The Weeping Eye

Nexas: Okay. This is my first piece of fanfiction. It'll eventually be centered around Sheik (who I portray as a male, thank you) and Link. I know it's on the small size, but it's just a prologue.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Legend of Zelda, nor any of it's characters. However I do own Rao (a.k.a. the nameless woman you'll read about). If I did own the Legend of Zelda, Zelda would fallen off the face of the earth, Sheik would have been a man, and Navi would have been given to the Professor by Lake Hylia as a meal…Ah heh, heh…yeah. On with the story.

Prologue — Awakening

The silence stretched on deafeningly throughout the near-empty room, glassy ankle-deep waters still and undisturbed. A languishing fog was woven throughout the area, nearly obscuring the tree at the center of the room with its thick tendrils. Withered, gnarled, and twisted, the tree reached up into the illusion of a sky above. The bark had long ago rotted, the leaves dead and crumbling at the roots, yet, despite these details, it did not hinder the fact that said tree was remarkably still alive.

Strange how the same thing could be said about the room's only occupant.

Leaning up against the tree heavily was a young man. He too seemed to be dead, with his disheveled appearance and bloody form, his chest barely rising and sinking with each passing breath. But he was not. Like the tree, he seemed to be merely in a deep slumber amid the fog and silent waters.

He couldn't have been older than twenty winters, though his face was wrought with lines near his eyes and mouth — a consequence of the eternal nightmares that plagued his sleep. Locks of black hair hung in his face, matted and wet from the damp air, deeply contrasting with his ivory pale skin. Lips twitched into a frown, the brow furrowing for a moment, before his long and slender body relaxed, honed muscles releasing the tension his dreams brought him. Dressed in an ebony tunic and hat, white tights soaked from where his legs lay limp in the water, he seemed quite outlandish. The sword bandolier across his chest, carrying the scabbard for his blade, added to his peculiar appearance. Overall, the young man was quite handsome, for while his face radiated with hate and spite while awake, the crimson eyes were closed to oblivion, and his face was peaceful.

Until a nightmare overtook him, of course.

All of this was observed by a cloaked figure standing at the entrance of the mysterious room, the tassels of the mantle hanging in the waters. The being did not move, did not make a sound, but just watched the sleep shrouded young man. Time did not exist in such a place, where illusions fooled the unwary and ensnared the weak, and thus the figure stood and stared for what seemed an eternity upon eternities. Then, with a sudden step forward, the being fully entered the room and made it's way to the center, sending ripples gliding along the surface of the waters. Despite it's movements and the ripples, the being's leather bound boots made not a whisper of noise as they slowly came upon the tree, stopping only at the feet of the slumbering young man.

It crouched down, eye level to the man, and a hand whiter than snow reached out from beneath the folds of the cloak to touch his head. The man moaned something in his sleep, flinching away from the physical contact involuntarily, and the being paused, a soft sigh emitting from within the shadows of a hood. After a long moment, the being stood once more, brushing off the velvety cloak, before slowly moving around the body of the young man, dragging a boot through the earth about the tree. When it finished, the young man was in the heart of a wide circle. Satisfied, the being nodded and unfastened the cloak, hanging it on a branch of the black tree.

The young woman coldly regarded the man before her, pale blue eyes icy and intense. Unlike the young man, she looked to be over twenty winters, perhaps twenty-three. However, that age belied the knowledge and wisdom that gleamed in her eyes. Lithe and delicate seeming, the woman was not nearly as tall as the man, but her body was honed from hours of swordplay. She frowned at the man, tucking the strands of flaming red hair behind her sharply pointed ears, and put her hands on her hips. From the look on her face, she hadn't quite been ready to accept what she saw. A silk black dress clung suggestively to her body, low in the neck and not keeping much modesty. Her dark boots, heeled to give her a little more height, were laced tightly, though that did not prevent water from seeping into them. A leather belt was strangely also a part of her attire, hanging along her hips across the dress in an odd combination.

Yet that belt was needed to carry the long rapiers resting on either thighs, and the number of pouches that bulged with materials.

A strange air was produced about this woman. She was undeniably beautiful, though her stony face and harsh eyes easily had put off any would-be suitors. Perhaps it was the deadly way she carried herself, or the confidence in her movements that made her so eccentric. She was certainly a paradox of the normal housewife.

Pursing blood red lips, she bent over him and none too gently forced his mouth open before titling his head backwards. Then, untying a pouch from her belt, she opened it up to reveal a fine crimson powder, crushed from the rare herbs of her homeland. Kneeling, she carefully removed a handful of the red dust and sprinkled it on the man's tongue. Wiping her hand on his tunic, she closed the pouch and replaced it on her belt.

The young man's tongue immediately retracted at the taste of the bitter powder, before he unconsciously swallowed, nearly choking on the horrible flavor. Eyes flitted back and forth behind his closed eyelids, fingers twitching as they grabbed fistfuls of dirt.

Smirking darkly, the woman stood and closed her own eyes. Muttering words under her breath, her hands moved up in erratic patterns, tracing unseen symbols into the air.

"Verka," she breathed, ending her incantation and opening her eyes. "Awaken."

The air before her shimmered, and ever so slowly red runes became visible from her earlier tracing. They flashed brightly in the room, fully illuminating the man's face which was now contorted in pain. The hands that held the dirt were clenched tightly, drawing blood from his palms, and his mouth opened in a silent scream. His body jerked, head whipping from side to side as if he were trying to resist.

The woman snarled, dropped her hands to her sides, and glared daggers at the young man, daring him to continue defying her.

"You should be honored," she spat venomously, her voice laced with disgust, "that I would even travel from Writhen to revive your pathetic soul."

The young man's head rolled back in response, his hands now grasping his tunic in an iron grip. Anguish washed over his face, marring his beauty as he arched his back and desperately tried to fend off this offending power that sought to awaken him from his tranquil slumber.

Growling impatiently now, the young woman reached her arms into the air once more, about to cast a second incantation. However, the young man suddenly found his voice, and his screamed filled the room with a macabre echo as his crimson orbs opened, the irises contracted to tiny slits in agony. The scream has a slightly metallic rasp to it, as if it had not been used in quite some time, and it rolled about the room.

The woman only smiled sadistically.

Finally. The Dark One's creature had awoken.

His footsteps echoed down the deserted hallway, the sunlight beaming through the windows and reflecting off the white marble flooring, causing his vision to be dotted with hazy marks from the bright light. Shaking his head slightly, he edged closer to the wall away from the windows and determinedly kept his gaze from the floor.

Finally coming upon his destination, he paused before a mahogany door before letting himself in without knocking. An expansive library stretched out before him, bookcases brimming with books and scrolls. Heavy drapes lidded windows, and oil lamps hanging from the ceiling gave the dark room an ethereal feel. Various pieces of art adorned the walls, and in the back of the room, a desk and table could be found swamped in opened tomes and scattered papers.

…An appropriate place for the Queen to be.

Taking time to admire a painting on the wall, the man sighed quietly. The Triune it was entitled. Three exotic young women were shrouded in light, their hands stretched up to the heavens, the symbolic Triforce hovering above them. After a moment of silent contemplating, he turned away and abruptly headed down a row of crowded book shelves. Sensitive ears picked up the scratching of a quill, and he relaxed, now sure that his Queen was indeed in the Library.

He hated it when she disappeared on him like that.

Coming to a halt before the end of the shelves, he glanced around the corner. Situated in a stiff chair, a young woman poured over a book, occasionally stopping to scribble something on a leaf of paper. Her crown was absent from her cascading golden hair, and thus tresses hung in her delicate face, a hand coming to impatiently swipe them out of her vision. His Queen's eyes were shadowed, a result of sleep loss, and her dress was a little too loose on her slender form for his liking. Everyone was aware of the Queen's sudden loss of appetite, for it had come with the realization that her kingdom would never be the same…after…

Well, after he nearly destroyed it.

Swiftly discarding the dark thoughts that threatened to plague his mind, the man stepped from the shadows of the shelves and approached the oblivious Queen.

"Good morning, Queen Zelda," he said, his voice dry.

Her head snapped up at his words, and for a moment, he saw fear paralyze her as she gasped in surprise. Then, when her eyes focused on the man before her, recognizing him, her face took on one of shock. "Sheik!" she exclaimed. "Don't do that! Gods you frightened me!" She nervously twisted her elegant gown in her hands, refusing to meet her companion's blood red gaze as her heart rate began to slow. She had been so consumed in the writings that she had not even noticed him…a hand fluttered to her chest as she inhaled and exhaled heavily.

"I apologize, Your Majesty," he replied with a meek bow of his head, trying to ignore the guilt that wrenched his heart at the sight of Zelda. He should have known his sudden presence would have startled her. Two years after the defeat of Ganon and Queen Zelda had still not become accustomed to his rather… unannounced entrances.

"Oh, stop it," Zelda replied with a small frown, her slender brows furrowed. "Enough with the formalities."

Sheik's nose wrinkled at the command from behind the wrappings of his mask. Speaking to the Queen without her title made him feel awkward. "As you wish, Zelda," he responded curtly, cringing mentally. His ancestors were probably cursing his name for not properly addressing a member of the Royal Family.

Zelda relaxed visibly, giving him an encouraging smile as she sat back in her chair and marked her place in the book.

Clearing his throat, Sheik decisively decided not to bring up her 'disappearance' from breakfast that morning and instead moved to stand beside her chair. "My Qu — Zelda," he corrected himself in mid-word. "You have an audience with the people in an hour's time. Perhaps you should ready yourself." He watched as she blinked, as if coming out of a dream, and stared at him.

"An audience?" she repeated, looking weary once more.

The Sheikah nodded. "Yes. Do you feel all right, Your Majesty? If you wish, I can cancel the audience and you can rest."

Zelda seemed tempted by the offer, but the images of her people came to mind and she quickly shook her head. "No, Sheik. I cannot abandon my people's problems." She stood, the papers she had been writing on falling to the floor as she searched for her crown. Sheik, who had spotted the golden glint earlier, fished it out from behind a few books and silently handed it to her, uneasy with the state she was in. However, he had long learned that once Queen Zelda made a decision, she would be as stubborn as a mule in regards to changing her mind.

Zelda positioned the crown upon her head, silently thanking him. Then, after a while of uncomfortable silence, she asked the question that had been plaguing her for the past few months. "Have you seen him?" Her voice was soft, tentative, as if she feared the answer.

The young man felt his eyes slid close without his body's consent. "No," he answered, turning away so he did not have to see her tear filled eyes. "I have searched for him, Zelda, yet I have not heard from nor seen him."

"Where could he have gone?" demanded Zelda, furiously wiping the tears from her eyes.

Sheik had an idea where the Hero of Time had gone. But he would not tell the Queen in fear of how she may react. "I do not know," he lied smoothly, comfortingly placing a hand on Zelda's shoulder. Fantastic. He could almost feel his dead kin's flare of indignation at his untruth. Steeling himself, he continued. "But do not worry for him. Link knows how to take care of himself."

Weakly, Zelda nodded and allowed Sheik to steer her out of the Library, having already forgotten why she had been there in the first place.

The Sheikah stood atop one of the tallest towers of Hyrule Castle, his red eyes scanning the field below. Two years had passed since the fall of the King of Evil. Two years since anyone had seen or heard from the Hero of Time. Two years…

He frowned and sat back on the slanted roof, loose ends of the wrappings of his mask and arms being tugged about by persistent wind. Much had taken place after Ganon had been sealed away. The Sages had returned to their Temples to protect them from any oncoming dangers that might arise in the future. The people had eagerly helped in the reconstruction of the Market and the Castle, while they all sought to overcome their losses and the fears that had descended upon them in the past few years. Nearby Empires had vigorously aided Hyrule in its restoration, and finally, after two, two long years of toil and labor, Hyrule had been restored.

Yet it never would shine with the radiance it once had.

After Impa had retired to her Temple, Sheik had become the last of his people able to protect the Royal Family. Despite his wanting to find Link, he had acquitted himself of his fears for the young hero and had become Queen Zelda's Guardian.

And being the Guardian of a young woman who had the uncanny ability to vanish from sight was rather difficult. It wasn't that Zelda and Sheik disliked the other's company — quite on the contrary. However, the Queen had become far more secluded after Ganon had captured her in the Temple of Time. She spent most of her time in the Library, trying to drown herself in words she would instantly forget in remembering the fear and torment the King of Evil had put her through. At times she refused to eat, and the young man had nearly had a heart attack when she had collapsed of fatigue.

At first, Sheik had believed her depression to be an outcome at the hands of Ganondorf, or at least guilt for her people.

But he knew better now. Queen Zelda was in turmoil over Link.

He sighed and brushed back silky blonde hair. He too thought about Link often. He was burning with the desire to find the young man and explain everything. Explain how Rauru and Impa had transferred Zelda's consciousness into his body, explain why it was necessary for Zelda to keep in touch with him, and why he hadn't been there to aid them in the final hours of Ganon's reign.

But…Link was no where to be found.

The Sheikah muttered something under his breath about karma, glaring at the sun almost accusingly.

"You…are…not…him…"

"No."

"Then why…why do you disturb…my sleep?"

"Because I need you."

"I serve…only — "

"Ganondorf."

"Yes." Dark Link scowled, finally gaining some power of his wavering voice. His crimson eyes were flashing in anger from being awoken in such a violent manner, and still his body shook with pain.

The woman smiled callously. "I know," she replied sweetly. "But your Master has been sealed from Hyrule. What shall you do?"

Dark Link's scowl vanished as an empty feeling resided within him. Yes, when Ganondorf had been defeated, he had felt it. But he had never had the chance to think about it before he had been cursed into eternal slumber by that God forsaken fish-woman. He did not understand why or how this enigmatic woman had awoken him, but he was inwardly relieved he was no longer sleeping. "I do not know," he replied, his voice toneless as he managed to finally disregard the pain coursing through his aching muscles and body. He cocked an eyebrow. "What would you have me do?"

Her smile widened. "I would have you aid me in destroying the seal to our Master's prison."

Nexas: Okay, so what did you think? Trust me, Rao (once again, she's the nameless woman) is not going to be a Mary-Sueish character looking for romance with Dark Link. I might include romance in this story depending on what my readers want. Strangely, I was able to keep myself from Zelda Bashing…huh. Whadd'ya know? Anywho, I would love to hear what you guys thought. Bad, good, needs improvement?

Next Chapter: The mysterious woman and Dark Link are amok in Hyrule! Where is that darned Hero of Time anyways? Well, it's up to a certain Sheikah to find him!