Chapter One - Shadow

If there is one thing that separates humanity from the rest of living creation, it is the ability to reflect upon your decisions – from the tiniest of choices to the series of events that make up your entire life – and hope beyond all reason that you had done it differently.

It makes no difference. Prayers are nothing but the shape of our own faults, spun into words and flung into a world we can never reach, just as an excuse for our own inaction. And yet, despite all we know and hold to be true, people still cling stubbornly to the belief that these little vessels of faith hold the power to turn back the clock and make even our wildest of wishes come true.

It would be easy enough to blame it on the Sheikah – or more accurately, the way they raised me. The first thing they taught me was never to speak unless spoken to. Second was not to show emotion; sentiment is the gateway to weakness. Third, do not form attachments – worldly things are deadly tools your enemies can use against you.

But the fourth rule, the most harshly enforced and obstinately undying principal, the one that undermines even the most miniscule aspects of Sheikah society, is this: obey without fail.

So even when told I was to capture the Princess of the greatest Kingdom in the world, I did not object.

If there is one thought that haunts my mind even now, it's what exactly the distinction is between a human being and a tool. Even at that point the thought has crossed my mind before – "tool of the accursed clan" had been spat at me on the dying breath of more than one of my targets – and the answer had seemed so, so simple: human beings have loyalties, while tools are a brand of weapon that do not differentiate between the hand that wields them and the hand they sever. I never suspected just how wrong I could be.

It would be pointless to say I regret accepting the mission. I simply scanned over the drawing of her Royal Highness Zelda and the blueprints of Hyrule Castle Seif handed to me, and, ignoring Impa's concerned stares, bowed in acceptance. Because even if I said I regretted it, it wouldn't change anything. Because even if I said I regretted it, I know now, that in the deepest, darkest, wisest part of my heart, I would be lying.

Because that mission saved me; saved me in ways that, even now, I am only beginning to understand.

I perched upon one of the great spires of Hyrule Castle, allowing the cool spring air to billow through my cloak as I ran the plan over in my head for what must have been the fiftieth time. The courtyard below was awash in mellifluous moonlight, a pastel sheen sparking off the gently swaying leaves below. A darker night would have done me well, as the moon was large and bright as a lily white sunrise, but the orders specifically said "to be carried out by the fortnight's end."

I drew in the chilled air and gripped my sword tighter, closing my eyes against the daunting prospect before me. Even then I suppose I had enough sense to feel nervous before attempting to single-handedly invade the most well-guarded fortress in all the kingdom, despite the years of training that told me to erase all traces of emotion from my heart.

Gathering my nerve, I pried my eyelids open and inspected the scene once more: 12 Guards, two each at all three entrances to the courtyard and two in front of the castle's main entrance, as well as four patrolling the entire girth of the enormous space. Each was equipped with a lantern, lance, and full-body armor. Several of them looked drunk, or were chatting away idly without a care in the world.

One patrolman in particular was hanging his head so low in exhaustion that it looked like his helmet would slip off at any moment. He would be the first target.

I shifted my position on the spire so that my hands were held as if in prayer, but dared not cross my legs in case I slipped. Breathlessly, I murmured the 5 sacred precepts, as was tradition before missions. I remember thinking then that the whole ordeal would have been so much easier if it was just another assassination instead of a capture order – though the first precept clearly states that to harm even the smallest of lifeforms is vile and should only be preformed when absolutely necessary.

I opened my eyes once more, all hesitation gone, and peered down at the target guard. The orange glow of his lantern crept out from behind a bush, and soon his silhouette, sallow and pitch black, stepped out into the open. Ten seconds and he would be directly below me. I narrowed my eyes and urged him forward, longing to get the whole thing done and over. He seemed to crawl along at a snail's pace.

Five seconds. I tightened my grip on my broadsword.

Four. Three. Two.

I snatched in a hasty breath -

One.

I flung myself upon him, wind whipping through my hood as my hilt hit his neck with a reverberating clang. He slouched lifelessly into the crook of my arm. I caught his lantern deftly and threw it into the nearest hedge. A blaze started instantly.

I dropped his body and receded into the shadow of the wall, the smell of panic rising to my nose as the more aware guards caught sight of the small inferno. I watched intently as the clumsy form of one of the door guards prodded his partner awake and began running towards the commotion.

I instantly shot along the shadow's edge, hurdling off the wall towards the groggy guard and knocking him unconscious before he could turn around. I snatched up his keys and snapped them in the lock to prevent anyone else from opening the giant oak door before sliding it closed behind me.

The entrance hall was massive. The two stone staircases were like snakes of ivory viciously circling in a never-ending ceremony; the crystalline chandelier a raptor waiting to swoop down in the dull greyness. I only paused to take it in for a moment before stealing up the crimson waterfall of carpet and darting down the third-story west wing corridor.

It was a nauseatingly large hallway, marked only by rows of empty armor and candles waltzing in the iridescent darkness. I hugged the wall as I came to the plain birch doors I knew to lead to the kitchen and servant's quarters. I could hear a medley of voices playing faintly against the large slab of wood, but could see nothing through the rusted keyhole.

I leapt back suddenly as I felt a jerk through my senses – the crunch of a handle, screech of laughter, flood of light, and the door opened. From the shadow of a suit of armor, I watched what looked to be a young milkmaid and stable boy emerge, the reek of alcohol and musky lust accompanying them. But they were of no significance.

I took in as much as I could of the chaos beyond the door. The number of late-stayers was immense; they danced in broken circles, laughter and merriment radiating off of them in droves but the stench of greed and envy creating a thick undercoating. I wrinkled my nose.

I eliminated the possibility of passing through directly and instead summoned the image of the castle's ventilation system to my mind. There was a small vent connecting this hallway to the kitchen, and one from the kitchen through the boiler room and weapon's storage that led to the upper bailey.

I scanned the wall quickly and found what I was looking for about two meters off the ground to the left of the door, conveniently placed near a brass candle holder. Nothing a Shiekah assassin couldn't handle.

Reluctantly, I stepped out into the wide open hallway and backed several meters away from the wall. Tensing my legs, I sprung forward and sprinted towards the wall, jumping up off the stone surface and grabbing the candlestick. It was surprisingly hot, and I swung myself over to the vent opening with hasty vigor. Though only my fingertips were inside the shaft, I could tell it was cold. And dusty. Very, very dusty.

I sighed inwardly before hauling myself into the small opening. Very, very dusty was an understatement. It was more like the grime of several centuries had accumulated in one, narrow spot, and the chilly air streaming through it flung spiderwebs into my face the instant I entered. That was probably the first time I felt more than slight disillusionment with the servants of the castle – even forced to live in the shadowed caves of the mountains, the Sheikah would never allow their living quarters to become so dirty. But of course, I was a high and mighty Sheikah, so I couldn't allow myself to be too upset with them. They were meaningless, after all.

Also, seeing as I was so important a person, I had to crawl though the muck with a sword as long as me and could not allow my cloak to get caught in too many cobwebs, because Sheikah are always supposed to be elegant.

I crossed the kitchen by jumping across the high cabinets with no problem, but soon had to face the terrors of yet another archaic ventilation shaft. I imagine I must of at least felt slightly relieved when I finally reached the cool night air once more. I dropped noiselessly down onto the upper bailey (walkway on top of the outer wall) and observed the long stone pathway before me tensely. With battlements, angled spikes, and strategically placed archers, it was almost impossible to access from the outside. Apparently, the King never expected someone to come in through the front door.

I inspected the looming shadow before me – the tower where my target lay, unaware. Like strokes of ink, it sparked, jet black, against the overbearing face of the moon. I scanned the surrounding towers for archers, but finally had to face the three-meter wide pathway before me. I took a deep, calming breath, and shot forward.

It seemed like an eternity of glancing over my shoulder before I was finally pressed against the tower's base, though it had probably only been a few seconds. I gathered my thoughts and pressed my ear to the giant iron keyhole, trying to ascertain how many guards the King had stationed to protect his precious daughter. Four – no, five men lay within, their long drawn breaths telling me every one of them was asleep.

I took a few steps back and raised my greatsword high into the air, swiftly bringing it down in a sharp arc that cleaved the lock in two. I caught the iron mass before it hit the ground, gently placing it off to the side so as to not make any noise.

The elegant wooden door was excellently oiled, so I could enter with all the silence of an owl in flight. Through the navy darkness, I could see the figures of the men spread rather haphazardly around the circular room, the moonlight glazing the blankets so that they appeared to be part of a painting.

I knew instantly something was wrong.

My eyes darted frantically around the room. No, there were definitely only five men – so why did I feel like I was being watched? I shrunk internally, the shadows on the walls seeming to stretch out and leave me wide open and defenseless. Then someone grabbed me.

Instinctively, I slashed my blade backwards and the grip on my cloak vanished. I whirled around only to come face to face – er, chest – with a man nearly a head and a half taller than me. I hissed in a narrow breath. Towering above me, his amber eyes narrowed in bemusement and his massive arms crossed with annoyance, was a Gerudo. A Gerudo male.

He took me in slowly, finally stilling his eyes when they reached my hooded face. There was silence for a moment, my heart ramming up against the interior of my ribs, but my cloaked figure held stark and sure. Finally, he spoke.

"I do not know why you have come here, Shadow, but if you wish to do harm to her Highness, you must first go through me."

We glared at each other like circling dogs for a few moments more, each sizing up the abilities of the other and coming up with an appropriate plan of action. Then all hell broke loose.

He brought out his blade with blinding speed and I hardly had time to duck. He whirled around to switch hands and brought the gigantic sword back around, but I flipped over his head and launched off the wall behind him, striking at his neck. He smashed his gauntleted wrist into my blade a moment before it would have made contact, throwing me off balance in mid-air. His other fist streaked towards me, but I feigned left and kicked down off his extended arm to roll into a crouching position. In a split-second decision I went for his legs, but stopped short as my peripheral vision caught his sword stabbing down from above.

I rolled back and hardly avoided the impact, the whoosh of air playing along my forehead. I took the opportunity to leap at him, using his sword hand as leverage to flip over him and swing my greatsword back at his throat. He narrowly ducked and sidestepped to get out of range.

We paused, then, and I exhaled slowly and reassessed my options. I knew from the beginning that anyone who could conceal their presence from a Shadow was very dangerous indeed. I was surprised, however, to find the amount of speed he could muster while still commanding such brute force. Fighting him would be time-consuming. Not only that, but the other guards were already far on their way to being awake, some of them already bearing weapons. Though they had only woken seconds before, their attention was razor-sharp and it was obvious her Highness' personal guard wasn't a bunch of run-of-the-mill watchmen.

Even then, the idea of abandoning a fight didn't sit well with me. But, like I had been taught, the objective came first and foremost; any distractions, so matter how large, were to be ignored. Pride was just another obstacle.

I scanned the small room quickly before swinging my blade out in a full arc, smashing it into the weapons' storage and sending daggers and arrows scattering across the floor to hinder their movement. Though shocked, they recovered much more quickly than I expected and swept the carpet away, taking all the sharp points with it.

I turned to escape, but two surged forward and I had to do a spin parry, knocking them backwards into their companions. I had no time to relax, however, as three more came for me like wild dogs – perfectly coordinated in timing and aim. I remember the surge of irritation I had so long forgotten when one of them slashed my cheek, so I used his chest as a kick board to flip back onto the windowsill.

I tore the drapery from the window frame and threw it over the fray, not wasting a second in igniting it with Din's fire – there was no point is restraining myself from using magic now that they already knew I was a Sheikah. The men howled in panic and tried to tear the burning tapestry from their bodies, but I didn't spare them another glance before slipping out the window.

I stood on the small sill and contemplated how to scale the stone tower, but before I could move I cringed at a bone-crushing grip on my ankle.

I stared down in shock at the Gerudo, his sepia eyes alight with feral fury and his teeth bared in such a snarl that made even my heart shrink back. Though minor burns covered the entirety of his face, he lost no strength for the pain, and I could almost feel his fingernails digging into my flesh through my pant leg.

"How dare you defile her Highness' property!" he roared, clawing his way up the windowsill after me. Something snapped in my mind, and as if on instinct, I swung my blade straight down and through his wrist.

He shrieked in agony, clutching at the bloody stump like a wounded animal. Even I couldn't help but to shudder as I pried his still clenched fingers from my ankle. With more haste than caution I thrust my sword deep into the stone wall, using it as leverage to pull myself up the rough surface.

I tried to find a fingerhold in the near-flat stones, having to dangle by just one hand for several moments as I slid the sword out of the granite and onto its resting place on my back. Knowing I had little to no time, I clambered up the tower as a squirrel might scale a tree, eventually making my way to the vines that covered the entire east face. From there it was much easier – the vines were strong and sturdy and held my weight easily as I quickly pulled myself up to a delicate stained glass window. It was unlocked.

I caged my breath in my chest and silently slipped inside.

The room was awash in patches of rainbow-colored moonlight, streaming through the stained glass window and blanketing the darkness in pale iridescence. At first all was still, so utterly still, and I seemed very much alone in the calm night. Then, slowly, a heartbeat rose to meet my ears, and breath as soft as a feather riding the wind told me another was near.

And then I saw her.

She looked at me with eyes that contained all the oceans of the world. Harp golden strands of hair framed her ivory face, billowing elegantly around her slight shoulders. She quietly rose from her bed, and stared back at me with the cold regard of a statue; austere, precise, and utterly calm.

Even now, I'm not quite sure what it was that stopped me from moving. Her beauty, perhaps; her radiating sense of authority, more likely. But I think it was awe, awe at the fact that in such an overbearing presence of danger, she did neither flinch away nor call out in hatred. I knew better than anyone what lengths people will go to when faced with imminent demise, and had probably assumed that a Princess, if not only falling to these desperations, would expound upon them. How wrong I could be.

"...Do not take me for some feeble damsel," she stated slowly, eyes bearing into my hood, and I remember feeling her frustration at not being able to see my face. "I won't give in to the likes of you."

Faint yelling and footsteps from the stairwell reminded me that it wouldn't be long before her guards returned with a vengeance, and I even remember a note of panic being strung within my usually soundless heart. I lunged for the pressure point in her neck with my free hand, but recoiled more with shock than pain when a spark of magic shot up my arm.

"I...I told you I wasn't powerless," she stated, though her voice seemed slightly more disheveled and her eyes darted to the door to the stairway. The calls were growing louder, and now I could make out individual footfalls growing ever nearer.

With such unrefined magic, it would have been easy to overpower her – but something kept me from moving. I stared into her eyes, so vivid with determination and purpose, and I think I might have seen my empty reflection in them.

It... would be wrong to call it infatuation, or even curiosity. I suppose the best way to describe it would be a sort of respect; whatever it was, it kept me from knocking her out and carrying her away to her doom right there. My lack of action seemed to confuse her, though she still held her arms up in a makeshift defensive form. We held each other's gazes for a moment, before the footsteps escalated to a deafening crash and the door flew open.

Six men poured in, including the now handless Gerudo. I turned away from the Princess to face them, and if she made a sound, it was drowned out by the thunderous clash of metal.

I spiraled viciously and unarmed three of the guards, but two more surged forward in the blink of an eye. I parried one and narrowly dodged the other, his battle ax catching the fabric of my shoulder. With a strained swing I knocked him back, and with a gasp I shifted as an arrow whizzed past my ear and pinned my hood to the wall.

The Gerudo reared up before me, still oozing blood from his haphazardly bandaged wound, sword tightly grasped in his remaining hand.

Looking back, it's almost a little amusing to think that I considered allowing myself to be decapitated rather than having to remove my hood.

In a split second I rushed to the side, the heavy metal blade exploding on the spot where the mangled black fabric of my hood billowed with the impact. His eyes widened as he took in my face.

Judging from his expression, he wasn't expecting to find sky blue eyes and wheat blonde hair – obvious traits of a Hylian.

His shock quickly changed to anger as he pulled the blade from the wall and pointed it at my throat. "Why would someone like you work for the traitorous Sheikah clan!" I just glowered at him.

The Princess seemed just as stunned as he, and I glanced at her to find her mouth fly open as if to call out. It was in that tiny moment of distraction that I felt my head slammed brutally into the wall.

I gasped for breath as blaring white consumed my vision, but shook it off quickly to find myself completely surrounded. The Princess looked to be a sickly white, and the circle of guards swayed before me in resolute triumph. Then they rushed forward in sync.

With a haggard breath I leapt straight upwards, a huge clash of metal reverberating from beneath me. I landed on the mess of weapons and quickly did a back vault off it to the window sill, but in my stupor I slipped and plummeted harshly into the delicate glass.

As if stranded in hazy time, bits of stained glass flitted like razor-sharp butterflies, and I was vaguely aware of a feminine voice calling out through the wind that tore sheer white holes in the veil of black above. Then it was simply falling, falling...

My back slammed into a cubical stone and I flipped wildly, tumbling off and continuing my decent. I threw out my arm to catch at the stone wall, fingers scraping into the rough mineral with a searing hiss, but it did almost nothing to slow me down. My hand hit a jut and was thrown off the wall, sending me plunging down with the rain of debris. The ground kept screaming closer and I tried to right myself in the air, but my body wouldn't move no matter how hard I tried to make it. I landed in a lopsided roll, the soft soil of the ground hitting like a ton of steel.

I felt the air leave my lungs and realized my leg was twisted demonically beneath me, yet I could still feel the vibrant glass shower down like bits of rainbow-colored dust. I couldn't breathe.

And yet, the stars remained, like the sky was really just a big cloak over the truth of the world that only gave us just enough light to live on.

After what seemed like an eternity, the air flooded back into my lungs, leaving me to gasp and heave in the darkness.

I brought my moveable hand to my lips and gave a shallow whistle, though the only noise that arose was a whimpering breath. I tried again and managed to get a few notes out, but my lungs seemed to implode and left me no air to breathe with, much less whistle.

I looked passively up at the moon, wondering what it was that kept it from falling down and crushing everything. Then I noticed figures far above on the upper bailey pointing and shouting. With a dull crunch from my leg I heaved myself up, getting into as comfortable a position as possible, and watched with dull interest as one of them readied an arrow.

Then I heard it – the sound I'd both longed for and feared beyond all else. A low whinny followed by seemingly earth-shaking hoof beats told me that Epona had heard my call. Her form approached like a ghost of fire, though the night was as black as ever. She galloped up to me and slowed, kneeling to the ground to help me up.

I heard shouts of confusion from above, and an arrow struck the ground not a foot from where I hauled myself onto my mare's bare back. But then I stopped dead - I had no idea where my sword was.

Much to Epona's disapproval, I slid off her back and began searching around frantically for any sign of my weapon. Relief flooded my veins when I saw it lying a few feet away, and I clawed along the ground to reach it, Epona following nervously behind.

I stretched out my arm to its fullest extant, fingertips a mere inch from the golden handle, and yet I couldn't reach it. I tried to shuffle my way forward, but found my lower body wouldn't respond – then a pain like blue fire shot through my shoulder and a scream was torn from my throat.

I felt my arm quickly going numb, and for a moment, I was sure I was being sucked down into the earth – down to where all is close and quiet and there is no moon or mocking sky. Then Epona nuzzling my face brought me back up into the frigid night air.

I had no choice but to leave my sword behind or be either killed or captured, the biggest disgrace a Shiekah can face. I'm not sure how I did it, but somehow I managed to mount Epona, and she started at a slow trot as to not aggravate my already dire injuries. Arrows like dragons whizzed past my ears, and the undulation of Epona's canter was like being caught in a storm at sea. My arms hung limply around her neck, and the world spun in and out of focus with every meter further away from the ink black castle.

The adrenaline having worn off, I could feel a wight descending upon my mind and struggled futilely to keep my eyes open. It was then, caught between the crux of consciousness and eternal rest, that I muttered words that until much later in my life would make no sense to me: "Please, Epona... take me somewhere...safe..."

And with that the stars melted away and the world became nothing but pitch black.

-A/N: Hey! This is something I wrote quite a while ago, but I had a friend go through and edit it recently so I figured I might as well upload it. It doesn't take place in any particular game, but it will tie in with the timeline at some point. :) Oh, and one thing I wanted to clear up is that "Shadow" is a term that specifically means "Sheikah assassin" in the context of this story~ (I don't think I made that clear enough orz) So... I hope you enjoyed chapter one (I personally had way too much fun writing the scene where he falls out of the window...) and any constructive criticism regarding the wordiness, length, pacing, plot, whatever, is greatly appreciated! There will be more soon! :D