the other way. The horse trotted after him, whinnying unhappily when they still stayed put. “You have your privacy. Be swift please, we have a long road ahead of us.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m going.” he muttered, clapping his hands together. A cloud of smoke exploded around him, startling the horse into rearing. Sheik had no troubles keeping the mount under control, pulling it away from the lingering puff of smoke and leading it in slow circles.

“A warning next time would be excellent.” Sheik deadpanned, shushing the spooked horse, stroking its nose gently as they circled. Kohga waved an arm out of the cloud, making a ‘mouth’ with his hand to simulate his speech. Since he couldn’t visibly be seen talking otherwise.

“Well, excuuuuuse me, princess. I, the great Master Kohga, was not about to change out in the open.” he said, pulling his arm back into the smoke cloud.

“You Yiga and your smoke.” he sighed. He guided the horse to circle around the smoke, petting its nose. The horse was much calmer now, happy to be on the move finally.

Kohga let the smoke dissipate naturally when he was done, unamused at being forced to be seen as anything other than the great leader he was. He had considered the possibility, however, and prepared accordingly. He looked like a regular traveler dressed in earthy colors, albeit bigger perhaps. His thick, curly hair twisted into a bun. There was a very good reason he kept it tied up in a topknot all the time, even if it hadn’t been part of the uniform. No other hairstyle could really contain it properly, many a hair tie had been lost in the process.

Sheik was staring, somehow not managing to trip and to continue walking the horse at the same time. He tilted his head just slightly. Kohga held his arms out to the side, feeling just the slightest bit smug about the attention. Okay, a lot smug, but he had earned it by virtue of existing.

“Look great, don’t I? Feast your eyes on the one, the only, the great Master Kohga! In humble traveler mode!” he declared, his smug grin on full display for once.

His traveling companion gave a nod, adjusting his mask a little more over his face. “You look.... nice. I was not expecting you to look like that. Tan, yes. Dark hair, also yes. But everything else? No.”

“Handsome? Good looking? Exceptionally stunning?” he supplied.

“With stubble. I imagined you as clean shaven, for whatever reason.” Sheik said, slowly walking the horse over to him. “It is not bad, I just was not expecting it.”

“Happy to defy expectations!” he said, reaching to pat the horse’s neck. It huffed at him, making an attempt to nibble at his hair.

He swung himself up into the saddle, taking the reins. It had been a while since he’d ridden a horse, but it couldn’t be that hard to pick back up, right? 

He was very wrong. The horse would not move at his urging, refusing to move at all in fact, until Sheik took hold of the reins and walked the horse. While Kohga rode, basically being useless. What a great start to the journey.

“I think your horse hates me.” he said.

“You did spook her. Anyway, it will just be for an hour or so. We will stop at a stable on the way, perhaps you will be able to catch your own.”

“Fun. More work to do.”

Chapter Text

By very early morning, they arrived at the stable. The sun still hadn’t risen yet, it was incredibly early. Sheik walked the horse into the corral, tying the reins to a fence post. He looked up at Kohga. “Here we are. Go catch your horse. I recall there being a small herd across the river.”

“Across the river? I have to go all the way there?” he complained.

The stare he got in response was very telling. Sheik was not budging on this. He sighed, clambering down off the horse. Which didn’t feel good, and trudged off to at the very least make an attempt.

It was a long walk by himself, made worse by how early it was. He hated being up this early, he didn’t know how Sheik was able to do it. A thought had occurred to him that the man may have just stayed up all night, but he didn’t exactly look like he had. Or he was just very skilled at hiding the fact.

Across the river, a small herd of horses trotted along. By small meant that there were about half a dozen horses. He almost didn’t want to disturb them, hiding in his spot in the trees. But he would have to borrow one for a while. He could always bring it back later, it wasn’t going to be a permanent thing.

One horse had trailed away from the main herd, munching on the tall grass swaying in the breeze. Its color stood out in the field, a warm, reddish brown with white splotches against a sea of green. It was the closest to him, so it was the one he was going to try for. He wanted to get this done quickly.

He creeped forward, crouching in the grass. The horse either didn’t notice or didn’t care, munching on a particularly tasty patch of grass with its back to him. He crept closer, and closer, until he was just close enough to reach out and touch it—

And immediately got clocked in the head by the horse’s side as it turned, the wild mount shying away from the sudden bump. It neighed, trotting away while Kohga was left facedown in the grass. He suddenly remembered why he never rode horses.

Nothing to do but try again, so he got up, and followed the horse. The second try earned him various bruises along his back, the horse having bucked him off the second he’d managed to get on. The third attempt he didn’t even want to think about. But he was determined to see it through. Or just too stubborn to give up. Same difference!

Kohga returned triumphant, one hand on the horse, leading it back to the stable just in time for the sun to rise. The evil beast was trotting along happily, whinnying as if it hadn’t just spent the last hour knocking Kohga around like he was a living ball.

Sheik was waiting for him, perched on the fence, strumming his harp in time to the music played by the musicians staying at the stable. The Stable Trotters, he remembered reading about them being called. Sheik didn’t stop playing as he approached, instead slowing his plucking until it almost sounded like a lullaby.

“I see you were successful. I am impressed.” he said.

“You expected anything different from the great— uh.... Me?” he tried, unable to think of a suitable name on the spot that wouldn’t be too similar to his own. He didn’t really need anyone other than Sheik knowing what the great Master Kohga looked like under the mask.

Sheik chuckled, lowering the harp, legs swinging as he sat on the fence. “Go get them registered. I let the staff know ahead of time to register it under my name. I paid in advance, all you have to worry about is the name and getting the saddle on.”

Kohga nodded, leading the menace of a horse to the front of the stable. Everything Sheik had said was true, the hardest part was honestly picking a name. The horse was a very gentle creature, sitting perfectly still while the stable staff got them all ready.

He settled on Patches as a name. It was all he could come up with on the spot, after looking at the coloration on the horse. It fit, and he wasn’t going to spend too long thinking of a name for a horse he was only going to keep for this one instance. When all was said and done, he took the horse by the reins and led it to Sheik.

Sheik had his own horse, the mount neighing at the newest companion to join their traveling group. Patched neighed back, trotting forward to sniff at the other horse. They seemed to get along well.

“We should head out now that you have your mount.” Sheik said, climbing up onto his horse. Kohga did the same, swinging himself into the saddle. And off they went, the Sheikah taking the lead.

They rode slowly, choosing to preserve their horses’ energy over getting anywhere quickly. Just a light trot, nothing too strenuous for the gentle but menacing creatures. Sheik’s horse was perfectly behaved, happily following the road wherever it would take them.

Kohga’s horse was somewhat behaved, but every so often would veer off the road, snorting and huffing and just trying to carry him off in a random direction. The clan leader would be forced to take the reins and redirect, often right back off the road again in the opposite direction. Why did his horse have to be so difficult? He thought he’d picked an easy one!

Sheik slowed his horse after the tenth time Kohga had zigzagged on and off the road, riding beside him. “You have not been on a horse in a while, have you?”

Kohga huffed, a sound mimicked by Patches. Great, now his own mount was mocking him. “Not for at least a hundred years.” he said.

Sheik nodded, releasing the reins on his horse and reaching over to pat Patches’ neck. He had to stretch, leaning into Kohga’s personal space. “Try being more gentle with it. Your horse does like you on some level, otherwise you would have been thrown off a while ago.”

“That’s a surprise.” he muttered. He lightly patted his horse, using Sheik as his guide. Patches neighed, so it must’ve been working. They hadn’t veered off the road again yet.

“Not really. You are a likeable person, it is only natural a horse would like you as well.” he said simply, leaning back to take the reins again. Kohga raised an eyebrow. He was likeable now? Since when?

He didn’t comment on it, instead at least trying to put the advice to work. Maybe it was because Sheik was riding alongside him now, but Patches didn’t seem very inclined to go galloping offroad as often anymore. The gentle touches definitely helped, his horse felt less like it was fighting him over where to go now. He really hoped he wasn’t going to get attached to it.

He put the thought aside and focused on the road ahead, Sheik overtaking him just by a bit to lead the way, since Kohga was only following along in the journey this time.

They were near the park ruins, almost at them really, when Sheik audibly gasped, Kohga barely having time to react before the blonde was grabbing his face. Gently but firmly, Kohga was made to look at the sky over the mountain. “Please, please tell me you see it.”

Kohga blinked, very close to admitting he was having a hard time focusing on whatever it was while there was a pair of very warm hands holding his face, when all thoughts stuttered to a halt. He couldn’t even voice what he was seeing, couldn’t put words to the sight.

There was a dragon flying over Satori Mountain. White with a short gold mane and its spikes glowing with a sacred blue light, it swam low through the slightly overcast sky above the mountain. The sight felt somber, despite the dragon’s beauty.

Kohga couldn’t nod with Sheik holding his face. “I see it.” he said quietly.

Sheik said nothing, but released his hold on his face. He was standing, one foot in each saddle, hands on Kohga’s shoulders, braced against his back to stare up into the sky. Kohga took hold of the reins on both horses, keeping them all on the road.

Sheik stayed like that a while, just resting against his back, watching the dragon float through the heavens above them. It passed directly overhead while they crossed a wooden bridge, steadily flying off into the distance. Still, it took a while for him to move again after the dragon passed, the blonde finally disengaging from his weird position and sitting back on his horse. Kohga offered the reins back, the man hesitating briefly before taking them. He looked lost. Both in thought and in other ways.

“Everything okay, Sheik?” he asked.

Sheik gave a nod after a minute or two, taking a deep breath. He let it out, a deep exhale leaving him deflated, shoulders slumped. “I believe so.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“....It is hard to describe. But thank you. For seeing it too.” Sheik’s voice was quieter than usual, he had brought a hand up to his throat, fingers tucked into the scarf he wore around his neck. Like he was going to pull something out. He never did, fingers remaining hidden in the folds of pale fabric, curled like he was holding something.

Kohga didn’t ask, only nodding. He reached to pat the man’s back, just a brief tap, letting his hand rest just below his shoulder blades. The touch seemed to help, Sheik slowly pulling himself back together from whatever thoughts were running through his head.

“Y’know, we should think about finding a place to rest the horses for a bit.” he commented, glancing up at the sky. No more dragon, but many more clouds than before. “Preferably under something. Like a nice ruined building.”

“Unfortunately, ruined settlements are few and far between in this region. We will have to keep going until we find something. It may take a while.” Sheik said.

‘A while’ turned out to be over an hour and a half later, when they came to a fork in the road. It was starting to rain, droplets cascading from the sky with increasing ferocity. Sheik took the reins from Kohga, urging both horses into a canter, guiding them to a large outcropping of porous rock resembling bone far too greatly.

There was just enough space for all of them to be out of the rain, right before the sharp downhill slope into the dry, cracked breach in the earth. Both men climbed off the horses, settling down closer to the pale stone to wait out the bad weather.

The horses seemed not to care much, wandering closer to the edge of the protected area to nibble on the grass. At least they seemed happy.

Kohga leaned against the cool stone, resting his legs. He’d absolutely forgotten the worst part about riding horses; how absolutely sore he would feel afterwards. Sheik had plopped down next to him, holding out a skewer to him. It had been carefully wrapped up in a protective cloth, and there were several different kinds in the man’s hold.

“When did you have the time to make those?” he asked, taking the skewer. It was no banana, but it would do.

“While you were getting beat up by a wild horse.” Sheik said. He pulled down his mask just enough so that he could eat his own. It was cold, but food was food. Kohga wouldn’t complain too much.

“We are not talking about that.” he muttered. 

“Neigh, we shall not.”

“That was awful. By order of the Yiga Clan, I, Master Kohga, hereby ban you from ever making that joke again.”

Sheik nodded, chewing on a mushroom piece. He swallowed, then spoke. “Neigh-sayers, every one of you. I can not believe you do not enjoy horse-ing around. I have been saddled with a humorless ice king.”

“Scratch that, I’m banning you from ever speaking again.”

“Foals, all of you.”

“Sheik, I swear to the goddess I will commit crimes if you do not stop.”

Kohga couldn’t bring himself to follow through on his threats, listening to that airy, musical laugh lilting through the area around them. It didn’t last long enough, the man covering his mouth to keep the sound quiet. He cleared his throat, composing himself, though the faintest smile remained.

He was more relaxed, free of whatever thoughts he’d had previously in the presence of the dragon. It was a beautiful thing to see. “I am sorry. I could not resist. I never travel with anyone long enough to tell jokes like that. A moment of weakness, and I do apologize for that.”

Kohga waved a hand dismissively, tossing the remains of a skewer stick off to the side. “Whatever makes you happy, Sheik. But I will commit crimes if I have to hear you say ‘neigh’ one more time. That is a promise.”

Sheik stared him dead in the eyes, then slowly leaned close. Far too close, almost nose to nose. Kohga could’ve kissed the man, and he almost considered it.

Nope. Consider those thoughts later, when the subject of them was far, far away.

“Would you like me to rein it in?”

Kohga put a hand on Sheik's face, pushing the blonde away from him. “I’ve changed my mind, crimes are gonna be committed for every horse joke you dare speak in my presence.”

“That simply means I can prevent your crime spree by staying silent. A victory if I have ever seen one.” Sheik said. The smallest twinkle of amusement glittered in his eye. There was no winning with this man.

Kohga sighed, rolling his eyes. Sheik was right back next to him, legs tucked up under him. He’d produced a map from somewhere, unrolling it so the bigger man could see it too. Kohga leaned close, studying the path his blonde was tracing with a finger.

“The plan was to take this road here, and then we would diverge from the path right about here.” he tapped a spot on the paper. “Continuing past Washa’s Bluff, between the hills and the canyon, we would go to the very end here and ride into the gorge. Maybe find a place to camp there. But with this weather, we might not make it before dark.”

“Why not stop at the stable near the bridge? Backtracking is an option.” Kohga suggested. Sheik stared at the map, sighing before rolling it up again.

“We may have to. If the rain lingers for too much longer. Personally, I would rather not set up camp in the dark.”

“Agreed.” Kohga nodded, sitting back against the stone. Sheik followed, tucking himself closer to the clan leader’s side. “Cold?”

Sheik just nodded, not making a move to get any closer. Kohga moved his arm, gesturing at the man. Sheik went willingly, pressed against Kohga for warmth, relaxing into the arm curled around his shoulders. He seemed content to stay there, bundled against the Yiga’s body to leech off him, watching the rain in silence. Kohga found he was content to stay that way too, it gave him time to think.

Not too deeply, but enough. The rain didn’t look like it was letting up for a while anyway.

He hummed quietly, tapping out an irregular rhythm against his blonde’s back. Sheik didn’t acknowledge it, only leaning to rest his cheek against his chest. Kohga really hoped he couldn’t hear his heartbeat, that would be hard to explain. And he did not want to explain it.

They sat together, watching the rain, listening to the quiet patter of droplets hitting the stone they took shelter beneath. The horses grazed lightly, only leaving the shelter of the towering rock far enough to get their heads wet from the moisture. It was peaceful, Kohga could certainly get used to it. Were it not so far away, or so exposed to the outside world, he’d even consider it a great napping spot. Maybe if Sheik napped with him, he might consider it more.

The skewers lay forgotten in their cloth wrappings, the rolled up map laying beside them. For once, Kohga didn’t feel like eating. He was too comfortable as he was, the warmth of his blonde a constant at his side.

Kohga could get used to this. Whatever this was.

Of course, he couldn’t keep his mouth shut.

“You know, you never did mention how you fell. You just sort of changed the topic, and I’ve been wondering about that.” he said.

His blonde hummed, an ear twitching ever so slightly. He traced the seams of the clan leader’s coat with a finger, unspeaking for a long moment. He almost considered mentioning that Sheik didn’t have to answer if he didn’t want to, that it was fine if Kohga never knew. And it was, really, he didn’t absolutely need an answer. He would be perfectly happy if he never ended up knowing.

“I can sense where Zelda is.” he began, voice muffled from how his cheek pressed against the bigger man’s chest. “Think of it this way. You have two rocks, one tied to each wrist. They have been there for as long as you have been alive, you know nothing of a world where you did not feel their weight. Are you with me so far?”

Kohga nodded, giving the man’s back an encouraging pat. His voice had wavered faintly, so faintly in fact that he had almost missed it. He held the man a little tighter. Sheik took a breath, then continued.

“Alright. Now imagine one of those strings was cut. You now only have one rock tied to one wrist. Without the other, it is dragging you down. The change is so sudden, you can not adjust. You lose your footing, and you fall. When the castle rose, I could no longer sense Zelda, but I also could in a way. Instead of two, there was one. I could not adjust. So I fell.”

“Right. So what’s the second one in this analogy?”

“Something I fear very much.” was the whispered answer he gave. Kohga did not want to continue that conversation, reaching to lightly pat the top of the man’s head. Sheik was not trembling, but the way he had scrunched in on himself did not make Kohga think happy thoughts.

His free hand rubbed circles on his back, and he just held the man for a while. Of course he just had to open his mouth. He really should’ve learned not to do that by now, after a century. If nothing else, he could at least try to comfort the man. 

Maybe taking his mind off of it would help.

Kohga tapped his back, drumming his fingers on bony shoulder blades. “Hey. If it’ll take your mind off things, I can tell you a story from when I was younger.”

Sheik lifted his head, resting his chin on the bigger man’s chest. His eyes were wet with unshed tears, though Kohga had a feeling he’d claim it was just the rain. He got a little nod, the blonde just looking up at him with no small amount of curiosity.

“I was still a teenager when this happened. See, in our hideout, there’s this upper sort of catwalk that you have to take a side hallway to get to. Kinda narrow, but you can see the training grounds from it decently well. It didn’t always used to be enclosed, it used to be just a wooden walkway.”

“Used to be?”

Kohga nodded. “Yeah. I may or may not have been practicing that little fire trick I showed you. I was also really angry for some reason I don’t remember. Anyway, Practicing, yeah? I uh. May have accidentally nearly blown myself up along with the walkway. And had to help rebuild it as punishment.”

Sheik almost giggled after a moment, a hand covering his mouth. He tried to compose himself, but it was a bit of a lost cause. “You blew yourself up? How powerful was that spell?”

“Powerful enough to laser out that narrow hallway leading to it that I mentioned earlier. Clearly I’ve gotten better at controlling that, but still. Anger leads to some pretty gnarly laser explosions.”

The blonde was still giggling, leaning against him for support. Kohga could feel the laughter wracking the smaller man’s body, so close were they.

“I am sorry. I can not get over the thought of you blowing yourself up.”

He shrugged, patting the man’s back, internally celebrating when he melted back into his side. His giggles died down, Sheik taking a deep breath as he settled back into a more content state.

“Thank you for sharing, Kohga. It was enlightening.” he said, voice soft and barely audible over the rain. The clan leader just hummed, rubbing circles into his back gently.

They sat together, watching the rain.

Chapter Text

It took hours for the rain to stop, slowly petering off until barely a droplet fell from the sky. Kohga didn’t want to move, he was too comfortable. Sheik made the decision for him, reluctantly untangling himself from his hold and getting up to stretch. He was pulling his mask back up, gathering up the map and remains of the skewers, stowing them away in his horse’s saddlebags.

Kohga was slow to get up, stretching until something in his spine cracked. He probably needed to get out more. Start training more regularly. Not that he needed to, but it was an idea. To keep his skills sharp.

The two men climbed onto their horses, Sheik taking the lead once more. The sun was low in the sky, half hidden by the clouds threatening rain once more. It looked like they wouldn’t be doing a ton of traveling today, Kohga guessed they were maybe a quarter of the way there, if that.

Just past the shallow lake, if it could be called a lake, a few bokoblins had made a camp. Just a small little fire really, not much more than that. Sheik urged his horse to go faster, taking off in a gallop. Kohga rushed to follow, Patches speeding after the blonde and his horse. The bokoblins barely knew what had raced past them, head’s popping up in alarm as the horses thundered down the road. 

They hadn’t even been given time to give chase, quickly giving up on hunting them down in favor of returning to the little fire they had going. Once they were far enough away, Sheik let his horse slow, Kohga and Patches nearly overtaking them and skidding to a stop.

“What was that about?” he asked, patting his horse’s neck. Patches whinnied, huffing and pawing at the ground, their ears pinned back.

Sheik rummaged around in his bag, pulling out two apples. He tossed one to Kohga, feeding the other to his own horse. “I did not feel like fighting them. But they would have fought us anyway. Better to leave them in the dust than give them a chance.”

Kohga presented the apple to Patches, almost getting his fingers nipped for his troubles. But it soothed the horse anyway, its ears no longer pinned back. “Point taken.”

They continued on, eventually passing a lone bunch of bananas near a sign. Sheik watched it as they passed, humming quietly to himself. He only spoke after they had passed it, and the stable was in sight.

“You know, I believe I watched Link fall for that exact trap once before.”

Kohga slowly turned to stare at Sheik, blinking as he processed the new information. “You watched the hero do what?”

The Sheikah warrior nodded, staring off into the distance as if recalling the most traumatically stupid memory. “He read the sign. Looked at the bunch of bananas, looked back at the sign. Then went to grab it. I believe he was wearing a ceremonial dress of some sort at the time. With a crown.”

None of the reports he’d ever received on the hero mentioned that . Not even close. Was his arch nemesis, the bane of his existence, really that stupid? How had Kohga ever lost to him so many times?

Although, now that he thought about it, the last time he had seen Link, he had been wearing armor that looked like it had been fashioned out of metal lanterns. And chains. With a vague bird theme. And glowed in the dark. It had been really, really weird.  

“I hate to say it, but that checks out.” he sighed. His defeat had been embarrassing, but it had been against the hero. One who wielded a legendary blade. He’d been a fool to think he would win. At the very least, he won the battle in terms of fashion sense. And good looks.

They arrived at the stable just in time for it to start raining again. Sheik was quick to hurry the horses into the stable, getting them boarded and out of the rain as fast as possible. Kohga was already inside by the time Sheik got in, the blonde wet and dripping rainwater onto the wooden floorboards. He placed their bags on the floor, squeezing water out of his braid.

He paid for two beds, getting out the remains of the skewers for them to eat. They finished eating far too soon, retiring to sleep early in light of the terrible weather. A lightning strike close enough to illuminate the entirety of the stable was the confirmation they didn’t need that they would be staying for a while.

It felt strange to Kohga to have separate beds, he was so used to having the warrior’s warmth by his side. It made for poor sleep, the pillow placed over his head to block out the sound of the storm. He faintly wondered if Sheik felt the same.

Goddess, he was getting way too attached.

Kohga was woken up far too early, the sun barely cresting the horizon when he was being unceremoniously disturbed from his much needed slumber. The blanket was pulled off of him, leaving him with just the pillow suffocating him.

“Koh. Get up. We have much more distance to cover. And we can not cover that distance while you sleep.” Sheik was saying. Kohga swatted at his knee, groaning loudly in protest. Sheik was not having it, plucking the pillow off of the Yiga’s head.

Kohga blinked up at him, bleary eyed, blinded by the light. Sheik was giving a particularly flat stare in return. “Koh. Get up. There is food. Now get ready so that we may leave.”

Kohga just groaned in response, dragging himself up anyway. A fight with Sheik was something he did not want, especially so early in the morning. Waking up before the ass crack of dawn should be a crime. If he ever got into a position of power, say as a king of a country, he would outlaw the concept altogether.

He was struggling to get his arms through the sleeves of his coat, half considering leaving the thing behind altogether, when something in his head finally registered. He paused, arm halfway into his sleeve.

Koh? Had Sheik called him that? That was new, he didn’t remember being called that at all. Not even once, not before this very morning. He didn’t know what to think of it.

Koh. He could get used to it.

Kohga stepped out of the stable fully dressed once more, grumbling at the early hour. Sheik had their horses ready, feeding each of them an apple before this particular leg of the journey. He looked happy, patting their noses. A small wooden plate was perched on the flat top of a fence post next to them, covered with a large leaf to keep the contents warm for longer.

He uncovered it at Sheik’s encouraging gesture, blinking at the contents. A meat pie, of some kind. While it was no mighty banana, he would not lie that it looked really good. He wrapped it in the leaves, he’d eat it on the road. He knew Sheik was in a hurry to get going.

They left the stable just as the sun was rising, turning back the way they had come. The skies looked much clearer today, though no sign of the dragon from before. He secretly hoped it would not show again. As beautiful as it was, Sheik’s reaction to it left him with many questions and concerns. Maybe sometime down the line he would understand why, but he did not wish to bring it up so soon.

They came across the lone banana bunch trap, and Sheik urged his horse to turn right, into the grass. Kohga followed, Patches happily trotting after the warrior and his mount. They took it slow again, weaving a path around fallen pieces of sky islands. There were so many hunks of sky rubble, it was a wonder there were any left to form the now iconic isles in the heavens.

He was weirdly reminded of his own impromptu flight through them, accidentally hitching a ride on the back of a dragon.

They weaved the horses through the geometric boulders, now passing through a wide open field. Kohga groaned dramatically. “Really? Bokoblins have cavalry now?”

“Evidently so. These ones we may not be able to outrun.” he said.

They had been spotted, Kohga could almost picture a little exclamation mark popping up over their heads. The bokoblin urged its own horse onward, pulling the cart with the other bokoblin along with it as it charged. They swung in an arc around them, the monster riding the cart already aiming arrows at them.

Kohga clapped his hands together, summoning a puff of smoke. From it dropped a curved bow, arrows already loaded. He took aim. Sheik was in the way, he couldn’t fire. He was not an archer by trade, he didn’t dare try to shoot while Sheik was between him and the monsters. He couldn’t risk hitting the man.

The bokoblin fired an arrow, missing his blonde warrior by so little, the man lurched backwards with a yelp. His horse reared, knocking Sheik to the ground. Blood trickled down his face, staining the pale fabric of his mask.

Kohga jumped, taking aim. His magic kept him afloat for the few seconds he needed.

He fired.

The first arrow missed. The second nailed the bokoblin in his pig-like snout, the monster dropping its bow and squealing. The third arrow clipped the cart, sticking in the wood.

He fired again, falling from where he floated.

The first arrow nailed the first bokoblin again, sending it screeching from the cart. The second missed, disappearing in the grass. The third sank into the lead bokoblin’s skull, pitching it off the horse. Horse and cart galloped off into the distance, whinnying in fright.

Kohga hit the ground, knees almost buckling from the drop. He stayed standing by some miracle, firing sets of arrows over and over, until he saw the telltale purple cloud explode and dissipate into thin air.

He didn’t wait, smoke and talismans taking him right to Sheik’s side. The man was sitting up, hand pressed to his forehead. The horses were rearing, racing in circles, high pitched whinnies ringing through the air.

Sheik waved him off, pointing at the horses. Kohga reluctantly went to calm them first, shushing the spooked creatures. Once one had calmed, it was easier to calm the other, walking them in circles and hushing them the same way he’d seen Sheik do.

He brought them back to his blonde, releasing the reins so he could kneel beside him. Now that the adrenaline was starting to wear off, he was really starting to feel that landing. Sheik’s hand came away bloody, his pale hair stained red.

Kohga helped clean him up, applying the bandage for him. All he had Sheik do was hold it in place while he worked. He tucked the bandages away once it was all done, taking his hands to help him up. He would’ve brought up the man’s tendency to get injured like he was a magnet for it, but he didn’t quite feel like it for some reason.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

Sheik took a deep breath, clutching the other’s hands to steady himself. “I.... I am okay. That was.... impressive.”

Any other day, Kohga would feel smug. Maybe boast about his skills, how great he was, something like that. Today? Yeah, maybe still a little smug. But that was overshadowed by a much more prominent feeling. A sick twisting in his gut that had nothing to do with what he’d eaten for breakfast, an uncomfortable tightness in his chest.

“It was nothing. Just some quick thinking.” he said, guiding Sheik back onto his horse. Once he was securely in his saddle, Kohga swung back onto his own horse.

Sheik took the reins, hands shaking minutely. If he noticed Kohga’s lack of stroking his own ego, he did not acknowledge it. “I do not recall ever seeing you move that fast. I suppose you really are deserving of the title ‘Master.’”

“You doubted me?”

“No. I simply have proof of your abilities to substantiate those claims.”

“Okay, now I know you’re good to go. You’ve gone and pulled out those fancy, multisyllable words again.”

Sheik chuckled and gave the reins a gentle flick, prompting the horse into a trot. Kohga urged Patches to follow, riding beside the man. He kept between him and the canyon’s ledge, the pair moving on in a comfortable silence.

The scenery really was beautiful, Kohga had honestly missed being topside again. Five, almost six years underground could really make a guy homesick for a little sunshine. It was nice to be back among the world above. Sheik made it nicer.

They rode for a while longer, looking off in separate directions. Kohga looked out towards the canyon, keeping an eye on the ledge, watching to prevent anything possibly sneaking up on them. He did not feel like getting into another fight so soon, his legs protested the idea. But he would, if it kept Sheik alive. And so consumed with the thought of keeping Sheik alive, he did not see what made the man gasp as they were about to crest the top of the small hill.

A strangled, wheezing, squeaking gasp, one full of pure shock and terror. If the phrase “Oh fuck, oh shit, oh fuck!” was a single noise, it would be that. Kohga only had time to turn in his direction before he was completely tackled off Patches, hitting the grass with a thud. All the air had been knocked from his lungs, he struggled to breathe for a brief moment with the weight on his chest. He lifted his head, mouth immediately covered by a hand. 

Sheik was sprawled out on top of him, hand over his mouth, eyes wide and staring at something Kohga could not see. A couple apples rolled down the small incline they were on, the horses trotting after the vibrant red treats happily.

He was very still, breathing so slowly he made no sound at all, he just kept staring through the tall grass. Had Kohga not been pinned by the surprisingly strong man, he would've sat up to see whatever it was that had scared him so badly. What could possibly scare a man who did not fear the dark, being surrounded and near death in enemy territory, or even the very thought of whatever could’ve been so powerful as to create the gloom?

Sheik removed his hand, rolling off of him to crouch in the grass, almost vanishing in plain sight before his very eyes. He almost missed the weight of him. Had it been any other circumstances, he wouldn’t have minded having the blonde on top of him.

Then Sheik spoke, barely heard in the faint breeze ruffling the grass, so quietly he dared to be. One word, barely even two syllables. But he instantly understood everything all at once. Any louder meant death.

“Lynel.”

Kohga followed his lead, rolling to a crouch, though not quite as gracefully. Together, they snuck through the grass, doing their best to stay below the tips of the green blades. Retrieving the horses, they slowly creeped along, every noise stopping them from moving.

The horses were agitated, huffing and pawing at the ground. Sheik held his by the head, guiding it to stay low, arms around its muzzle with his hands petting its nose to soothe the animal. Kohga did similar, and together, they led the horses around the savage beast as silently as possible. They did not stop until they had reached a strangely shaped stone, a small gravel mound before it, small curved arches guarding the egg shaped boulder.

They sat, just taking a moment to breathe. Sheik was laid out on the ground like a starfish, taking deep breaths and letting it out slowly over and over. Kohga just watched the hillside, eyes peeled for any sign that the monster had somehow followed them, that it was charging down the hillside to kill them. But the hillside remained blessedly clear.

“....We’re taking a different route back.”

Sheik nodded, not moving just yet. “We are taking a different route back.” he echoed.

They took a moment longer to just destress, letting the overwhelming fear dissipate before getting up. Their horses were antsy to get moving again, preferably away from the monsters. They were on their way once more, slowly urging their mounts down into the canyon.

The canyon was clear of life, save for the occasional mushroom dotting the rocks, maybe a fox or two, and at least one pack of wolves that steered clear of the duo. Metal structures littered the length of the canyon as far as the eye could see, the windmills turning slowly in the winds high above them.

They ate while riding, Sheik passing over more skewers he’d prepared earlier that morning. Stopping was less of a priority than getting as far away from that beast as possible was. So they kept riding, making their slow journey through the canyon, giving a wide berth to the suspiciously placed rock formation in the center of their path.

The sun was low in the sky by the time they passed under Tabantha Great Bridge, unable to reach the very bottom of the gorge. It was at this point Sheik had leaned over to speak, breaking the comfortable silence, eyes crinkled like he was smiling under his mask.

“We have passed the halfway point. Perhaps one more day and we will have reached the temple.”

Thank the Goddess for that, Kohga was getting sick of all this traveling.

They found a safe, secluded place to set up camp. A strange, blocky metal structure that seemed to defy all logic just by being there made a great object to tie their horses to. Not that anyone was around to steal them, but one could never be too careful. They split tasks, Sheik set up the tent on relatively flat ground and took care of the horses, Kohga laid out what could pass for a somewhat decent bed for them to sleep on and got the fire going.

It was not up for discussion who would be cooking, Kohga was rather happy to give that task up to the blonde. But it did leave him with nothing to do, so he sat by the fire with him to watch. Sheik had simply stabbed a mushroom with one of his daggers, and was holding it over the fire.

A second mushroom, also stabbed through with a dagger, was propped up carefully on some rocks waiting its turn on the flames. When one was done, he would scrape it off into a wooden bowl and start roasting another over the crackling flames. This lasted a while, until there was enough mushrooms and fruit for the both of them.

They ate in relative silence, watching the last rays of sunlight disappear far above them. Soon, only the crackling flames of the fire gave them light, stars dotting the vast expanse above them. Kohga faintly wondered if they’d be able to spot the dragon that had saved his life. He hoped so, he would like to point it out to Sheik someday.

“Thank you again. For accompanying me all this way.” Sheik said after a while, poking the fire with a stick. “I do apologize for making you fight. And for almost leading you into a lynel. I had not anticipated one being in our path.”

Kohga shook his head. “Don’t apologize, it wasn’t your fault. There’s no way you could have known about it being there. I’d actually be more concerned if you did know.”

He nodded. “Still, I thought I should apologize. And thank you for coming. I am a little ashamed to admit, but I asked you to join me because I did not wish to make the journey alone.”

“Oh. That's all?” Kohga asked. His chest felt heavy, a feeling he did not like.

Sheik neither confirmed nor denied, sitting with his legs tucked up to his chest as he watched the fire. He seemed much smaller now. More alone. “It is a comfort to have you here.” he said instead.

He hadn’t pulled his mask back up over his nose after he was done eating, his face mostly on full display. His hair still covered his eye and the tattoo, but otherwise he was letting his face be seen for once. Because there was no one else around.

Just Kohga.

The thought made him a little happier. That the man felt comfortable enough to not hide his face, to not hide who he was around the clan leader. It was certainly an honor of some kind, knowing the man probably never showed his face to just anyone if he could help it. And Kohga felt honored.

“Glad to be a comfort then.” was all he said in response.

Sheik nodded, shuffling closer to him when the breeze picked up, whistling through the canyon like an eerie, ghostly wail. Kohga did not hesitate to invite him closer, wrapping an arm around the smaller man’s shoulders. They sat like that for some time, close to the fire, Sheik slotted against his side, head on his shoulder for warmth.

It took even more time for Kohga to realize the man was looking up at him. Borderline staring. Kohga raised an eyebrow, looking down at the blonde. He didn’t say anything, waiting for the other to speak. Nothing but silence from the Sheikah.

Finally, after a long moment of no words from either of them, Sheik moved. Leaning up, closing the distance between their faces, and pressing his forehead to Kohga’s, bandage and all. The same way he’d done at the Temple of Time, though this time he didn’t pull away immediately. He stayed like that, lingering, forehead pressed against forehead, unmoving.

Kohga didn’t fully understand what it meant, and he really should ask, as it was probably very important information to have. But he returned the gesture, leaning into the touch, pressing his forehead against Sheik’s. That seemed to do something, he couldn’t see very well this close, but it almost looked like Sheik had smiled.

He waited until Sheik pulled away to ask, letting the man settle back into his side and shoulder first. “Can I ask what that was?”

Sheik hummed, fingers idly running over the seam of Kohga’s coat sleeve. He took a moment to respond, formulating his thoughts into something coherent for Kohga. He looked up, red eyes meeting equally red eyes. “It can mean a lot of things, it depends on the context.”

“Give me the general idea?” he asked.

“It is a sign of affection. The Sheikah crest is most commonly tattooed on the forehead, so pressing foreheads together means they would mirror one another. The general idea is that you are asking to share a burden with someone, or offering to take some of their worries. To see into each other’s masks and see the truth, whether offering or asking. If there is magic involved, it becomes very literal. A sort of healing, sharing pain, baring your soul, removing the shadows over one's heart. As I said, it depends on the context, and the magic involved if there is any.”

“It is a way to convey what simple words can not.”

Kohga nodded, head tilting. His brow furrowed, mouth turning down in a contemplative frown. “Makes sense. Again, a little poetic, but I’m starting to think that’s just how you talk. Anyway, question. Your tattoos are around your eye, and uses your eye as part of the symbol. How does the forehead thing work if it’s on your eye?”

Sheik chuckled a little, a beautiful sound to hear. “No different, the tattoo has little to do with the gesture anymore. My tattoo placement has to do with the magic involved. I can see through illusions with it. It is a passive ability.”

“Oh.” he said, squinting in thought. “I haven’t heard that before.”

“It is a closely guarded secret. Only one person ever has this specific placement at a time, and it is me currently.”

He nodded in understanding. Kohga was a Sheikah, he should’ve known this. But he did not, he had been born after the split, born into the Yiga Clan. Something the royal family had forced, all because of their betrayal. But while he could not change the past, he could affect the future.

He was curious to hear more of the Sheikah, of the tribe his blonde had grown up in. What he would do with the information, he didn’t know. But he was willing to learn regardless.

If Sheik would teach him.

His blonde was yawning, almost silently. Kohga only realized it by the slow intake of breath and the even slower release of it. He nudged the man up reluctantly. Knowing him, he would want them both to be up at the ass crack of dawn once again. And for that to happen, they both needed sleep.

Kohga put out the fire before joining the man in the small, single tent. There wasn’t much room for the both of them, but Sheik seemed much more comfortable about being close to him these days. He was sure it would be fine.

He was right, somewhat. Sheik was okay with being close. Because he was cold, immediately tucking himself as close as comfortably possible to the much larger man, buried under their combined blankets. 

Kohga allowed it, throwing an arm around the Sheikah, just to make sure he wouldn’t fall out of the blankets during the night and freeze to death. That was definitely the only reason. Yep. Nothing at all to do with the way Sheik relaxed in his hold, breathing easier with the touch of a hand on his back. Nothing at all with the way the warmth seemed just as much of a comfort as it was a way to fight away the cold. Nothing to do with how Sheik tucked his face into his chest, just over where Kohga’s heart surely thudded out an erratic rhythm at the closeness.

Nothing to do with how easily either of them slept this way, one curled against the other, hands just close enough to be held if they so desired, fingertips just barely touching.

He really needed to stop thinking about it.

But of course, Sheik had to scatter that convoy of thought.

He was trying to sleep, clearly, but the lack of his breathing slowing and evening out into something regular was a telltale sign that his favorite blonde was still awake. Kohga hummed, rubbing slow circles on the man’s back in the hopes it would guide him closer to sleep.

“Koh?”

He hummed again, not bothering to crack open an eye.

“I was curious about something.” his voice was low, barely above a whisper, mostly muffled by the fact his face was still pressed resolutely into the bigger man’s chest.

“Mhm?” he finally peeked at the blonde. Sheik was looking up at him now, head turned to almost mush his cheek against the man. He looked just as tired as before, visibly holding back his yawns. It was cute.

“The phrase ‘becoming’ Master Kohga, you mentioned it once. Implying you were not always Kohga.” he said.

He blinked, a little more awake now. His heart squeezed, he was sure his…. whatever they were, could hear how hard it was beating. “You remembered that?”

Sheik nodded, his gaze relaxed and sleepy, but not one ounce less curious than if he’d been fully awake and alert. “You had a name before Kohga.”

“Yeah. Master Kohga is a title. Got it from the previous Master Kohga.”

He did not elaborate on how he earned the title, that was not a discussion they could have while half dozing and curled up together like a pair of cats in a patch of sunlight. There were a lot of things he couldn’t say unless they were both very awake and mentally prepared for it. Being Master Kohga was not easy, and he was sure his blonde understood that.

“What brought this up?”

“Nothing. I was only trying to think of what your name could be, if Kohga was not it.”

He nodded, still rubbing circles on the man’s back. He found it did a lot to keep him calm, even if it was just the gentle touches in general that helped him relax. The blonde was fully melting into the touch by this point, no longer looking at him, his eyes closed.

Something in his chest squeezed.

Kohga brushed the loose, gold strands from where they hid his face, tucking them behind his ear. Then he leaned close, a near silent whisper of an admission meant only for one person and one person alone. Sheik’s ear twitched at the warmth that was suddenly so close, perked to better hear the faint syllables the clan leader so impulsively shared.

The decision was not made lightly. He knew Sheik would understand.

He pulled away, settling back into the bed they shared, never letting go of the lithe blonde in his arms. Sheik’s ear still twitched, and he put a hand up to cover it as if to conserve the warmth left behind. He was very awake now, mouthing the name that had been shared, his lips turning up into a genuinely sweet smile.

“You have a pretty name.”

Chapter Text

Kohga woke to the sound of horses neighing quietly, the breeze whistling through the canyon walls. He blinked away the grogginess, squinting in the lingering darkness. Right, the light wouldn’t reach the base of the gorge until closer to midday.

He had expected Sheik to wake him, not the other way around. The man in question was still fast asleep, plastered against Kohga to leech off his warmth, fingers curled into the fabric of his coat. Kohga would not be able to get up without waking him, however much he wanted to avoid it. He lightly nudged the sleeping man, prodding his cheek. And prodding harder when the first poke did nothing.

“Rise and shine, sleepyhead.” he said, giving another poke to the man’s face. His hand received a swat in response, one tired eye cracking open. Thankfully, that was all it really took to get the man up and moving, even if it was reluctantly.

A quick breakfast was made, eaten, and the camp packed up. Horses mounted, they set off along their way for the final leg of the journey to the forgotten temple. And in Kohga’s honest opinion? It was very uneventful. No monsters were there to block the way, not even a bokoblin or two. And they were everywhere. Nothing happened the entire ride there, which was several hours. The canyon was completely deserted.

The temple could be seen in the distance after the first hour, rising up before them, built into the walls of the canyon, as if the canyon had been a path to funnel worshippers to its doors in the ancient past. But the stone was clearly a very different type than the surrounding gorge, perhaps even in the whole region. It was a cool grey, tinged green by overgrowth of moss, with such visibly different architecture that it looked like it had been plucked out of a history tome. Displaced from its original time.

It gave Kohga the most uncomfortable feeling.

Sheik continued on, so he had to follow. The closer they got, the larger it seemed, until the sheer size completely dwarfed anything he’d ever remembered seeing. The scale was incomprehensible, there was no way it had been built by Hyrulean hands. Even the royal castle was probably smaller.

“Sheik?”

“Hmm?”

“How’re we supposed to get inside?”

Sheik was getting off his horse, guiding it into the shade created by one of the massive stone pillars. He glanced up at the entrance, eyes scanning over the intricate, ruined stonework. “We climb.”

Kohga swung himself off his horse, leading it to stand beside Sheik’s. “We climb. Of course. I should’ve known.”

And climb they did. Very occasionally, Kohga did have to give the shorter man a boost up to reach a higher ledge, and would teleport himself with the man’s guidance. It was very hard to teleport to a place he couldn’t see, even more so if he had never been there before. So Sheik’s help was invaluable.

And of course, the temple was even larger on the inside than it looked from the outside. Just standing at the entrance, staring deep into the interior of the temple and seeing how it stretched on and on, deeper into the depths of the land than was uncovered by time and erosion.

He felt like they shouldn’t have been there. It felt too old, like it was a place sacred to the very Goddess herself, not a place for mortals to be.

But still, Sheik continued on. And Kohga followed. It was not his journey, he was simply along for the ride. And he would follow Sheik to the ends of the earth if he was asked to. He wasn’t sure when he had decided that, just that he had.

They scaled the walls, keeping to the ledges just wide enough for a person to walk on. At some point they had to cross the hall to the other side in order to continue on, parts of the wall too decayed and broken down to climb without risking injury. Or even death. It took hours to get to the statue in the end, passing through the doors and to the innermost sanctum.

The statue was the biggest Kohga had ever seen. It rivaled the height of the seven Heroine statues in the Gerudo Desert, it was so big. It felt like communing with the Goddess herself. Should he even be here? Well, if he wasn’t supposed to, he silently swore to be as respectful as possible and to never return after this. He felt wildly uncomfortable.

Sheik approached the statue without fear, sitting in the center of the stone dais, legs tucked under him. He placed the harp before him on the stone, and just sat still, head bowed and eyes closed. Kohga stood off to the side to wait, trying to stay as quiet as possible. It felt almost dangerous to interrupt, even by accident.

The man sat like that for a while, unmoving, completely silent. The only sound in the eerily silent temple was his breathing. But after what felt like an eternity, Sheik’s shoulders slumped, a resigned sigh escaping his lips. Kohga approached cautiously, standing beside the man.

“That didn’t sound good.” he said.

Sheik looked up, pointed ears drooping just the slightest bit. “I do not feel like I am reaching the Goddess. Or if I am, I am being ignored. Either way, I am not receiving the answers I seek.”

Kohga nodded, slowly turning his gaze towards the statue. Then ever so gradually up towards the very top of it, where it seemed to stare down at them. Its hands cupped in front of it, like it was supposed to be holding something.

Or someone.

“Would it help if you were closer?” he suggested carefully. Sheik's head popped up, red eyes turned skyward. His head tilted.

“Closer?”

Kohga nodded. “Yeah, closer. You see her hands up there? Looks like there’s enough space to stand. Or sit and pray.”

Sheik continued to stare, head tilting more, studying the statue with a critical eye now. He nodded. “It is worth a try. I suppose it would not hurt. Goddess forgive me.”

With that, Kohga pulled him up, and assisted him in getting to the top of the statue. It took a while, much of it thinking and considering the least disrespectful way to get up there without just outright climbing the statue itself. They resorted to climbing the walls and ledges again, some of them barely enough room for Sheik to walk along.

The top of the statue’s hands were flat, clasped around an object to form a platform with plenty of room for them both to stand on. It seemed unusually sturdy, for such an eroded piece of history. As if it was right to stand there, some higher power keeping the platform from crumbling away too much. Like the Goddess herself wanted it to be in good enough condition to stand on.

Sheik stood, looking up at the face of the statue. He hummed. “You know, I have never been here before. This is the very first time I have ever been here, let alone stood in the hands of the Goddess.”

“You might’ve mentioned that before, Sheik.” Kohga said, glancing over at the man. Sheik looked almost contemplative.

“And yet, this feels faintly familiar. Like an old forgotten tune, or a distant memory.”

“Okay, that’s a little weird. Have you eaten a muddle bud?”

Sheik laughed this time, shaking the thoughts from his head. “No. I am not sure what that was about, my apologies.”

Kohga bumped their shoulders together. “Don’t worry about it, I’m kind of used to your weird moments. You get weirdly poetic talking about time, music, and memories. It’s just your thing. Even if you do sometimes say such weird things that I have to ask. I have seen you consider eating muddle buds before.”

Sheik laughed more, swatting at the clan leader, struggling to sound offended about it all. “Maybe if your people would eat more than a ridiculous amount of bananas, I would not consider eating hallucinogenic flowers.”

“Excuse you! Bananas are an important part of a person’s diet!”

“Not in those amounts.”

Sheik didn’t try to muffle his laughter this time, too tired from the long journey to the temple. Climbing through the entirety of it didn’t help either. It took a minute for him to calm down, but he seemed happier afterwards. Sheik turned and leaned up to press his forehead to Kohga’s, smiling faintly.

Kohga returned the gesture, and they stood there before the Goddess, foreheads touching. It felt oddly final. Like this was the end of something. The journey, technically, but also of something else. Maybe it was just the old temple air, but Kohga had the nagging worry he was never going to see Sheik again after this. He didn’t want that. He didn’t want anything to end.

Will of the Goddess be damned.

Kohga gently placed his hands on Sheik’s back, careful not to jostle the harp holstered there. If anything, Sheik moved closer at the touch, humming quietly. What Kohga wouldn’t give to know what the man was thinking.

Sheik was smiling, he was sure of it. “Getting sentimental?” he asked.

“You could say that.” was all Kohga said. Sheik was chuckling quietly again, hands sliding up to hold Kohga’s face in his hands.

“The great Master Kohga feeling sentimental? Who are you and what have you done to the real Master Kohga?”

They both laughed, breaking the contact, holding onto each other to stay standing through their laughter. Sheik really did have the most beautiful laugh, so different from his usual monotones and quiet way of speaking. It was loud, musical, it took up space when the man himself seemed so opposed to doing. Kohga would do anything to keep that laugh for himself.

They calmed down slowly, still holding on to one another. Sheik was clearing his throat, not quite looking at him. He slowly pulled his mask down. “Stop me if I am wrong.” he said. Sheik leaned closer.

Kohga did not stop him.

Sheik closed the distance, lips pressing against his. Kohga felt like his heart was simply going to explode out of his chest, pop like a balloon, and all the other expressions he couldn’t think of in the moment. He held the blonde closer, tilting his head to kiss him better.

It lasted only a moment— a moment Kohga wanted to last forever— and then Sheik was pulling away, hiding his face with his hair. He was silent for a long while, letting himself be held all the while.

“You.... did not stop me.” he said quietly, tone nothing short of bewildered.

“You weren’t wrong.” Kohga said, giving a casual shrug. He was amazed he was able to stay so calm, when all Kohga wanted was to scream from the top of the highest cliff in the kingdom. He definitely wasn’t smiling like the realm’s biggest idiot about it either, nope.

Sheik hadn’t said anything, slowly pulling his mask back up. The tips of his ears were very red,  the rest of his face presumably the same. “Well. Perhaps when we are done here, we may do that again. If you are so inclined.”

“You’re damn right I’m inclined.”

A weak, almost flustered laugh escaped the blonde, covered up quickly as just him clearing his throat. He reluctantly slipped out of Kohga’s hold, taking a few deep breaths to collect himself. “Well, in that case. I should….” he gestured towards the statue of the Goddess, unable to form words. “This. Yes.”

Kohga had to hold back his laugh. He’d never seen him so lost for words before. It was a good look on him. “Go for it, blondie. I’ll be here.” and he would be. For as long as he was needed and wanted.

Sheik nodded, sliding the harp into his hands and stepping up to the statue. He sat, tucking his legs up under him, reaching to place the harp against the statue. And paused, just mere inches from setting the instrument against the stone. Instead of setting it down, he quickly shifted closer, fingers brushing against the carved rock. He hummed, mouthing something Kohga couldn’t quite catch.

Kohga came closer to look, leaning down. It looked like Sheikah script, blocky symbols faded from age, above an equally faded etching of a music score. It was different from anything else in the temple. “What’s it say?” he whispered.

The shorter man continuously ran his fingers over the etchings, head tilting this way and that to decipher the ancient writings. “It says something along the lines of a stone and someone only referred to as ‘her.’ But the symbols for her are the same I use in regards to Zelda.”

“Cryptic. I honestly didn’t think our ancestors could be any more cryptic than you are.”

Sheik hushed him, waving a hand. He went back to studying the carvings. “Well, whatever it is, I would like to think of it as a sign. If I had brought paper, I could copy it down to play later. Oh well.”

Kohga slowly turned to look at his blonde. “Please tell me you aren’t thinking of playing a mystery song you found inside some ruined temple.”

“Kohga. It may be the only answer I will get in regards to the fate of Zelda. If Link will not tell me, and this is a sign from the Goddess herself.” he pointed at the etchings. “Then what choice do I have? Goddess forbid, if she is dead, I will have to take her place. I have done so for years, and I would rather have time to prepare, to mourn, to spend time as myself before I have to become someone I am not for the rest of my life.”

“I do not want to be blindsided by the death of Zelda, if it means I have to become her to put the kingdom back together.”

Kohga was silent, leaning away from the man, wide eyed. Many, many things suddenly made a lot more sense, puzzle pieces slotting into place without him ever being aware of there being a puzzle in the first place.

“I’m sorry.” he said. “I.... don’t know if I can say anything that would make you feel any better. But. I’ll be there. Whatever ends up happening. If that’s what you want.”

It was Sheik’s turn to be silent, staring down the clan leader, his expression purposefully lacking. Or maybe it wasn’t, and his face was just too hidden to tell. Kohga would never know. Sheik reached up to touch his face, tracing a shape on his forehead with two fingers. Around, the tips curling, three sharp points above, and one long, drooping shape down between his eyes to the tip of his nose.

A faint tingle of magic lingered where he had traced, almost tickling. Sheik traced the same shape over his own forehead, and Kohga instantly recognized it. He’d painted the same symbol once on his own mask, but inverted, so long ago. Then Sheik pressed their foreheads together.

And Kohga saw. He saw just how grateful the man was, the gratitude was overwhelming. A flurry of emotions, both negative and positive, swirled in a coiling storm. Overshadowing it all was just how much Sheik cared. Cared about being seen as a person. Cared about being seen as himself.

How much Sheik cared about Kohga.

Then Sheik was pulling away, the connection severed by the broken contact, the warrior wiping away any leftover traces of magic with a brush of his hand. Kohga hadn’t realized just how much warmth there had been until it was over, he was left reeling. Distantly, he wondered what Sheik had seen, if he had seen anything at all.

Sheik didn’t have to apologize, there was nothing to apologize for. Kohga didn’t allow an apology. He had been given a gift, and he would treasure it for as long as he lived.

“Be safe.” was all he said, taking a step back to let Sheik do whatever it was he planned on doing. Whether he chose to play the song or not, Kohga could accept it. As long as he didn’t kill himself doing so.

Sheik simply gave a nod, taking a moment to breathe in the silence, head bowed, a hand clasping something at his throat beneath the scarf. A prayer maybe? Kohga wasn’t sure. Then the man was lifting his head again, readying his harp. He plucked the strings, following the notes engraved in the stone of the statue. Six in total, weaving a short, ancient and haunting melody in the air, the tiniest wisp of magic echoing through the space around them.

It almost seemed like the last note lingered long after it should have faded away, Sheik had not played another note after that, there was no reason the music should’ve lingered as long as it did. It was eerie.

Was that a faint glow coming from under the scarf?

Nothing seemed to happen for a moment, though the lingering aura of old magic still colored the space. Kohga almost turned away, to see if anything in the surrounding area had changed. He would be eternally grateful that he hadn’t, for one reason, and one reason alone.

Sheik was disappearing.

Fading away, little motes of light breaking off of him and winking out of existence. Sheik dropped the harp in panic, scrambling to get up. He tripped, a loose piece of rubble skidding out from under his foot. Kohga lunged to catch him. To do anything, to help, to keep him from vanishing. Anything.

Kohga did not catch him.

Sheik was gone, shattering into floating motes of light, dozens upon dozens just fluttering in the space he should have been. Kohga was left with glowing specks floating around his hands, winking out of space and time, leaving nothing but a glittering, golden harp on the stone.

Kohga was left alone in the temple.

Completely and utterly alone.

Chapter Text

Zelda’s curiosity was at an all time high. She trailed behind a beautiful woman, taller than her, hair longer than she ever dreamed of seeing on a person, and as regal as any queen could ever hope to be. The fact she walked around barefoot did not diminish any of those qualities in the slightest.

They wore similar dresses, her own befitting that of a princess of this era. Was she still considered a princess here? So separated from her own kingdom by time immemorial? Sonia seemed to consider that the case, even though she was not sure those titles quite existed in this time yet.

Perhaps they did now, with Zelda’s appearance in the land. Time was funny like that. And though her curiosity knew no bounds, her limited understanding of traveling through time certainly put a damper on things.

“Queen Sonia?” she asked, politely clasping her hands. The golden stone around her neck glowed faintly, always resonating with the power she held but was unable to control just yet. Sonia’s ear twitched, perked back towards her, even as they passed through the stone halls.

“Yes, Zelda?”

“You said we were meeting for tea. Don’t we usually meet for tea in the gardens?” she said, picking up her pace to walk just beside the queen. Sonia was smiling, and while she usually was, this was more than the usual kind smile she wore. This one had hints of amusement, a deeper happiness. Like one would feel upon seeing a family member they had not seen in a while.

“We are, don’t worry. We’re just collecting someone before we go. He often forgets to come out of that little cave of his. I’ve lost count of how many times I or my husband, or even dear Mineru when she joins, have had to fetch him.” she said fondly.

Sonia led them down a set of stairs, the steps going ever deeper. Until the only thing to light the way was strange flowers blossoming with light, and the light of torches in sconces. The torches seemed more for aesthetic purposes, considering the amount of light the flowers gave off. The stairs ended at a great wooden door, carved with a symbol of an eye, crying a single tear, three triangular lashes floating above. The carving was painted over in a bloody red color, gold and purple highlights enhancing the intricate engravings and bringing out the details.

Ancient, blocky script was etched into every piece of wood, talismans and ropes chaining the door shut, like a great secret that needed to be locked away. Sonia pushed the door open like it weighed nothing, the old wood creaking loudly on its hinges. She ducked under the ropes, beckoning Zelda to follow.

Zelda followed cautiously, ducking under the ropes. The room inside was much brighter than the staircase leading to it, brightblooms blossoming with light from the high ceiling, torches and lanterns casting a warm glow around the pillars and the altar at the front of the room, archways in the walls obscured by the thickest shadows. It was like stepping into a completely separate temple.

Sonia stepped towards the altar, where various items were laid out. A glittering gold harp, one that was Zelda was all too familiar with. A single blue frog was hopping around on the altar, ribbiting at the queen. There were woodworking tools, a project half finished, a messy stack of papers, and things to write with. It looked more like a person’s makeshift workstation than a place of worship.

“Queen Sonia?” she asked. The woman turned, the frog in her hands. It sat politely, ribbiting occasionally. Something moved in her shadow, a pair of red glowing eyes was all she could see in the physical shadow looming over her shoulder.

Zelda gasped, pointing at the shadow. She couldn’t get out the words, her shriek caught in her throat, unable to escape. Sonia just hummed, glancing behind her. She chuckled, reaching behind her to swat at the shadow. It yelped, holding its head in its hands dramatically, stumbling into the light.

He looked like Sonia. Dark skin, blonde hair nearly white, pale symbols painted over every exposed inch of his skin. Except for his face, which only had three triangles over one eye and a tear drop below. The differences were very minor, red eyes as opposed to green, his features just a touch sharper, more stern. The biggest was his hair, cut shorter than even Zelda’s, with only two long braided tails in the front. It reminded her of a jellyfish in a weird way.

“I thought for sure I had you that time.” he grumbled. His voice was very monotone, but he was clearly making an effort for that not to be the case.

“You almost did.” Sonia said, then turned back to Zelda. “Zelda, I’d like to introduce my brother. He tries very hard to scare me, and neglects his duties in the temple from time to time.”

“I do not. I simply do them at a later date when something else catches my interest.” he protested.

Sonia took his hand, placing the frog in his palm. “You tried to have me lick a frog to see if I could climb an impossibly smooth wall, dear brother. Your interests are as strange as they are concerning.”

Zelda blinked at the two. It brought to mind memories of her and Sheik when they had been young. Before her duties had gotten in the way and she had stopped sharing everything with him. Before Link had become her main protector, and her brother had been shoved to the background.

“For science.” he said simply, plucking the harp from the altar and heading out of the room. Sonia followed, Zelda trailing behind. The door swung shut on its own behind them, and they all made their way up the stairs and to the gardens together.

The man seemed to stick to the shadows once they were outside, taking the seat furthest in the shade of the gazebo. His harp was set next to his chair, and the frog on the railing where it could find freedom. No one else was there yet, they had been the first to arrive.

“So, Zelda was it?”

The princess started, turning towards the man. His head was tilted, just watching her curiously. “Sonia hasn’t spoken much about you, at least to me that I can recall. Did you really come from the future?”

She nodded, placing her hands on the table, fingers laced together. “I do. And I’m trying my hardest to learn how to go back. I am needed there.”

His stare lingered for a moment, hard and unblinking. Then he nodded, reclining back in his seat. “Well, you certainly aren’t lying about that. You shouldn’t worry too much. You’ll find a way. Especially with my sister’s help.”

“If I may ask, do you have powers over time as well? Sir...?” she trailed off. Had Sonia mentioned his name? She couldn’t remember. Her short lived fear of him suddenly appearing the way he did had knocked loose any memory of a name.

“You may call me Zinc.” he supplied, then shaking his head in response to her question. “And no, I don’t. Even if I were related to her by blood, I doubt that would be the case.”

“You’re not related?”

Sonia placed a tea set on the table, setting out the cups for each of them, plus one more for her husband who had yet to join them. “Not at all. Funny, isn’t it? But we were drawn to meet, and grew up together. We are twins in all but blood relations.”

Zelda nodded in understanding, smiling a little. “Me and my brother are the same way. Seeing you two makes me miss him more.”

“I’m sure you’ll see him again soon.” Sonia said, sitting down at the table. “It will take time, but I’m sure you’ll master your power sooner than you think.”

Zelda certainly hoped so. She wanted to see both him and Link again. She wanted to see everyone he had left behind. She was very homesick. But she still had to help everyone in this era. And prepare for the incoming future.

Zinc was a strange man to her. In so many ways, she was reminded of her own brother, but at the same time, she wasn’t reminded of him at all. 

Where Sheik would wait to speak, Zinc would waste no time voicing his opinion. Where her brother would trail behind her, as silent as the grave, Sonia’s brother would make his presence known, both through louder footsteps, walking beside his sister, and talking about whatever had caught his interest that day. Which could’ve been anything, he seemed to hop between interests the same way a bird fluttered between branches.

He took up space where Sheik never seemed to dare to. He purposefully tried to annoy or even startle his sister, never succeeding but always trying. Zelda had come to understand it was their game, their way of bonding when they did not have the time to simply sit and talk.

Zinc never took Sonia’s place, and Sonia never asked him to. Never asked him to sit in on royal matters, and had probably never had him take her place in anything at all. They could speak to one another in merely gestures and looks thrown across a space, sometimes one or both of them dissolving into quiet laughter together.

Sheik and her had once been that close. When had that changed? She didn’t know. And she might never, if she never found a way home. Well, she had found one. But it was forbidden.

It was hours after the chief of the Gerudo had sworn fealty to Rauru, Zelda sat by herself in the garden, watching the fireflies dance among the flowers. She was not alone, technically, Zinc was somewhere nearby. She could faintly hear him humming quietly to himself, the occasional clinking of glass interrupting the sound.

He eventually popped up next to her, a few fireflies fluttering around in a jar. “Do you think the Gerudo Chief would change his mind about being evil if we gave him these? I’m not sure if the desert has any bugs besides warm darners. Thoughts and opinions? I am open to suggestions.”

“He will not change his mind.” she said.

“Never hurts to try.” he said, holding up the jar to inspect the insects. They fluttered around, barely more than balls of green glowing light. “Besides. While Rauru did ask me to keep an eye on him, something very well suited to my power and skillset, I’m going to do things my way. Because I can.”

She looked over at him, taking in the smile he had looking at the bugs he’d caught. She could not remember her own brother smiling like that since they’d been children. “So what is your way?”

“While I certainly won’t cater to his every whim, I will make the attempt to get to know him as the person he is, not the front he puts up. And if we are able to make him a true ally, then we win. All of Hyrule is truly unified, and I can retire from my day job and stick to what I really love to do.”

“You’ve thought this through.” she said.

“I have to. For the safety of the kingdom. And that starts with gifts. So, again. Thoughts and opinions on the firefly jar. He leaves in the morning and I’d rather come up with something before he goes. Preferably tonight.” he insisted, waggling the jar at her.

She could not stifle the tiny laugh and smile. She did not have high hopes it would work, but his determination was nice to see. Maybe in another timeline, his actions would save generations upon generations of people. In another timeline, perhaps his actions would prevent the Calamity altogether.

“It’s a nice idea. They may not survive in the desert heat, but if he is able to keep them at the right temperature, say underground in a dark room, they might survive.” she said.

“Great points, I didn’t consider that.” he hummed, giving the container a disappointed stare. “Well, I can always catch more if these ones die.”

“You can.” she said. “You could try butterflies next. Or even frogs.”

“Oh! I could! Do you think he’d be willing to try one? I couldn’t get Sonia to lick one, but maybe he would?” he spun on his heel, going deeper into the garden, his robes fluttering. “I’ll have to find one before morning. Wait, no, I should be escorting you to your chambers. It’s late, I can find a frog later. Maybe we can talk about it on the way? Your ideas are lovely, I’d like to hear more if possible!”

Zelda almost laughed at the enthusiasm, getting up to follow him back to what served as her temporary home away from home. It felt almost like having an older brother, or a very cool uncle. She stayed close to his side, she couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being watched all of a sudden.

Chapter Text

The garden had become Zelda’s favorite place to be, the gazebo made an excellent place to practice her powers. For hours at a time she would toss something off the table, usually a flower clipping or something else equally to not cause any damage, and try to Recall it back to its original position. Some attempts worked better than others, and some didn’t work at all. It was a matter of trial and error, Sonia’s advice at the forefront of her mind during these sessions.

Oftentimes Sonia was with her, guiding her, offering advice, tips, and giving visual demonstrations during the times Zelda’s abilities just wouldn’t want to work. And sometimes, when none of it worked, they took a break from it all. Tea, food, desserts, just talking, whatever it would take to get Zelda’s mind off of her finicky powers.

It often worked, Zelda was a scholar at heart and deeply enjoyed learning about the forgotten history of her kingdom. Someday she hoped to write it all down, so future generations would have the knowledge her people currently did not. Or would not, technically. Since it hadn’t happened yet. Time was strange.

Rauru was with her at the gazebo today, watching her Recall a golden flower back onto the table. She wondered if he saw the world the same way whenever her powers activated. Did everyone see the world turning grey and colorless too? Or was that just her?

They were not alone in the garden, there were guards, of course. Not that they were needed, it was a time of peace, more or less. But Sonia had once said it never hurt to have guards, and both Rauru and his sister agreed. Zinc had just smiled strangely, not voicing his opinion on the matter. It was like he’d known something Zelda didn’t, and it had genuinely been the first time she’d been nervous.

But she couldn’t sense that he had meant anything malicious by it. Perhaps he just smiled strangely at times, it was a possibility. Zelda would never know.

The world returned to its vibrant and colorful self, the flower settled back into its previous place before Zelda had thrown it off the table. She felt like she was getting good at this. But not all objects were as stationary as a flower thrown on the ground. Soon she would have to move on to something that moved. Perhaps she could ask someone to throw things for her, like stones for example, and she would Recall them before they hit the ground? She didn’t know who to ask though.

“Something on your mind?”

Zelda looked up. Rauru was sipping tea from a comically tiny cup. It was sized for Hylians, and it looked absolutely tiny in his hands. Like a father attending his daughter’s pretend tea party. She almost giggled at the thought.

“I was just thinking about how to improve my powers.” she said.

Rauru nodded, taking another sip of tea. “Let us know if we can help.”

“Of course.”

There was a period of quiet, in which Zelda continued to recall flowers back onto the table, a small bouquet's worth. She started tossing them back to the ground again, trying to vary the distance between them, to see how far she could stretch the ability.

She Recalled the closest one, a vibrant red flower covered in thorns. “Did you know that Zinc’s been giving gifts to the Gerudo chief?”

“I do. I watched him give the man a jar of honey candies before they left the other day. I’m honestly a little jealous. He makes good candies, Sonia loves them.”

She Recalled another, this one a deep, vivid purple. It was slightly wilted. “He mentioned the other night it was in the hopes of gaining him as a real ally. Do you think it’ll work?”

Rauru set his cup down. He poured himself more tea from the pot on the table, watching the steam rise up in delicate swirls. “Who knows. If it works, we gain a powerful ally. If not, well. At least we tried.”

Zelda nodded, taking a moment to breathe before Recalling the next flower. A beautiful blue bell shaped one she recognized from her own time. She hadn’t known it was that old of a flower before coming here.

“I am not hopeful.” she admitted. She did not explain her reasoning. Not yet. “But.... if it works. Then it will be immensely worth it. More than anything.”

The Zonai raised an eyebrow at her, slowly shrugging with a hum and going back to his tea. He spoke after a moment. “I pray he does not end up being my brother-in-law in that case. I love Sonia’s brother as if he were my own, but. He has awful taste in partners. He reads too many fairy tales.”

Zelda failed to Recall the next flower, dropping it several feet before its intended location. The horror must’ve shown on her face, Rauru’s laugh echoing throughout the garden.

Mineru had joined her in the garden this time, the Purah Pad placed on the table, along with various tools. She and Zelda had been testing it out all morning, and making small adjustments as they saw fit. It was a wonderful time, Mineru was ingenious, and she had so much to tell about the Zonai. Her and Purah would’ve been very good friends had they ever been able to meet.

Mineru had popped the back open, and was poking around the inside with one of her tools. A construct aided her, holding the lights as needed for her to work. She was focused so intensely on her task, Zelda thought the world around her would be unable to distract her. That is until her large ears twitched, swiveling almost all the way around, focusing on the sounds behind her.

“Exercise extreme caution, Zelda.” she said.

Zelda leaned back, brows furrowed. She opened her mouth to ask why. Then she sensed it. That terrifying darkness, twisting, thrashing, consuming all in its path out of nothing but pure wrath and she looked up on instinct. She saw nothing for a moment, then the doors to the garden swung open. Zinc strolled right on through the heavy castle doors and into the bright sunlight, followed by the much bigger and much more menacing Ganondorf.

It would be almost funny watching such a towering and muscular man walk through the gardens, if the man wasn’t so terrifying to Zelda. He caught her watching, and she quickly turned her gaze back to Mineru’s work. When she could no longer feel the weight of being watched, she chanced a glance upwards.

Ganondorf was crouching among a certain patch of flowers, expression stern as Zinc picked through the plants, plucking certain ones and holding them up for the Gerudo to take. Why the evil man was tolerating this, Zelda didn’t know. She couldn’t really see Zinc’s expression to gain any more sense of the situation either, he was too far away to properly see whatever faces he was making.

“Mineru?”

“Yes, I hear it. Sonia mentioned they did the same thing yesterday. Zinc’s been growing those flowers for dyes and paints for years. He must be making something again, maybe something to try and give to the chieftain again.” she said. She hissed in pain, her third eye fluttering open for a brief moment. The Purah Pad had shocked her again.

Zelda nodded, carefully watching the pair. Zinc handed over about a dozen different flower types for the Gerudo to hold, nearly a dozen of each type. There were a lot of flowers. Zinc stood up brushing the dirt from his robes. He was looking up at a tree now, pointing up into the leaves.

Zelda could tell they were conversing about something, but she couldn’t make out their words. Ganondorf’s brows were furrowed, hand reaching for the blade sheathed at his side. For one horrifying moment, Zelda was convinced he was going to kill Zinc. She stood abruptly, the wooden legs of her seat screeching across the gazebo’s floor.

Zinc was waving his hands, gesturing as he spoke. Ganondorf had paused, hand slowly leaving his sword. After a moment, he inclined his head. A nod? Zinc seemed pleased, giving an emphatic nod of his own. He looked back up at the tree, and outstretched a hand, exposing a glowing stone attached to a bracelet on his arm. The shadow his arm cast shifted, twisting and almost taking on a physical quality. It zipped along the surface of the tree trunk, slicing through the leaves so fast it was barely more than a blur. 

A single golden apple fell from the tree, Zinc catching it in his outstretched hand. The stone stopped glowing, and he immediately staggered, swaying on the spot as if dizzy. Ganondorf’s free hand caught him by the arm, and Zelda immediately tensed. But it seemed it was only to steady the man, the Gerudo chieftain releasing him once his balance steadied. Zinc placed the apple into his hand before he could completely pull away.

Zelda watched him hold up the golden fruit, inspect it and, after a moment of back and forth with Zinc, bit into the apple. Zinc seemed pleased about it, collecting the flowers from the man and starting to wander out of the garden. Ganondorf followed, still eating the apple.

Zelda watched them exit the garden, Ganondorf holding the heavy doors for Zinc while the smaller man carried the flowers, and let it swing shut behind them.

The princess slowly sat back down, hands on the table, just silently processing the entire interaction. She held her head in her hands, trying to fight the incoming ache in her temples that would surely occur from how hard she was going to be thinking about it all. 

She could still sense the evil. So much evil. But it almost felt like it had fluctuated, almost dimmed for the tiniest of moments. She didn’t know how or why, but all of it scared her. How did Zinc handle being grabbed by someone so evil like that? She felt like she was losing her mind.

“Mineru?”

“Yes, Zelda.”

“Did you hear all that?”

Mineru’s ears twitched, slowly swiveling before returning to their usual position. The Zonai finally looked up. “A bit. Zinc naturally is a very quiet speaker like his sister is, so I did not catch all of it. What did you want to know about their conversation?”

“Whatever you can tell me, I suppose. I trust Zinc, he’s never given me a reason not to. But that other man.... I can’t. I sense great evil within him.” she whispered.

Mineru nodded, taking a moment to switch her tools before speaking. “It was mostly about the flowers. The Gerudo region does not have many, so he was telling the chieftain small facts about the flowers he picked. Harmless things, nothing important.”

“And the part with the apple?”

“Zinc told him that they tasted good. The chieftain asked if Zinc was implying he get it for him. The next part was a little hard to understand, but judging by the rest of the sounds and words after that, I assume he had asked if the chieftain had wanted to try one, and the offer was accepted.” she said.

Zelda nodded, slowly sitting back up properly. “That pretty much sums up what I saw. I just got very scared for a moment. When Zinc was grabbed, I was afraid the man would hurt him. But he didn’t. Yet, anyway.”

“I understand. We are all keeping a close eye on him, don’t worry. Zinc will be perfectly fine. With so many eyes on him, the Gerudo wouldn’t dare hurt one of our own.” she said.

The princess breathed a sigh of relief, tension washing away like a gentle rain. She was still worried, she had seen too much from her own era to not worry. But her anxiety was eased for now. It made it easier to think. She was glad for Mineru’s words. They helped her greatly.

“Thank you, Mineru.”

Chapter Text

Rauru and Sonia had set up a little puzzle for Zelda to solve. Well, it wasn’t much of a puzzle really, but calling it that made it seem more fun. Throughout the stone halls of the castle, there were little ledges for the brightblooms to grow on. On these ledges, the king and queen had had someone place old, breakable pots that could no longer be used for anything very precariously on the edge. The slightest breeze could knock them over.

Her task was to Recall them before they hit the ground and shattered, and either place them back on the ledges or set them safely on the ground. That particular choice was up to her. There were maybe twenty in total to find, and she’d been given their vague locations. She had been given a slate to track her progress as she went.

It was almost fun, in a way her previous studies set by her father and tutors hadn’t been. But she wouldn’t think about that now. It hurt a little too much. And so, she had pushed her thoughts aside, and set about her task.

The first few were easy, painted bright colors to stand out against the dark stone. Zelda Recalled them easily, placing the clay pots gently on the ground before moving on to find more. The next few were still fairly easy, painted with just a touch of bright color to make parts of them pop. The last one in that set almost hit the ground, but she managed to Recall it in time. The couple after that were trickier, unpainted, and at least one broke because of her failure to catch it in time.

The next set were much more difficult, two breaking because she had passed them and they fell behind her. They had been painted to blend in with the stone walls, and were very hard to spot.

She was looking for the last few pots, evidently the hardest to find, they had been so incredibly well hidden, when she suddenly had to dash and hide behind a pillar. She had come across a scene she did not want to interrupt, but she also had to continue onward down that hall if she wanted to find all the pots. She decided to wait it out, slowly and carefully peeking around the pillar she hid behind.

Zinc and Ganondorf were in the hall, speaking far too quietly for her to hear. The stone on Zinc’s wrist was glowing, a ball of physical shadow floating in his hand. He was shaping it into different creatures, making it move and flutter about. At one point he made it into a familiar shape, making it ‘jump’ into a miniature pile of shadow sand and play around. A sand seal, a creature native to the desert.

And Ganondorf was smiling. Smiling and leaning down enough that they were nearly face to face, watching the shadows dance in the smaller man’s hand. Zinc seemed to be smiling as well, her distance from the scene blurring his features. He was dressed for sleep, long white robes cinched at his waist, the upper portion held closed with his free hand. It looked more like a flowing dress than robes.

Ganondorf leaned closer, using a single finger to point out things about the shadow. It did not last long, the shadow was quickly fading away and losing its physical aspect. The chieftain still stayed close, the conversation was evidently not over.

Zinc had reached up, tracing a shape on the Gerudo’s forehead with two fingers. He then pushed his hair asidel, tracing the same shape on his own forehead. He took the man’s face in his hands, pulling him down further, he himself leaning up onto his toes, closing the distance until—

Zelda hid back behind the pillar, covering her face with the slate she was carrying to track her progress. She was happy for Zinc, really. But by the Goddess! Rauru had been right saying Zinc had terrible taste in partners, the man he was kissing just around the corner was pure evil!

She could sense it. Yes, that wrathful, twisting darkness was fluctuating, dimming, whatever the right word for it was, but that didn’t mean anything. Ganondorf was undoubtedly evil, she had seen what just a fraction of his power had done in her time.

If she could not convince him that the man was evil, well. Perhaps she could at least find a way to politely express her concerns. Yes, that was it. 

She would politely express her concerns over Zinc kissing an evil man in the middle of a poorly lit hallway.

The princess found Zinc where she had first met him, standing at the altar, mortar and pestle grinding up flower petals into a fine powder. She walked right up to him, standing beside him at the altar. She waited politely until he acknowledged her presence, his ear perking in her direction the only sign.

“Zinc. May I speak with you?” she asked.

The man continued grinding up petals, tapping the mortar and pestle together before continuing. “You may. What brings you to my humble temple of shadows?”

She fidgeted with the hem of her dress, trying very hard not to recall the details. “Well. I was walking the halls last night. And I saw you with Ganondorf.”

The sound of grinding had stopped. He was tipping the powdered contents into a glass vial, measuring out other items in very careful amounts to add to the vial. “Ah. So that was you I heard tiptoeing around.”

Her head jerked up, earrings swaying with the movement. “You heard me?”

“I did. You cannot sneak up on a master of stealth. But I have nothing to hide. I was simply showing him a few tricks.”

“Kissing him is a trick?” the words slipped out before she could stop them, she immediately covered her mouth.

Zinc was staring at her, wide eyed. Visibly baffled. “I did not kiss him?? Whatever gave you that idea?”

Zelda’s face heated up as she tried to form the words, hands making vague, flailing gestures. “I, well. I saw you touching his forehead, and holding his face. And pulling him closer? You were leaning up and, uh, well. I looked away after that, but I swore you were kissing him.”

“Ooooh.” Zinc had his fingers pressed to his mouth, trying to stifle his laughter. “You sweet, summer child.”

Zelda huffed a little at the description, but let him continue.

“We weren’t kissing. I was expressing my gratitude. You see, in my tribe— and please, tell no one of this, it’s incredibly secret— we have a special way of communicating. We don’t always use it, but we use it when words simply cannot convey the meaning we wish to express. It’s used between family members, close friends, loved ones, anyone you explicitly trust.”

“It becomes very literal when there’s magic involved, and the intent behind the gesture expresses itself in the magic. Baring souls, sharing burdens, showing affection on a deeper level that spoken language just isn’t enough to express. It’s very diverse. What you saw me doing was the magic version. It involves tracing my tribe’s symbol and pressing foreheads together.”

Zelda paused, taking it all in. Particularly the last sentence. It had disturbed a long buried childhood memory she hadn’t thought of in a very long time.

Sheik used to press his forehead to hers quite a lot growing up. Never in front of others, always when they were alone. He would just scoot close, and tap his forehead to hers and linger for a second. Then it would be over. She never asked why, she’d just assumed it was something he did. Like his nervous plucking of harp strings, or the way he liked to hide his face.

She didn’t recall the exact moment he’d stopped. Just that he had. She’d asked once why he’d stopped, but he had never answered. Ignored the question entirely, only giving her a blank look. He’d stared at her like that for so long she’d gotten worried, then he’d gone back to plucking out a song on his harp as if nothing had ever happened.

She’d never asked again, she’d been too busy. Her duties, researching the shrines, even venturing outside the castle with Link had taken up all her time. She’d never seen him do it again since. Not even by accident.

Zelda nodded, pulling herself from the memories. When she got back she would apologize to her brother. They would have a proper talk.

“So, you weren’t really kissing then.” she said.

Zinc shook his head. “Not at all, but I can see why it looked that way. I’m glad we could clarify things though.”

“Of course. I’m terribly sorry about this.” she said, giving a polite curtsy. Zinc just chuckled, giving her a gentle nudge towards the door.

“You are forgiven. Now, I’m sure Sonia and Rauru are looking for you. It wouldn’t hurt to get at least a little practicing with your powers in, right?”

Zelda nodded, hurrying towards the door. She paused, then turned. She had to know. “How is befriending Ganondorf then? Do you think he’s truly going to be our ally?”

The man paused, gazing off at a spot on the wall, lost in thought. He hummed. “There’s a chance. He can be a gentle man, when it counts. I just need a little more time. I may need to leave the castle for a few days. But when I return, I can promise he’ll be a real ally.”

She nodded again, offering a smile. “I wish you the best of luck then, Zinc.” she turned back, reaching the door. She pulled it open.

And came face to face with Ganondorf himself, the man towering over her. She clamped down on her startled squeak, staring up at him. He stared back, his gaze lingering a little too long on the stone at her throat.

“Apologies.” was the only word he uttered to her, stepping aside to let her pass. She stayed quiet, giving a polite nod in return, and walking calmly up the stairs.

She glanced behind her just in time to see the doors swing shut on a smiling Ganondorf, Zinc happily approaching the bigger man with something in his hands.

Goddess, she had such a terrible feeling.

Chapter Text

They often ate their meals outside, the weather allowing for it. Today was particularly beautiful, a clear sky, warm sunlight streaming down on them. Birds chirped playfully, hopping among the grass, chasing each other through the flowers. Zelda loved to watch them.

They were free in a way she would never be. But they were birds, and she was a princess, so that was to be expected. Did birds even have princesses? Or a royal family? Something to consider. Maybe after everything was all over, and her kingdom restored, she’d find out. Something silly to research, just for fun.

“Thinking hard, Zelda?”

The princess shook her head, stabbing a piece of meat with her fork. “Not really. Just considering a topic of research. It’s silly.”

Sonia smiled a little. “Silly? And you won’t tell us?”

“It’s about birds.” she said, popping the food into her mouth. She chewed and swallowed before speaking. “And whether birds have princesses.”

The queen and her husband chuckled. It was just them and Zelda this time. Zinc was nowhere to be found, neither was Ganondorf, and Zelda did not feel like looking for either of them. Apparently Sonia’s brother had a tendency to disappear for long periods of time, and simply reappear with no explanation. A trait shared by his people, evidently.

“You know.” Rauru began, almost smiling. “I have that same question. Why not find out for us both?”

Zelda laughed, lifting her cup to her lips to drink. It was settled then. She’d find out for both of them. While it may not be a serious, just a bit of fun, it was already doing so much to lift her spirits. She had to see it through.

Zelda almost spilled her tea with how hard her head jerked up, eyes wide, a loud gasp shattering every thought she’d had. Everything she’d been about to say or think, or even vaguely consider voicing, was simply gone. Blown away with the wind.

She felt it.

A song played on harp strings floated through the air, bringing to mind the very strange sense she’d heard it before. But that was impossible. Right?

Zelda stood, and turned around, ignoring the king and queen’s questions. She stared into the garden, silent, waiting. Her patience was rewarded. Though it was hard to see, tiny orbs of light were condensing in a single spot in the garden, into the vague shape of a person. Then exploded outwards, winking out of existence.

And dropping a masked blonde right on his face in the center of the garden, sheathed daggers at his thighs and a symbol of a weeping eye emblazoned on his chest. He was missing the wrappings around his head, they’d gotten lost somewhere.

He pushed himself up, holding his face and groaning in pain, his mask torn from the fall. He rubbed at his skin roughly, slowly looking up. He froze, red eyes locked on green. Zelda knew. By the Goddess, she knew.

They ran for each other. Zelda got there first, all sense of decorum forgotten, and tackled her brother to the ground in a hug. She was crying, tears streaming down her face. She was happier than ever to see a familiar face.

It was her brother! Sheik! He was here! Zelda couldn’t possibly be happier, squeezing the life out of the Sheikah warrior. Sheik struggled to hold them both up, one arm wrapped around her and squeezing just as hard. She could barely breathe, but she didn’t want to. Sheik could breathe for both of them.

Zelda pulled back, sitting on her knees and rubbing at her eyes. The tears wouldn’t stop for a moment, but she got them under control in the end. Her breath stuttered, she couldn’t stop sniffling. Her voice cracked. She didn’t care about any of it.

“I’m so happy to see you. I thought.... I thought I’d never see you again.” she managed to get out between sniffles.

Sheik was already so much more composed than her. But even his hands were shaking, fingers twitching to pluck out a melody on an instrument that was not there. Speaking of, where was his harp? And how had he even gotten there?

“I thought you had died.” Sheik said simply. “I could not feel you anywhere. You had just vanished. Then the castle started rising.”

“I’ll explain everything later, I promise.” she said. She wondered if he’d felt the way she had. Too much of something in different directions, then nothing at all. But everything was right now, as it should be. There was only one direction to be pulled, and he was right in front of her.

Sheik nodded, offering a hand to help her up. She took it, and they stood together. Zelda guided him back to the table, hand in hand so there was no chance of him disappearing on her. Rauru looked vaguely suspicious, and Zelda could understand why. At least Sonia seemed understanding.

“I apologize for my actions earlier. I was just so happy. This is my brother, Sheik.” she presented the warrior. Sheik stood awkwardly, half a step behind his sister. Then he stiffly gave a polite bow. Was it his regular nervousness or being suddenly thrust through time that had him so stiff, Zelda wasn’t too sure. 

Rauru didn’t have to stand to return the bow, he was already so tall. “Pleased to meet you. I am Rauru. And this is my wife, Sonia.”

Sonia stood at her introduction, giving a small bow. She was smiling, as always. But this smile was especially warm, welcoming. The same smile Zelda had seen when she had first arrived. It seemed to relax her brother, just a bit.

“I am Sheik, of the Sheikah Tribe.”

Sonia smiled more. “We’re pleased to meet you, Sheik. That was quite an entrance you made.”

“It was not my intent. I did not anticipate the song having an effect.” he said. Zelda’s head tilted at that, turning to her brother curiously. What song?

They waited until another chair was brought out for Sheik, as well as a separate plate and cup, before the conversation continued. He looked terribly out of place, but the guards seemed to not notice. Or were smart enough not to comment on it.

Sheik picked at the food on his plate, not entirely used to eating with royalty. At least anymore.

“Sheik, how did you get here?” Zelda asked. She had to know. She was sure there had been no other way to fall through time besides the way she had come. So what had brought him here?

Sheik’s head tilted. He was fiddling with his scarf thoughtfully, it almost looked like there was something in his scarf. A necklace maybe. “I am not entirely sure. I was trying to pray to the Goddess, to get an answer on what happened to you. Link would not give me a straight answer, so I set out to find myself.”

“And that brought you here? A prayer?” Sonia asked.

“Maybe. I thought my first attempt did not work. Then it was suggested we get closer to try again—”

“Hold on.” Zelda held up a hand, staring at her brother. “‘We?’”

Was it her imagination, or was the man not completely looking her in the eye? “Yes. I gained a traveling companion at some point. Anyway, at their suggestion we…. climbed to the hands of the Goddess statue. I went to pray again, and found a music score and a message.”

It was Rauru’s turn to tilt his head and interrupt. “A message?”

Sheik nodded. “In my language. Carved into the stone. It read something along the lines of a stone, music, and someone only referred to as ‘her.’ So I played the notes. Zelda was the only one I could think of as her, so I assume that was what brought me to her instead of some unknown location.”

“And the stone?” Rauru prompted.

“Well, I only have one, I suppose.” he explained, reaching into his scarf. He pulled out a faintly glowing, indigo colored stone shaped like a crooked teardrop. A cord was wrapped around it to turn it into a necklace. “I have not yet discovered what it does, but I now assume it has something to do with the music I play.”

Sheik did not understand the silence that followed, and Zelda didn’t blame him. Yes, she was curious how and where he’d gotten it, but that could be questions for later. They had plenty of time to go over everything.

Zelda didn’t know how to tell him that she suspected there may only be one way home.

“Well. It’s lucky you landed here, then.” Sonia said. “Why don’t we finish eating, and then we can find you some fresh clothes. We can show you around so you don’t feel lost. Sound good?”

Sheik only nodded, hiding a little more in his hair. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

Zelda sat in her chair, watching her brother walk back and forth, struggling to work out his attire. He’d never been comfortable or any good at figuring out most clothing that was any more complicated than his stealth suit, but that was what Zelda was there for.

But this? This was simply ridiculous.

Zelda watched him struggle to get the detached, long draping sleeves to stay on, fingers fumbling the decorative ties and jewels. Zelda couldn’t remember a time when he’d been dressed in something so fancy. If he’d even ever had the chance.

One of Zinc’s tribemembers had come by to drop off the clothing, and had all but kicked the princess out of the room in the process for several hours. Sheik had come out of it with ancient symbols painted into his skin in a faint off white, only his face was left untouched by paint.

That had left them where they were now, with Sheik technically dressed but struggling with the ties. Zelda got up and went to help, fixing the sleeve into place. Sheik was silent throughout the process as she worked, tying cords, getting the decorative gemstones to sit right.

It took a much shorter time than Sheik had spent struggling on it, and she led him to the mirror to look at it when she was done. His hair was kept braided, though there was unfortunately no replacement for his mask, so his face was more exposed than ever.

“So, how do you feel?” she asked.

He looked very pretty, dressed in dark blues, the shawl covering his chest held closed by an eye shaped clasp. His abdomen was left uncovered to expose the painted symbols, and save for just the exposed strip of skin on his arms and ankles, he was pretty much covered up otherwise.

He’d been allowed to keep his daggers, they remained sheathed at his hips, hidden by cloth and magic. Sheik fiddled with his hair to cover more of his face, the new bracelet holding his stone clamped securely onto his wrist. He would not be getting it off without help.

“More a.... glorified representative than a warrior. But this was all they could give me, considering I am not a warrior by our customs yet. In my defense, that knowledge was lost to time.”

Zelda nodded, smiling a little. “I think you look nice.”

Sheik paused, leaving the blonde strands alone. He just stared at his reflection for a moment longer, lost in thought. He slowly turned towards the princess.

“Thank you. You look nice too.” he said.

She smiled.

The silence lingered in the air, neither making a move to speak. They had so much to talk about, and so little time. Sheik was stuck here with her, and she had yet to tell him how they were going to get home. That she only knew of one way, and there would be no going back from it for either of them.

She couldn’t put that on him. But she would have to tell him eventually. She had promised herself they would talk about things. Talk about where they had started to drift apart. Where they had stopped being so close as to tell each other everything. Nothing would be left unsaid, even if it hurt.

It was Sheik who spoke first.

“Are we going to discuss how we plan on getting home?” he asked, head tilting. Zelda had been afraid of that question.

“Well. I can think of one way. But....” she trailed off, touching the stone at her throat. She had to say it. She was already this far. She wouldn’t deny him very important knowledge. He would need it to make a fully informed choice. She wouldn’t dare trick him into it, even by accident.

“But?”

“....It is forbidden. We would make it to our time. But not as we are now.” she said slowly.

Sheik stepped closer, taking hold of her shoulders to gently steer her into sitting down. They’d be sharing a room now, at her request. After so long of thinking she’d never see a familiar face again, she wanted to keep him as close as possible. She couldn’t lose her brother again.

“Explain everything then.”

And she did. She told about Mineru’s words, her own theories on the matter, how she’d seen dragons at the springs during her training. About swallowing the stone, losing everything just to live long enough to get them both back home. Everything. She left no word about their only way home unspoken.

Sheik had stayed silent throughout her whole explanation, hands clasped, elbows resting on his knees as he leaned forward. He wasn’t looking at her, but rather off to the side. Thinking. He remained silent long after she had finished, his stare boring a hole into the wall.

He knew something she didn’t. She could see it in his eyes.

He didn’t want to tell her, not yet. But he promised her he would, after she had asked. But he had to think on it first. To be completely certain.

Chapter Text

The sensation of falling was something Sheik would never get used to.

The sudden drop, the loss of solid ground beneath his feet, the entire shifting of his world as one turned head over heels. Forwards or back never mattered, the feelings were the same. And his falls always ended in two ways.

The first he didn’t mind. He was in complete control, he’d already mapped out the jump, the fall, and the landing before ever taking the first step. These falls were silent, quick, and over before he truly had to process that dreaded drop in his stomach and the awful dizziness and the wind in his ears. They were no leaps of faith he’d seen from Link, careening wildly in the sky on a whim to chase a falling object. They were an art he’d perfected, if he were to be poetic about it, he hadn’t twisted an ankle since he was a child.

The second kind he could live without. Long, drawn out, and always ending in a sickening crunch and a blinding pain that kept him out of commission for long periods of time. He bore them alone, usually. Enough time and copious amounts of healing elixirs always fixed them in the end, though he really needed to refrain from drinking so many. Together, him and the legendary swordsman might as well cause the early extinction of an entire species of lizard on their own.

Only once did he not have to bear the second type of fall alone. And he treasured that moment with every fiber of his being. And every instance afterward was treasured in equal measure and tucked away in a special little corner of his heart that he was a little embarrassed to admit was dominated entirely by thoughts of red eyes, a warm (if slightly maniacal) laugh, and memories of lazy naps and conversation. It was all he would have anymore.

His fall through time, a rushing tumble through a blinding void of light with only the echoes of a song and a strange backwards ticking to carry him upstream through the river’s flow, made sure of that. And dropped him on his face for good measure, because of course the Goddess couldn’t spare any luck for him. She had her hands full with her chosen swordsman.

Someone had been there to greet him after the fall, and he was eternally grateful for that. He’d found the Princess, something not even Link had managed to do and oh did that do wonders for his pride. Not that he’d ever mention it, of course, he knew better.

The guilt at wishing it was someone else instead of Zelda hugging him and pulling him from place to place almost shattered the happiness upon knowing his sister in all but blood was alive.

He masked it with a veil of silence and polite distance. It was not his mask, not his scarf, but it would do. Over a hundred years of schooling his features into a flat nothing of an expression was his new mask, further blurred by the fringe of his hair he was so grateful that he’d grown out.

He wore that mask even now, as he sat away from all the hustle and bustle of the strange domed palace, chin resting on his knee, one foot dangling off the precarious stone ledge lining the sheer drop off what would eventually be known as the Great Plateau. He was not very far from the palace, all things considered. Without a modern map to place it, he would guess that he was just to the west somewhere. Overlooking what would become the path he’d take to eventually wind up in the past.

He loved Zelda, he really did. Her love for discovery and ancient history rivaled that of his older sisters, and he’d gladly join her on any other day. But right then, he wished for nothing more than to be alone.

The wind whistled by the cliffside, his hair fluttering faintly in the wind. Holding it in place was too much effort, so he let it be.

No, he didn’t wish to be alone, not really. He wished for a familiar, warm presence he could leech body heat from. He wished for the heavy weight of an arm around his shoulders, the touch of a hand on his back keeping him from moving too far away. He even wished for the pain of a burn on his lips, or the ache in his hands and temples after practicing the fire trick he’d been shown. So deeply he wished for it, he’d even take eating barely edible slop that absolutely did not pass as porridge if it meant a certain man was at his side. The space beside him remained cold and empty, the cold breeze chilling his skin. The jagged, uneven scars running along his ribcage ached.

The space under his eyes felt damp.

Sheik didn’t know how long he sat there in the slowly chilling air, dabbing at the wetness in his eyes occasionally with the corner of his shawl. The material was thicker and rougher, scraping at his skin more than his scarf ever would. He felt terribly exposed, wearing clothes that were not meant for him, in shoes that seemed far too loud, without his mask and a bracelet that cut into his wrist if he moved wrong. The want to run away was overwhelming.

There was nowhere for him to run.

Eventually, the space next to him was filled. A quiet presence, large and mostly hair. And most of all, not the one he wanted. A hand almost twice as big as his own hovered on the peripherals of his vision, a square of cloth folded a couple times over held out to him. He’d heard him coming, but registering it was another matter entirely. One his mind hadn’t been willing to inform him of apparently.

He looked up, expression as blank as he could make his naturally stern features seem. Rauru, the first King of Hyrule, sat patiently waiting for him to take the handkerchief. It didn’t look like his, it had a different initial. Sheik accepted it silently, the high quality fabric almost soothing to the rubbed raw state of his eyes.

To his surprise, King Rauru did not speak at first. He didn’t ask why Sheik wasn’t with Zelda, how he could protect her if he wasn’t at her side at all times, why he had allowed his hair to remain long while Zelda cut hers. He did not ask any of what he expected a king to ask. Sheik was not prepared, frozen partway through the motion of wiping his eyes.

“You’re going to catch a cold out here.” he said simply.

Sheik pulled his other leg to his chest, taking a deep breath to compose himself. “I will be fine. I have been in colder conditions.”

“Even so. There’s a chance of being caught in the rain.”

“It would not be the first time.”

Rauru hummed, contemplative. They sat in silence for a while longer, the whistling of the wind the only sound around them. Sheik wasn’t fully certain if he was grateful for the company or not. It wasn’t who he wanted it to be, but he supposed it was something. The king seemed.... alright. He expected a sort of stern regality, skepticism in his every action when Zelda was not near, even orders. He got none of it.

“Once you mentioned playing a song to get here.” he said. “Are you a musician?”

Sheik simply gave a nod. What else could he do but answer? While Rauru did not seem the type to demand an answer to his questions, the Sheikah did not have enough good experience with kings to expect anything different.

“What instrument do you play, if I may ask?”

“....Harp.” he said quietly. What he wouldn’t give to have his harp back. He’d dropped it in his panic, and had no real idea if it had followed him through time or not. Maybe it had, maybe it hadn’t. He hoped it was in good hands, wherever it ended up.

“Hmm.... A little one? About yea big? Pure gold?” he asked, holding his hands about a foot apart.

Sheik’s neck hurt from how fast he’d whipped his head up. He traced the shape of his instrument in the air, outlining the very unique shape of it. “It is shaped like this, and as you described. Do you know it?”

The nod he received was so inexplicably relieving, he was physically dizzy. Then Rauru kept speaking. “My wife’s brother plays the same one. I don’t know if it’s yours, but it sounds similar enough. I’d say you could ask him about it, but he’s away from the palace for a while. And whether or not he took it with him is another story.”

“Oh.” he set his chin back onto his knees, arms wrapped around his legs, handkerchief still clutched in his hands. Without it, he didn’t see how he could go about finding a safe way home for both him and Zelda.

He refused to think of the alternative.

You know there isn’t another way.

“There are other harps you could borrow to play, if it makes you happy. They’re not exactly small, but they’re there.” Rauru offered, his voice pulling Sheik back to reality.

Sheik had never played anything but his own harp before. He’d seen other instruments, his oldest sister could play a flute better than anyone he’d ever known. And Hyrule Castle had had plenty of other instruments for the musicians, back when there had been things to celebrate. He hadn’t been allowed near them.

Zelda had broken that rule with him, once. Just once, near the beginning of his stay at the castle. It had been fun, sneaking in to watch the orchestra practice for the Princess’ birthday party. A bit too loud for his ears, but fun nonetheless. The least fun part had been nearly getting caught. That was one heart attack he did not want to relive.

“You don’t have anything small that I could carry around to play?” he asked.

“Well, nothing like your harp. Do you know what a vielle is?”

Sheik just shook his head. The king hummed in consideration, then looked back down at him. The warrior felt very small, but he curiously did not feel much of, if any of the usual resentment or long built frustrations as he had with the previous (future???) king.

“Do you want me to show you?” the king asked.

It couldn't hurt, right?

He handed back the handkerchief, and allowed the Zonai to lead him back inside. The warmth hit him like a stone wall, the chill in his skin suddenly so much more piercing that he felt the burn in his fingers, on his cheeks, his nose. The sun hadn’t even truly set yet, and it was already so much colder than he had been prepared for. Perhaps Rauru had been right about catching a cold.

Brightblooms lit their way through the halls, they passed maybe a scant handful of people as they walked. Sheik had tried to trail behind, as he was so used to, but Rauru kept slowing to walk beside him. It got to the point that Sheik had switched which side he was walking on several times, so unused to walking with royalty instead of just following behind in a shadow.

Rauru led him past many doors, around no less than three corners, and up at least one set of stairs. Sheik silently thanked the Goddess for the king’s strangely proportioned limbs; he'd never be able to keep up with his pace otherwise.

Eventually, he stopped. The door was plain, with only a few faint marks in the Zonai language denoting its purpose. The handle turned easily, and the king stood aside to let him enter first. Sheik didn’t know what to make of it, but kept his thoughts to himself.

A storage room, and a fairly large one at that. High, sloping ceilings, and rows upon rows of stacked crates, barrels, and other containers. Sheik couldn’t imagine what was in them, allowing himself to be led to a corner. This one was kept much more organized, due to the nature of the fragile instruments lined against the wall. There weren’t many, perhaps enough for a very small orchestra, should every one of them forget their own instruments. Most he couldn’t begin to name, but he at least recognized the full sized harps that were half hiding behind what could only be described as a hulking monster of a drum. 

Rauru was looking through the stringed instruments carefully, humming to himself with a hand on his chin. Eventually he picked one out, and turned to Sheik. He held out a vaguely leaf shaped instrument with a long neck and five strings, letting the warrier carefully take it. Placed in his other hand an item sort of like a bow, but the strings were far too close to the wood to be used as a weapon. In theory. Sheik could probably figure something out if he gave it enough thought.

Rauru showed him how to position the instrument, and it already felt a thousand leagues more awkward than anything he’d ever played on the harp. Tucked against his neck with his chin and shoulder to hold it in place, the bow angled to slide against the strings. 

The first note was horribly high pitched and screeching, his ears instantly angling back at the awful sound. Rauru’s own ears nearly disappeared into his mane, his wince far more pronounced than the little warrior’s. Sheik wanted to give up and hide in a hole somewhere far away, he’d never made such a terrible sound with an instrument before.

Granted, the only one he’d ever played was his harp, and he’d known instinctively how to play it, but his feelings remained unchanged.

He pressed on. Playing a few more, equally janky and screeching notes, the bow angled to draw out different sounds. Then he tried a long, elongated note over all the strings to see the range he had to work with, fingers bent in a weird way.

Rauru’s ears may as well have been flattened against his skull, a hand placed gently over the bow to stop him. “Mayhaps you should take the time to practice it. When it’s not close to the time people are getting ready for dinner or bed.”

Sheik agreed, willingly slipping the vielle from his shoulder. He was more interested in the harps anyway.

The ones Rauru showed him were nearly as tall as the blonde himself was, with more strings than he had ever known would be necessary. Why did they have to be so big? The biggest one he’d have to have an extra set of hands to play.

He was drawn to one that seemed to be a reasonable size, he wouldn’t need to stand on a stool to play it. Maybe sitting down instead, it looked rather heavy to rest against him without any support. Every third or fourth string was a different color, and the range was more than he was used to, but running his fingers lightly across them told him all he really needed to know.

“Would it be possible for me to play this one, Your Majesty?”

“Of course. You know harps better than I, is there a place you’d like to put it? I trust your judgment on this matter.”

A king trusting his, a Sheikah’s, judgment. How absurd.

“May we just put it in the room I share with Zelda for now? I know not enough of this place to judge accurately.”

“Very well. Let’s move it together. Sonia should be collecting us for dinner by the time we’re done. Unless it’s later than I thought and she’s already on her way. Oh well. It wouldn’t be the first time.” he was talking more to himself now, than to Sheik.

Sheik set the vielle aside, and went to help move the harp. He wasn’t entirely sure how much he actually helped, it barely felt like he’d contributed at all. Because for all his skills, he had long since prioritized speed over strength. Perhaps he’d been wrong in that regard, but it was far too late to change that now.

Dinner was a.... light affair. It usually was, but today especially so. Zelda had made a significant breakthrough in her powers, and it was all she spoke of for much of the meal. Sheik was proud of her, it was all he could do to offer the smallest of smiles. His hair had to be pinned out of the way for him to eat, and having his face so exposed to people he barely knew wouldn’t let him relax.

He stayed silent, picking at the unfamiliar food on his plate, content to stay in his own bubble of quiet. And it really was a bubble. Even though both the King and Queen were soft spoken, they contributed to the conversation. Sheik didn’t feel he had the right to, nor did he really have anything to add that wasn’t simply something along the lines of nodding in agreement. Zelda had been there far longer than him, and she fit in so well it was almost startling.

He was happy for her.

You should tell her.

He excused himself from the meal early. If they noticed, he did not care. He welcomed the shadows cast by the plants lighting up the palace even well after the sun had set. He retraced his steps, following the paths Zelda had shown him until he finally was able to slip into their shared room undisturbed. The click of the door shutting him inside was all it took for the quiet he craved to suddenly become a bit too oppressive. It was frustrating that he couldn’t even decide if he wanted to be alone or not.

He huffed, the only semblance of that frustration he would let himself express, and crossed the room in quick strides. He pulled the hair pins from his head and let them drop to the floor, sinking onto the mattress. He pulled the tie from his hair, untwisting the blonde strands and shaking them out. And for the moment, he just sat and breathed and hid in the curtain of gold that was getting ever longer.

Inhale. Hold for a few seconds. Exhale.

Fingers tapping a rhythm on the covers, he hummed quietly. There was really nothing to do in the room, except perhaps read. But they were in an ancient Hylian dialect he couldn’t read, and he didn’t feel like trying to decipher it. It was not worth the effort for something that might not even be able to keep him occupied.

Inhale. Hold. Exhale.

There was the harp. Not his, but a harp nonetheless. He didn’t know what stopped him from playing it. His fingers would not reach for it, would not pluck the strings, would not weave the melodies he knew by heart. His hands remained at his sides, gripping the covers. The stone at his wrist glowed faintly.

Inhale. Exhale.

He pried his fingers from their death grip on the covers, rubbing his face with a groan. He couldn’t just sit there, he had to do something. Anything, it really didn’t matter what anymore.

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale.

Fingernails dug into his skin hard enough to leave indents, cautious not to draw blood. Shoes unlaced, he tucked his legs under him and just sort of collapsed in on himself against the pillows. The glow of the stone on his bracelet was the only light to see by, but it was more than enough. His world was a shadowy one, come to life with the barest amount of light. Sure, it made the brightest days a bit painful to see in, but he had long since grown used to it.

He enjoyed being shrouded in shadow, any kind of shadows really. Save for the Depths. That was just a bit too dark, even for a Sheikah’s exceptional eyesight. There was just something about the complete darkness, that was just occasionally so thick sometimes he swore he could physically touch it, that was just a little too much. He never pointed it out to the people watching over him during that time, he still wasn’t certain he hadn’t just imagined the whole experience in his injured state. He almost regretted not mentioning it, for he had certain suspicions about it all.

The stone’s glow, a secret stone of the Zonai, as he now knew it was technically called, bounced off the harp. Unbidden, he tapped his fingers together. Just a few notes, burned into his memory so deeply they left craters. The glow twinkled, almost as if mocking him with answers it would not give.

Or could not, until....

Unable to remove the bracelet keeping him hostage to the cursed object, he buried his wrist under layer upon layer of blankets, as far as he possibly could without simply severing his arm from his body. The room was cast into darkness once more.

Oh, how he despised Zelda’s impossible quest.

He was just so tired of it all. And there was nothing short of death itself that would erase the coiling, burning guilt eating him alive from the inside out. It was drowning, suffocating, his lungs simply refused to work. A heavy weight settled on him, he couldn’t move.

The door creaked open, squeaking hinges a warning siren to his ears. His ear twitched, angling back to listen. Small, light footsteps approached the bed, and the edge of the mattress dipped. A hand touched his shoulder, warm and familiar.

“Are you alright?” Zelda asked. “You didn’t really eat much.”

The burning in his throat hurt. He took a deep breath. “I am just tired.” She shouldn’t concern herself with.... this.

“Sheik. Did you want to talk? I.... know we haven’t really properly talked in a while.”

That was the understatement of the century. Still, the fact that she had asked at all did something to him. He barely noticed the weight growing a little lighter, the shadows a little less condensed.

But she would not wait forever for his answer. He had no time to drag his thoughts into something coherent for her. Impatience ran in her family like water down a cliff.

You should really tell her.

“There really is no other way home?” he asked instead. 

The weight on the mattress moved, a warm body draping over his back, a head resting on his shoulder. All at once he felt like a small child again, after a particularly brutal training session had left him bedridden and holding back tears. Zelda had curled up with him every chance she had, reading aloud to him or babbling on about whatever she found particularly interesting that day. That time it had been Zora lifespans, if he remembered correctly.

“No, not that I’ve been able to find.” she whispered. “I’m sorry.”

“Do not be. It was most likely already set in stone long before our time. I suppose I am just.... simply too hopeful otherwise.”

“I was too. It would’ve been nice to see everyone again.” she said. “Your sisters, Paya. Riju and Sidon. Everyone.”

“By exactly one technicality, we will.” he reminded her. “We simply.... will not know it.”

His sister nodded, humming. “That means we’ll see the champions again too, with everyone else. Urbosa, Daruk—”

“Mipha. That one cook who chased me from the kitchens that one time.” Sheik rattled off, the memory almost bringing a hint of a smile to his face. “A master at cooking and at chasing small thieving children out of his workspace. He should have been a Champion in his own right.”

Zelda giggled. “I still can’t believe you stole the entire tray of tiny cakes. He spent so long on those!”

“I was nine, and he was always incredibly mean to me. It was a personal victory. And I would do it again.”

She laughed fully this time, and he could not help but smile again. It took a long while for Zelda to speak again, her giggles fading to a melancholic smile. “We’d even see Revali again, for a short while. I know you two were good friends.”

Revali.

The name twisted something deep down inside that he had long buried. He couldn’t bring himself to keep smiling, his words never finding their way into being spoken. Sheik hadn't thought about him in nearly a century, nor any of the Champions really. He simply tried not to, that day had been arguably the worst day of his life. 

Revali’s distress signal still haunted him year after year.

“When the time comes, would it be too much to ask that it happen at the same time? Assuming we do not discover another way home. I do not enjoy the thought of seeing.... whatever happens. Regardless of how long we will remember it.”

His sister nodded, he could feel her wiping her tears on him. “Of course. I promise, you won’t be alone.”

“I swear that to you as well.” he said. Zelda’s head rested a little heavier on his shoulder, her breaths stuttering. He reached to hold her hands in his, humming quietly. He felt no desire to move to play the harp in the room to try and comfort her, he suspected she did not want him to move too far away anyway. Humming would have to suffice.

I need to tell her.

He said nothing.

An eternity passed that way, Sheik humming in the silence, Zelda’s breathing slowly smoothing and evening out into a regular rhythm. She was going to wake up with a very sore neck in the morning, but he didn’t have the heart to move her. He let his eyes shut, let his humming drift away with his consciousness.

And fell into nightmares.

Chapter Text

The day was gorgeous. Bright, shining sun, chirping birds, and a warm breeze. The flowers bloomed in a dazzling display of colors, every shade from reds and yellows to the deepest blues and palest pastels. Grass swayed in the wind, loose leaves blew gently from the trees to hide amongst the foliage.

A leaf fluttered across the books laid out over the table, settling onto a diagram inked onto the page. Sheik brushed it away, his stare glued to the book in front of him. The ancient, blocky script he had zero troubles reading, the shimmering mirage over them barely an annoyance to his enhanced sight. He’d been at this since before dawn, only moving outside to read when Zelda physically dragged him out with a strength he did not know the woman possessed.

Every so often, he simply grabbed one and chucked it in a random direction. And nearly without fail, it would retrace its path right back to where he could grab it and set it back on the table. That was what was happening now to one of the books, a thin tome dedicated to an old legend about a magic flute and a hero who’d slept for seven years. He’d already read it cover to cover so many times he could recite every discussion point in his sleep, so he had no qualms about throwing it around.

Zelda sank into her seat tiredly, rubbing her temples. “Sheik, how do you do it?”

He turned a page in the book he studied, humming at the wavering text. He made a mental note about the position of the hands in the image shown. “Elaborate, please.”

“The strain of practicing magic. I know I don’t know much about the Sheikah, but I know you and Impa at least practiced magic. How did you deal with the strain?”

He hummed again, then pushed one of the books towards her. He ignored the ache in his chest as familiar advice sprung to mind. “The fact I need to tell you that it is resting speaks volumes. Our training was very different in any case, but our methods of dealing with the strain was the same.”

“Oh. Is that why you’re reading....” she tilted her head at the title of the book, frowning and cracking it open curiously. “ The Beginners Guide to Not Baking Spiders in Your Pies ?”

“I am certain that is not what that book is called.”

“You’re right. Now it’s Beware Cuccos with Teeth .” she said, her voice rising in pitch. In her defense, the thought of a cucco with teeth was about the second most terrifying thing he’d ever imagined, right behind the stuff in his nightmares. But just ahead of regular cuccos.

“It’s supposed to be an in depth discussion about the legends that supposedly shaped our kingdom, but I suppose that’s not what you see.” he said calmly. He mimicked the position of the hands in the diagram, tracing circular patterns and going through the motions shown. His stone glowed almost encouragingly, and somewhere he thought he heard the drip of water in a puddle.

The space behind his eyes ached.

“I suppose.” his sister hummed. “Is there a reason the Sheikah wanted to keep the contents hidden?”

“My people are naturally secretive. Before the split into two clans, we were keepers of ancient history. After, much of it was apparently lost. My source indicates the Yiga Clan either did not keep the history that was stolen, or lost it somewhere along the line.” He did not tell her who that source was, he dared not speak the name.

Either of them, the title inherited or the name whispered in his ear with all the weight of his trust in those few syllables meant only for Sheik to know. He would take that to his grave, whether that grave be laying six hundred feet under or swimming high in the sky.

Zelda nodded. “I see.”

He went through the motions a few more times before he felt he had it down (and trying to ignore the dripping water in the distance and the ache in his skull), leaning closer to decipher the tiny text. “But to answer your original question, it really is just rest. Queen Sonia did say it would take time to master your powers, yes? You should trust her judgment.”

“I know, I’m trying. I just....”

“You worry it is not enough.”

The silence told him all he needed to know. He marked the page with a loose sheaf of paper that he definitely hadn’t stolen from Zelda’s own notes, and closed the book. His eyes were starting to burn from looking at the tiny script anyway. He tapped the table to get her attention, waiting until she looked up at him.

“It is enough.” he repeated. “The Queen has had years. You have had months. You have made progress with your powers that the ancient sorcerers in the old texts would envy. I dare say you could stop a thrown blade should you put your mind to it.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.” he said simply. And oh, he did not like that contemplative look in her eye. “And stop thinking whatever you are thinking.”

Zelda stood from her seat, hands on the table. “But Sheik!”

“No.”

“But—!”

“Not until you are fully rested. That is my one condition.”

His twin finally sat down at that, sighing in defeat. He reopened the book and continued where he left off. Something about the dangers of attempting to revive the dead. He swore he’d read the book at some point in his life before, but in a very old and decrepit state.

“Sheik, what if instead—”

“Resting, Zelda.”

Crouched among shadows, hidden in the swaying grass and dancing flowers among the roots of a mighty pine, a pair of eyes squinted through the foliage. His target, ambling along the forest trees aimlessly, was unaware. Lady Mineru, her long ears canted to catch the little sounds of the leaves rustling in the warm summer breeze, carried an armful of tools. Princess Zelda walked with her, smiling and chattering away about something or other regarding the constructs the Zonai routinely built. She held the Purah Pad in her hand, tucked against her chest as she waved the other excitedly.

Both perfectly defenseless, it would be nothing short of disgustingly easy to put a knife in both of them and slip away before either of them knew what happened. So, so disgustingly easy, it actually almost drew some semblance of annoyance from him. Were this a different situation, he’d simply sneak up on them, tap both on the shoulder, and tell them both to be more careful.

A few steps farther, and he dashed behind the next nearest tree, skittering to hide in the roots as though he was a snake in the grass. Mineru’s ear tilted backwards, but she did not turn. She simply nodded sagely, her calm and soothing tones weaving a melody as she spoke in turn. He had not a clue what they spoke of, science had never been his strong suit. Music was his forte, the instrument slung across his back, the physical example.

Another few steps, another skittering movement, another tree to hide behind. Step, skitter, hide. Rinse and repeat until he had wound his way ahead of the pair, ears perked to listen to the Princess's animated questions and Lady Mineru’s calm answers. Now, he just lay in wait, sprawled out in the tall grasses, swaying along with their ruffled movement as though he was one with the plants. He gripped the dagger in his hand tighter.

This. This was what he was really good at.

Lady Mineru’s ear flicked once, twice, three times.

Now.

He dashed into the path with all the speed of a striking serpent. Eyes narrowed, with every intent to kill, he flung the dagger with all of his strength, aiming for the throat.

An ominous click echoed in the air, the blade freezing in midair. Mere inches from Mineru’s throat, the blade just hung in a golden glow. The same glow emanated from a panicked Zelda’s hand, the secret stone shining at her throat.

Another click, and the weapons zipped back exactly the way it had come, stopping before his face. Then it dropped, the golden aura releasing it from Zelda’s hold. He relaxed, dropping his stance and scooping it up. Sheathing it, he shook out his hand. He hadn’t thrown a knife that hard since the time Link had dragged him to the desert to fight the living dead.

“Sheik!!”

Sheik winced, Zelda’s shrill shriek piercing his ears. He kept his expression carefully neutral, strolling up to the pair as though he hadn’t tried to commit murder. And a few other crimes he couldn’t name off the top of his head. Treason maybe? Who knew.

“Your abilities are as I said, you certainly could stop a blade should you put your mind to it.”

“Why would you think trying to kill the person I’m with is a good idea?!”

He shrugged. “How else would you gain confidence in your powers? This type of training is normal, is it not?”

“No?! Why would you think that’s normal??” Zelda’s eyes, wide as saucers, swirled with emotions he couldn’t name. He didn’t see the issue.

“This is how I was trained. Well, not entirely. I did ask Lady Mineru for permission first.” he said. Mineru nodded in confirmation.

“I did. Your brother knows you well, if he has confidence in you, then so do I. I’m glad you didn’t let me get skewered. Just because I can separate my spirit from my body, doesn’t mean I want to part from it permanently just yet.” she commented.

Zelda’s expression did some, quite frankly, wild acrobatics as she processed everything. Then, she pinched the bridge of her nose and breathed deeply.

“Sheik. My dearest brother. Let me get this straight.” she clasped her hands together, Purah Pad sandwiched between them. “You asked Mineru if you could throw a knife at her.”

“Yes.”

“She agreed to it.”

“Yes. We stated that previously.”

“So you thought to ambush us, with every intent to throw a knife at her throat, just to help me with my powers.”

“I find the element of surprise works wonders for bringing out a person’s potential.”

Zelda stared at her brother, mouth pressed into a thin line. Sheik still didn’t see the issue. It had worked, hadn’t it? There was no harm done, and he’d been exceptionally polite by asking permission first and planning ahead with the person in question instead of just going ahead. Just to be safe he’d even stashed an absurd amount of health elixirs somewhere along the path beforehand. The environment was controlled to the best of his ability.

What was the problem?

“Sheik. That was absolutely the most terrifying and insane thing you could’ve done. I appreciate your help, but by the Goddess if you ever do that again I will actually make you eat a frog.”

The Sheikah winced. Yes, that was about as violent as he expected her to get, but it got the message across. That, and he really did not want to eat a frog. Link could do it, but Sheik drew the line at eating them in a non elixir form.

“Apologies. I will not do that again.”

“Good. Let me set up that kind of training next time, please. My heart just about stopped completely.” she sighed.

“Apologies.” he repeated. “It is a force of habit to resort to that style of training.”

“Sheik, what kind of training did you go through to make that a habit?” she asked slowly.

The warrior suddenly decided it was a wonderful time to collect those unneeded elixirs now, spinning on his heel to go track them down. He slung the vielle from his back, readying it to practice idly as he went. “I will return in a moment. Thank you again for agreeing to help, Lady Mineru. I am in your debt.”

“Of course. Come by later when you have the time, I’d like to test out a few new constructs.”

Zelda scrambled to follow after her brother. “Sheik! Wait up!”

Another bright and sunny day, another instance of Sheik being forced outside. His neck was a little sore, chin pressed to the hard wood of the vielle, fingers bent awkwardly. The bow was not as unwieldy now that he had spent time relearning the songs he knew by heart on it. Still, he oftentimes found himself reverting back to plucking the strings as though he carried his harp. It produced a unique sound to his ears that he genuinely found easier to play, five strings were more than enough for him to play on.

Him and Zelda were alone in the garden, her choosing to try and read through the tomes he had long since abandoned for music. He doubted she would get very far, each one had the same faint mirage to the text within, but he applauded her effort. Even if he wasn’t truly certain why she was trying.

He slid the bow over the strings, weaving a slow melody like water, flowing from note to note the same way a river would. He found this particular song the easiest to play with the bow instead of plucking the strings. It felt strangely fitting, if a little melancholic.

“Sheik?”

He slowed his playing for a moment, dragging each note out until the song became something akin to a lullaby. “Yes?”

“What do the words look like to you? Not the contents, but just the general look of them.”

He slipped the vielle from his shoulder, twirling the bow idly as he wandered over to look at the book she had. It was one detailing.... less than pleasant methods for how enemies of the Royal Family should be handled. He’d put it aside after the first few pages, the details had been so extensive. The short of it was that enemies disappeared, permanently. He didn’t think she particularly needed to know about that side of his people.

“I suppose it appears faintly like it shimmers or wavers. Imagine the way a distant object wavers in the heat of the desert.” he explained. Zelda hummed, lifting the book and turning it this way and that as she studied the words written on the pages. He wondered what she saw.

“Would you be able to tell me what’s written on it? Assuming it’s not forbidden by your tribe?” she asked.

He slowly closed the book for her, and pushed a different one towards her. A happier one, describing less gruesome magics and techniques. “Not that one. But this one should be alright.”

She smiled, picking up the one he offered and opening it up. “Thank you. I thought I might try to see if I could read the contents if I reread the fake text enough times, but I guess not. It changed every time.”

He only hummed, sending a silent thank you to the Goddess. In his opinion, Zelda did not need to know the horrific crimes his tribe would commit to protect the Royal Family. That he would have to commit, should the need arise. No, that part of his people could stay very much buried in darkness. Forever.

He idly plucked out the strings to a more joyful tune as he skimmed the geometric script, tucking those thoughts away along with the damning tome. “Well, the page you are on is halfway through describing legendary artifacts thought lost to time. There is an illustration of what seems to be a stylized magnifying glass.”

“That’s so fascinating! Does it say what they do?”

“....Reveal the unseen. A bit redundant, considering my people have that ability without the need for magical artifacts.”

His twin hummed in awe, turning the pages curiously. Sheik just kept playing, keeping to much happier songs instead of all the sad sounding laments and elegies he knew. If only for his own sake. It was nice out, as bright and sunny as the warm summer days he remembered from their own time. He’d try to enjoy it while he still had the will to.

Even over the notes of the music, the chirping of the birds, and the turning of pages, he still heard footsteps. Bare feet upon stone, light and ethereal like the sunshine itself. He paused in his playing and looked up.

Queen Sonia stepped up to the table, a tray loaded with a tea set, various fruits and a number of sweets and breads in her hands. She smiled gently, setting the tray down on a free spot on the table.

“Don’t stop on my account. Your playing has improved greatly since you’ve begun practicing, I’ve noticed.” she said.

Sheik did not know quite how to react, his movements stiff and disjointed as he gave a polite bow. The Queen was one person he still did not quite know how to act around. He had scant few memories of Zelda’s mother, if any, and none of them really gave him any idea on how to act towards a Queen that was so…. like her. It was all he could do to awkwardly offer respect, unsure of how low he should bow, or if he should even look her in the eye when addressing her. The fact she acted like no other royal he’d ever met didn’t help him decide any.

She reminded him of his own mother, almost. But without the eagerness to ship off her own small child to a castle full of strangers.

“Thank you, Your Majesty.” he said quietly, fingers tense around the bow and the neck of the vielle.

Queen Sonia only smiled warmly, carefully gathering the books into neat stacks with practiced motions. “Please, just Sonia is fine. It’s just us here.”

“....Yes, Yo— Sonia.” he tripped over his words, and just decided to keep his mouth shut. Let Zelda do the speaking for him, as was supposed to happen. He had no right to speak so casually to a queen.

“I thought you two needed a break, you both have been working so hard recently.” Sonia said, setting out cups. “I don’t foresee anyone else dropping in from the future, so taking our meal out here should be uninterrupted.”

Goddess, he hoped so. He didn’t think he could take another disaster like that, especially so if they didn’t bring a secret stone with them. His head may very well explode from the sheer bad luck of that entire situation.

The tea smelled nice, at least. It was very different from what he was used to, but that couldn’t be helped. As Sonia poured, he noticed it had a vibrant blue color, and barely made a sound as it filled the cup. His curiosity spiked.

Sonia spared him the need to ask. “Blue Nightshade tea, it’s a favorite in the palace. I thought you might enjoy it.”

He hummed, putting the vielle aside so he could try it. It was sweet, faintly floral, and with zero traces of poison. He both hated and was grateful about that particular piece of information being among the first things he noticed. But it was useful, even though it told him nothing at the moment.

“Thank you, Queen Sonia. The tea is good.” Zelda spoke the words he could not vocalize, and he was grateful for her presence.

The Queen sat with them, her own cup raised to her smiling lips. “I’d hoped you’d both like it. My brother usually prefers making this particular tea, but he’s away right now.”

Zelda nodded in understanding. “Do you know when he’ll be back? I’m curious to hear about where he’s been!”

Sheik didn’t know who this mystery brother was, but he’d heard an awful lot about him in the past few months. His knowledge amounted to him being Sonia’s brother, a Sheikah who plays a harp, and the keeper of a temple of shadow who occasionally neglected his duties in favor of ‘scientific discovery’ whatever that meant. Sheik really didn’t know much.

“I’m sure he’ll turn up when we’re least expecting it.” the queen hummed quietly. Her smile was knowing. “He’s never gone for long enough to worry us, I often turn around one day and he’s just there, eager to share his latest adventure.”

“Really? What sort of adventures?”

Sheik was content to let the women talk while he listened. He sipped his tea, sitting perched in his seat in the shadows, occasionally snagging a piece of fruit to nibble on. He targeted the apple slices most heavily, they brought up fond memories. It hurt to remember, but he wanted to remember them while he could.

They tasted different than he remembered, he wondered if they were a different type of apples. Or if the millennials of separation had an effect on the taste. A mystery for the ages, and one he would wonder about for the rest of his life. The same sort of wonder that led him to questioning why certain traditions came about, and how a person could excel in one type of magic but be so weak with another. Or how the Gerudo came to possess long pointed ears, when a multitude of legends depicted or described them having small and rounded ears.

The same sort of wonder that had him lost in his own thoughts rather than actually listening to the conversation at hand. He simply stayed quiet and tried to pull himself back, swiping another slice of apple.

“—and Zinc,” Sonia paused to chuckle quietly in fond amusement. “Zinc in all his wisdom, decided to capture them all. And that’s how my husband found him just before sunset, with an armful of brightly colored frogs and insects and chasing after a lizard to add to the mix.”

Zelda was hiding her laugh behind her hand, having almost nearly drowned in her tea. Sheik didn’t know what in the Golden Goddess’ name he’d just tuned back into, and he was absolutely not certain if he wanted to know.

The Queen continued after taking a sip of her tea. “It was a wonderful time, and every year since, he’s ventured out to catch at least one colorful creature before the sun sets. You could say it’s become a sort of tradition.”

Sheik was absolutely missing vital information to that story, and he was too afraid to ask. Instead he snagged what he promised himself was the last slice of fruit he was going to take (which was a lie) and tried to pay attention from then on.

Zelda was smiling. “My brother has a tendency to wander almost as much, according to my friend. Sheik, did you ever do anything like that in your travels?”

A memory jumped unbidden to the forefront of his mind, and his heart ached so sharply he had to put the fruit slice down.

Sheik, chasing after a rarely seen butterfly, as blue as the sky and as elusive as the mythical dragon spirits the swordsman claimed to have collected scales from. Every time he’d lure it close with the melodies of his harp, it’d flutter just out of reach when he’d try to catch it in a jar. He was no good at hunting things he wasn’t intending to kill, and he was trying so hard to be careful with something so delicate.

He caught it, ironically, when he’d given up entirely. Plucking the strings of his harp frustratedly, about to turn and leave the spring, the butterfly fluttered close. It landed on the harp, wings glittering with an ethereal sort of light. And there it stayed. Butterfly settled serenely upon the harp he carried, he was absolutely flabbergasted that it stayed all the way to the Gerudo Highlands.

The reaction he got to bringing the butterfly was what he had hoped for, even if the butterfly itself floated away on wings as delicate as a snowflake immediately after.

“....I once played music for a talking tree. Is that comparable?” he said instead.

Zelda paused, tilting her head in thought. Then she nodded. “I suppose that counts. Was it the one in that strange forest where the legendary sword slept?”

He nodded. “I do not know of any other talking tree, and I doubt you do either.”

“Just the one.” she agreed. She was picking at a slice of bread, still warm and soft. She’d broken it in half, passing one to him. He traded her one of the fruits in response, picking apart the bread she’d given him and popping it into his mouth.

The bread was sweet, somehow. It caught him wildly off guard. But it was good. A part of him wondered if he’d be able to make it for a certain someone one day, and he turned to ask the queen about the bread.

He found her looking off into the distance, a hand over her heart. Her tea had been forgotten, held in a grip so loose he feared she may drop it. He sat frozen, staring without blinking. Sonia was still for an alarmingly long time, the only movement the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed.

Her smile, so warm and motherly, had faltered.

Finally, after a moment so long that even Zelda had paused to look up, Sonia let out a slow breath. She turned back to the table, the faintest trembling in her hand as she lifted the cup to her lips. Sheik dared to cast a glance to where she’d been looking, and found nothing but the stunning landscape and the rising cliff sides of what he vaguely recognized as the border to the Gerudo Desert. Nothing out of the ordinary.

He looked back at the queen. Something about her smile seemed.... forlorn now. He tilted his head. Queen Sonia was wiser than he, but if his suspicions were correct, which were completely unfounded and based entirely on something deep within a memory that didn’t quite feel like his, he understood.

When she spoke, her voice was still full of life and the gentle light of the sun. “Sheik, may I ask about the music you play? I’m curious to know the sort of songs you enjoy.”

He blinked. “I play multitudes. I am most accustomed to playing them on my harp, but I have discovered they are not as hard to play on the.... vielle? I have rediscovered a few songs already.”

“Rediscovered?” she asked. He simply nodded, reaching for the instrument and standing up.

There was a bare handful of people he offered to play for, almost all of them being his family. There was exactly one other exception, and that was one he now treasured deeply.

He could make an exception for her. “It is a bit difficult to explain. Perhaps I could play one? If you have a request of course, Your Ma— Sonia.”

The beautiful queen hummed, resting her chin on her laced fingers as she thought. “I’m not sure what it’s called, but my brother used to play it often. It was sort of slow, I think it went something like....” she hummed the tune, tapping her finger in time to the beat.

Sheik recognized the song.

He slid the vielle to his shoulder, tucking it under his chin and readying the bow. He began to play. He’d uncovered the song in his youth one day, perhaps maybe a few weeks before his sixteenth birthday. He’d heard it in the deepest shadows in the dead of night, the one time he’d thought it wise to venture alone down to the place that was so forbidden that no mention of it was ever made in ancient texts. A place that was only spoken of in hushed whispers, a place where the restless dead roamed and hatred festered like old wounds. It was a slow, haunting melody, heard in muffled chants and wails through an ancient stone gate that did not open. One that drew upon the infinite darkness that absorbed even time itself.

He did not notice the glow of his stone, nor the slow solidification and twisting of the shadows. Queen Sonia had asked for a specific song, and he resolved to play it if it eased whatever had caused her eternal smile to falter. It was the least he could do for being allowed to stay, for being allowed to remain where there was at least one familiar face he could truly trust.

Crack!

Sheik’s playing screeched to a halt with an awful high note, drowned out by the sudden shattering of one of the table legs and everything on it crashing to the floor. Sonia stood quickly, ushering both him and Zelda away from the mess.

Porcelain shattered, tea soaking the tablecloth, books and food scattered over the stone, the mess was somehow worse than when Sheik had nearly turned himself into a bloody smear on the ground all that time ago.

His grip on the vielle made the wood creak, the stone at his wrist no longer mocking him with its glow. He pushed the instrument into Zelda’s hands, head turned away, unable to look either woman in the eye. He was suddenly so grateful that his hair covered at least some of his face, he felt as though it were on fire.

“My apologies. I will clean this up.” he said.

“Sheik.” Zelda stopped him from kneeling, holding onto his arm. “It’s alright, we can help.”

He shook his head. “I want to clean this up.”

She frowned, her gaze full of concern. But she relented, giving his arm a small squeeze before pulling away. “Alright. But let us save the books at least? I know they’re important to you and your people.”

Sheik wanted to say no, that he could do it himself. That he didn’t need assistance. That he was capable of doing it without her.

He was incapable of saying no to her. “....Alright.”

Together, they cleaned up the mess. Zelda stacked the books carefully, both her and Queen Sonia taking the time to carry them inside while he gathered up the remains of the shattered cups. The tablecloth would most likely be permanently stained, the blue splotch standing out against the slight offwhite of the fabric.

Piece by piece, he piled the porcelain shards on the tray they had come out on, kneeling on the cold stone. In theory the tea set could be repaired, but he was no expert on fixing things. Apparently all he was good for was breaking the things around him, unintentional or not.

That fact didn’t bother him; what bothered him was how he did it. He’d never been able to display that level of power before in his life, not even at the height of his training. The peak of his magical ability— perhaps helped along by his harp, he still wasn’t certain how much he actually relied on it to perform magic— had always been limited to short bursts of power that faded quickly and wore him out. And that’s to say nothing of the failed attempts to summon flames.

The throbbing in his head was made worse by the bright sunlight, even as he lingered in the shade while he piled wasted food back onto the tray. He sighed, getting to his feet with the loaded tray in his hands. The table would need a new leg, but it wasn’t as though he knew how to fix that either.

He left the tray in the kitchen, slipping in and out unseen save for a whispered apology about the destruction. He simply returned to his and Zelda’s shared room. Light streamed in through the window, casting long patches of warm sunlight across the rugs that covered the floor. Zelda would find him if she needed him, just as he would find her if he needed her. As they’d always been able to, even across time itself apparently.

For a while he simply sat on the single desk in the room, watching the patch of light slowly creep over the floor inch by inch. The bright colors of the rugs became even more vibrant under the light of the sun, the swirling designs almost painful to his eyes.

Slowly, hesitantly, he lifted a hand. Eyes locked on the shadow he cast, slowly turning his hand to see his shadow do the same. He had no vielle to perform the song again, he’d left it with Zelda. And in truth, he really did not feel like playing either it or the harp just to experiment with the effects. It had proven to be fairly destructive in at least one instance.

He tilted his head, letting his hand hover in the air still. He just hummed the first few notes, splitting his attention between the shadow of his hand and the stone on his wrist. It glowed, dark and shadowed, the shadow cast by his hand wavering. It flickered between a halfway solid state and transparency, quickly returning to normal once he’d stopped humming.

He hummed again, slowly waving his hand through the patch of sunlight. Again, the shadow flickered, spilling out like a pool of darkness. It remained that way, flickering and wavering for as long as he hummed, though the ache behind his eyes grew the longer he kept on. He cut his humming short and let his hand drop, the shadows returning to normalcy.

He groaned, rubbing his eyes. Goddess, why did magic have to be so difficult on the first try? He hated it, it felt distinctly unfair somehow, despite full well knowing that was not how life worked. Natural talent be damned, he just wished something about this situation could be easy for once.

In the words of someone very dear to his heart, easy was nice. At least once in a while.

Head in his hands, nails tapping at his cheeks, he just sat and let his stare bore a hole in the carved wall. He simply could not do it on his own. If Zelda hadn’t been able to grow into her powers without guidance, what hope did he have to go without? He’d simply have to go back to the roots of his training. As intensely as he could manage without rendering himself completely useless in the process, he wasn’t stupid.

He’d have to return to Kakariko. He prayed to the Goddess that Zelda would forgive him for leaving her for a while.

Chapter Text

The stone dais was cold, the chill seeping deep through his clothes and skin to pierce his very bones. A brush dipped in a deep, dark, rust colored paint like dried blood ran over the exposed portions of his skin. He couldn’t see what was being painted on him, he’d been instructed repeatedly to keep his eyes shut. He only knew the color because he’d asked.

His ears twitched, ever so slightly angled to catch every sound. The crackle of torches being lit, the soft padding of muffled footsteps, even hushed whispers and the steady echoing dripping of water. His last sight before being told to essentially render himself blind had been a long, deep, dark staircase into the depths of the ground.

The cold paint touched his skin again, just below his ribcage, and he twitched. “Hold still, please.” the quiet voice before him said.

Sheik was trying. It was very difficult to do while blind and surrounded by strangers, even if they were his people. The cold, wet chill near his ribs was a very uncomfortable reminder. And even more painful when the brush dragged upwards, painting over the jagged scars.

Air was fanned towards the paint to dry it, and he faintly heard the clattering of a paint dish. The voice spoke again, quiet but curious. “How did you get the scar? It looks like the stitching was done in a hurry, the aftermath is so jagged.”

“It was.” he replied. His chin was grabbed lightly, his head forced to turn. A thin, fine brush was painted along his cheek. The line took a hard turn, feeling almost geometric compared to the ones done on his abdomen and hands. “My.... Someone I trusted had very little time to help me before the bloodloss killed me.”

“I certainly hope for their sake they were Sheikah.” the voice said. Another line on his face, following the curve of his jaw. And some dots, maybe? The brush had been thick, just a single dab against his temple and another dead center between his brows.

He chose to hum in answer.

Laying stretched out on the cold stone gave him plenty of time to think, even as the equally cold paint that was being drawn onto his body made him want to squirm away. He stayed still, breathing slowly, resisting the urge to tap his fingers against the dais beneath him. He had been allowed only a single of his four daggers, the others kept safely in the chieftain's home until he was ready to collect them.

As the chill continued to seep in, and the effort to not shiver at every brush of paint on his body took increasing amounts of willpower, he wondered why he’d even been allowed to do this in the first place.

“You can’t go.” Zelda insisted, her hands balled into fists. “I only just got you back. Please?”

Sheik sat cross legged on his bed, hands clasped as though he’d been meditating. He hadn’t, but it hadn’t been for lack of trying. His thoughts were simply too demanding of his attention. He understood her protests, he didn’t want to go either. All he wanted was to stay near Zelda, where he could ensure her safety and that she made it back to the future. With or without him.

“It will not be forever. I will return before you know it.” he started.

Zelda cut him off, hurtling into his personal space as she clipped the corner of the mattress when she rounded the bed. She grasped his hands in hers, stumbling to stay upright. His eyes were wide; his sister was usually always so composed, he hadn’t seen her so visibly distressed in over a century.

“I don’t care. Please, Sheik. I want you here with me.” she said.

Sheik’s resolve was paper thin, and very quickly burning up as though in a fire. “I want to stay. I do. But there is no one to train me here the same way Her Majesty is guiding you. If I am to be useful to you, and Link by proxy, I must go.”

“We can wait until Zinc returns. I’m sure he’ll know how to guide you, I’ve seen his powers. Just please, stay here with me.”

Sheik almost voiced his suspicions, almost told her what he knew, but swallowed it down. Instead, he drew her into a hug, letting her collapse against his shoulder. He patted her back, smoothing her hair back down from where it had become unkempt.

“Should he return after I have left, you are welcome to send a letter to me, and I will return at once. I am certain Lady Mineru would be happy to invent a mail system with you just for the occasion.” he said, his voice as gentle as his flat monotone could be.

The tiniest sniffle reached his ears. Zelda sat up, wiping at her eyes even though he couldn’t see any tears yet. She took a deep breath before speaking, her voice wavering.

“Promise me you will return. Before.... anything happens.”

Freezing cold painted his eyelid and the space under his eye and drew him from his memories, he barely held back the reaction to squint. The brush smoothed out the chilled pigment, painting in quick strokes downwards. He could smell the paint, a sickly sweet scent that invaded his nose, as well as the faintest hint of metal under it. A familiar smell.

Morbid curiosity made him wonder if this specific tradition had been lost or purposefully hidden away in his own time. Or stolen, but he doubted that. He’d have to ask later, if he survived this trial.

“What do you use for a binding agent? Egg?” he asked. The hard end of a paintbrush tapped his face in warning, then his face was being held still as the brush smoothed over his lip.

“Egg yolk. And stop talking, you’ll smudge the paint. Goddess forbid you ingest it.”

Sheik exhaled through his nose sharply, but did as he was told anyway. How long had he been there? Far longer than he’d anticipated, the moon had been high in the sky when he’d been led down here and he’d already spent so long just laying on the ground being used as a living canvas.

A hand took his wrist, turning it over and pushing the draping sleeve up to start painting there. Goddess, how much more painting did he have to sit through? He didn’t recall anything this time consuming during his training as a teen. But the chieftain had insisted he go through it, and he could not say no.

The envelope in his hands had felt strangely heavy for such light contents, a wax emblem sealing it from prying eyes. The parchment was cold, even after carrying it with him for the past couple days. His horse had been taken from him, led away to be cared for while he held an audience with the chieftain.

The chieftain in question was an elderly woman, her white hair braided and so long she’d been able to coil it around her head and still let it hang where the rest was wrapped into a sort of pendulum. She sat cross legged on the floor, hands clasped, a cloak of the most vibrant red wrapped around her shoulders. A small Sheikah child was playing with her hair idly, pushing and pulling it so it swung back and forth with the happiest giggles.

The child’s hair had the faintest hint of blonde in it. It made him wonder.

He handed over the envelope, as the Queen had requested of him. It had been no issue to deliver, he would’ve done so even if he hadn’t been going anyway. It was nice to be in some semblance of what was his home, though the circumstances could’ve been better.

Wax broken and the letter within unfolded, the woman’s eyes darted back and forth over the paper, taking in the contents. Her grasp on the paper crinkled it, her hands trembling ever so slightly. She folded it up against the protests of the small child that they wanted to see it too, and sent them from the room.

Even after the child had left, neither he nor the chieftain broke the silence for a long while. Then, the most unexpected question was posed to him.

“Child. What do you know of Zinc?”

Sheik bowed his head respectfully. “Not much, truthfully. I have never met the Queen’s brother, I have only heard of him. That question would be better posed to my sister.”

“You have a sister?” she asked.

“Zelda, my twin.”

“The Queen’s distant relative? But she’s Hylian, you aren’t.”

Sheik only shrugged. “She is my twin regardless, the Goddess wills it. I was the only one in my bloodline born with blonde hair in ten thousand years. When I met Zelda, something simply clicked into place. Like a memory, it felt familiar, as though we had met before.”

He didn’t mention his dreams leading up to that. Visions of a white dress, a girl trapped in amber, a gate made of gears eternally turning. Of spying through a window in a courtyard, interrupted by a fairy boy who knew the future as though he’d lived it. Of brown hair and a shattered mirror, a castle sealed in twilight, and a princess fading away before his eyes.

The chieftain tapped her fingers together, her hair still swinging like a pendulum. Somehow, that too felt familiar, some deep and distant memory that was not his own wasn’t quite able to surface.

“What’s your name, my child?” she asked instead.

“Sheik.”

“....By the Goddess, you’re serious.”

“My mother was not creative.”

The woman rubbed her eyes in exhaustion. “Moving on. The letter mentioned you require training, and the Queen asked personally that we provide it. Knowing what I know, I am inclined to help you.”

Sheik knew that tone. “There are conditions.”

“Simply one, the shadows tell me you are short on time. Prove you can survive one simple test, and you will receive the proper training you seek. Will you accept?”

That didn’t sound too hard. But if it was anything like his previous training, it was anything but.

“I do.”

“It’s not too late to back out.” the voice told him. The final swath of paint was brushed over his throat, and fanned to dry it quicker.

Sheik opened his eyes, a wide expanse of a cavernous ceiling crisscrossed by wooden support beams greeting his vision. A hand was extended to him, and he took it and let himself be hauled to his feet.

Lit torches surrounded the stone dias he’d been laid out on, robed members of the Sheikah tribe hiding in the flickering shadows cast by the flames. Exactly one was still unlit. Before him, a great stone door emanated as of yet one of the darkest auras he’d ever felt in his long life. A close second to the Calamity itself. The symbol of his people, stylized to be harsh and glaring down at them all, was plastered with talismans he recognized to be protection against evil spirits.

And sealing something away.

“I do not think backing out was ever an option.” he said.

The one who helped him up just sighed, and handed over his dagger. The weight was a familiar comfort in his hands, the metal glinting silver in the torchlight, he was grateful for it. He kept it unsheathed for now. A scroll tied with twine and sealed with shimmering wax the color of blood was handed to him next, and he tucked it into his belt after a quick inspection.

“Your goal is at the very end of the temple. You just have to survive the journey there, perform what is written in the scroll— correctly, mind you— and return with the artifact within. Intact. There are fakes littered within, so make sure you get the right one. And most importantly, don’t die.”

“Your confidence is astounding.” he said. “Are there consequences to doing anything in the scroll improperly?”

“You wouldn’t be the first to die to this trial. And yes, but you won’t remember.” was all they said, stepping away. The last torch was lit.

The stone gate shifted, raining dust and rubble upon them. A foul wind howled from within the gaping maw of darkness, snuffing out the torches and leaving him in near total blackness. He stepped forward, blinking in the faint glow cast by his stone. It was barely enough to see by, but it gave him all he needed to navigate the hostile shadows. They were not his friend here, every twitch and flicker of movement screamed a sort of greed and hatred that had festered since time immemorial.

Somewhere behind him, the gate rumbled closed, sealing him alone within the temple. The air was rank, wet with the steady drip of water and heavy with the scent of coagulated blood. He could almost taste it, it made him wonder just how many had died here; the occasional step had something disgustingly soft squishing under his foot rather than the familiar echo of hard stone. 

He turned a corner and found himself in a faintly lit hallway, the blue flames of the single torch barely enough to illuminate the sheer drop into the empty abyss. He’d come mere inches from his foot landing on nothing and sending him tumbling down to his death. The gap however, was small enough that he could jump it easily enough, so he did.

He took the torch with him as he passed through a shimmering mirage, which led him into a large room with yet another gap. The gap this time was on the far side, and was far too wide to jump. The entryway built into the wall had just the smallest edge of a platform to land on, barely more than a foot. Not nearly enough to grab onto should he attempt to jump the too wide gap.

Portions of the walls were empty, but wavered and wobbled as though he gazed at them from a great distance on an impossibly hot day. He wandered into the closest one, the hall taking him to yet another room. He was barely even into the temple and already he was tired of so many empty rooms. Still, he pressed on.

His torch was weak, flickering and burning lower. The flames were not magic as far as he could tell, but they did not quite seem normal either. Whatever the case was, it was a terrible light to see by according to his standards, he couldn't imagine how bad it must be for a Hylian, or even a Rito.

His foot came down hard on something fragile, a loud crack of hollow bone shattering the silence. He leapt aside, and more bones shattered beneath his feet. Something dry and fragile caught his ankle, tripping him in his haste to not fucking break everything he stepped on.

It too snapped on the way down, and he hit the ground hard. The floor was dry and porous, even a little rough against his skin. Sharp edges poked into him from all angles, not quite enough to draw blood. His back throbbed, everything ached. He managed to keep a grip on the torch, though, and he swung it down to see what the actual fuck was wrong with the floor.

There was no floor. There were no walls. No pillars, no altars made of rock.

Everything, everything, was bones.

A strangled, wheezing gasp ripped from his throat of no will of his own. He shot up, every step cracking and snapping more bones. Shards clung to his sleeves, his pants, his shawl. There was nowhere he could go in the room that wasn’t comprised of bones. The skulls of the walls were so tightly compact, he would not have been able to remove one if he wanted to, their empty sockets staring through to his very soul and beyond it. It caught on something in a memory that was simultaneously his and someone else’s.

Goddess, have mercy on his people.

He fled the room like a keese from the Depths, deciding that checking every room was absolutely not on his agenda, and that the bone rooms could go do something anatomically impossible to themselves. He’d brute force his way across the gap even if it killed him.

He had, however, neglected to bring the vielle into the temple with him. He doubted it would’ve been allowed anyway. He was left with only his voice and the memory of the magic he could do, and one dinky little magic rock that only seemed to make things more complicated for him. He switched to hold the dagger and torch in the same hand.

He raised his hand like he’d seen Zelda do so often, calling back to the numerous mini experiments he’d done while alone with his thoughts. He shut out the echoes of music he could hear in the dripping water, in the faint swishing of distant blades, and in the slow but steady drumbeat reverberating through his being.

Guided by nothing but ancestral memory and his scant personal experience, he hummed quietly.

The shadows pooled, dripping from their spots cast by weak flames, coalescing into malleable form. They gurgled and bubbled, wavering into something he might be able to stand on. He ran out of breath, and had to restart the process midway through. His second attempt was quicker than the first, but again, he ran out of breath.

The fourth time, the shadows became just almost solid enough to put his weight on. Cautiously, he put a foot down onto it. His foot sank into the shadows, but it held just enough. He stepped onto it fully. Hanging over the abyss, forcing his legs into some semblance of walking forward, he crept towards the other side of the gap.

He was running out of breath, his humming becoming strained. The shadows beneath him wavered in their stability, and he sank a little more.

Bones cracked somewhere behind him in the impenetrable darkness.

Heart threatening to crawl out of his throat and the shadows threatening to drop him to his death, he sprinted and leaped the last stretch. His torch fell to the abyss, his dagger wedged in a crack in the stone was the only thing keeping him from following.

He scrambled to get up, half throwing himself through the doorway to be as far away from the edge as possible. And for a moment he just sat there on what he made sure was indeed a stone floor, staring across the gap at the dimness. A pile of bones rested on the floor, ancient weapons and armor among them. The skull seemed to glare at him, its helmet of Hylian make rusted and worn.

He promptly picked himself up off the floor and wandered deeper into the darkness, the stone halls leading even farther down. Smooth, carved stonework steadily became more shoddy and less neatly arranged. Older, more worn. It led to (yet another) room, this one with more branching hallways hidden by wavering mirages. He checked each one all of which were, horrifyingly, MORE rooms comprised entirely of bones.

He silently begged the Goddess to just give him a break, every artifact in these rooms he found was old and completely useless and cloaked in wobbling shimmers, so he just put them back as he found them and moved on to what felt like an eternal gauntlet of bloodstained, horrific rooms. Some even had torture devices.

He’d known what his people were capable of, he always had been. His people had entire books dedicated to their bloody history, forbidden and only known to members of the Royal family when it came time for them to rule. But seeing the results in person was another matter entirely.

One device, a pair of wooden supports forming an ‘X’ shape, still had an old corpse dangling upside down from it. The amount of blood on the floor beneath it was not an amount a person could survive, and neither was the strange, rotted husk of.... something.

Goddess, is that—?

Bile rose to his throat, and Sheik shut down that train of thought so quickly he felt even sicker.

He checked the artifact in this room (another fake), and left as quickly as he possibly could. The next room was something he could more easily stomach, some sort of training ground he assumed. It was a circular room, various obstacles placed around to provide cover or ledges to leap from, and of course, more swinging scythes and giant axes and guillotines than he was used to seeing in one place.

The artifact in this room was also fake, but so was a portion of the wall hiding a secret door. Keeping to the outskirts of the room, he slipped to the next one with at most perhaps a minor cut or two. The scythes were the hardest to dodge.

This next room was barely even a room. It was just a simple platform in a vast cavern of pure darkness, a simple ferry floating at a makeshift dock. There was nowhere else to go, and though he could not see any water, stepped onto the ferry.

It wasn’t much of a true ferry, more like a wide platform with slowly spinning wheels. He stood in silence, peering into the darkness as far as his enhanced sight would allow. He could see nothing but infinite darkness in every direction, not even the walls of the cavern offered themselves to his vision.

A cold breeze brushed his hair from his face, the only sign besides the turning of the wheels that he was moving at all. The ferry neither bounced nor swayed with any discernible current, it simply went along. Floating in an unseen sea and carrying him to who knows where.

White wisps slowly floated past him, just beyond his reach if he were to stand at the very edge of the boat. He kept his hands close to his sides, dagger held at the ready and eyes darting everywhere. It was during this moment that he had glanced down, and he felt like he was going to truly throw up.

An image of the Royal Family’s symbol, the golden trio of triangles held aloft by stylized wings as he’d always seen them, was painted onto the wood of the ferry. Not brand new even, no. The paint was old and faded, and even looked like it had been redone many times over if the ancient yellow of the planks were any indication.

His very core froze over, like diving into the most frigid and deathly cold waters in the Hebra region. Every limb was paralyzed by ice, leaving him chilled and shivering as the ferry started to descend downwards into the abyss.

It all felt horribly familiar, as though he’d done this all before. Time and time again.

He didn’t register the rattling of bones until a rasping, enraged wail and screech of metal was in his ear. Instinct took over.

He dove sideways. He twisted. He stared at the glowing eye sockets of a shrieking skeleton warrior, his ears ringing. Metal clanged, Sheik thrust a hand out to…. He didn’t know.

The secret stone glowed, an ominous click echoing beyond the bounds of mortal ears, a symbol he did not recognize flashing brilliantly. A ring of dark spikes as solid as steel shot from somewhere beneath him, piercing and shattering the undead.

He had no time to think, one undead was replaced by more dragging themselves onto the ferry. Somewhere below, a consistent drumming grew louder, a steady heartbeat of the temple itself. High pitched voices harmonized with deep tones so low he felt them in his chest, the chanting haunting his shadowed world.

He was stuck in a nightmare, the indigo glow of his stone the only light in the endless abyss. It became his only comfort. When the undead closed in, a faint panic he’d only ever felt in his dreams forced him to act.

The ache behind his eyes growing, he cast his hand out once more. The stone responded, a click sending an alarming number of shadowed thorns sprouting and stabbing the closest one. It again was quickly replaced by even more undead. Again and again he reacted, stabbing and trading blows with the undead warriors, no time to think of a proper strategy.

He’d never felt so alone and about to die.

Sheik was surrounded, unable to see their true, overwhelming numbers, only the light of his stone glinting off their blades and armor told him where they were.

Goddess, he really was going to die here.

The stone glowed invitingly, taunting, tempting him.

You made a promise.

That promise was no good if he was dead at the bottom of the underworld itself.

You promised Zelda.

The secret stone of the Zonai was right there. He could survive this. It would take only a moment to force down his throat.

‘I’ll be there. Whatever ends up happening. If that’s what you want. Be safe.’

‘I want you here with me.’

He refused. The stone answered.

An echoing click rent the very fabric of the air, the flash of a symbol lighting up the abyss like a beacon. The shadows twisted, taking up physical space, tearing through armor and cracking bones like unfinished pottery. Blades went flying, plucked from skeletal hands turning to dust and tossed away. Shrieking wails died faster than lightning could strike, leaving him alone in silence.

The pounding in his head, a steady drumbeat breaking the inside of his skull, dragged him under.

Sheik awoke in darkness. His head swam, every muscle in his body ached, the fog in his brain was worse than the shadows that covered the strange forest where the legendary sword slept. He just breathed, inhaling the scent of.... rawhide? His cheek mushed against a strange texture, like a tanned animal hide and ever so slightly flexible. He might be able to jump on it, were the ache in his temples not so prevalent.

Slowly, bit by bit, he willed himself to stand. He was in a void still, apparently. But he was not on the ferry. He had landed himself in the middle of a circular arena, faded Sheikah symbols running along the edges. He stood carefully, brushing dust from his clothes. Standing felt mildly unbalanced, the ground beneath him even more bouncy with most of his weight centered on one point. Something in his ear was wet, pain stinging somewhere along the ridge.

A giant hand slammed the ground.

Sheik hit the ground face first, bouncing like a ChuChu jelly dropped from a cliff. His dagger skidded away, bouncing on the floor. A second hand slamming the ground opposite him sent him bouncing the other way, very nearly impaling himself on his own weapon.

He managed to get himself to the center and mildly stabilized, the ground still throwing him into the air, but in a less chaotic manner. Those hands— those severed hands— slammed the ground with a distinct rhythm, building up tempo in time what had once been distant drumbeats.

No, not in time with the drumbeats. They were making the drumbeats. He was on a massive drum.

He slowly looked up, and saw the subject of so many childhood nightmares that he’d never been able to truly remember. A body dangling upside down, hands and head severed, the ‘head’ being a gaping, bloody stump with a glowing eye and fleshy flaps.

He couldn’t even begin to know how he’d fight it. He had nothing to work with! Just a dinky little knife and half controlled stabby shadows that exhausted him to use, in an arena that threatened to bounce him off into the endless abyss below. Scratch that, and endless poison abyss. Lovely.

The stone in his bracelet glowed reassuringly, like it had the answers. He breathed, taking the scroll from his belt and breaking the seal. If Sheik could not defeat it, he simply would make sure no one else had to, at least for a while anyway. Or find some way around it. He could always come back to finish the job later. Or Link would somehow find a way to finish it on his own, it sounded like something he’d be able to pull off.

And, he was on a drum. A massive one, but he could use that to his advantage somehow, he was certain. Memory informed him that magic was infinitely more powerful when music was involved, secret stone or no secret stone. He chanced a glance at the contents of the scroll, skimming the text written there. The phrase sealed within shadow jumped out at him.

Had he seen it before? Something within him answered, a voice both familiar and completely unknown to him. Yes.

He opened his mouth.

Those severed hands rushed at him. An ominous click rang through the darkness. The shadows became suffocating, the darkness twisting and coiling like a thousand writhing serpents—

Chapter Text

....

....

...?

Sheik was going to be perfectly honest, he absolutely did not remember anything after that. All he knew was that when he next became aware, he was standing on stone again, and the scroll had burned to ash in his hands. His eyes ached, his shoulder felt disgustingly wet, and something beat a rhythm against the inside of his skull. Flicking his fingers free of ash, he swiped at the wetness. His hand came away red, the blood dripping to the floor. He let out a “huh” and shifted his shawl to soak up the blood. He had far more cuts than he’d thought, a nick on his ear doing the worst of the bleeding. When had he even gotten so bloody without realizing?

He wracked his memories for when it could’ve happened, and came up blank. Frowning, he realized he couldn’t even really recall anything between waking up and getting to the room. Something about a drum? He didn’t even know what the scroll had written on it, it was all just a complete void in his memory. But it had been important, clearly, he’d been carrying it after all.

....Why had he been carrying it?

Something wet dripped from his nose, and he wiped away a trickle of blood. All this bleeding was going to be a problem. He stowed away that concern for later, pressing his sleeve to his nose to discourage anymore blood, and looked around.

The room was simple, the same stone as the more ‘presentable’ sections of the temple that he could recall, though without anything resembling torture devices. A simple statue of a hooded figure with a face he could not see overlooked an intricately carved altar, its cupped hands outstretched. Unusually clear water had pooled in its hands, almost glowing and mirror-like. A medallion made of an unfamiliar violet metal and untarnished by time's flow was set into the statue’s hooded forehead like a third eye, somehow comforting and saddening to see. Peeking at either offered no real insight, so he turned away from it to inspect the altar.

A simple mask rested on the altar, untouched for long enough to gain a thick layer of dust and lacking the wavering mirage of every other vaguely artifact looking object he’d found in this place. He picked it up, careful not to bleed all over it, and wiped away the dust.

The layers of dust had turned the mask so many shades darker that the stark white paint had looked nearly the same color as the rock that made up the temple, and the red markings almost brown. It was a strange little thing in the light, far too smooth and reflective to be made of wood, but too light to be made of anything else. The painted grin was the part that threw him off the most, he didn’t recall the symbol of his people incorporating a wide grin or yellow paint into the design.

He wondered if it had been made before that. Something about it felt.... indescribably old.

Sheik tilted his head, humming, absentmindedly turning it over and over in his hands. His gaze shifted between it and the medallion, back and forth, debating on which to take. Which was the artifact he was meant to retrieve? Neither was obscured in wavering shimmers, but both felt indescribably familiar. For a moment, he lowered the mask, reaching for the medallion.

No. Not this time. This is not yours to take just yet.

Sheik’s fingers retreated as if scorched, and for a moment he wondered if he was truly alone. He tightened his grip around the mask, retreating from the statue.

He kept it carefully close as he left the room, finding himself in the one he’d pegged as a sort of training area, though now all movement had ceased. He’d skipped the area with the ferry entirely. Somehow.

The rest of the temple was just as eerily silent, as dark as a moonless night and the air still. It was noticeably warmer, however. The chill had been taken away, along with the once ceaseless drumming heartbeat of the temple.

....Where did he get the idea that the temple had a heartbeat?

He’d never know, stepping across the stone bridge that he was absolutely sure wasn’t there before, and continued walking. He was honestly surprised the temple let him leave, the massive stone gate rumbling open easily. His poor retinas were assaulted by rows of torchlight and the first rays of the morning sun spilling down the staircase. The air was so crisp and fresh after his journey in the temple that it physically stung him.

Voices reached his ears, all far too loud and far too concerned at the sight of him. He was surrounded by Sheikah, the same ones from before or not he couldn’t tell, each one talking over the other and any attempts he might’ve made to speak. It was all just too loud.

No one tried to take the mask from him, even as someone draped a cloak around his shoulders and bunched up the fabric around the worst of the blood. He didn’t think he’d be able to let go of it even if he wanted to. Something about the red and white design brought up memories he desperately wanted to keep buried when he was around other people, lest the tears become too much to force back down.

It is not even his, why am I so attached to it?

Sheik clutched the mask a little tighter to his chest, shrinking to hide in his hair away from the world of light.

He did not remember the walk to the small hut at the entrance to the graveyard, nor did he really remember being forced to sit while someone cleaned him up. It made sense, he supposed, he couldn’t go wandering through the village dripping blood. They let him keep the mask throughout the process, and it helped. The chill of the not-wood in his fingers forced his thoughts into some semblance of staying put, the cold of a wet washcloth scrubbing away the dried blood and paint on his neck didn’t let him just float away in his own mind.

It was just him, the mask, and the little old graveyard keeper in the hut for a long while. He slowly took in details, like the water in the bowl steadily turning pinker, or the rays of sunshine growing stronger through the shuttered windows.

He wished it was someone else helping him.

“Child, are you in there?”

Yes, he very much wished it was someone else helping him. Sheik simply nodded, shifting his grip on the mask.

“I’ve sent for the chieftain. Can you answer a couple questions for me?” the graveyard keeper asked. He was a kindly old man, it seemed. Missing an eye and half of one ear, but still kindly nonetheless.

“Yes.” he managed to say. And Goddess, his voice was wrecked. Hoarse like he hadn’t spoken in years, his throat was so dry it hurt. Like swallowing hot coals fresh from a volcano, it hurt to even think about speaking.

“Alright. Do you remember what happened in the temple?”

“I....” he swallowed, fighting the aching pain in his throat. “I walked in. Moved through a few rooms, then.... Then stepped onto a ferry. I believe I fought some sort of stalfos?”

The graveyard keeper nodded, wringing out the washcloth. It was a lost cause, every dip in the water just soaked it with more blood and paint than water. “And then?”

Sheik had no answer. Really, what answer could he give? He tried anyway.

“I passed out, I think. The last thing I remember afterwards was standing in a room, holding the burnt ashes of a scroll. Then I left with this.” he said, tapping the mask he held for emphasis. He made no mention of the medallion. He still wasn’t sure if he’d really seen it.

“Well, you technically did what you were supposed to, I can’t fault you for that. But the lack of memory is....” his mouth was pressed into a thin line.

“Concerning?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

Their conversation did not continue, though it was not for lack of trying. Sheik’s voice would not support long sentences, so he spoke in short, clipped words. The graveyard keeper did not ask about the temple again, strangely, but instead about Sheik. Specifically how he felt.

Apparently the phrase “like someone is using my head as a drum” was a highly concerning thing to say.

The chieftain arrived soon after that, entering the little hut without ceremony. Her vibrant red cloak dragging along behind her hunched frame, and her hair swinging like a pendulum. The keeper of the graveyard excused himself by going to fetch more water to clean the rest of the blood with, bowing to the chieftain on the way out.

He left Sheik alone with the woman, the blonde not really sure if he was supposed to stand to greet her or not. If he was, she didn’t bother to mention his lack of respect, instead kneeling on the wooden floor before him. She said nothing, and just stared.

And stared. Her stare was piercing, stabbing right through to his soul in a way only the elderly had been able to master. She didn’t speak, so neither did he. He really didn’t feel like fighting through the feeling of swallowing shards of glass just to speak.

But he tried anyway. “Are you here to ask about the temple?”

The woman shook her head. “You survived, and that’s what matters. But there are concerns.”

“Such as?”

“Sheik, do you know how long you were down there?” she asked instead.

He paused, searching the interior of the hut as though it would give him the answers he sought. He thought he’d known, but now he wasn’t sure. “A few hours. Entered at night, left by morning.”

“Left by morning, yes. Morning of the fourth day after you entered.”

“....Is that bad?”

“The last Sheikah who went down there spent two days away from the light. Granted, he was both much more skilled and experienced, and doing a much more thorough cleanse, but still. Even he had to rest in the sunlight and sacred springs to recover. That much time in such intense shadows is not for the faint of heart. It is a miracle you came back with both eyes and all your limbs.”

Sheik hummed, turning over the mask in his hands. Even though he’d been holding it for who knew how long, it still had not lost that eerie chill. He was starting to consider that he didn’t actually want to remember.... anything, really. Perhaps it was better if he didn’t, he’d come here for a very specific reason.

The smeared paint on his face, tear tracks ruining it down his cheeks and neck, was reflected in the mirror-like surface. Distantly, the symbol of his people and the swirling lines made his face almost blurred, like he was hidden in plain sight.

Wearing a full mask of his own.

Even though it hurt, he handed over the mask without another word. The chill left his fingers instantly, as if he hadn’t ever actually held it at all.

“Did I at least pass your test?”

The chieftain rubbed her eyes tiredly, the mask tucked away in the depths of her cloak. “Technically, yes. But you’re not training today. At least not until you rest. And rest is what you desperately need. Come.”

She was standing, mask tucked away and extending a hand to him. He took it, not really feeling the weight of the fingers closed around his own to lead him from the hut.

He floated less in a daze while the sun beat down upon him, warming him from the outside in. He felt less like he was about to drift away in his thoughts, more grounded in reality. Air filled his lungs more easily, the throbbing in his head faded to something more easily ignored. It occurred to him that his dagger was gone. When had he lost it? He couldn’t recall.

When he came back to reality fully, the chieftain settled him into a patch of bright sunlight somewhere in the village. He was laying down again, and found it was almost alarmingly peaceful. His ear had been bandaged properly, and his skin felt clear of the paint that had obscured him from the world. The stone at his wrist glowed with a sort of comfort he hadn’t felt before, and somehow, it felt like it was truly his secret stone. Not just something he’d picked up on a whim in the Thyphlo Ruins so long ago.

He thought he understood why the shadows the ruins were famous for had fled when he had plucked it from the rubble.

The chieftain sat with him, humming an ancient tune he thought he might remember. Sheik tilted his head to look at her. “A question, if I may?” he whispered, the loudest he could get his voice to be.

He continued when she simply nodded. “Who was the last to enter the temple before me?” he asked.

Her wrinkled hand reached forward, a finger tapping his bracelet. “Who do you think?”

“Ah.” he hummed, lifting his hand to look at his stone. As fast as his mind could handle, he did some mental calculations. Four Sages, one for each race in Hyrule (at least eventually). Two Hylian Sages, Zelda’s stone coming from an ominous glowing hand, and Sonia with hers a presumed wedding gift. Then King Rauru, and Lady Mineru, their stones being their birthrights. Then him, his own stone with the previous owner who he knew he would never meet.

Eight stones accounted for, and two extra by virtue of slipping through the cracks in time. That made ten in total. And if Link’s account of the series of events was correct, then....

Where did the Demon King’s stone come from?

Sheik’s stone offered no answers this time. He wondered exactly when its previous owner had discarded it, and why. Idle thoughts, ones he did not think offered much help in his and his sister’s predicament. He let his hand flop to the grass, his eyes falling shut.

He rested, rousing from his dreamless sleep in the sun long enough to eat and assure whoever had come across him that no, he was not dead, he just slept like a corpse in a coffin apparently.

When night fell, he slept among the glow of bioluminescent flowers, paper lanterns, and dancing fireflies. The breeze swaying the grass, the leaves falling, the moonlight shining brightly, it all was enough to keep the hostility of the shadows away, returning to the familiarity of the old friends he knew and welcomed.

When the new day dawned, he was ready.

Chapter Text

The day was beautiful once again, as it usually was in the height of the summer season. The sun bathing everything in a soft warmth, and birds trilled and chirped happily as they flitted from tree to tree. A lone squirrel hopped around the neglected flowers in the garden, almost falling into the watering can resting in the dirt when curiosity got the better of it. The Queen smiled gently with faint amusement, a hand extended to rescue the little creature. It skittered off back to the safety of the forest once it was rescued.

It was peaceful, Zelda had decided. But something was missing.

She kneeled in the grass, helping the Queen tend to the neglected flowers. Zinc had been gone a while, and she couldn’t help but worry. He was much like her own brother, and she hoped that they’d get the opportunity to meet. Zelda thought that they might get along well, and perhaps her brother would feel a little less awkward wandering around the palace if he had someone similar to him to follow.

She wondered how they both were doing, pulling a weed from amongst the beautiful flowers. Yes, Zinc had been gone long enough the Queen had taken it upon herself to tend to his garden for him, but Sheik had a proven tendency to get himself into danger often enough that she worried. And she sincerely hoped that same tendency didn’t extend to Zinc.

He said he’d been gone only a few days, but that had been a month ago. A month and four days, to be exact. And the past four days had been absolutely nerve wracking in the worst sort of way.

Sheik had left for Kakariko village early in the morning, earlier than even Zelda enjoyed waking. She supposed that had been his intent, to leave while she slept to avoid any dreaded final goodbyes. She didn’t let that happen, stubbornly following him out to the roads alongside the horse he was borrowing. She was, however, surprised to see Sonia waiting for them at the gates. Her smile was as gentle as ever, but oddly melancholy as she handed Zelda’s brother a letter to take with him.

Together, they had seen him off, waving as the horse carried him down the road and further from sight. Zelda stayed until she could no longer see him in the distance, and Sonia had remained beside her.

That first day, nothing particularly interesting happened. Her pull towards Sheik remained as strong as ever, a comforting tether towards some place off in the distance. The first night, in comparison, made her sit up in bed with wide eyes and a startled sound. She still felt that steady tether, but it had moved down, down, down. Like he was dropping steady further away.

Then it scattered. Scattered like that pull wasn’t sure where to lead her. And where it did want to pull her was obscured in shadow, dark and twisting and humming like a faint heartbeat.

Two whole days it stayed like that, insistently pulling her towards her brother. Like a flickering candle fighting away the gloom and burning so low it threatened to go out entirely. It scared her, she couldn’t imagine what sort of training he was going through that would cause something like that to happen. She’d never felt that before, even over the hundred years they’d been apart after the Calamity.

Today, the third day of a faint, lingering worry that the thread connecting her to the only family she had left would snap, was wearing on her. Her head hurt, her thoughts wouldn’t stay still, often wandering off to dark places she struggled to drag herself out of. The worst case scenarios constantly plagued her every waking moment and haunted her dreams.

She pulled a weed with much more force than necessary, ripping a small clump of the dirt with it. She tried to shake the dirt from the roots and pat it back down like nothing had ever happened, sweat beading on her forehead.

“Do you want to talk about what’s bothering you, my dear?” Sonia’s kind voice made her pause, fingers clutching the weed a little too tightly.

“It’s nothing really, I just.” she searched for a way to word it. “Do you remember how I mentioned that me and my brother were the same as you and yours?”

The Queen nodded. “I do.”

“Well.... I’m just worried about him. I’ve always been sort of drawn to him. It’s a long and complicated story, but because of it, we’ve always known how to find each other. Like an internal compass that always points to each other, or like a very long string keeping us tied together.”

“You and I are much alike in that regard, Zelda.” she said. For the briefest of moments, Zelda thought she heard the woman’s voice waver. “Zinc always finds me, and I always find him. We are two halves of a whole, but are whole on our own at the same time. It.... would be heartbreaking to lose my only brother.”

Zelda had to put the weed down, lest she crush it to a paste. She forced the tears building in her eyes to stay put. “I can agree with that. I thought I lost him once, during the Calamity. Then again during the Upheaval. I feel awful for leaving him behind to clean up my messes, him and Link.”

She started at the hand on her shoulder, looking up at the Queen. Her smile was warm, more than a little knowing, and somehow not without a hint of sadness. Zelda was reminded of her mother all over again.

“You’re doing what you can, and it’s not your fault you were forced into these situations. I’m sure they understand, they both care for you very much. Try not to be so hard on yourself.”

Zelda wiped at the space underneath her eyes to discourage the tears from falling. That pull towards Sheik was still a flickering ember, dimming and flaring as though fighting to stay alive.

“Would it be possible to visit Sheik? I know he’s training, but.... I feel something is wrong. I have to help somehow. It hurts sitting around doing nothing, I feel like I’ve left him behind again.” she said. 

“Perhaps. I happen to know the chieftain personally, I’m sure she wouldn’t mind if we paid them a visit. But let me ask, it wouldn’t be polite to show up unannounced.” Sonia said.

Zelda nodded, offering a smile of her own in return. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

“Please, just Sonia is fine.”

“Thank you, Sonia.”

The fourth day, before dawn ever arose, the thread suddenly snapped taut.

Zelda shot upright, panting so heavily she may as well have just run a marathon. Air refused to enter her lungs with any efficiency, she felt like a woman drowning. Sweat soaked her nightgown, hands gripping the blankets so tightly her knuckles went white. Eyes wide, throat scraped raw as though she’d been screaming, hair wild from yet another sleepless night.

But Sheik was alive. Alive and out of the dark.

How she knew, she didn’t know, but she did. That thread was bright and strong now, no longer dim and scattered. She dared not inspect the feeling too closely, for fear of discovering something that may terrify her further, and flung herself from the bed. She barely managed to find her slippers and throw on a robe over her nightgown before racing through the halls.

Sonia. Where was Sonia?

Hall after hall after hall she sprinted down, her thoughts scattered and single minded in her focus. She put her ear to door after door, wishing her hearing was as good as her brother’s. Hands cupped to better funnel sound into her ears like he had taught her, she listened for any sound from within that might indicate which door Sonia might be behind. Was she an early riser? Zelda prayed she was.

As though the Goddess herself were listening, she had the sudden inkling to check behind one of the doors. It was irrational, it made no sense, but Zelda knew in her heart she was going to before she did.

She burst in without warning, fabric swaying in the breeze kicked up by her wild flight through the halls. The doors banged loudly, and an incredibly bleary eyed Sonia shot upright from her pillows.

Her hair was tied into a braid for sleep, and she wore a flowing white nightgown to bed. “Zelda...? What’s...?”

“Sheik! I— he’s alive! He’s alive, and I have to see him!”

A wild mass of hair slowly rose up from under the blankets next to Sonia, only the tip of a nose and a perked ear peeking out of the untamed mane. “Huh?” was the only vocalization Rauru made, barely among the land of the waking.

Zelda shook her hands frantically. “Sheik! I just— Sheik is alive, I know it now! Something happened, the thread— the feeling I— It’s stronger! It’s not dim, or weak, or scattered! It’s bright! It’s out of the dark! I have to go see him right away!”

Sonia left the confines of her bed, swiftly closing the distance and kneeling before her. Hands on her shoulders, gently hushing her. “Zelda, slow down. It’s alright. Take a deep breath.”

She tried to do as she was told, her breaths stuttering. “Please, Your Majesty. I have to see my brother!”

Sonia smoothed her wild hair into place, bringing her close to hold the princess. Zelda found herself unable to speak, blinking at the sudden warmth. Once again, she was reminded of her mother. Was this what it would’ve been like, had her mother lived? She hoped so.

Her breathing evened out, her thoughts slowly arranging themselves into proper order. And the heat bloomed in her face, the mortification of her actions finally striking her with all the force of a boulder.

“Deep breaths, Zelda. It’s not even dawn. We would not even be able to leave today, as much as I know you wish to. Preparations take time.” she said gently.

Zelda didn’t speak for a while, trying to will the blush in her cheeks to go away. How did her brother manage to remain so impassive all the time? Was it the mask? It had to be the mask. “Your majesty, I am so sorry. I don’t know what’s gotten into me.”

“It’s quite alright. You are not the first to come charging in before the sun rises, and you won’t be the last. But you certainly are the most startling.” she added with a quiet giggle.

Rauru was still not quite awake yet, still little more than a mass of hair with a nose and ears sticking out. “Wha? Huh?” was all he managed to say, more mumbles than actual words.

“Go back to sleep, Rauru. I have things taken care of.” Sonia called over her shoulder, gently fixing Zelda’s robes where they’d slipped from her shoulder. 

Rauru promptly collapsed back into bed in a heap of tangled hair, a shapeless lump on the bed. “Whatever happened to ‘before the sun rises, he’s your son’?” he muttered.

“Wrong situation, darling.” she hummed, guiding Zelda to the adjoining room. On the way Zelda could’ve sworn she saw something that looked like a crib in the corner.

The adjoining room was small in comparison to the bedroom, with a large mirror mounted above a pair of basins and the largest bathtub she’d ever seen taking up most of the leftmost corners. Sonia retrieved a fine toothed comb, had Zelda sit on the stool that was not made for her proportions, and began fixing her hair.

“Now, will you tell me what caused such a panic?” she asked gently. “Take your time, think over your words.”

The princess heaved a sigh from her chest, peeking at the mirror as best she could. She looked like a mess, even as Sonia combed the tangles from her hair. She sat and thought, gathering her wits. She spoke after a deep breath.

“I.... well. I woke up to this feeling. For the past few days, I haven’t been able to reliably sense Sheik like I used to. It was like.... something was hiding him from me, I’m still not sure what. Then, a few minutes ago, that changed.”

The Queen hummed, popping the comb into her mouth to work at a particularly stubborn tangle with her fingers. She inclined her head for Zelda to continue.

She gestured vaguely, turning her gaze from their images in the mirror. “It was similar to when he first arrived in this era. All of a sudden he was there! Alive and well. Safe. I just felt it so strongly I.... I didn’t know what to do with myself.”

“You just knew you had to see him.” she said for the girl on the stool, comb no longer in her mouth. She combed through the last of the tangles, then began separating the longer portions to be braided in her usual style. “I know how that feels.”

“You do?”

Sonia nodded, her smile fond. She met her eyes in the mirror. “I do. Our kingdom is recent, things were not always peaceful. Uniting everyone was relatively recent, but there were those who opposed it. This unrest almost cost me my brother.”

Zelda’s eyes went wide, fingers pressed to her mouth to muffle the gasp she let out. She couldn’t imagine permanently losing Sheik, not feeling his constant presence had been devastating enough. “What happened?”

The woman hummed, handing the delicate comb to Zelda so she could start braiding. “We were on our way from the Temple of Time. It was mine and Rauru’s wedding day. We were a small group, me, my new husband, and Zinc with Mineru behind us. There were others, of course, but I barely remember them. It was the happiest day of our life. Well, second I suppose.”

“That sounds lovely!”

“It truly was.” she smiled, her expression so full of warmth and adoration. “Rauru had pulled me aside, away from the path. He gave me my secret stone then, when we were alone. I didn’t even consider that someone might try to hurt us. Then.... we were attacked.”

“By who?” Zelda couldn’t help but ask. Her own mind unhelpfully supplied images of scrawny assassins in blood red uniforms and identical white masks. 

“I don’t know who they were, or where they had come from, but they had snuck through every defense, even my brother. And Zinc is not one to be snuck past easily. His people have developed magical arts that, while I may not speak of, he has told me about. One of which is his ability to see the unseen. To this day, I don’t know how they did it. We thought we were alone one moment, and the next, there were nearly a dozen or more armed men surrounding us.”

“Everything happened so incredibly fast. I don’t remember much of the attack itself, it’s quite a blur.” she shook her head. “But the moment I remember most clearly was seeing him fall and not get up afterwards. To borrow your analogy, it felt like my thread to him was fraying right before my eyes. It did all I could to save him, and it almost wasn’t enough.”

“Then, some days later, even before I ever received news that he was better, I felt that fraying thread weave itself back together. I’m a little embarrassed to admit that I completely ran from the dining room to see him. I simply had to, even if it meant abandoning Rauru and Mineru at the table. But he was alive, and that was all that mattered to me.”

Zelda tried not to nod in fear of ruining her work on the braids, turning over the comb in her hands. “I’m glad he survived, Zinc is a very kind man. He doesn’t deserve a fate like that.”

For the briefest of moments, Sonia's hands stilled in her hair. Zelda must’ve imagined the quiet breath escaping the woman, for she finished the braids without further hesitation and smoothed down the flyaways.

“No, he didn’t.”

She gently pulled Zelda to her feet before she could think too hard about that last statement, relieving her of the comb and guiding her along. “I’ll send the letter today about our visit, Zelda. Why not decide on what to pack now? There is a chance we may be there for a day or two. And something tells me you need to keep yourself occupied now that you are wide awake.”

She nodded, returning the smile. “Thank you, Sonia. I’m so sorry for waking you.”

The Queen just laughed quietly, then inclined her head towards the corner. “My dear Zelda, waking up at unholy hours is part of my life. It comes with the territory.”

She blinked, a silent “Oh.” escaping her lips. It only amused Sonia more, humming quietly as she led the princess into the hall. They said their goodbyes, and Zelda left to decide what to take with her. It wouldn’t be hard, but she’d deliberate over the decision until it was time for the  morning meal anyway.

It was about a week or so later that they arrived in Kakariko village, and Zelda had never been more relieved to see a familiar location. Even if the familiarity was only in the name.

She didn’t think she’d have to get used to riding a horse again, sliding down from the saddle with a small grunt. She brought only a single bag with her, full of a few changes of clothes and some essentials.

The people of Kakariko were kind and welcoming to her and the Queen, the children gathering around the woman and tugging at her dress excitedly. It left Zelda on the fringes a bit, but she was happy to stand off to the side to watch her interact with the village children. There were about a half dozen in total that she could count, all of them with the signature white hair and red eyes of the tribe. 

Except for one. A small child with the faintest hint of blonde to their hair, their skin a few shades darker to almost match the Queen. If Zelda hadn’t seen the bright red eyes, she would’ve thought the child was Sonia’s son. They seemed to know her personally, clutching her hand in their much smaller one and tugging her along.

Zelda followed along with the gaggle of children, feeling rather like a duckling. The chieftain waited for them, sitting at the foot of the staircase leading to her home. Her red cloak spread out around her, hands clasped and braided hair swinging like a pendulum.

A stone temple, an old woman’s voice instructing her, a harp clutched in her hands as a blonde boy leads her through a side door and out to the greater world. Her sleeves draped, her dress white. The boy chatters nonstop, his dark cloak billowing. She smiles, despite her fear in this new place. He smiles too, and they walk hand in hand to the spring. She asks for his name. He tells her his name is—

Zelda blinked, and she is back where she was. Her hands shook, and she quickly clasped them to hide it. She glanced at her surroundings, taking them in.

She is still in Kakariko. Sonia is speaking with the now standing chieftain, and though she can’t hear the conversation, she senses something inherently sad about it. The old woman is hanging her head, hands held between the Queen’s. The children have scattered, called by their parents or otherwise sent away to play elsewhere.

The little blonde child is standing next to Zelda, staring up at her with wide eyes. She blinked down at them, a startled noise almost escaping her at their sudden appearance. They just keep staring as though they can see straight into her very soul.

“Are you the princess?” they asked.

“Oh! Yes, I am. And who might you be?” she tilted her head in question.

“I’m Isa. Are you here to train too?”

She shook her head. “No, I train with the Queen. I’m just here to see my brother.”

“That’s what Grandma and Auntie says.” Isa kicked at a pebble as they spoke. “Your brother is blonde like my dad. But more. Is your guys’ hair made of gold?”

“I don’t think so.” she giggled. “You wouldn’t happen to know where my brother is, do you?”

“Oh! He’s at the training grounds. He's always there or with Grandma when he’s not eating. He sang me to sleep the other night. I like him, he reminds me of Dad. My dad is the coolest though.”

“I’m sure he is. Would you mind pointing me towards the training grounds? I’d like to see my brother if that’s possible.”

Isa squinted up at her, then shrugged and turned to cup their hands around their mouth. “GRANDMA! AUNTIE! CAN I TAKE MY FRIEND TO SEE THE TRAINING GROUNDS?!”

Zelda startled, taking half a step back with wide eyes. Queen Sonia was chuckling, even as the chieftain pursed her lips and shook her head at the child’s antics. The chieftain glanced at Zelda, and something in her wrinkled gaze softened.

“As long as you don’t interrupt.”

“OKAY! THANKS GRANDMA!” Isa dropped their hands and looked up at the still startled princess. “Grandma says yes. Follow me.”

Zelda waved apologetically to the Queen and hurried to follow the small child. They took a winding path up a faintly familiar hill, one Zelda had traveled at least a few times in her long life. There was no house waiting for her here though, no vanished shrine in a certain Sheikah’s backyard, no pond or bridge to cross over. There was only a flat plain devoid of the forest she knew would one day be there.

There the grass had been cut very short for the paths, completely flattened by likely an unimaginable number of people walking them each day. A ring of sandbags marked the main area, a pile sitting off to the side to mark smaller rings within. There were several buildings dotting the grounds, Sheikah in light tunics going in and out. For a time of peace and prosperity, it was positively bustling with activity. She paid none of it much thought, her gaze drawn to the one person she’d come here to see.

Sheik was in the center arena, blindfolded with his hair tied back in a bun. He’d taken to wearing the same training outfit as everyone else, wielding what looked like bamboo sticks in each hand. He was using them to block most of the time, spinning and rolling to catch each attack he couldn’t dodge. She didn’t see what he did to attack, she only heard an ominous click and saw the tiniest burst of indigo light from his wrist, and one of his opponents would have to dodge.... something. 

She and Isa stepped up to watch with the other Sheikah milling about. Some were cheering for their friends, and some were cheering for Sheik. A few were calling out advice. Zelda sat to watch, since it seemed like they wouldn’t be done anytime soon.

She was content to wait. She knew that he knew she was there, she was so happy to see he was alright.

Isa sat next to her, legs crossed. “Your brother is super good! He’s training really hard.”

“I’m honestly not surprised, he’s a hard worker.” she said. She didn’t mention that the hard work had often put him in the infirmary all the way up until their teen years. That each time it happened, he almost cried. That each time, she’d curl up with him and tell him all she learned, and begged her father to be allowed to stay with him while he slept.

Both she and Isa winced in tandem as Sheik delivered a fairly brutal kick to one woman’s ribs, sending her sprawling. Zelda had admittedly never actually seen his training before, and she’d actually rarely seen him fight in person. Never having trained for combat herself, she didn’t know how it usually went.

But Sheik was a completely different person. He was merciless, brutal, and coldly calculating. He did not hesitate to aim for the weak spots, ramming the end of a bamboo rod so hard into one man’s gut that he doubled over immediately. There was a dark substance running along his limbs to aid his attacks, shadowed and almost fizzling before her eyes. Each attack was accompanied by the click and burst of light, creating a sort of eerie musical score to his fighting.

He dove between two opponents, rolling head over heels in the dust and swiping one’s legs out from under them. The other took the chance to whack him across the back, the training rod snapping from the force. Sheik dropped, curled up on the ground. Somewhere, someone whistled to end the match. Her brother just sort of laid there for a minute, facedown in the dirt. Zelda almost got up to check on him when he finally tried to stand.

She heard the monotone “Ouch.” all the way from where she sat, even as quiet as she was. It evidently didn’t injure him badly, he was up and moving about. But it was clearly painful, his movements were slow. He was still blindfolded, just nodding along with whatever the instructor said to him while his opponents picked themselves up. She couldn’t understand a word of it, the Sheikah language was something she’d never been taught.

Zelda couldn’t help but feel unsettled by the whole display. She knew he was a warrior, he had trained to protect her all his life. She also knew that he was naturally quiet and reserved, he always had been even before his training had officially begun.

But it was different, seeing him so easily slip into the mindspace what she could only see as ruthless and cold blooded, and then just as easily slip back out of it and become the brother she knew once more. It was as easy to him as slipping on complicated royal regalia was for her.

Then, he was prying the blindfold off and blinking at the brightness. Other people were stepping into the arena as he stepped out of it, making an immediate beeline for her. She smiled despite the faintly unnerving display, her feelings fading away almost instantly when he sat next to her and spoke.

“I am surprised they let you see this.” he said plainly.

“Queen Sonia came with me. I’m sure it was her vouching for me that let me in.”

Sheik gave a small nod, setting the bamboo rods on the ground. He simply flopped onto his back, barely a wince escaping him. He just laid there like that, sprawled out tiredly like a starfish.

“I am pleased to see you.”

She scooted closer, reaching to fix the fringe hanging over his face. He didn’t stop her or pull away for once, and her heart swelled.

“I’m happy to see you too.”

They said no more. Sheik remained splayed out on the ground, letting the princess fuss over his hair. The training went on without the warrior, he was able to rest his back for a good while before he was forced to get back up and into the arena again. It seemed a well rehearsed rhythm to Zelda, her brother had clearly been at this the entire time he’d been here.

It didn’t quite explain what she had sensed, but she wouldn’t question it right then.

Another Sheikah warrior sat in the spot her brother had been previously, politely asking to sit and waiting for her permission before doing so. He was a tall and lanky fellow, the same red eyes and white hair as all the other Sheikah in the village. His facial tattoos were straight and angled, following the contours of his face. They almost looked like constellations, with small interlocking triangular symbols lining his throat.

He raised an eyebrow at her, and she realized she’d been blatantly staring. “Oh, I’m sorry. I was just looking at your.... Tattoos? Face paint?” Zelda tried.

The Sheikah laughed, quiet but infectious. He waved away her apology, and she noted the tattoos spanned even to his fingers. Geometric and blocky, but spiraling up fingers and around his wrists. She recognized the Sheikah language, and was able to pick out a few letters. Names, maybe?

“You were just curious, no harm done, little princess.” he said. Her eyes still followed the tattoos where they vanished under his sleeve. She quickly turned her stare away.

“Still, I do apologize. It’s rude of me to stare. I’ve never seen anything like it.” she said.

“Yeah, well. Not many have these specific tattoos. The same way not everyone has the tattoo your brother over there has.” he said, gesturing towards Sheik. Who was currently beating his opponent over the head repeatedly with both bamboo rods.

Zelda nodded, simultaneously amused by the sight and more than a little concerned. “He told me about it once. It helps him see what’s hidden, I think. I believe it, he’s used it on at least one occasion to save my life.”

“I’ll believe it. Kid’s a hard worker, works twice as hard as anyone else I’ve ever trained. The shadows welcome him more readily than anyone else I’ve ever met. Besides maybe one.”

She tilted her head in thought. “Zinc? Queen Sonia’s brother?”

The man nodded, propping his chin up in his hand. “Yep. Trained together with him for years, even though we ended up taking different paths in life. I can be the first to say, both him and your brother practically live in them, that’s how welcoming the shadows are. It’s kind of impressive.”

She smiled a little, turning back to watch her brother. She could hear every click as though it echoed in her mind and not her ears, a flare of what she now recognized as solid shadow twisting along Sheik’s limbs like a layer of armor. Occasionally it would strike out, just a solid, sharp spike of darkness stabbing violently at his opponents.

“It is.” she agreed. “Are you training him personally, sir...?”

“Just call me Kasaba, little princess. But yeah, I’m training him. I trained with Zinc long enough I can sort of mimic the magic your brother needs training in. He’s doing well, I barely have to correct him anymore.”

“I’m happy to hear he’s doing well. I.... I was worried he’d gotten hurt badly a while ago. I just had this feeling, but I’m glad he’s alright.” she said.

He gave her a strange look, slowly turning his attention back to the arena when she didn’t elaborate. In truth, Zelda didn’t know how to elaborate to someone who didn’t experience the same things she did. It was difficult enough explaining to Sonia, and she already understood because of her own bond to her brother.

Both he and Zelda winced when one of Sheik’s opponents, a muscled woman nearly a full head and a half taller, clocked the blonde dead in the face with a well timed kick. Blood spurt wildly from his nose, and he crumpled like a wet tissue. The woman immediately panicked, dropping to her knees and rolling him over.

Zelda scrambled to her feet, but Kasaba was already at her brother’s side before she had even taken the first step. She coughed at the sudden onslaught of smoke and bright blue talismans fizzling away before her eyes. She rushed over quickly, hovering awkwardly as Kasaba lifted the much smaller blonde.

His nose was still pouring blood, and it almost looked a little crooked. She bent to help, gathering the hem of her long travel dress to mop up the blood, when someone grabbed her and pulled her back.

Isa was pulling her away with all their little child might, hands locked around her wrist. “No! You can’t touch him when he’s bleeding! You’ll die!”

Zelda sputtered, tense in alarm. “What? Why would—? He’s hurt, I want to help!”

Kasaba held a wad of fabric to Sheik’s nose, ignoring the muffled pained complaint. “Sheikah blood is incredibly poisonous, just touching it can result in death for anyone who isn’t of Sheikah descent. Little Isa there is saving your life. Same goes for saliva, so be extremely careful.”

The princess…. hadn’t known that. At all. Suddenly a few things made a disturbing amount of sense. Sheik never ate from the same plate as her, or even the same silverware, he’d always brought his own. He never let anyone drink from his cup either, his was always carefully marked and covered when he wasn’t actively drinking from it.

There had even been one incident where he had taken her plate from her at a dinner, taken a bite, and announced in his flat monotone that it was poisoned. And kept eating said poisoned food.

Highly unsettling implications aside, she understood why now he never let her help when he was hurt. At least beyond sitting with him to keep him company. It made her wish she was immune just so she could hug him.

“Well, in that case.... Thank you, Isa.”

The child grinned, hands holding onto Zelda’s dress still. “You’re welcome! You remind me of Auntie and I don’t want either of you to die.”

Kasaba hummed a cheerful tune while he cleaned up Sheik, ignoring the muffled protests that he was fine and it didn’t hurt and pushing healing elixirs into the blonde’s hands. “Nope. Drink this, and take a break. Your nose nearly got kicked into your brains, kid.”

Zelda could hear the long, drawn out groan from where she stood, even as muffled as it was. It was about as close to complaining she would ever hear from her brother, as stubborn as he was. He leaned away from Kasaba’s touch, his expression exceptionally flat even as he drank the elixir given.

“Sheik? How are you feeling?” she asked.

“Like I was kicked in the face. By a horse.” he muttered, bottle of elixir half empty and held in his hands like a teacup. She gingerly touched his shoulder, avoiding the bloodied spots on his tunic. Minutely, she felt him relax.

And immediately tensed up again when Kasaba swiped a remaining trickle of blood from the blonde boy’s nose, twisting a scrap of cloth to push into his nostrils to stem the bleeding. “I’ll bet. Take those out a few minutes after you finish that elixir, ‘kay? If you’re still bleeding, drink the other one.”

“And if I continue to bleed after that, Kasaba?”

“Uhh, see the healer. At that point something is seriously wrong and you need professional help.” he said. He stood, helping Sheik to his feet.

The princess noticed how quickly he pulled away from the taller Sheikah, shuffling away towards the edge of the arena with her quickly following behind. She remained by his side, Isa following along happily.

“Can I help?” they asked.

Zelda tilted her head in thought, eyeing the bloodstains on the front of her brother’s tunic. “Sheik might need a change of clothes. Would you happen to know where something like that might be?”

“Yeah! I can grab some! Wait here!” Isa raced away, their tiny legs working hard to carry them all the way to the path down the hill and out of sight.

Zelda giggled fondly, sitting with her legs tucked under her beside her brother. His expression was unreadable on even the best of days, but right then it seemed exceptionally flat controlled to be neutral. His ear twitched though, just a tiny flick, but it was enough.

“How badly are you hurting?” she asked.

He shook his head, immediately wincing at the movement. His voice sounded just a touch funny with his nose plugged by scraps of fabric. “I have had worse. Head wounds bleed profusely, they look worse than they truly are.”

She nodded, glancing back towards the arena. Kasaba had his hands on his hips, speaking with the woman who had caused the injury. She was frantic, waving her hands and near tears while the man tried to calm her.

“Are you sure? I noticed you tensed up a little when Kasaba was cleaning you up.”

Sheik didn’t answer her, staring straight ahead. She followed his gaze, and found he was watching Kasaba too. At least that was the only thing in that direction he could be possibly looking at.

“He just.... reminds me of someone. That is all.”

She nodded, watching for a moment longer. He had sent the woman off to calm down, and had turned to the rest of the trainees. He was gesturing wildly as he spoke, long limbs flailing to accompany his loud and boisterous voice. It was clearly to demonstrate something, he was fairly calm and not nearly as theatrical otherwise. It nagged at something in the back of her head, but she couldn’t put her finger on it.

“Someone you left behind? A friend you made on your travels?” she asked. She hoped it was, she thought that her brother needed more friends.

Sheik simply nodded, and for the smallest of moments, he looked so incredibly sad. It was in the smallest slump of his shoulders, the droop of his ears, the way his brows ever so slightly slanted. Then he was downing the last half of the elixir, and his expression was his usual flat stare.

“Just someone who helped me once. It is simply a bit off putting, that is all.” he said, his tone unwavering.

She didn’t question it, instead scooting closer to tap her forehead to his unbloodied shoulder. “I understand that. When I first met Zinc, he reminded me of you a lot. It caught me off guard a bit. And made me miss you more.”

And there was the smallest smile she knew, her brother’s mouth quirking up at the corner. “Well, I am here now. You need not miss me anymore. My training will be complete soon. I can leave with you if you stay a few more days.”

“That soon? I thought you’d need more time.”

“Of course I will.” he said. “Training never truly stops, there is always more to learn. But I have the sense I will need to return to your side soon.”

She frowned, lifting her head. “What gives you that feeling?”

Her brother hummed, tilting his head. He tested the cloth stuffed up his nose, carefully removing it when no more blood gushed down his face. “It simply feels that…. whenever we feel we are doing something important, something bad happens to throw our plans into disarray. The Calamity snuck upon us at the dusk of our seventeenth birthday. When we finally feel things are recovering, the Upheaval occurs.”

“I receive a sign from the Goddess, and suddenly I am torn from our time and dropped before you. It was no accident. We were predestined to be here, the only question is why.” he said.

“I still haven’t figured that out myself. Or how we might get home.” she admitted. “I fear.... something may happen with Ganondorf. He was in our time, a mummy, and he knew my name. It was like one of my nightmares.”

“....He is our Demise.”

Zelda’s head popped up and whipped around so fast she almost hurt her neck. Eyes wide, mouth open in shock because what in the Goddess’ name was that.

“Sheik, what do you mean by that?”

“Hmm?” Sheik glanced at her, and she genuinely thought she’d misheard him for a moment. She never got to repeat herself, for Isa was returning, a bundle of clothes in their arms.

They brought it right to the twins, standing proudly. Sheik thanked them, and went to shimmy out of his stained tunic. The new one was just a size or two too big, he was almost swimming in it. He didn’t seem to care, dropping the stained fabric in the dust on the side opposite where Zelda sat.

“I suppose I should return to training.” he said.

“Didn’t Kasaba tell you to take a break? You’re always telling me to take a break from my training when I try to do too much, why don’t you follow your own advice?”

“Stolen advice.” Sheik muttered, but nodded. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt. But not for too long.”

Zelda shook her head, resting her head on his shoulder in a vain attempt to keep him there. It must’ve worked, for her brother didn’t move from his spot. Instead he just rested his cheek against her head, and they sat like that for a long while. It was comforting, they hadn’t sat together like that since they’d both been young children.

She stayed with him the entire time he trained. Even when Sonia returned to the palace, she stayed a little longer. It was another week before Sheik and Zelda departed from Kakariko. The townspeople waved, every single member of the Sheikah Tribe gathered at the entrance to the village to send them off.

Little Isa waved the hardest and longest, their other hand held tightly by the chieftain to keep them from running off. Zelda waved back with a smile, and Isa only waved even harder.

She was going to miss all of them.

Chapter Text

It was late. Very late. Zelda remained buried under thick blankets on the second or third most comfortable bed she’d ever slept in, only the top of her head was poking out from the covers. Rain pattered the window, plinking against the glass and just barely drowning out the sound of a quill scratching on paper. It was just background noise, something she should’ve fallen asleep to hours ago.

Still, she remained maddeningly awake. Eyes closed, but her mind buzzing with swirling thoughts. She had this awful feeling that just wouldn’t go away, no matter what she tried to distract herself with. She hated her bad feelings, especially when they came to her at night. They always meant bad dreams, and those bad dreams always came true, regardless of how much she didn’t want them to.

It had happened the night before the Calamity. The nightmare had been so terrifyingly realistic, she’d woken up nearly screaming in the early hours of the morning. Afterwards, she could do nothing more than cry into her brother’s shoulder, sobbing and just trying to forget it all. But she hadn’t.

The terror, the screaming, the death toll climbing ever higher, even glimpses of a certain blonde wielding a previously thought to be unbreakable sword falling and failing to get up again. And she had to go through it all again just hours later as her kingdom fell for real.

She wanted to sleep. To rest, to get some semblance of normality back into her life.

But she didn’t want to see what the nightmares had in store for her.

She buried her face deeper into the soft pillow, exhaling sharply. Goddess, what she wouldn’t give for the ability to just fall asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow, no dreams or anything. She was envious of Link’s ability to do just that. The thought of him nearly brought tears to her eyes.

I miss him. I hope he’s safe, wherever he is.

She slowly sat up, rubbing at her eyes. She accepted she probably wasn’t going to be sleeping tonight, wrapping the topmost blanket around her shoulders like a cloak and got up. There was a bookshelf near the bed. Maybe picking up a book would calm her mind enough to let her slip into what she prayed would be a dreamless sleep. Or at least one devoid of nightmares.

Her slippers padded across the stone floor quietly, cold fingers running over book spines free of dust. Deciphering the ancient Hylian dialect was no issue for her, so much so she almost felt like she was born to speak it. She plucked one from the shelf, a beautiful pink color with swirling red designs around the title decorating the cover, and returned to her bed. She settled back under the covers, cocooned in warmth, and began to read.

The scratching of a quill against paper, nearly drowned out by the sound of rainfall, was her background noise to read to. It felt comforting, normal even. Like she was back in her room at her castle, idly listening to her brother do whatever it was he decided to do while she studied when they were children. She missed those days.

She probably could’ve picked a better book though. She flipped the page, trying to focus on the words written there. It was a romance from what she gathered, a cute one even. It was between childhood friends, one of whom was a forest fairy and the other was just a simple Hylian. She thought there may have been a third character somewhere, but her mind couldn’t really focus on it that well this late at night.

She sighed, lowering the book. So much for that option. As cute as it was, she didn’t have the energy for a whole lot of reading of something she wasn’t much invested in. The constant scratching of quill on paper in the background did nothing to help her focus or lull her into sleep. Not tonight anyway. She looked over.

Sheik hadn’t gotten up from the desk in hours, bent over various sheets of paper that spilled over onto the floor around him. The only light he had was a single bundle of bell shaped flowers in a pot, glowing a delicate, beautiful blue color. How it was enough light for him to see by, she would never know.

She thought she once recalled Impa mention that members of the Sheikah Tribe could see remarkably well in low light, though she really didn’t remember that conversation. It had happened over a hundred years ago after all. Or, technically, tens of thousands of years into the future. But was also her past.

Time was strangely confusing when one travels through it.

She watched her brother hold up a sheet of paper, staring at the ink drying on the thin page. He tapped his fingers to his thumb in a distinct rhythm, humming near silently. Less than a huff of air really. A moment passed and he sighed, shaking his head and discarding it over his shoulder, taking a fresh one to start over again.

It was probably the millionth time that hour alone, judging by the amount of paper around him. It even almost completely covered up the vielle Rauru let him borrow to play. She wondered why he didn’t just use it or the harp by his own bed to speed up whatever process he was working through. It couldn’t just be because people were trying to sleep, Sheik never had just one single reason for anything.

“Having trouble, Sheik?”

Her brother paused, quill hovering in the air above the page. “I just could not sleep. My thoughts were too loud, so I needed something to do.”

She tilted her head. “You’ve been at that since I went to bed. Are you sure you aren’t having trouble?”

To his credit, Sheik did not deny it this time, instead putting the quill back into the inkwell. He leaned back in his seat, tucking his feet up into the chair with him. He looked so, so tired. “Well, no. Not entirely. I was just thinking about things.”

She nodded. After a moment, she lifted the blankets. It had been years, decades upon decades, but the motion was still just as familiar as it used to be. Even if she had done it far less in comparison.  “Do you want to talk about it?”

She stayed holding the covers up, even as he stared at her blankly in the silence that followed. She knew why, and she regretted every moment she’d not taken the chance before everything had become a living nightmare. She promised to be better this time, while they still had the chance.

Before they would never see each other again. They had so little time, her dreams kept warning her.

Sheik finally got up, climbing into the bed next to her. She dropped the blankets, and they took a moment to settle back against the pillows. Up close, Sheik looked even more exhausted, dark circles under his eyes, his movements were not as precise as they seemed from far away. How had she not noticed before?

“What’s been on your mind?” she asked.

Sheik shrugged. Without his mask to wear, he had instead pulled his hair around to try and cover the majority of his face when it was feasible. “Many things. Mostly what we have left behind.”

She nodded, reaching to take his hand. She squeezed lightly, just holding on for as long as he might need her to. It seemed to help, he was steadily relaxing. “We’ve left a lot behind. Is there anything specific about it that you’ve been thinking about? Or is it just everything?”

“Yes and no. I do not miss all the walking, that is certain. But.... I do miss the people.” he admitted. That was news to Zelda. She had known once that her brother was not close to anyone outside of her and his family. That, combined with the fact he had mentioned a traveling companion at one point, made her realize just how little she knew about her own brother anymore. They weren’t as close as they had been, and that saddened her.

“We’ll get back to them, I know we will. Maybe not how we want, but we will.” she said. Her brother just nodded, not quite looking at her.

“I know.” he said quietly, a thousand things left unsaid. He changed the subject. “Your swordsman is never going to stop looking for you, you know.”

She smiled at that. She could feel her face heating up. “You never really spoke about how he’s doing. Is he okay?”

Is he okay without me? Zelda couldn’t bring herself to ask. She would forever thank the Goddess that her brother knew her better than she knew him, even if the admission upset both twins.

“As okay as a man who pitches himself off floating islands can be.” he groaned, hiding his face in his free hand. “You have no idea how many times this man has given me a heart attack. Do you know how many times he has simply walked off a cliff?”

She giggled, unable to hide her smile. “How many?”

“Too many! I swear he does it on purpose as well. I once watched him dive off a cliff he spent over an hour climbing, just to collect a frog from a pond.”

She laughed, smiling at the mental image it brought up. “Did he get the frog in the end?”

“I assume so. I was too busy having a minor heart attack to check. But he had a somewhat decent reason to collect them, I suppose. He said he was collecting them for you to study once he had found you again.” he said.

“That’s sweet of him. I’m looking forward to seeing what he’s collected.” she said.

He nodded. “It is a lot, judging by how many times I have seen him completely divert from his path just to pick something up. He must really care about you.”

“And I love him all the more for it.” she said with a smile.

Sheik nodded, going quiet for a while after that. Zelda knew he wasn’t sleeping. She’d always been able to tell the difference, and he’d long ago given up trying to pretend otherwise. She waited in silence, reaching for the book she’d set aside. She would wait, for whatever he had to say next. It always seemed to take a bit to pull his thoughts into something coherent, even more so if it was something very important to him, or if he was struggling putting words to his concerns.

It was a shame it had taken her so long to notice it, but now that she did, she would wait as long as her brother needed her to. It was the least she could do for him, after he’d done so much for her.

Sheik wasn’t looking at her, rather he was staring off to the side, hair covering even more of his face. He almost looked flushed. Was he ill? She hoped not. The only indication he was even planning on speaking was the faint twitch of his ear back in her direction, listening to whatever response she may give.

“Zelda. I have a question.” he said finally.

She lowered the book, but did not turn her head. He didn’t want her looking too closely at him, clearly, so she wouldn’t. “What is it?”

“How.... How did you know you loved him? And that he loved you?”

Zelda closed the book for real this time, leaving her page unmarked. She tapped a nail against the cover, tracing the swirling designs as she thought. She couldn’t help but smile faintly.

“I didn’t know right away. We’ve been through so much together, I suppose it was only natural we’d fall in love eventually. Even though I had my hands full keeping the Calamity sealed and restoring the kingdom, he was with me every step of the way. He never abandoned me, even though I’d been so horrible to him at first. And even after I told him it was no longer his duty to protect me, he stayed anyway.”

“We haven’t really made anything official, but I don’t think we really need to. We have each other, and that’s enough for us. I care about him so much, I can’t imagine a life without him.” she said, then looked up. “Why do you ask? You’ve never asked before.”

Sheik rolled until his back was to her, stubbornly refusing to look at her. The tips of his pointed ears, what little of his cheek she could see, and all along his neck was flushed a pale red.

She stared, then dropped the book with a gasp. “By the Goddess.”

“Do not.”

“You finally have feelings for someone!”

“Zelda I swear to Hylia herself, if you do not—”

Zelda hastily shook his shoulders in excitement, trying to roll him over. “Please! You have to tell me! Who is it? Do I know them?”

Sheik was even more stubborn now, yanking the blankets up to cover his face. It did nothing to stop the princess from poking and prodding at him for details. It was a fight he would not win, Zelda was somehow more stubborn than him. It almost didn’t seem fair. He caved.

“Fine, fine. If I answer exactly three questions, will you stop bothering me about it? Also, this is not even the first time, why are you like this? ”

Zelda nodded, completely ignoring his question and settling back against the pillows. She held out her pinky to him. “I promise.”

His pinky locked with hers, and he slowly shifted around to sort of face her. Partially, he still wasn’t looking at her, making a vague gesture for her to get on with it. She considered her millions and millions of questions, carefully making her selection.

“What’re they like?”

Sheik was quiet, head tilted. Zelda almost missed it, the changes were so minute on his normally hidden features. His expression turned almost soft. Sad, but somehow indescribably happy at the thought of whoever her brother had feelings for. She smiled.

Whoever was able to inspire such a look at the mere thought of them must’ve been very special to him indeed. She’d love to meet them someday.

“Well, they have saved my life on at least one occasion.” he said carefully. “A bit childish at times, and lazy, but dedicated. I certainly did not like them at first, but.... I suppose they grew on me. They let me be myself, and I will forever be grateful. They make me happy.”

“That’s how it usually goes.” she nodded. “How did you two meet?”

“I fell down and hurt myself.”

Zelda slowly squinted. “You fell down?”

“Painfully so.”

“....Is that the time you nearly died during the Upheaval?”

“I got better.”

Zelda chose to move on. “Well, alright. You asked me about how you knew Link and I loved each other earlier. Did you ask because you don’t know if they feel the same?”

Her brother was so silent, she could almost feel the hurt radiating from him. He spoke after a while, shrugging his shoulders. “It is complicated. I, ahem, may have kissed—”

“You did what.”

“Let me finish.” he said, a flat stare doing more to silence her than anything else would. She took a deep breath to compose herself, then waved politely for him to continue. He turned away, picking at the immaculate threads of the blankets. She knew he’d be plucking out a nervous melody on his harp if he’d had it with him.

“Yes. I kissed him. It was a spur of the moment decision, but it felt right, considering all that happened. Which is a long story I do not want to get into tonight. But.... It does not matter anymore. Recall how I arrived here? It was shortly before that. I left him alone, after dragging him halfway across the kingdom, in a long forgotten temple with two horses to look after.”

“Oh.... I’m sorry, Sheik.” she started. She didn’t get very far before her brother was shaking his head.

He twisted the edge of the blanket, then went to smooth out the creases. “Like I said, it does not matter. It is a very, very long story, and I do not wish to think about it. I just…. He made me feel safe, in a way no one ever managed to. I do not know how else to explain what I feel, I have never felt this way before. But it no longer matters. I will not see him again.”

The finality with which he said it twisted her insides. He spoke no more, leaving so many things unsaid that it all could fill a book. Nothing she could say would ever make him feel better, she suspected they both knew things that the other didn’t.

They had so little time left, there was nothing she could do to help. For either of them. The clock was ticking, time was not stopping for their feelings.

“What was his name?” she asked. She knew she had promised to ask only three questions, but her curiosity got the better of her. She also noted her brother had slipped into saying he, though she wasn’t sure if that was intentional or not.

Sheik did not meet her eyes, his expression so carefully blank she wondered if he was on the verge of tears and didn’t want her to know. There was something else, too. An unfamiliar emotion hiding in his eyes she didn’t really recall seeing before.

“Um.... Koh.” he said finally, after a startlingly short silence. “I call him Koh.”

Something about the name, paired with the description nagged at the back of her mind, but she just couldn’t put her finger on it. “How do you spell that?”

Sheik frowned at that, mouth opening then snapping shut again. “I actually do not know. I do not think I have seen his name properly written down now that I think about it.”

Zelda let it go. It probably wasn’t important anyway.

She pulled the covers up, curling next to her brother. After a moment, he wordlessly curled up with her, their hands clasped tightly together. They had so little time remaining, but they would spend it together while they could. Her brother looked as tired as she felt, eyes squeezed shut to fight the unshed tears. She couldn’t recall ever seeing him cry before. It broke her heart to see it almost happen now.

She leaned close to bonk her forehead to his. Just a tap, nothing more. It seemed to help, despite the lack of magic involved. He returned the gesture, taking a deep, shaky breath. He said nothing still, just laying with her in the silence. Her book was long forgotten, she didn’t even know where it had disappeared to. It didn’t matter.

“Sheik. I’ll make sure you get back home. I swear.” she whispered.

“Do not make that promise.” he whispered back, voice cracked and weak.

She sent a silent prayer to the Goddess, asking to let her keep that promise. And maybe, just maybe, that she could go with him when that happened.

She didn’t respond, instead snuggling closer. She didn’t have to ask him to stay, she suspected he no longer had the strength to get up and return to his own bed, or even to whatever he had been doing previously. If nothing else, at least they could both sleep soundly knowing exactly where the other twin was.

It would never happen again, after all.

Chapter Text

Zelda stood in front of the gravestone, golden flowers planted around the rock to honor the fallen. She stared down at it, tears no longer threatening to fall. She’d run out of tears to cry long ago.

Sonia was dead. The kingdom had all but fallen. Zinc still hadn’t returned from his journey. Would he even return in time? Did he even know about Sonia? Was he in hiding, the only safeguard to rule the kingdom in the event of the queen’s death and the soon to be death of the king?

Zelda didn’t know.

Footsteps sounded behind her, she didn’t have to turn to know who it was. Her brother was at her side less than a second later, sheathing one of his daggers. He just stood in silence with her, looking at the grave.

“I sent the message.” he said quietly. She’d never heard him be so quiet, so full of defeat. Although, before they hadn’t been facing certain death. They had made their choice. They could not back out now.

“Your future self will see it then. And we’ll meet here, and it’ll repeat.”

“My past future self. My future past self? My past future past self.” Sheik tried, brows slowly furrowing the harder he thought about it. “Time is confusing.”

She nodded, too tired to smile. “It is.”

They stood in silence for a while longer after that, Rauru eventually joining them in looking at the grave together. The silence was long and crushing, there was nothing happy about the situation. Zelda didn’t know Rauru could look so sad. His ears drooped, almost hiding in the wild mane of hair he tried in vain to keep tied back.

The moment was interrupted by one of the Sages. The Zora stood at the door, breathing heavily as if she’d run there. She spoke only a single sentence, tinged with sadness. “It’s Zinc.”

Rauru turned, some spark of joy returning to his eyes. The princess felt relief swell within her, the smallest of smiles gracing her lips. Rauru spoke. “Good. I’m glad. Let’s go greet him all together.”

The Zora hesitated, her hand on the stone door faltering. “Sir. Zinc is.... I’m sorry.”

And just like that, all remaining joy had been squashed. They went out to see him together, Zelda clutching her brother’s hand to keep him at her side. She was not letting go for anything.

Just outside the temple entrance, Zinc rode slumped over his horse. The mount was whinnying and pawing at the ground in distress, shying away from the sages trying to help both man and animal. A particularly large step had the horse stumbling, almost rearing, and Zinc fell. His body thudded against the ground, crumpling into a heap on the cold hard stone. The Zora Sage calmed the horse, leading it away to help it, to clean the blood crusting the poor creature and the saddle. Zinc was rolled over onto his back.

An incredibly ornate Gerudo spear, all three prongs sunk deep into his torso, the wooden shaft splintered and broken. Dry blood coated everything a dark, rusty color, more than anyone could hope to survive losing. His eyes were closed, a single sheet of paper folded delicately and tucked into the front of his robes, just barely sticking out. It was the only thing not ruined by blood.

Zelda turned to press her face into her brother’s shoulder. She was just so tired. She couldn’t have shed tears for him, no matter how badly she wanted to scream and cry her heart out. Faintly, she felt an arm curling around her shoulders, a comforting hand stroking her hair.

Rauru had unfolded the paper, then handed it over to the Gerudo Sage to read. Gerudo script, evidently, something Rauru could neither read nor understand. The woman scanned the page, then scowled, but refolded it carefully and tucked it back into the dead man’s robes.

“As if we would believe that load of sandseal dung.” she swore, stomping off back into the temple. The other Sages knelt beside the body, looking to their king for direction.

Rauru had been staring in silence at the body, consumed by grief. It did not even show on his face anymore, so great was his mourning. “We bury him beside Sonia.” he said.

“And then. We take the fight to him.”

Sheik had pulled her away, moments before the final confrontation, to the back of the group marching onwards to certain death. His words had almost tripped her up, his whispered confessions a confirmation of her worst fear.

“Zelda. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.” he began. His breaths stuttered, but his voice remained deceptively steady. She didn’t know how he could do it. She only nodded for him to continue.

“I will not say I was waiting for the right time, I was not. I did not know how to tell you, so I simply did not. But I will not go into this battle without you knowing. It is only fair.”

She said nothing. 

“I.... I have seen a pair of dragons. One of them draws me towards it, the same way I am always able to sense you. I was not sure before arriving here, but I am certain that the dragon was you.”

“And the other?” she asked quietly.

Sheik sighed, his shoulders slumping in the way she knew all too well. “I could not sense it the same way. It was dark with a pale mane, and had my tattoos. I am.... I am certain of who it was as well.”

She nodded, and shared her own confession. One she’d held close ever since she was a child.

“I’ve seen that dragon too. The dark one. It.... I could sense it the same way I sense you.” she said, her voice barely a whisper.

“We were never going to make it back, were we?”

She shook her head, her hands gripping his so tightly she feared she’d hurt him.

They nodded, and for a moment, just a moment, Sheik pressed his forehead to hers. It felt final. An end to everything they had known. They had always been going to go through with it. Their future had been set in stone long before the concept of them had ever existed.

This was goodbye.

She wasn’t ready for it.

Chapter Text

Patches trotted contentedly along the dirt road, neighing at the slight breeze. It was an absolutely beautiful day, sunlight warming the fields of grass, birds fluttering through the air, zipping among the leaves as they chased each other.

A golden harp, untarnished from its many falls on stone and hard ground, was tucked safely into the coat of a heavyset traveler, wrapped up in the best cloth he could get his hands on. He had sworn to himself that he would take care of the harp, nothing would touch it for as long as he lived. At least until he could return it to its rightful owner.

Patches carried the traveler into a quaint village, quiet and unassuming. Ring shaped ruins dotted the hills surrounding the place, bringing with it other travelers hoping to see the strange and unique ruins.

He was not here for the ruins. The ruins held no meaning to him. Neither did the village, but it held meaning for someone he could no longer find.

He swung himself off the horse, leaving it near the little Goddess statue. Patches would not run off without him, they had grown rather attached to their rider. And maybe he’d grown attached to the gentle menace of a horse too. Either way, Patches was staying put.

He made sure the harp was fully covered before looking around. Houses and shops lined the streets, the latter marked with signs to designate their type of products. The chieftain's home was preceded by a large staircase, it was definitely not where he needed to go. He actually did not know where he needed to go.

He didn’t think he could ask either, it would look incredibly suspicious if he walked up to a villager to ask where someone lived. And just walking up to houses to check was out of the question. He wanted to keep a low profile. He needed to keep a low profile.

His people lingered outside the village from a safe distance, keeping watch. He trusted his people to come to his aid in the very off chance he needed them. They knew the signal, and they would not move without it.

A villager was eyeing him, standing guard at the stairs to the chieftain’s house. His arms were crossed, a blade sheathed at his hip. He recognized the man, even remembering his name, though the man would not recognize him. Hopefully. Well, it was time to play the goody two shoes messenger. 

He strode right up to the guard, putting on a smile he’d assumed an unsure courier would have. Sheepish, open, hoping for guidance. “Excuse me, sir. I have something I’m supposed to deliver, and I’m not too sure where to go.”

Dorian narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing him from head to toe. The smile stayed put, he was well practiced at this. “And you were told to deliver it here.”

He nodded. He should’ve picked a different hairstyle. A bun was far too similar to the topknots his people wore. “Righto! To a person named Sheik. Any idea where I can find the guy?”

The man rested a hand on his blade’s hilt. “No. But I can take it for him.”

“No, sorry. It’s very important that I give it to him or another family member. Unless you’re family, I can’t hand it over.” he insisted.

The man’s frown deepened, and he stared him down for a long while. An illusion masked the true color of the traveler’s eyes, hiding the red under a veil of brown. Finally, he grumbled out a response, and turned to head up the stairs with a gesture for the man to follow.

The traveler made a show of being winded by the number of steps, hand on the railing to catch his breath once they’d reached the top. Dorian was unamused by the display, knocking on the door politely before pushing it open.

“Lady Paya. There is a messenger.”

Dorian kept a hand on his weapon as a young woman came to the door, presumably the Lady Paya he’d heard being addressed. She seemed young for a chieftain, polite and shy, almost reserved. He assumed she was Sheik’s sister. Or daughter, considering the warrior was over a hundred years old. He wasn’t judging.

“Oh, hello there. Um, welcome to our village.” she said, bowing politely. Her hat almost fell off, and she quickly reached to straighten it, standing back up. “May I ask what brings you here?”

Oh, right. He was supposed to be a messenger. “I have something to deliver to one Sheik. Or a family member, in the event he is nowhere to be found. It is very important, so may I come in for a moment?”

The woman brightened visibly at that, quickly standing aside despite Dorian’s clear protests. “Of course! Please, come in, come in! I can make tea?” she offered.

He stepped inside, hesitating only briefly in his decision. His people were family to him, and Sheik’s family must be equally important. They deserved to know. “If it’s not too much trouble?”

“Lady Paya, please.” Dorian sighed, standing at the door as the woman frantically went about making the tea and finding cups. The woman ignored the man’s concerns, preparing the tea as quickly as she could.

“I know, Dorian. But it’ll be only a moment.”

The traveler was stuck in the middle of whatever disjointed conversation he was clearly missing context for, standing awkwardly in the center of the room. The awkward feeling dissipated somewhat as Lady Paya pushed a very warm and full cup into his hands, steam rising from the hot water. He tried a sip, just a little. It was good.

He faintly wondered if Sheik would have liked this tea.

He tapped the cup, taking a deep breath. The sound of the front door creaking shut behind them kept him in the present. “About the thing I have to deliver. I just wanna ask you to let me explain before you kill me for having it.”

The woman’s head tilted, her eyes quickly glancing back towards the door. Dorian must be at the door, watching. Oh well. He knew he could take the man in a fight if need be, though he hoped it wouldn’t come to that. He just wanted to hand it over and go. He set the cup down.

Reaching into his coat, he removed the package, unwrapping it to reveal the glittering golden harp that had become synonymous with seeing a certain stealthy blonde warrior. He held it out for the woman to take, waiting for it to leave his hands before speaking.

“I was Sheik’s traveling companion for a while. We.... got separated. I haven't been able to find him to return the harp, so I thought this was the next best thing. Unless you happen to know where he is?”

His question was met with silence. It must run in the family. Lady Paya was holding the harp, turning it over in her hands delicately, as if she was scared it would break if it was handled wrong. She held it close, shaking her head. “I haven’t. He said he would be back soon, but that was a while ago. He didn’t say where he was going, but he never does. He also never travels with anyone.”

He should’ve accounted for that. Too late now. “Oh. Well, we happened to be heading the same direction, and since there’s safety in numbers, we decided to travel together for a while.”

Dorian was closer now. He could feel the hard glare leveled at his back. “And then you got separated. How did that happen? And how did you get his harp? He never goes without it.”

He really hoped they believed him on this. Because he barely believed it himself. And he had been there. Had watched Sheik play that song. Had watched him drop the harp and disappear. He had watched him leave, unable to help him. 

He would never forget the sheer panic, the sight of watching him wink out of existence as if he’d never meant to exist at all.

“Well.” he began, gesturing with his hands as he spoke. “He thought he’d received a message from the Goddess in the form of a song. So he played it. And. Kind of. Disappeared? It’s hard to explain. I’m still not sure what happened. But he dropped his harp. He panicked. He was scared. I tried to help him, I really did. But for all my skills, good looks, and genius brain, I cannot fight unknown magic.”

“And now.... I have no idea where the guy ended up. At all.” he finished, unsure what to do with his hands. He ended up just letting them hand at his sides. “But I thought you should know.”

Lady Paya’s head was bowed, her hat hiding her eyes. A minute passed before she looked up again, a strained smile on her face. “Well. Thank you for telling us, sir. I’m sure he’s okay. He’ll turn up soon, he always does. It might just be taking a little longer than usual.”

He nodded. The glare at his back remained. He was sure Dorian was about to toss him out the door, the man had always hated outsiders after leaving the clan.

“I haven’t known him nearly as long as you, but I did notice that he tends to turn up when you least expect it.” he admitted, perhaps a bit too much fondness in his voice.

The woman was chuckling, a more genuine smile on her face now. “You sound like you know him pretty well then. And again, thank you for telling me. Would you mind telling me about your journey together? I can make more tea?”

It couldn’t hurt. The woman was sweet, genuinely. He could stay a bit, he hadn’t given his people the signal he needed help yet. They would not move until he gave it, their loyalty and devotion knew no bounds. Afterwards, he’d be able to leave and no one would be any wiser as to who he really was. He nodded. “No problem. Let’s see, I started traveling with him about the same time I got my horse....”

Several details altered or omitted entirely, he told of the few days he’d spent traveling with Sheik. Lady Paya had made tea for all of them, Dorian staying in the corner just to watch. He’d been suspicious the whole time, and it didn’t look like it would be stopping anytime soon.

Lady Paya had looked like she’d been about to faint when he mentioned almost running into a lynel, having to take a moment to just breathe and sip her tea to calm herself. He didn’t blame her. If Sheik, who was a trained warrior with a hundred years of experience, was afraid enough to tackle a man off a horse to sneak away, of course the young woman would be terrified just hearing about it.

He chose not to mention their little moments together, when not a soul was around. Not even of the offer that he would have stayed by Sheik’s side before the man had vanished. He didn’t think he could anymore, not with him missing. But he would never stop looking, just in case.

He spread his arms, mostly empty cup of tea in one hand, careful not to spill. “And that’s about it. I already mentioned how he pulled a vanishing act. And after that I came all the way here.”

Lady Paya nodded, sipping her drink. “That’s quite an adventure. I’m surprised you knew him so well from such little time. He’s usually pretty distant towards strangers.”

“Uh, well. You know.” he floundered for a good excuse. And the truth wasn’t an option. “I’m a good judge of character! My good looks aren’t all I got going for me! I got skills!”

“May I ask what those skills are, outsider?” Dorian’s gruff voice very nearly startled him. He’d forgotten he was there. Almost.

“Apparently rescuing blondes.” he joked. “Really, he’s lucky the arrow didn’t hit him. I had to do all the work that time! Not my style, I’m not an archer.”

“Rescuing?” the woman before him repeated, her eyes squinting at him over the rim of her cup. Studying him. Mumbling to herself. “Well, you are kind of big. Tall too. Dark hair.”

“Thanks.” he deadpanned.

Instead of responding, she slowly lowered her drink. Her stare had become blank, almost unblinking. He was uncomfortably reminded of his blonde in the silence that followed. He could hear Dorian standing up somewhere behind him, a glare burning into the back of his head.

“Has anyone ever mentioned if you have a nice voice or not?” she asked.

“Uh.... probably?”

“And have you ever been to the Depths? I think they’re called that at least.”

“....I might’ve. Why?”

“You match the limited description my uncle gave about his rescuer.” she said, sighing. “He smiled a lot when talking about him, more than I’ve ever seen. I’d hoped to meet him, to properly thank him for saving my uncle’s life, but I have no idea who it is. And neither does he. You wouldn’t have happened to have rescued someone recently, have you?”

Oh boy. He could say no. Lie to this sweet girl and disappoint her, it would be so much safer. Or he could say yes. Tell the truth, at least this one small bit. He hadn’t even known Sheik had told anyone about being rescued, let alone said he had a nice voice. He had said that, right?

It had to have been after he’d gotten his stuff back, and fled like a poe out of the afterlife. Sheik had mentioned going home, had that been when this happened? It was the only possibility he could think of. And he had already basically admitted to it, why lie now? It wouldn’t change much. He would never come here again, so what did it matter?

He nodded. “Yeah, now that I think about it. Dark and scary place, and this guy just comes falling down where I am. Completely unconscious. I helped out until he was okay enough to leave on his own.”

She smiled. “Then, from the bottom of my heart, you have my most sincere gratitude. Thank you for saving his life. My family owes you a great deal, so please, if there’s anything we can do to repay you, tell us. You will always be welcome in our village.”

“Just uh.... Just let me know if you ever see the guy, yeah?” he said, setting his now empty cup down. He got up and stretched, something in his back popping. “And that he gets his harp back. He seemed really attached to it.”

“Y-yes, of course!” she was hurrying to get up, bowing to him. “Please do visit again sometime. We would love to have you again.”

He just nodded. He knew full well she wouldn’t be saying that if she’d known who he was. But that was fine. He turned to leave, pushing open the doors.

And almost knocking Link right smack in the face, right back down the stairs he’d just walked up. He just slowly shut the doors again, spinning on his heel. Lady Paya and Dorian were watching him. “Is it too much to hope that you guys have a back door?”

“We don’t? Is something wrong, sir?” she asked.

“No, no, nothing’s wrong.” he said. There was a knock on the door, only his hand keeping it closed. “Would you mind me slipping into a back room? Just for a minute.”

Dorian had a hand on his blade’s hilt again. The knocking became more insistent. “There is no back room.”

He couldn’t just teleport out in a puff of smoke. The goal had been to be as lowkey as possible, in and out, no distractions. Sudden storytelling aside, Link showing up had not been on his agenda. This was the worst possible timeline. He was out of time. The door swung open.

He’d completely forgotten that the door swung both ways. He was left holding a hand against open air, inches from the face of the hero. Wasn’t he just the luckiest guy in the world?

He stared at the hero, and the hero stared at him. The silence was so incredibly loud, he almost wished the hero would just up and kill him for real this time. His only hope was that the hero didn’t recognize him. Or his voice. Goddess, why did he have to be cursed with such a recognizable voice? He had to make like a banana and split.

If he could play dumb long enough, maybe he could bluff his way out of this. Do not let his rage at the man take over. He shoved all that rage down as far as he possibly could, and grinned. “Oh. I didn’t see you there. Let me just get out of your way.”

He didn’t get to move far, the hero’s hand clamping down on his wrist. Why was such a little guy so damn strong!? Link pushed him back into the house, letting the doors swing shut behind him.

“Master Link? What’s the matter?” Lady Paya had taken a step back, with Dorian putting himself between her and the rest of the room. Link had his little device out, fingerspelling with his free hand.

I’m looking for Sheik, but I can’t find him. Have you seen him?

He almost lost his temper completely. The boy didn’t even know, and how could he? The hero might as well have sent the warrior to his death. And now Link suddenly decided he needed him? A disgusted noise escaped him before he could stop it.

“I— Sir? Is something the matter?” the woman asked. The poor girl didn’t even know what the hero had done, it didn’t matter if it had been directly or not. Sheik was gone, and he’d decided right here and now that it was entirely the pesky hero’s fault.

And Master Kohga, leader of the Yiga Clan, was pissed.

“The better question is when isn’t something the matter.” he said. He jabbed a finger into Link’s chest. “I have a bone to pick with you, you’re damn lucky I’m not here to start a fight or I would execute you where you stand.”

Link didn’t even have the audacity to look ashamed, just standing there, blinking owlishly at him. He tilted his head, raising a hand again. Is this about you blasting yourself into the sky? How did you survive that anyway?

“None of your business, hero.” he jabbed his chest harder, slowly backing Link up into the wall as he spoke. “You ruin my life not once. Not twice. But three times. Three! And you think you can just waltz on in here, looking for Sheik?”

“Sir! Please, calm down! I’m sure this is a misunderstanding, right, Master Link?” Lady Paya tried desperately, her voice little more than a nervous squeak. Dorian had his blade drawn, pointed at Kohga, his chieftain safely behind him.

What was the third time? Link asked, hands immediately held up in surrender afterwards. And dangerously close to where they needed to be to draw his sword.

“Sheik, hero. Sheik was the third time. If you had just given him a straight answer, you’d be able to find him.” he hissed, fingers clenching. He so badly wanted to simply strangle the little brat of a hero. And he would’ve, had he not been trying to keep his cover intact. Although it might’ve been just a little late for that.

Link had paused, his attention turning to the knockoff Sheikah slate he still held. He looked almost concerned. He looked back, tucking the slate under his arm to sign properly again. He’s gone? Are you sure?

Kohga could’ve killed a man then and there. And he probably would, if Link did not stop aggravating him with his very presence. “Yes, hero. I’m sure. I watched him disappear.”

Link at least had the audacity to look upset, hands frozen. He hesitated, eyes shifting back and forth, not looking at anything in particular. Then, he hesitantly grabbed the slate to hold it up again. He fingerspelled. I know where he’s gone, then.

Kohga stared at him, quite literally inches from strangling the boy within an inch of his life. All he had to do was give the word, and his scouts would swarm the house to take out the hero. It could all be over within seconds, overwhelming him with sheer numbers in such an enclosed space.

But if Link really knew, could he really risk that? Kohga took a deep breath, exhaling sharply. He stepped back, arms crossed.

“Prove it then, hero.”

Link nodded, slipping around the bigger man so he wasn’t trapped against the wall. He was tapping at his slate, holding it out and gesturing for the man to come close. Kohga grumbled, stepping to his side and leaning down to the tiny man’s height. Really, the boy couldn’t bother to grow a few inches taller?

Lady Paya came over to Link’s other side to watch, Dorian barely a step behind. All gathered around Link and his slate to watch, the hero tapped a button labeled ‘Memories.’

He tapped the one and only selection that had the Sheikah Eye slapped front and center.

Zelda laid on the stone, her muscles screaming, every bone in her body burning as if she was being set aflame from the inside. Her brother was no better, staggering into a kneeling position. He was breathing so heavily, his braid ripped loose, locks of bright blonde hair cascading around him in a waterfall.

Somewhere nearby, she heard someone fall.

Rauru stood before the Demon King, refusing to back down. She saw him breathe deeply, composing himself. Preparing. 

Sheik saw it too. He lunged, sprinting forward with a surge of maniacal adrenaline, the sort one would feel moments before their death. His daggers flashed, thrusting with all his strength at the man so much greater than him. Zelda couldn’t scream, couldn’t yell for her brother to stop. That it wouldn’t work.

They bounced off his hardened flesh, a massive hand closing around Sheik’s throat. He was lifted up, head and neck held in one enormous hand. He bit down on a finger viciously, clinging to the former Gerudo’s arm and relentlessly stabbing at the muscles keeping him in the air. His teeth didn’t break skin, his dagger just bounced off repeatedly.

The demon was laughing, grinning. He reached for the glowing stone at the Sheikah’s wrist, when the warrior abandoned his dagger and ripped the stone from the bracelet before the demon could claim it.

He popped it into his mouth—

“No!”

—and swallowed it.

The demon took a half second to just process that, then growled, and threw Sheik from the edge and into the bottomless darkness. Sheik fell, tumbling through inky gloom. A shriek tore itself from Zelda’s throat, reaching uselessly for her falling brother. He vanished into the darkness, alone, tears ripped free from his eyes.

Rauru was prepared. His stance calm and relaxed, accepting. His arms slowly rose.

The remaining Sages all threw their weapons at once, at the same time as a bright explosion of silver and indigo rocked the bottom of the chasm. A roar echoed in the depths of the earth, and Zelda Recalled the weapons.

Ganondorf had to turn to deflect the weapons, smacking them away. At that exact moment, the shadows took physical shape, taking up space, tendrils locking around the Demon King’s limbs. A dragon as dark and dotted with stars as the night, with violet antlers and spikes and a flowing platinum blonde mane, clung to the platform. One eerie red eye was decorated with markings, a teardrop below and three triangles above.

And it was singing.

Mouth hung open, a haunting melody lilting through the air as an echoing roar of a dragon, drawing upon the infinite darkness that absorbed even time. Ganondorf had paused, an unexpected expression crossing his face. Surprise, tinged with something else.

It didn’t last, he tried to turn away. He could only go so far. Rauru had gotten into his space in that time, thrusting a hand into his chest. For those two, time slowed, then stopped. Their movement froze, their color fading to a dull shell of what they had been. Their eyes glazed, dimming, becoming as lacking as the stone worn away by the rain.

The dragon had stopped singing. It clung to the stone, just watching everything from its perch. Zelda struggled to push herself up, to stumble towards the dragon. She collapsed against the tip of its nose, holding on for support.

“Sheik...! No, please! We could’ve found another way! I know we could’ve! You didn’t have to do this!” she sobbed into the short fur of its face, hugging it as tightly as her weakened arms would allow.

She looked back up at the dragon, staring hard at its eyes. Hoping for any spark of recognition, any sign he was still there. “Sheik? Please still be there? I can’t lose you too, I only just got you back!”

The dragon blinked slowly, looking at nothing in particular. It lifted its head, forcing the princess to let go. She stumbled back, falling against the stone. It let go of the platform, floating through the cavern. Tears were building in its eyes, even as it swam through the air, squeezing into the passage leading back the way they had come. It took only moments to disappear completely into the darkness, taking with it whatever quality made the shadows take shape and space.

Zelda broke down in desperate sobs, gasping for air like a woman drowning.

Link lowered the slate. It was a lot to take in. Lady Paya had covered her eyes partway through, and still had them covered. Her shoulders were shaking, poorly muffled hiccups slipping from her. Dorian tried his best to comfort her, pressing a cup of tea into her hands.

Kohga had not moved an inch since the memory ended, staring at the spot the slate had been. He had no words to even begin to describe how he was feeling.

His questions had been answered, even ones he didn’t even know he was asking. But now he had even more. He was just. So happy. He had his answers. He knew where Sheik had gone, that he was alive, more or less. Maybe.

But so lost. Why had the princess been so viscerally upset? One would think turning into a dragon was the coolest thing in the world. But she had outright sobbed her heart out. As if Sheik had been murdered in front of her eyes.

He’d seen that dragon, hell, it had saved his life. Sheik was okay. What was he missing?

“Hero. Why was she asking if he was still there?” he asked slowly. Link put away the slate, his signing solemn. As if he were attending a funeral.

I was told that to become an immortal dragon, blessed with eternal life, is to lose oneself. Sheik has no memories of who he was, he’s a mindless beast now. My compendium labeled him as the Shadow Dragon, and put him in the monster category.

“His name is Sheik.” Kohga corrected. “And he’s not mindless, or a monster. He saved my life once. After you ruined my life the second time.”

The time with the rockets? After you tried to squash me with a robot?

“Don’t remind me. But yes. He caught me when I was falling.” he said. He suddenly felt like he needed to sit down. He’d seen that dragon for the better part of five years, nearly six now. And knowing now who it really was just felt.... sad. How long had Sheik been flying alone in the Depths? Did he really have no memories? If so, why had he been crying in his dragon form?

He slowly sat down on the floor, head in his hands. He needed to find Sheik, somewhere he flew close to the ground. And do....

What exactly? What would he— no, what could he do? He was just one man, even as good looking and intelligent as he was, Sheik had become an age old dragon. There was no way to jog a person’s memory after that long, no way to bring a person back from what amounted to a self sacrifice so great it killed them in the process.

Maybe he could just keep him company. It had to be lonely up, swimming in the Depths and now the sky all by himself. It was all he could do, really. He looked up.

“This Demon King guy. You mean to tell me that the Calamity we, that I worshipped, made him do this? This is the guy my ancestors split from the Sheikah Tribe for?” he asked.

Dorian’s head had snapped up, whipping around to stare at Kohga, but he didn’t care. He wanted a clear answer from the hero. Link simply nodded.

Kohga sat cross legged now, elbow on his knee, chin propped up in one hand. He hummed, tapping out a rhythm with his free hand. “So. Link. How soon can I expect you to do your hero thing and end this?”

Link signed quickly. Soon. I just need my sword and a few more things.

Kohga nodded, scowling. As much as he hated the hero, and he always would, his rage at what Sheik had been forced to do completely overshadowed any other feeling towards his mortal enemy. “Make it fast, then. Or I’ll beat you to the punch and take care of this guy on my own. With an army. And all the stupid Zonai tech my lackeys can throw at him.”

Would you consider doing that even if I make it there on time? Link asked.

“Maybe. If I stay pissed off enough. But you better not slow me down if that happens!” he warned.

Link shook his head, hands waving and signing just a bit too quick for him to decipher. But he got the general idea. He got to his feet, rolling his shoulder to loosen the stiff muscles. “Yeah, whatever. Anyway, I’m heading out. Don’t go dying to this guy. Only I’m allowed to kill you, got it?”

He didn’t give Link a chance to answer, turning on his heel and pushing the door open. He let it swing shut behind him, heading down the steps. Patches was happy to see him, neighing and trotting towards him. It nearly headbutted him in its excitement to get going, nibbling at his hair.

He patted its nose, swinging himself into the saddle. A flick of the reins and Patches went into a trot, happily heading back the way they had come. His business in the village was done, there was no reason to linger. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t keep an eye on things, oh no. There was already one ‘traveler’ in the village who would be staying, to keep an eye on the residents.

And in the case Sheik happened to fly through the area. He had to visit the man— well, dragon now— at least once. He could find a way up, he’d done it once before. On accident, but he could absolutely replicate the device that sent him spiraling into the clouds.

Or draw him closer to the ground so he wouldn’t have to fall so far. Sheik had a thing for music, he’d always carried the harp around, and even seemed musically inclined as a dragon. He’d figure something out.

He had to. For Sheik.

Chapter Text

Kohga was losing his mind.

Four times. Four times he had seen the dragon. And numerous reports from his clan down in the Depths that at least something that could’ve been a dragon had been spotted flying around in the darkness. And not once had any of his attempts to reach him in time succeeded, or he had simply been too far away to even try.

Sheik seemed to follow a regular schedule; by day he would swim through the inky, gloomy darkness of the underworld, and by night he would rise from the nearest chasm to float through the sky to.... Somewhere. He wasn’t sure why he followed such a rigid pattern, yet seemed to have no real destination in mind. He just floated aimlessly between earth and sky, not even playing random instruments seemed to draw his attention.

Kohga didn’t understand what he was doing wrong. He’d even had a harp ‘borrowed’ to see if a familiar instrument would do the trick, and it hadn’t. Sheik hadn’t even so much as twitched from whatever course he was set on, continuing to wander his aimless path in the air. Sometimes he’d wondered if it simply wasn’t loud enough, but there was no way it was as simple as that. Was it?

It was just another thing he’d have to figure out.

He groaned, head in his hands, looking over the papers strewn all over the small wooden table he’d had set up to accommodate the new plans. Maps, reports, inventory lists, everything he thought he would possibly need to try and at least find Sheik and try to help him. If there really was no turning him back, he wanted to at least see if he could remember anything. And if not, maybe try and jog his memory a little.

Kohga was exhausted, trying to figure it all out. But he would. He swore he would. If Sheik was still in there, no matter how much, he would find out. Sheik at least deserved that much. And in all honesty? Kohga missed him. He missed his favorite blonde Sheikah warrior very much, more than he had the words to describe it.

He picked up one of the papers, scanning the words on the page with tired eyes. A combination of his mask and the dim candlelight made the letters swim on the page, dancing tauntingly before his eyes. He sighed, pushing his mask up to rub at his eyes. He needed to find a better way to light up his hideout, aesthetics be damned.

The sound of footsteps made him snap his mask back over his face, lowering the paper to see who dared disturb his private time. He needed to brood and mope, damn it!

One of the blademasters, the same one who’d first alerted him that Sheik had not been the princess in fact, had entered carrying a few scrolls. They were bound in leather to protect the fragile paper inside, tied shut with a thick cord. A small carved charm dangled from the string, the symbol of the Sheikah, probably meant to ward off evil if he remembered right.

“Master Kohga. These were in the latest supply shipment. They were addressed to you specifically.”

Kohga set the paper down, sitting up and holding out a hand for one. One was handed over, and he carefully undid the binding. “Addressed to me? From who?”

“There was no name attached. Just a polite note asking to return them when you were done, because they were not theirs to give. They said please a lot. And thanked you again for some kind of rescue.”

Kohga raised an eyebrow, unrolling the scroll to look at it. He was met with lines going across paper, specific places marked with what he understood to be music notes. Not that he could understand what they meant, he couldn’t read sheet music to save his life. The blocky Sheikah script was equally as foreign to him.

“Well. Good news, it doesn't look harmful. Bad news, I can’t read music.” he said, taking another scroll to look at. Each one was the same, lines and music notes arranged to form different songs with what was the presumed titles in Sheikah script, and there were a lot of them. Some of the scrolls contained a six note version as well as the full piece, but Kohga could not decipher either version.

“Well, perhaps one of our clan knows, Master Kohga. Shall I ask around?”

Kohga nodded. “And tell them to bring an instrument with them if they can play. I wanna hear a few of these.”

The blademaster bowed before he left, leaving Kohga with the music scrolls. To his admittedly untrained eye, they all seemed okay. Nothing weird besides the fact that Sheik’s written language was foreign to him.

Except maybe one, and only because that one seemed to be unfinished. There was a six note version, obviously, but the full version seemed unfinished. Other than that, it seemed just like the rest in the collection.

Kohga stayed silent, poring over the collection of music pieces. He stayed that way, unmoving, until the blademaster returned. He brought with him one of the older soldiers, an old lute in their hands. Kohga gestured them forward, so they could look at the scrolls.

“What can you tell me about these?”

The soldier crouched, carefully looking over the pieces. They hummed quietly, taking in the notes. “Well, they’re music pieces, Master. They seem very simple, meant to be played by maybe at most two instruments, three if you really stretch it. Which would you like me to play?”

Kohga glanced over them once more, then picked out three. “These. Just do your best.”

They nodded, carefully shifting the scrolls so they could look at the notes as they played. They positioned their fingers, and played. Kohga simply sat back, crossed his arms, and listened.

The first seemed meant to be played on a harp, not a lute. It sounded strangely melancholic, but comforting. It sounded safe, like someone had meant for it to guide, to teach another. Kohga had absolutely no idea why, or what any of it meant.

The second was absolutely sad, even downright heartbreaking. While it was by far the simplest of the three, it was easily the saddest song he had ever heard. No question about that. It sounded like someone trying to move on after some terrible loss, after meeting a terrible fate. Depressingly and beautifully haunting. If making someone cry was the point of the song, then it was doing a fantastic job of that.

The third? He’d heard only a snippet before. The notes bouncing back and forth with boundless energy, gearing up for a fun and epic battle. Sheik had once called it Kohga’s song. While it was unfinished, the notes dropping off with no follow up, it was still fun to listen to.

It had all been very enlightening, in a weird sort of way. While he didn’t see the process, or even hear Sheik play much, it was eye opening to actually hear one of the songs he’d written. Or ‘uncovered’ as he liked to call it, whatever that meant.

But the question now was what to do with them.

Kohga hummed in thought, fingers tapping an absentminded rhythm on the opposite arm. He looked over the other papers on his table, everything he thought he could possibly work with. He picked up a random one to look at, hoping for an idea. He’d grabbed one of the copies of the list of Zonai tech they had at their disposal.

He scanned it, the flickering candlelight not helping him read at all. Each one had notes on all known possible uses, plus ones that had been tested and failed. A very comprehensive list, all things considered. They had been studying and working with the stuff for nearly six years now. He was very proud of their progress.

One of the notes caught his eye. An offhand comment scribbled in the corner about the immovable stakes. ‘Makes sound when struck by laser beam. Noise changes with stake depth in ground. Sounds like music.’

Somewhere above his head, a lantern was lit.

He looked up, searching for the soldier’s name. He landed on it after a moment of thought. “Moya, was it? How do you feel about replicating one of these songs on a larger scale?”

Moya’s head tilted. “I suppose I could do it? But with what, Master?”

He waved the list, handing it over along with one of the song scrolls. “Have the blademaster go with you. Take as many of those Zonai stakes as you need to make this work. And laser emitters. Whatever you need, take it. I need you to make it play this song as best as you can.”

“Yes, Master Kohga. I’ll get started right away. Where should I put it?”

“Wherever there’s room. Make it moveable. Dragon’s don’t stay put, so it can’t either. Do your best, and let me know immediately when you’ve started. I want to oversee the construction myself.”

Moya nodded. “Yes, Master Kohga.”

And with that, both the blademaster and Moya left the room, and Kohga was left alone once again. He felt like he was getting somewhere for once. Maybe. It was at least something, he wasn’t just going off of nothing anymore.

It was his last idea. Short of stealing back Sheik’s harp and playing something on that, he had no other ideas. And he didn’t think the blonde would be fond of the idea of someone else playing his harp. Kohga knew that he himself didn’t like the idea. It seemed disrespectful to the man’s memory.

But. If all else failed. Kohga would learn how to play it himself, even if only by ear, and for a single song. He hoped it wouldn’t come to that. He sighed, holding his head in his hands. He stared at the papers scattered over the table, the scrolls placed carefully among them. He slowly reached to roll them back up, securing them with the cords with the utmost care. Then set them off to the side in a neat pile, away from the light. A wilted, faintly glowing blue flower in the shape of a bell was the only thing that casted light over it now.

Kohga felt like he was losing his mind.

Central Hyrule was a good place to build large contraptions. There was plenty of flat, wide open space to work and experiment. They only had to be careful of falling debris, the occasional monster wandering the plains, and maybe a traveler or two giving them all a strange look. It was not their fault that the best place to build a device big enough to lure a dragon was in the middle of the field. But as long as none of them shed their disguises, they would be fine. A ton of researchers building things with ancient tech wasn’t suspicious at all.

And if it was, Kohga was far past the point of caring. This was his last chance, and if it didn’t work, he didn’t know what he was going to do. He didn’t know what he could do. He’d thought about it extensively, so much his head physically ached from it all.

He sat on a log, watching the construction in progress. It had started with a large, wheeled platform, stakes scattered all over the grass. Moya was directing others where to place the stakes on the platform, music scroll in hand and his own lute slung over his back. Every so often they tested the placement against the scroll’s notes, Moya playing them on his lute for reference for the less musically inclined.

It seemed to be going well, as far as Kohga could tell. Construction was as on schedule as it could be without an actual schedule, it wouldn’t be ready until maybe the next morning, or perhaps the next night. But that was fine. He was more concerned with it actually getting built and working than anything else.

A disguised blademaster stood beside him, one foot braced against the log to keep it from rolling down the hill. His blade hidden in illusion, now merely a walking stick propped up against the fallen tree. A silent supervisor in the event that Kohga himself became indisposed. In broad daylight it wasn’t likely to happen, but one could never be too careful.

Kohga leaned back, groaning dramatically. Holding an illusion for so long was tiring, but he had to keep it up for much longer still. At least until construction was finished. Small illusions were fine, easy even. But a full body disguise powered by ancient magic was a different story. He hadn’t had to do it in over a hundred years, it wore him out.

The long white of his new hair draped over the ground, his stupidly big hat nearly slipping off his head. All he wanted was to take a nap, but he couldn’t nap and keep up the disguise at the same time. It was absolute agony.

“It’s too hot out. Someone should ban the sun from being so bright.” he complained, the higher pitch of his voice long past the point of scaring the piss out of him every time he spoke.

The blademaster slowly looked up at the sky. He shielded his eyes. “It is unusually warm today.”

“I know! It’s awful.” he grumbled, arms crossing. “I’m almost wishing it would rain instead. Anything is better than this heat.”

He didn’t expect the blademaster to answer, he was just complaining for the sake of complaining. And if he didn’t complain, his thoughts were only going to spiral further and further downward. Complaints were all he had left.

Unless this worked. And it had to work. It had to. 

It had to.

He watched the work late into the night, construction only stopping once it got well and truly dark. With the darkness came the crisp, cool air, the faintest hint of a storm brewing. It could be felt in his knees, the way they ached. It was no dry heat of the desert sands, no wet monsoon of the southern woodlands. No, it was nothing like that.

While he did not journey to the fields of Hyrule often, he didn’t think the storms of this region were supposed to feel ominous. The castle looming over them high in the sky did nothing to calm the unease. The gloom spewing into the heavens as if the very earth was wounded, the lifeforce of the land spilling out and consumed by an all powerful malice.

No. He did not think a developing storm was supposed to feel that way.

The blademaster had left his side a while ago, sat by the campfire to help with preparing dinner. It was well known that Kohga, for all his skills and abilities, could not cook worth a damn. It was honestly safer for everyone involved if he didn’t attempt. Even Sheik, after the single time the Master had actually managed to make something edible, had flat out told him it was horrible. Kohga would never live it down.

Maybe he’d have someone teach him, if everything worked out okay. If not....

He could feel a headache coming on. The stupid hat was not helping.

The members of his clan had gathered around the fire now, the blademaster portioning out servings for everyone. It had been a busy day, there was plenty to eat for everyone. There was laughter, smiles, everyone seemed happy, regardless of the actual reason.

Good. Kohga thought, stretching his arms out. He felt something pop, somewhere. He was glad his clan was happy, they deserved it after all that had been done to them. They were his, and he worked hard to keep them all happy, healthy, and whatever other positive things he couldn’t think of at the moment. They were his Yiga, and he would do anything to keep it that way.

He slowly turned to sit the other way, his back to the fire. He would’ve joined them on any other day. He would’ve sat at the fire with his clan, eating, enjoying life, and just reveling in the laziness of mealtime. Any other day, he would’ve joined them. But today?

Today he did not feel like he could join. Not without bringing the mood down with his own rage and upset at the situation. He didn’t feel like ruining the fun for his people. Besides, there’s always next time. He didn’t feel very hungry right now anyway.

Kohga did not know how long he sat there, just watching the scenery and trying to keep his thoughts from straying too far. He just knew that someone had come to sit with him, a bowl placed beside him on the log. It was still warm, steam billowing into the cool night air. He glanced at it briefly. Soup of some kind.

The blademaster had come to eat with him, sitting in the grass with his back to the log. He said nothing, just eating in silence beside him. Kohga took the bowl after a moment, spooning some of the soup into his mouth. It was good, different from what he was used to. They sat like that for a while, just eating in silence together.

Kohga finished eating, setting the bowl back down on the log. Neither him nor the blademaster had spoken a word since he’d walked over, and that seemed like it would continue until one of them retired to bed. He appreciated it. He hadn’t noticed how much he missed just having a quiet presence nearby until he’d lost it.

While no one would ever replace Sheik, he greatly appreciated the effort.

He stood, stretching with a quiet sigh. The blademaster hadn’t moved. “Going to sleep, Master?”

“Yeah. Thanks, Lotus.”

“Of course, Master.”

Kohga slipped away, smoke and talismans carrying him the short distance to his tent. Even that was almost a stretch for his magic after keeping up a disguise for so long. And the second he was safely inside, no one around to see him, he let the disguise fall away.

Instantly the headache stabbed through his temples in full force. The dim lights were suddenly too bright, every noise was way too loud for his throbbing skull. He just flopped into what passed for his bed, holding the pillow over his head in the hopes being suffocated would dull the pain. And he had to pull off his disguise all over again tomorrow.

If anyone dared to wake him up before he was good and ready, he would commit murder.

Chapter Text

By the time Master Kohga left the tent again, construction was well underway. His headache had not fully gone away, and the stupid hat that was part of his disguise only made the dull throbbing worse. He would’ve given anything to ditch the hat in some ravine, but it was part of the illusion. Stupid hat, hurting his head.

At the very least it could be used as an improvised weapon. He could beat the piss out of someone with it if he got angry enough today. That was its one saving grace, illusion or not.

He stood to watch, arms crossed, silently cursing the sun for the unbearable heat that came with the bright and beautiful day. But he had to see this through. It kept him occupied. And for once, he wasn’t able to stand just lazing around doing nothing while his lackeys did all the work. It was driving him insane.

There were an awful lot of stakes on the platform, it made the whole structure look very prickly. Prickly and weirdly jewel-esque. What were the stakes even made of anyway? Did he even want to know? He put the thought aside, tilting his hat at an angle to see better.

Moya was approaching, scroll in hand. He stood next to him, holding it up. “Master, we’re almost finished. There’s just one problem.”

Great. Just what he needed. He stowed his irritation, squinting at the scroll and the prickly device. “And that problem is?”

“We don’t have enough stakes. And it’ll take days to find more to finish construction, even if we scour the kingdom for them. And then we’d have to transport them all the way here.”

Kohga rubbed his eyes in exhaustion. One issue after another. Was he never going to have things just go his way for once? He sighed. “How many do you need?”

Moya pointed out a section of notes at the end, quickly doing calculations on his fingers. “Enough to play these notes so.... maybe a dozen or so? To be on the safe side?”

He nodded, tapping his chin in thought. He looked around, taking in their surroundings from the small hilltop they stood on. It was not far from that new fort in front of the old Castle Town ruins, but far enough their work couldn’t reliably be found. It helped that there was a large number of trees between it and their construction efforts to sell the illusion that there probably wasn’t anything there.

“Halt construction for now. I’ll return as soon as possible.”

Moya nodded, rerolling the scroll and stepping away. Kohga adjusted his hat, strolling down the hill. The closest members of his clan stood, everyone giving him their full attention. “Asli, Varo, Owlan, you’re coming with me. We’re going on a small field trip. Everyone else, laze around until we’re back.”

Kohga spun on his heel, only slightly thrown off by the silly hat, and walked off. He didn’t need to wait for them to follow, they would catch up soon. It was a short walk anyway, considering how far he’d had to travel in recent months and years. The hardest part was keeping the hat balanced as they headed onto the road, walking onward towards the fort.

Their near silent footsteps were the only indicator he was being followed at all, and it was all the indication he needed. “Okay, here’s the plan. We split up, enter the fort, and try to find any information they may have about the Zonai tech. Specifically, the location of more stakes. Whoever finds it leaves immediately to deliver it to the supply team. If there are any stakes in the fort, inform me and find a safe place to hide outside the fort. I’ll take care of getting them out, and you will get them back to camp. In and out, less than an hour. Any questions?”

“And if that plan goes out the window?”

“We create a distraction, and steal it all anyway while no one is paying attention.”

Kohga was fairly sure his original plan would work, but it never hurt to be prepared. Besides, they were all in disguise, they would never be discovered. With Kohga disguised the way he was, no one would question it. To see a Sheikah outside Kakariko was rare, yes, but to see one supposedly studying ancient history and technology was less rare. At least these days.

They split up before entering the fort, each of them going in through a different door. With the exception of Kohga and Owlan, who entered together. The inside was not as crowded as Kohga expected, but he really didn’t know what he had been expecting.

What he knew he had not been expecting, was for four more races to be present besides the Hylians in the fort. And perhaps one or two Sheikah, but they were nowhere to be seen currently. Unexpected, but it wouldn’t change the plan much, if at all. He pressed on.

He did not see his other clan members, but he knew they were around somewhere. He split from Owlan, heading up a set of stairs and into a small building. There was plenty to look at, and look he did. Papers strewn over every available surface, pinned to all four walls like overlapping decorations, hung on ropes strung across the ceiling. Literally everywhere.

The only other being inside, an old and cranky Zora, let him be as he pored over various maps and papers. He was too busy peering at a map taking up a good portion of the table to pay him any mind.

As long as he acted like he was supposed to be there, no one would question him.

And no one did, until the door slid open and a heavy weight settled in the room, the floorboards creaking. Kohga looked up. And up, and up. Easily the biggest, reddest Zora he had ever seen, with grandiose silver ornamentations, had wedged himself through the miniscule doorframe, crouching to avoid tangling in the ropes and papers strung up in the air. He was all smiles, teeth razor sharp and entirely too menacing.

Kohga paused, the papers in his hands almost slipping from his grasp. Since when did Zora get that big!?

The big Zora waved, smiling entirely too wide for Kohga’s liking. “Apologies for startling you, little Hylian! I’ll be out of your fins in a moment, I just need to talk to Muzu. Again, so sorry!”

Kohga could only nod, slowly turning back to the papers he was looking through. He didn’t know exactly who this Muzu was, but he wasn’t about to get in the way of such a big guy. He didn’t feel like getting an arm bitten off. He shuffled through the papers, trying to focus on the contents of the loose pages and not the menacingly handsome fish man with the strange blue rock on the back of his hand having a discussion just a few feet behind him.

He caught only snippets of the conversation as he searched, mostly just words or phrases without much context. Then a few of the pages caught his attention. It mentioned Zonai tech, the likes of which he’d not heard of yet. Without missing a beat, he slipped those papers into a hidden pocket, rearranging the remaining pages as if he was still looking through them.

Then he left, leaving the Zora to their conversation. He was happy to get out of there, away from the stupidly massive Zora. Why did everything have to be so massively huge in this world? He couldn’t imagine how a smaller person might feel.

There were more people in the fort now. Worryingly, he recognized the tiny Gerudo, though her hair was cropped short now and she had a strangely shaped rock for an earring. He and his clan had stolen her people’s heirloom just a few years ago, and had it promptly snatched back by a certain pesky hero.

He kept his pace steady, strolling calmly back down the stairs. A dark haired Hylian approached not long after he reached the bottom, the contents of her bag rattling. She greeted him with a smile, hand hovering over her heart for the briefest of moments.

“Excuse me, miss! I do not mean to be a bother, but may I have a moment of your time?” she asked.

Kohga adjusted his hat, hands clasped politely in front of him. A practiced smile graced his gentle features. “Of course.”

The Hylian gestured as she spoke, wide sweeping and excitable movements interspersed with subtle, pointed gestures he knew well. She was only asking for directions, but he was told all he needed to know. A short, polite conversation. He was just a Sheikah, helping a local traveler, nothing more.

They parted ways after barely a minute, the Hylian leaving through one of the gates and armed with the advice to not travel alone, and Kohga continuing onwards, now several papers lighter and no one the wiser. He was not bothered again as he walked, striding with purpose. He clearly belonged there and knew where he was going, who would think to question him?

He passed by a small pile of stakes, perhaps four or five in total, freshly delivered and waiting to be studied by the researchers by the fort. It was exactly as Varo had said. Kohga did not let the pleased grin slip onto his perfectly disguised expression.

Perfect.

No one paid any mind to the Sheikah woman crouched by the stakes, running her fingers along the surface. Just another fellow researcher helping to study and uncover the secrets of the past, nothing more. This one just happened to be of the Sheikah Tribe instead of the usual Hylian, uncommon, but not unheard of.

And no one would pay any attention to the little paper tags she’d paste onto each one, just out of sight from most of the fort, just the barest flicker of magic shrouding their purpose.

Asli and her sharp eyes would miss nothing, hidden in the perfect vantage point to observe everything. All the Sheikah had to do was walk away and wait for the all clear and the stakes would be theirs, with no one the wiser until it was far too late.

Perfect.

Kohga approached another Hylian, tapping the man on the shoulder. The tanned man turned to face him, wide eyes blinking owlishly. Kohga clasped his hands similarly to if he was praying, offering a shy smile.

“Sorry to be a bother, but may I ask for your assistance? I’m worried about those devices over there being exposed to the elements. Would you mind helping with covering them up?” he asked.

He needed not ask twice, the man jumping to help and enlisting another Hylian or two to assist. Kohga didn’t even have to do any work at all, he just watched as the Hylians fetched something to act as a tarp and throw it over the stakes. It took only another moment and they had the makeshift tarp secured. He thanked them all, no matter how badly he wanted to just get out of there.

He kept up the act until he could safely leave without arousing suspicion, massaging his hands as if they hurt. A small flick of his wrist, a hint of magic, and the switch was done. He left the fort, walking calmly back the way he had come. With his back turned and his face hidden from view, he could no longer hide the frown twisting his delicate disguised features.

In and out, their prize well on its way to their camp, all in under an hour without a single soul any the wiser. But by the goddess did the process irritate Kohga. He understood the need to act his disguise for this little side quest, he was the only one powerful enough to move so many heavy objects so effortlessly, but he’d really rather just take a nap. He was developing the absolute worst headache, and he still had to keep up the illusion.

The curse of being so talented.

His first order of business upon reaching camp again, was to sit down and rest. The sun was far too bright, he was starting to understand why the hat was so ridiculously big now. Plenty of shade to protect his aching eyes, though he would never change his mind about it being stupidly big and heavy. All there was to do now was wait.

He hated waiting.

The construct was finally finished as the next night was falling. It had only taken.... Kohga didn’t care to remember, he hadn’t bothered to keep track. He was too strung out and just generally agitated about everything to bother keeping track of the time.

That was a lie, he counted every second that passed.

All that was left to do was wait for the dragon to appear. It might not even happen tonight, Kohga didn’t know. It was hard to keep track of a dragon that never seemed to stop to eat, sleep, or even land on the ground at all. It was unfair, he’d never had this much trouble tracking someone down before.

But this was his last hope. It had to work. He didn’t know what he would do if it didn’t.

He had to at least try.

Kohga paced back and forth, a restless energy possessing him as the sky grew darker. He couldn’t sit still, it was aggravating when all he wanted was to try and relax and not strain himself. Keeping an illusion up and running for so many days in a row was difficult, draining, and just all around not fun to do. Kohga was severely out of practice, he needed to fix that.

He continued to pace aimlessly, the constant throbbing headache only getting worse as time passed. It wasn’t debilitating yet, but it certainly was putting a damper on his already volatile mood. His lackeys avoided his path, giving him a wide berth. A wise decision, Kohga didn’t feel like talking to anyone at the moment. He just wanted silence while he waited.

But not this sort of quiet. It felt too empty.

It felt like he’d been pacing for hours, he might as well have worn a path where he’d walked, the grass laying flat in a long straight line. It was well into the night now, the wide sky littered with glittering stars. The campfire had been lit, providing warmth and light. He considered calling it a night, it was late, surely there would be no dragon sightings this time. He grumbled, kicking at a stray stone.

The wind picked up, carrying the stone farther than it should’ve gone. A gentle updraft, carrying things too light to stay put into the air. Shadows of trees grew thicker, almost taking up physical space. If he strained hard enough, one could almost hear music in the quiet sounds it all made. He chanced a look upwards.

And saw a dragon.

Kohga would not deny he made the most undignified sound known to man, not even bothering to sprint. He launched himself into his teleportation so fast he left the hat behind, smoke and talismans taking him almost into the campfire itself. He didn’t care.

“He’s here! Turn it on! Quickly!”

He didn’t have to finish his sentence before Moya was running to activate the device, other researchers and soldiers scattering in the wake of Kohga’s sudden appearance. Not one of them had ever seen him move so fast in their lives, nor had ever witnessed such a sense of nervous urgency from him. It was unheard of in living memory.

The device activated, the laser in the center slowly starting to rotate, the wheel it was stacked on rolling around at a steady pace. The beam struck the stakes, producing short, clear tones as it rotated in place. No one moved, no one spoke. The only sounds were the whispering winds as the dragon floated high in the sky, the crackling of the campfire’s flames, and the sound the stakes made when struck by the humming beam.

For a long, agonizing moment, nothing changed. Everyone stared up at the sky, watching with bated breath, not a single soul daring to break the fragile quiet. Kohga couldn’t stay still, hands twitching nervously as he stared, refusing to blink. For one horrifying moment, he wondered if it hadn’t worked at all. If it was all in vain.

Then, slowly but surely, the dragon altered course. It slowly swam through the air, heading away from its original path and gradually making its way to the ground towards the high, clear chimes of the device. Kohga was sure he was going to just up and panic. He couldn’t believe it had worked! He was a genius! Moya and his researchers were genius too, he supposed. Musical geniuses. It was time to celebrate! Quietly, of course. But celebrate nonetheless!

As the dragon slowly came closer, the wind picking up more, a thought occurred to him. His triumphant and maniacal grin became almost strained. He watched the dragon draw closer, slowly growing larger as its true size gradually became very apparent.

Where was it going to land? If at all?

He quickly took in his surroundings, zipping through a mental checklist. A wide, hilly area, with a small forest’s worth of trees between the makeshift encampment and the fort. It was fine, right? The dragon couldn’t be that big, surely not. Kohga was misremembering how big the dragon seemed, or he needed his eyes checked. Perhaps even requiring a pair of glasses. Yes, that was it. The dragon couldn’t be that big.

The dragon was definitely that big.

Kohga seriously should’ve considered luring Sheik away to a place where there was far more space. It was too late now, however. The dragon had touched down, so lightly it barely caused a sound, not even a rumble in the earth. Was it staying quiet on purpose to hear the musical chimes, or was that simply how it was?

The dragon lowered its head, peering at everything with one, eerily piercing red eye. It seemed that as long as the device was powered on and made sound, Sheik would stay. Hopefully.

Although, now that Kohga had him here, he didn’t know what to do. It didn’t quite feel the same, there was almost nothing of that familiar quiet presence he loved having around so much. Sheik, in all his draconic glory, did not seem to have any clear thoughts. There was no hint of that flat stare he was so used to, none of the mocking without insult that he remembered.

He refused to believe it. It was Sheik, it had to be. He was in there somewhere, Kohga was absolutely certain about it. He would not accept the alternative. He let the disguise fall. It would be alright, just for tonight. No one but the members of his clan were around, it would be perfectly fine. Just for tonight. Strange how he didn’t feel the stabbing pain behind his eyes this time.

“You in there, blondie?” he asked, reaching up to lightly tap at the very tip of his snout. It was all he could reach.

Sheik had zero reaction to his question, head lowering until it rested against the ground. His long, serpentine body wrapped and coiled around the surrounding area, blocking roads, crushing plants, startling a few wild horses into racing around in the distance. He seemed content to just lie there, his flowing mane tangling around the tents in the camp.

He didn’t even react to being touched by someone other than Kohga, a few curious soldiers’ hands against his scales garnering not even a twitch from the dragon. The members of his clan were all gathered around the dragon now, after their great leader had deemed it safe enough. Sheik didn’t seem to think much of it, his lack of reaction all too quickly becoming the norm.

Kohga just stood, awkwardly patting the soft fur of his snout. He hated the lack of reaction, it wasn’t the Sheik he knew. The Sheik he knew would have had some sort of response, even if it was small and subtle. The dragon was simply letting it all happen, seemingly content to lie still and just exist with the Yiga for as long as the device produced music.

Kohga hated it.

He gave the dragon’s snout a more insistent pat, stepping forward until he was in his line of sight. Which wasn’t hard, his eyes were nearly as big as Master Kohga was tall, he could probably see incredibly well.

“Blondie. Earth to blondie.” he said. All he got was a slow blink from the dragon, that eerie red eye staring off into nothing. He tried again.

“Sheik.” Nothing, not even a blink this time.

He tried again.

“Sheik. Helloooo? You in there?” he asked, tapping at the dragon’s snout. It huffed, just a small puff of air really. That had to be a good sign, it had to be. It had to be.

“If you can hear me, give me one of those flat stares you always do. Or— wait, no, that’s dumb. Uh.... No, you can’t really talk either, I guess.” he muttered to himself, wracking his brain to try and think of something. He stroked the soft, short fur of its snout as he thought. “Blink twice if you can hear me?”

The creature blinked once. Only once, that same, blank stare directed at some far off point beyond what a mere mortal could see. There was not a single thought behind those eyes, not one glimmer of familiarity that he could find. The dragon may as well have not been seeing him at all, as if he were completely invisible.

His fingers stilled, frozen part way through petting the dragon’s muzzle. The dragon either didn’t notice or care, it still had no reaction to anything that was happening. He was suddenly very grateful for the mask he wore.

He didn’t have the strength to keep standing, instead choosing to sit by the dragon’s face for a while. He didn’t feel like getting up and moving anytime soon. He just sat in silence, fingers stiffly running over the fur of the dragon’s snout. It seemed content, a quiet rumble deep in its throat at the touch. Kohga couldn’t bring himself to be happy about it.

He didn’t feel much of anything, really, save for a heavy weight in his chest. It hurt, more than anything had in recent years. Everything felt much too heavy, and he desperately wished it didn’t. He’d thought that having Sheik near would make him feel better, he wouldn’t lie he’d been more than devastated at his disappearance. Both of them, even if he’d returned the first time.

Sheik wasn’t coming back this time. In body he certainly had, Kohga was literally petting him at that moment as weird as that was to say about someone. But that seemed to be it, as far as he could tell. Could he really even be called Sheik anymore? Was Kohga just deluding himself? Had he finally spiraled so low he wasn’t even in reality anymore? He didn’t know which was worse.

He sighed, propping his head up with one hand, smoothing down the dragon’s ruffled fur with the other. The dragon radiated warmth, he would certainly not be cold tonight.

He started talking, voice quiet, barely more than a whisper now. The dragon would be able to hear him regardless, those giant, pointed ears weren’t there for no reason after all. He just didn’t want anyone else to hear him right now. Not that they were paying much attention to him, his clan were very fascinated by the gentle creature Sheik had become.

“So.... how’s life been?” he asked. “Been a while since we’ve seen each other, blondie. Never did thank you properly for that rescue a while back. I really appreciate it. Hope you didn’t mind me taking a nap on your forehead though, I didn’t have much of a choice. Not all of us can fly, you know.”

He wasn’t getting a response, but by this point, he didn’t expect one. He didn’t know if his chest would hurt more or less if he did get one. He traced patterns in the dragon’s fur. The dragon’s rumble was almost sweet, appreciative of the touch.

“So yeah. Uh, thanks for saving me.” he said, giving the dragon a little pat. It earned a small nose twitch from the beast, and a tiny huff. It was almost adorable, at least for a massive dragon.

Kohga couldn’t bring himself to smile at it. “Anyway, my life’s been pretty good. Gave your harp back to your uh.... niece? Yeah, niece. So it’s safe, don’t worry about it or anything. Then everyone’s least favorite hero showed up, and that’s about how I found out about your whole situation. And long story short, here we are now. Talking. I mean, I did promise to be there no matter what happened, so here I am. Ta-da.”

He was running out of things to say. Every word felt hollow, empty, waiting for a response that would never come. He didn’t even feel like making a joke about it. He didn’t think Sheik would be able to hear it anyway.

But.... it did help to just talk. At least a little. Even if Sheik was no longer really around to hear him.

“Really wish you were in there, Sheik. Your family out there really misses you.” he said. It was not what he wanted to say. He didn’t think he had the strength to say what he really wanted to say. What did it matter anyway, when the one man he wanted to tell was never going to hear it?

Sheik deserved to hear it anyway. He leaned to rest against the side of his furry face tiredly, giving the dragon a final pat. He was comfortable, not even the chill of the night air bothered him, brewing storm on the close horizon be damned. He forced the words out.

“I miss you, Sheik.”

He said nothing more, his throat burned. He wouldn’t be able to speak without his voice wavering embarrassingly. He was the great Master Kohga, leader of the Yiga Clan. He did not cry, not in front of anyone, not this time.

The inside of his mask felt damp.

Chapter Text

It was a beautiful morning, sunlight streaming through the window and warming the cramped and cluttered room. A little songbird sat on the windowsill, tweeting it's happy little morning greeting. Purah was reluctant to get up this morning, she was not a morning person the way her younger siblings had been. Probably for the best, considering how they both ended up with occupations that meant a very irregular sleep schedule. She did not envy either of them.

Purah dragged herself out of bed, stretching with a deep sigh. She reached for her glasses with a yawn, giving them a quick clean with the hem of her sleep shirt before shoving them on. The blurry world came into focus, and she finally went about her morning routine. Hair brushed and tied up into a knot, fully dressed, a cup of tea in her hand, and she was ready for the day. She had no idea what time it was, but she felt refreshed enough to finally start her work once more. She walked outside to check on something, and had every thought purged from her scientific mind.

Distantly, she heard something shatter, her shoes suddenly felt wet. She paid it no mind. She could not look away from the sight outside the established fort she called her home while she conducted her research.

A long, dark serpentine body coiled around the landscape, white flecks dotting the length of it, a spine of vibrantly glowing spikes catching her eye first. Her stare followed the spikes from the tail, past the first set of legs, and winding through the wooded areas she could barely see into. She slowly lowered her goggles onto her face over her glasses, adjusting the sight.

Her vision zoomed in, following the rest of the body as best she could between the trees. Pale tendrils, almost glowing in the morning sunlight, spread out from the body near the head. A mane, paired with what she could only assume to be antlers jutting out above the treeline. She couldn’t really see the head, it was too obscured by woods and what almost looked like a camp. And some kind of spiky structure?

Tea and work long forgotten, she reached for the railing, gripping so hard her knuckles went white. It kept her grounded in reality.

Really, she’d thought her grandniece was imagining things when she’d mentioned seeing dragons. The possibility of her not imagining it was there, but that chance was fairly low, all things considered. She didn’t think Paya had imagined it anymore.

She rushed down the wooden stairs, past the gates, and out onto the road. There was no way she was passing up the discovery of a lifetime, not when it was so close!

She’d tell Link about it when he stopped by next, certainly. Perhaps he’d find a way to get it to help with their pesky little Demon King problem, he was great at doing things like that. Because honestly, how does one find the millenia old spirit of a missing fifth Sage, a Zonai no less, and cram it into a giant combative construct to help fight an ancient evil? Goddess only knew how that was possible.

But she was excited! She couldn’t miss out on something like this. She had been looking for a little inspiration for her next project anyway, and this was the perfect opportunity. But Purah did faintly wonder how a camp had been set up without her knowledge, though. She didn’t recall the survey team needing a camp so close.

It wouldn’t hurt to ask around.

Purah had slowed to a light jog as she arrived in the camp, faintly out of breath, her glasses slipping down her nose. It was way too hot out to be running without water to drink, but she’d been so distracted she hadn’t bothered. She didn’t quite recognize the Hylians dotting the camp, most of them just lounging with the dragon as if it was part of the landscape. She ignored the more and more stares directed at her, fixing her glasses, trying to catch her breath. Now that she was closer, she could hear the distinct chiming of a familiar song. Had the survey team gone and built a giant music box without her knowledge too? She surely would’ve heard about that project, the engineering behind it all was absolutely fascinating!

She swore she’d heard the song before, that was the part that lingered in her mind the most. It felt.... Off, somehow. Purah wasn’t sure what, but something definitely felt off.

She straightened, brushing off her coat. “Sorry for barging in. I spotted this.... being from Lookout Landing and I just had to see it.”

Some of the Hylians were getting up. One tall fellow in particular with a walking stick strode towards her. The air around them felt strange, like she’d walked into something she had not been meant to find. But how could she resist such a wonder?

The tall man with the walking stick simply regarded her with a look, studying her closely. “You came from the fort?”

She nodded, smiling. “Sure did. I usually don’t leave, but this was something I had to see. It’s not every day you see what looks like a dragon outside your window!”

“I see your point.” he said, glancing around. The dragon hadn’t seemed to notice anything amiss, Purah got the odd sensation it was looking through her and not at her. It seemed familiar, in the strangest way. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but she would’ve bet her life’s work that she’d met this creature somewhere before. When and where, she hadn’t the faintest idea, just that she had at some point.

What an odd feeling to have about a being thought to be little more than a myth.

“So, if you don’t mind, I’ll just give it a look and be on my way.” she said, slipping around the massive man. She ignored his protests, easily evading a rather half-hearted attempt to keep her from approaching the beast. She’d neglected to bring anything to take notes with, so her stellar memory would have to do until she had another chance to study it.

A quick prod with the end of her flute garnered no reaction from it, not even a twitch. It seemed strangely content to just lay in place, relatively uncaring of whatever touched it. She thought it odd for such a being to act that way, but who was she to question the actions of spirits? Not that it seemed particularly spirit-like. She imagined spirits to be more.... Translucent. Insubstantial, so that a person might accidentally walk through one without realizing.

It just blinked slowly throughout her short investigation, not seeming to truly see her, or anything else really. It unnerved her, in a way nothing else had managed to in recent years. It reminded her of her baby brother in a way, he’d always had a bit of an unnerving stare. She hadn’t seen him in a while, Purah hoped he’d stop by again soon. She rather enjoyed the questions he’d come up with while she worked on her experiments, it felt like he’d genuinely been interested in her research.

She put that aside for now, humming and pressing the flute against her cheek thoughtfully. Now that she’d seen the dragon up close, she knew she’d met it before. How she knew, Purah wasn’t certain. She just knew that she had. It felt way too familiar to be a coincidence, and her family did not believe in coincidence. At least not in a situation like this.

Sidestepping the long coils of its mane, she circled around the dragon’s head. Taking in the short, soft fur of its long snout, the way its nose twitched as she passed, the odd red marking around its eye.

The odd markings around its eye.

Purah took many, many steps back, all the way until she could properly take in the beast's appearance. Long mane, nearly white, with shorter and darker fur on its face. Eerie, vacant eyes with red markings too precise to be natural. She slowly held up her flute, tilting her head this way and that, squinting. It resembled the symbol on her flute way too much to be a coincidence.

What it meant, she didn’t know. And she couldn’t even begin to know, with so little knowledge on spirits to work with. She was a woman of science, spirits were more her sister's thing. She’d have to write to her about the experience, surely. Perhaps her brother as well, if she could find a way to get a letter to him. Goddess, so many letters to write, and so little time.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

She gasped, spinning on her heel. She was met with a Sheikah who looked none too pleased to see her, arms crossed and tapping her foot. The large hat was lopsided, tilted wildly as if she had rushed to put it on. Purah just blinked, flute dangling limply in her hand. The woman could’ve passed for her sister, had Impa been a century younger.

“Studying the mysterious creature?” she said slowly, twirling her instrument. She pointed with it as she spoke. “So, are you the one who set all this up? Made that little device over there?”

“Depends. Who’s asking?”

Purah frowned. “I am, of course. I like to think I usually hear about findings like this, instead of discovering about them on my own. It is right outside my doorstep after all.”

The woman huffed. “Well, excuse me for not mentioning it. I was in a hurry.”

“Right.” Purah slowly glanced back at the dragon. “So, assuming you’re the one who put this all together, I have to ask. How did all this happen?”

The Sheikah woman did not answer right away, her gaze sliding to focus on the dragon. For a moment she looked defeated, borderline miserable. “I was looking for someone, that’s all.”

Purah didn’t know what to say to that, tapping the flute to her chin in thought. “Well, I hope you find them, I guess? But I was asking about the dragon.”

The woman hummed. “Anyway, you should probably go. I don’t know how long that doohickey over there’s gonna keep him here. We were lucky it got his attention at all.”

“About that, what is it? I don’t quite recognize the song. I know I’ve heard it before, but I just can’t place it.” she asked.

“It was borrowed, and none of your business.” the unfamiliar woman snapped, the hat wobbling dangerously. Purah wondered how she got it. She certainly would’ve remembered if Paya had passed leadership so soon.

“I think it is, actually.” she said, lowering her goggles onto her face over the glasses she wore. “As I said before, you’re practically on my doorstep. And the last thing I need is to not know what is going on around Lookout Landing, I basically live there.”

“Not my problem, I have more important things to worry about.” she said, brushing past Purah. Purah was unperturbed, simply spinning on her heel to try and follow her fellow Sheikah.

Her vision zoomed in and out with dizzying speed, though Purah was experienced enough to deal with the sudden bout of nausea it brought on. Just breathe deeply, and she would be fine. She focused on details, the too smoothness of her skin and hair, the paint-like texture of the tattoo, the weird way the shadows cast upon the fabric of her clothes, not truly matching the way her hat was angled.

Subtle details no one short of a Sheikah trained to see would notice. And while she had not been trained specifically the way her brother was, he had taught her some of the more common things to look for. Mismatched textures and not quite right shadows, the mark of someone not quite good enough at illusions.

Or someone forced to hold one so long it was beginning to physically strain them.

Purah hummed, tapping her flute against her goggles. She watched the way the woman patted the dragon, smoothing down the fur in an area much bigger than her small hands suggested was possible. The gesture was almost loving, if despondent.

“Is one of those important things the dragon?” she asked.

The woman did not turn, more focused on picking out blades of grass from the creature’s blindingly pale mane. “Yeah, if you have to know. I’m working right now, so make like a banana and split, lady.”

She sighed, rubbing her temples. Her own strange feelings about the mysterious being aside, she wanted answers. And this woman was providing none of them, whoever she was. Something felt incredibly off about the entire situation, and she was unfortunately the least qualified person to figure it out. Her baby brother had been the one to do all the infiltrating and information gathering, he was the only one who could truly see through illusions. It was maddening he wasn’t allowed to share that magic.

Oh well, it wasn’t like he wouldn’t turn up eventually. He always did, and the next time her brother showed his face, she was absolutely forcing him to teach her how. Tradition be damned. She rubbed her temples even harder at the thought, biting back a frustrated groan.

She looked over the dragon one last time, taking it all in. The strange contraption she presumed was a music box of some kind, the Hylians either staring at her or inspecting the dragon. Everyone seemed oddly accepting of the fact that it was among them, especially the Sheikah she’d never met, who just so happened to be wearing the hat meant for the leader of her tribe.

The dragon itself was just as odd, if not even more so. She still couldn’t shake the feeling she’d seen it before, perhaps even met it, as strange as that sounded. She definitely would’ve remembered meeting something so impossibly grand. It wasn’t something one could forget.

Purah tilted her head, goggles lifted back onto the top of her head, flute pressed against her cheek in thought. The coloration was fascinating to look at, it implied it was meant to be in the dark somewhat, perhaps even as a guiding light in some shadowy place. Its antlers certainly seemed to glow with some otherworldly light, even as faint as it was in the light of day.

The darkness of its scales stood out amongst everything else. Perhaps it was nocturnal in some regard? She would certainly have to make a note of the odd markings when she wrote it all down. The thought of discovering perhaps something her people used to worship, or even based their entire symbology on, was absolutely worth investigating. It could change many things about what they had thought about their people, even shed light on things lost to even them.

Funnily enough, the longer she looked at the dragon, the more she was reminded of her brother. Mysterious in appearance, quiet, and apparently drawn to music in weird ways. She wasn’t even going to get into the whole thing with Princess Zelda, that was way too complicated even for her.

She hummed quietly, head tilting more. Just a short little tune, brought up by childhood memories of her siblings. They’d all used to play together before their brother was dragged up to the castle. Something about prophecies and bloodlines that she never really understood.

Even though Impa had never been musically inclined the way she and Sheik were, she could whistle and sing better than anyone she’d ever met. It made their childhood loud and fun while they were all still together. Back when her baby brother didn’t hide his face and still smiled without a care in the world.

So wrapped up in her thoughts she didn’t even register that the dragon was rumbling until well after it had started. Just a low, vibrating croon, barely at a register that could be considered threatening, but certainly loud considering its size. It had startled many into moving away from the beast, even the strange Sheikah woman had taken a step back. Purah stopped humming.

After a moment, the dragon stopped rumbling. She hadn’t noticed before, but now that its eyes started to return to something blank and distant, there had been a definite change. She hummed again, just the first few notes.

The dragon rumbled the next few, stuttering and halting and starting over from the beginning as if it couldn’t remember how the song went but it was desperately trying to. It eventually stopped trying, letting out a final huff before settling back down to distant silence.

A horrible weight settled in her stomach, churning and roiling like an awful sea monster dead set on sinking some poor ship. So few people knew that song, and only one of them came to mind when considering everything.

But it couldn’t be possible. Surely she was barking up the wrong tree with her line of thought. Surely.

She stepped up to the dragon, her hand resting lightly on its snout. The tanned fur really was as soft as it looked, one long ear twitching at her approach. For all that it seemed content to lay there and just simply exist, something about it seemed so incredibly melancholy. Like it was there, but not really.

Present in body, but not in mind.

She chanced a glance at the unfamiliar Sheikah woman. While she had taken a step back, after it was clear the dragon wasn’t going to do anything, she had returned to its side. Petting through the mane, though perhaps just a touch more hopeful.

“This isn’t just any old dragon, is it?” she asked.

Purah did not receive an answer for a long while, the woman’s hands frozen in the sea of white blonde. Then she flipped her hair, the hat wobbling dangerously. “Of course not.” she said, almost snapping. As if the question had personally offended her.

She nodded, turning back to the dragon. Still, she kept an eye on the woman, gauging her reaction. “It almost reminds me of my baby brother in a way. You know who I’m talking about.”

“....No?” her tone was uncertain, still highly offended, but now there was a touch of nervousness in her voice.

Click, snap. It took all her willpower to suppress her grin, giving a dismissive wave with her flute.

“No? But everyone in Kakariko knows Sheik. It’s a small village, everyone knows everyone.” she said. “Unless you’re not from Kakariko?”

Her wave was stopped midway, a hand gripping her flute so tightly she feared it might break. She almost jumped back, unable to pull it away. The woman was nearly nose to nose with her, and she suddenly felt very small.

“Sheik was your baby brother?”

Purah stared, her gaze moving from her flute, to the woman, to the dragon, then back again. That weight in her stomach sank further, dragging her down to a place she did not want to be.

“What do you mean ‘was?’” she hoped it was a misunderstanding. Just a case of using the wrong word. Anything except what ‘was’ implied. The look on the woman’s face, however, was not giving her any confidence.

The woman turned her gaze towards the dragon. It was the kindest expression she’d seen from her thus far, her grip on the flute loose enough Purah could step back. And step back she did, putting a fair distance between them. The dragon, of course, noticed nothing.

Purah regretted trying to provoke the woman into answering, whoever she was.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. Seriously, I wouldn’t have believed it if that pesky hero hadn’t shown me personally.” she said.

Her heart dropped, every drop of blood in her veins freezing solid. Only one person in Hyrule would ever refer to Link as pesky with that tone of voice. And by Hylia, she was considering fleeing. The weirdness of the situation suddenly clicked into place, and the knowledge of just how far she was from Lookout Landing was a very scary piece of information to have.

She was surrounded, and completely alone.

“Knowing Linky, anything can happen when he’s around. And I’ve heard some pretty unbelievable things from him. Try me.” she said. It was a miracle she could keep her voice level, the constant steadiness of the dragon under her hand was a helpful comfort.

The woman sighed, the sound coming out more frustrated than anything. She just about stomped her foot, she was so irritated by the persistence. Almost. “Fine, but only because Sheik’s your brother. That’s the only reason you deserve to know.”

Purah nodded, motioning with her flute for her to continue.

The woman reached out to pat the dragon, earning a small huff from the massive beast. “You’re petting what’s left of him.”

She blinked. She slowly removed her glasses, cleaned them on her shirt, and then placed them back onto her face.

“What.”

“Yeah. And I’ll be honest, I don’t think he’s coming back. I’ve tried— we’ve tried— to get him back. This is the closest we’ve ever gotten. He.... he doesn’t even remember me. And I’m unforgettable!” she complained, her voice wavering towards the end. It slipped into a far deeper register for the briefest of moments, clearing her throat seemed to fix it. She really should’ve realized who she was talking to sooner, in all honesty.

Purah turned to look at the dragon, at Sheik, and felt a weight settle in her chest. Perhaps she’d known, deep down, but having that confirmation (even if it was from a wildly unreliable source) was a different sort of upsetting. She took a deep breath.

It felt familiar, having someone she knew not recognizing her. This one hurt more than the last time though. “Does anyone else know? Besides Link?”

“Uh.... Lady Paya I think her name was? And Dorian. If those names sound familiar to you.” she said.

“My grandniece.” she whispered, more to herself than anything. She almost didn’t believe it, it didn’t feel real. More like a bad dream she was going to wake up from.

“I’m sorry, your what?? What is with your family and not aging??”

Purah tapped her flute against her cheek, her brain already working a mile a minute. Her own experiments showed that nothing couldn’t be reversed, so there was no reason this couldn’t be reversed. Push the emotions down, focus on the goal, experiment until you get it right. She could do this.

She could do this.

“Right!” she clapped her hands, twirling her flute with confidence she did not feel. “This calls for more work! Just a little mishap, nothing science can’t fix! I’ll have him back faster than you can say click, snap!”

“Did you not hear me? This is all that’s left. Sheik is gone.”

“Not on my watch! I’ll have you know I’m good at fixing experiments gone out of wack!” she said, turning on her heel to march out of the camp. How long had she been there? The sky was already changing color from the morning’s beautiful blue.

“Wha- this wasn’t some experiment!”

“Nothing I can’t fix!” she insisted. The hand on her arm stopped her dead in her tracks, nearly sending her tumbling to the grass with how hard she’d stopped.

“This can’t be fixed! That’s what I’m trying to tell you.”

Purah squawked, trying to regain her balance. The grip on her arm was really strong, and really painful. “There’s no harm in trying.” she insisted. Was everything getting redder? Everything definitely looked redder than before.

Their conversation never continued. The very earth rattled beneath them, the rumbling growing to a deafening roar within seconds. Purah would have fallen, were it not for the hand on her arm keeping her steady. It all ended within less than a minute, the ground so startlingly still it was hard to stand afterwards.

All movement in the camp ceased. The silence was so, so loud. Purah thought she’d gone deaf.

The dragon lifted its head for the first time, rising to stand on its frontmost set of legs. It remained unmoving for a long while, staring off towards the castle. The sky had turned a bloody crimson, the clouds rolling with a dizzying speed. The violet glow of its antlers and spikes fought against the overwhelming scarlet valiantly, barely making a dent in the sudden shift in color their world had taken. It looked otherworldly against the red tinged scenery.

Its mane shifted in the updraft that began to grow stronger, swaying in the wind. Purah tried to  backtrack far enough away that she wouldn’t be stepped on, unable to move very far with the hand on her arm.

With a speed no one could imagine from such a slow and gentle creature, the dragon launched itself into the sky, talons leaving behind deep gouges in the earth. It let out a cry, full of fury and gnashing fangs. It swam through the air, zipping towards the castle as if nothing else mattered. The castle itself shook, something very big and serpentine crashing through the outermost buildings and into the sky.

It was as if the Calamity had returned, solid Malice cascading from the main body like rain, poisoning the ground below. A drop landed in their camp, destroying the machine producing the familiar music. From it, monsters of hatred embodied in flesh and Malice dragged themselves into the light, screeching in tandem with their draconified master.

The first one lunged at Purah, claws tearing through her coat. She hit the ground hard. Distantly, she heard a scream.

It was hers.

A sickle buried itself in the monster’s skull, the beast dropping dead and fizzling away. Just as quickly, another took its place. The woman stood between Purah and the monsters, her disguise falling away in a puff of smoke and talismans. In all his wacky and murderous glory stood Master Kohga, leader of the Yiga clan. Defending Purah from near certain death.

Smoke overtook the camp as each disguise was cast aside, a footsoldier appearing at her side with a bow drawn.

“Master Kohga, monsters are appearing all over Hyrule field. We’ll be overrun.”

The man huffed, expression hidden behind the mask as another creature from Purah’s nightmares fell to his blade. “Okay, new plan! That fort has nice defenses! We fight off these nasties from there.”

Purah was nearly stunned at the speed and efficiency the Yiga Clan responded to the bare bones idea of a plan, a yelp escaping her as the Master himself simply grabbed her and tucked her under his arm like a sack of Hylian tomatoes.

He didn’t flee until every last member had vanished, taking Purah with him in the telltale puff of smoke and paper. Lookout Landing was in chaos, no one had been prepared for the attack, monsters had trickled into the camp.

Not a single soul knew what to make of the Yiga Clan’s arrival and subsequent defending of the fort, and Purah didn’t blame them. She was still reeling herself. A few resourceful members had even managed to wrangle some of the Zonai tech into working, and were using them to fight off a Malice Hinox that was slowly lumbering towards the fort with startling success.

Purah was dropped rather unceremoniously onto the wooden platform that served as the front porch to her home, Master Kohga twirling his sickle and handing out orders like it was second nature.

She didn’t know what made her look up. Maybe it was to avoid the chaos of battle, maybe it was to avoid seeing the people she knew and worked with potentially slaughtered. But she did.

In the distance, hurtling towards the writhing Malice condensing itself into something resembling a horned serpent, was another dragon. This one was slender, with a gold mane and pale body. Its horns glowed with a sacred blue light, and it was zipping through the sky with a kind of divine determination she’d only ever seen on one woman before.

Of course Link would wrangle dragons into fighting the Demon King with him.

Chapter Text

Balanced precariously on the forehead of the world’s gentlest being, sword drawn and shining with a divine light, Link was starting to wish he’d brought a thicker coat. The wind whipped his hair, stabbing right through the cloth of his green tunic and chilling his skin. And the Light Dragon still took him higher and higher into the sky, twisting and weaving through the violently thrashing serpents trying to rip each other to pieces around them.

The white maned dragon, as gentle as it had seemed in Link’s initial discovery, roared and practically zipped around in circles around the draconic form of the Demon King. Snapping at limbs, talons tearing at scales. The smaller dragon was so quick, the Demon Dragon couldn’t turn fast enough to get a good hit on him. At some point, it seemed to give up, turning its attention to Link and the Light Dragon. Its mouth opened, spewing flames of pure gloom into the sky. A solid glob of it built up in the back of the demon’s throat, bubbling up and over.

The Shadow Dragon lunged, teeth clamped on one curved horn of many, and twisted. The spat glob of gloom sputtered off in a wild curve, nearly grazing the golden mane of the dragon he rode on.

I’m high enough.

He leaped. The rushing winds nearly tore the hat from his head, his dive wild and uncontrolled. Without him, the Light Dragon joined the battle, swirling and almost dancing in the air where the two dark scaled ones were spiraling wildly, deafening roars echoing across the land.

The dive was second nature at this point, even as sore and tired as he felt. It didn’t matter, he had no thoughts rattling around in his head save for surviving and defeating the Demon Dragon once and for all. He had to, to protect the kingdom.

To protect Zelda.

Arms outstretched to catch as much air as possible, he veered to the right. The Demon Dragon’s attention was split between the twin dragons, one twirling just out of reach and the other just about bullying the much bigger dragon into fighting it instead.

How much of it was for Link, and how much of it was just millenia of pent up anger at the draconified Demon King, he wondered.

Link dove, veering hard to the left, just about slamming face first into the Demon King’s massive bejeweled forehead. His sword never left his hand, and he managed a wobbly crouch. Balanced on his knees, the Master Sword pointed downwards, he buried it deep into the giant, curved stone. It cracked, hairline fractures scattering across the surface.

He hit it again. And again. And again.

Fractures became cracks, cracks became shards, shards became splinters.

He stood, stabbing downwards with all his strength. The jewel split apart, glowing dust and light shooting off in every direction, a near gold substance leaking from the shattered stone like blood.

The dragon screamed, rearing back so violently that Link was thrown into the air like a ragdoll. A rarely heard yelp tore from his throat, the broken pieces of his shield raining down around him. He didn’t fall far, his back hit something soft and warm. The Light Dragon.

He rolled to sit up, sword still locked in his grip, the breath in his lungs unable to fully fill them. The Light Dragon carried him through the reddened skies, putting distance between them and the Demon King. Not far behind was her shadowy counterpart, gliding to swim through the air alongside them, its eerie red stare locked on the draconic embodiment of evil.

The Demon Dragon exploded.

The shockwave nearly ripped him from his spot on the dragon’s head, the light as blinding as though the very sun had decided to fall. It took but moments to fade, the redness of the skies and quickly rolling clouds fading and returning to normal. And then to a strange, greenish blue color. Together, the three of them ascended higher and higher, no amount of tapping on her forehead would dissuade the dragon carrying him from her course.

The clouds condensed around them, and he suddenly could no longer see or feel the dragon under him. Yet he did not fall, hanging suspended in a greenish tinted nowhere. He sheathed his sword, fingers unlocking from their death grip for the first time in potentially hours. It was warm here, comfortably so.

His hand was normal. He stared at the skin, no longer a shade of warm, greenish grey and wrapped in a strange bronze looking sort of gauntlet. He flexed his fingers, turning his arm this way and that. Completely normal, like it had been before the Upheaval. But wait, what was that faint outline of a set of triangles on the back of his hand?

A hand landed on his shoulder, glowing and transparent, breaking him out of his curious investigation. He looked up, at the familiar spirit of a king long since dead staring back at him. Rauru. A second presence beside his other shoulder made him turn to look, baffled by the feeling of warmth and kindness that hadn’t been there before.

The spirit of a Hylian woman, equally wise and kind, stood next to him. Her long hair flowed to her ankles, her dress near identical to the one Zelda had been wearing thousands of years ago. He’d never met her, but he’d seen multiple memories of her, including her sudden death.

He couldn’t voice his confusion, not even his fingers seemed to want to form the signs he needed to ask. But it seemed that he didn’t need to. Rauru, without speaking, inclined his head towards the endless sea of still clouds. He turned to look.

Eyes closed, floating in the green sea of misty nowhere, the pair of dragons seemed to be peacefully asleep. Curled up together without a care in the world, the Light Dragon resting her head on her twin’s mane, they looked content just existing in this strange realm of nothing but clouds and mist.

Link’s heart hurt. He promised to find Zelda, to bring her back. But was the Light Dragon even truly Zelda anymore? He didn’t know.

He just knew he missed listening to her talk. He missed her smile, and the way she always lit up when she discovered something new. He missed her. So much so that he’d considered asking Sheik to join him on his quest many times, just to have someone around.

At least someone who wasn’t a vaguely eerie, spirit projection of the vows his friends had made to him. But now he wouldn’t even have that, at least he assumed so. He didn’t remember how to call upon the Sage’s vows anymore, and Sheik was in the same state as Zelda. He was almost alone again.

He didn’t want to be alone again.

Rauru’s hand placed over his, guiding it up, palm facing outwards. Queen Sonia’s hand laid over top both of their hands, a warm, golden light radiating out. For a half second, he thought he almost saw another hand, unfamiliar, before the bright glow obscured his view of their layered hands.

He wanted Zelda back. Sheik too, for Link considered him almost a friend. A bit of a recluse, but no less a friend than Tulin or Revali had been.

He wished for it.

The glow grew stronger, almost blinding, Link could barely see even if he squinted. It lasted a good minute, then slowly faded away. He blinked, rubbing his eyes to make sure he wasn’t seeing things. He prayed he wasn’t seeing things.

Zelda and Sheik. Looking exactly as they had been thousands of years ago, though now fast asleep and lingering in the same misty void of the strange realm they were in. For the first time in over a hundred years, the tears that had been pushed down for the sake of his duty finally started to fall.

The hands laid over his fell away, the presences at his side drawing back, and he turned to look. Rauru and Sonia had joined hands, just watching him as they began to fade away. He almost thought he saw a third spirit somewhere behind them, but he blinked and it was gone. He didn’t even have the time to wave farewell before the old king and queen were gone, leaving him and the two sleeping blondes behind.

The clouds were moving now, rolling away with the gentle breeze. The breeze picked up, rushing past him and whipping his hair away from his face. It was cold, the chill seeping deep into his skin. He fell into the rising clouds, unconcerned with where he might end up.

He blinked, and suddenly the world was no longer green. The clouds were wet, soaking him to the bone. The sunlight was bright, the sky as blue as his old Champion’s tunic. The ground was above him, far off in the distance.

Wait, no. He was upside down. And falling fast. He struggled to right himself, a startled panic hitting him with all the force of a Stone Talus. And it suddenly hit him so much harder.

Zelda was falling so much faster than he was, and so far away she was just a colored blip against the clouds they were falling through. He couldn’t even see Sheik from where he was.

He dove. Faster and more panicked than he’d ever dove before. He reached for her, and reached, and reached—

And he caught her.

Chapter Text

“These things just don’t know when to quit!”

Kohga was flat out exhausted. The air choked with the lingering smoke of everything he summoned to fight the neverending horde of monsters, the ache deep in his eyes building to near borderline unbearable levels. Still, he kept it up, aiming massive balls of spiked iron and sending them spinning wildly into the gooey monsters with all the force he could muster.

The camp was a flurry of activity, his archers lining the walls and firing upon the creatures. If any got too close, the footsoldiers zipping around on hastily stuck together Zonai tech would ride on by and slice them up as they passed. A glider floated around in the skies, fans keeping it in the air and a mounted cannon firing at a near constant rate. Seriously, did those things ever actually run out of ammunition?

The third Hinox of the long battle was dangerously close, lumbering towards the fort almost uninhibited. Arrows stuck in its malformed hide, the goopy Malice eating away at the wood and absorbing it like a twisted feast. He summoned another ball of spiked iron, the inverted weeping eye symbol’s glow completely lost in the abyssal redness the world had been consumed by.

The strain was almost too much, the ball sinking from where it hovered. He didn’t let it hit the ground, a hand curled into a tight fist. He swung, nailing the conjured ball of spikes so hard he felt something crack (his fist or the ball, he wasn’t sure), and launched it across the field.

The Hinox hit the ground so hard, the very earth shook beneath the titanic beast. It still wasn’t dead. Quite the contrary.

A sickening squelch filled the air, the Hinox’s body rupturing down the center and caving in on itself. The Malice of fallen monsters coalesced around it, sinking into the broiling puddle of hatred and slick slime. It puffed up, growing larger and larger like a pus filled boil about to burst. It exploded, the misty Malice condensing into not one, not two, not even three, but four separate hybridized monstrosities.