Sanctuary

Sincosma

A/N: While based loosely on Ocarina of Time, this is mostly AU. This is a slash pairing and Sheik is a male.

Rating: M for blood, gore, and mention of torture.

Disclaimer: I am not making any profit from this works. Rights go to Nintendo.


|1. Dreams|

It was on one unremarkable day that it happened.

Deep in winter's icy breath, Link woke to the familiar sensation of cold and warm at once. His hands, feet, and face were frozen while the rest of his body was warm. It was a confusing sensation he had grown too accustomed to, the dim morning light a weak filter through ice-crusted windows. The fire in the stove pot had long burned out and he sat up with a quiet groan, facing the miserable cold to chase away his lethargy.

His morning rolled begrudgingly into motion as the fire was rekindled and his breakfast of beans and hard jerky was eaten in a silence only punctuated by the occasional song bird or distant bark of wild dogs. The small cabin creaked ever so slightly as a brisk wintry wind pressed the southern wall and the crack of ice abandoning its post on the stoop broke him from his unintentional stare at a leaning white tree out the window.

The day would be quiet and it would be his, as all days were those past six years.

Or he had thought it would be his until, in the prelude of a growing storm over the mountain peaks, Link heard the unmistakable crunch of a two-legged visitor. And maybe visitor was too kind a title—he had seen many a horror in his day to be so naïve to think this person meant well. Old habits were hard to leave behind and he held a dagger close as he shoved the door open through the piled snow outside.

Standing several strides away, a man swathed in thick white furs, hood, and cowl regarded him with mismatched eyes. A red iris watched while a cloudy white one did not, the former a shock of blood against the forever-white backdrop. He carried no weapon save a white staff, perfect and straight with a raw and red stone fixed to its top. The stranger leaned heavily on it and Link realized quickly that the man posed little threat, clearly exhausted and starved.

"Good morning," he called to the newcomer, voice rough from much disuse.

"And to you," the man returned, bowing his head in respect. "I do not mean to disturb you, but a storm comes and wondered if I might seek shelter until it passes. I can pay, of course."

Link felt himself start at the familiar language of the Goddesses; many people spoke it in this land but the cadence here was a far reach from that of Hyrule. This man's voice was accented in a familiar yet foreign way, reminding Link painfully of the deserts from his birthplace; it wasn't exactly a pleasant memory but those times were long behind him.

He glanced to one of the mountains standing guard against the west, the overcast sky a rolling, matte black and wicked winds fraying the powder of its summit. Yes, a storm would reach them soon and Link knew too well what traveling through one was like. A few moments passed as he deliberated this and the stranger stood patient despite the growing wind.

"I need no money, though I thank you. Come in and take shelter, traveler," Link said, attempting to smile in welcome.

The man bowed his head once more. "I appreciate it."

Once the door was closed to the gathering blizzard and the warmth ambled back into their limbs, Link tried his best to play host. It was a muscle long lost to atrophy but he poured two cups of tea and beckoned them to sit at the small table by his cot, looking out through the window slowly congesting with white powder.

"My name is Link," he offered as they sat. "Forgive me if my manners are lacking—it's been nearly many winters since I shared my company with someone longer than a few minutes."

The newcomer pushed back his thick fur hood to reveal a mess of long, dark blonde hair, but the cowl stayed intact. "I am Sheik," came the reply. "And I've spent nearly the same time away from people as well. Company is company so worry not, Link."

The name and Sheik's appearance rang a sharp bell in Link's mind and he frowned at the dark memories it summoned once more.

"You're sheikah."

A red eye and blind one widened as gloved hands pushed down the cowl. A sharp, bronze-skinned face stood out from the white light, two especially thick, white cicatrices could be seen at his pronounced cheek bone, dragging downward in parallel lines to his neck and out of sight. Perhaps that were inflicted at the same time as those that damaged his eye. Link shuddered to think what had caused such a collection of scars

Much like himself, a beard framed Sheik's jaw, a nomadic trait earned from years without care, the blonde such a strange contrast with darker skin. Despite all the damage, it was a strong and handsome face, much like the people Link remembered from his homeland.

"I thought you might be hylian," Sheik said, voice full of surprise as his mouth bent into a slight smile. "I did not expect to find a neighbor so far from Hyrule."

Neighbor. What a kind term. Link tensed ever so slightly as he tried to determine whether the comment was sincere or condescending. He prayed that this meeting would not end in violence; perhaps Sheik had been away for so long he did not know what happened to his people.

The face before him was genuine, however, so Link forced himself to relax.

"I left during the war." Link wasn't quite sure what made him say it, but he felt the words leave his lips unbidden. It was a subject that would be forever tender, and he wondered if it would alight anything in his company.

The fire had chased away the frigid air he'd woken up to and Link began to feel his nose once more in the steam of the tea. Link sipped from the ceramic mug and left the words to hang in lukewarm air as the expected darkness passed over his company's face. He looked away feeling strangely like staring would be inconsiderate.

"I left before it."

Link brought his gaze back to the sheikah, continuing to find new things every time he looked. Now he saw the scar warping the man's left eyebrow, just above the blinded eye. Throughout his mane of thick hair, little braids long-made snuck in and out of view like serpents, so tangled they were practically dreaded. In his campaign through the war Link could recall the skills of the sheikah—they were the only race in Hyrule to train only as mages and, judging by the handsome staff against the wall, Sheik was no exception. Link had always been deeply impressed by their prowess over magic in combat, both as allies and as...

He violently pushed his mind away from the thoughts.

"But I see you were not spared violence even so," Link remarked. After the words left his mouth he could've smacked himself. Being away from people had really ruined his discretion and he could only hope he had not insulted his guest.

"I have been to places that make the wars of Hyrule appear tame." Sheik let out a cynical chuckle. "Sheikah are no strangers to violence, Link."

The words were too real, making Link want to get up from the table. But he stayed still. Glad for his luck, he made a mental note to think a little harder before he spoke next. The tea was finished and Sheik gratefully accepted a second cup as well as food. It was admitted by his guest that his rations had run out two days prior and Link gladly offered everything he had—with more meat stored in the snow it was no trouble to share.

Guilt also played a massive factor as he eagerly offered up his own food.

"You were a soldier," Sheik commented after a while, nodding to the unmistakable Crown-issued sword leaned against the wall by the door. The Crest was etched deeply into the scabbard, the gold plating long-eroded from the constant cleaning of blood and gore. It was a cold, hard memory that he kept close whenever stray thoughts of returning home wandered into his mind.

A deep dread sank into Link's stomach as he waited for Sheik to bring up the genocide. How could he not? But Link would oblige the questions, hoping he wouldn't have a need to grab the weapon from the wall.

"The youngest captain in the Royal Army," Link said with a nod. "I deserted shortly before the conclusion of the civil war, at eighteen. I refused to follow orders."

"You left with no honor." There was no judgment in his voice—instead there was a solemn understanding.

Did Sheik really not know?

"There is no honor in war for greed." Link tapped his fingers restlessly against the rough ceramic, eyes wandering to worn wood grains. "I would not kill innocents. I felt I had more than served my time to the Crown."

A quiet fell over the cabin as, suddenly, Link became aware of the blizzard swirling around outside. The lack of conversation was not tense but somehow companionable and he found himself surprised with how easily words had left him, even as he mentioned some of the most condemning events of his past. As a traveler of solitude, speaking his mind had never been his strong suit yet here, with a perfect stranger that should hate him by all rights, Link's past was laid out as easily as what he ate for dinner the previous night. Clearly Sheik was ignorant to the specifics of the war and Link would spare the sadness, anger, and betrayal sharing the news would bring.

Let the dead lie, he thought to himself in resignation.

Over time, they wandered back to discussion, the storm still moaning away beyond the whited-out windows.

"Were you of the Kakariko tribe?"

"Yes, although I was born in the desert," Sheik confirmed with a short nod. "A sickness took most years before the war, robbing us of a third of our people. The ones who survived—my family and I included—left to serve the Crown or moved on to the eastern mountain ranges, leaving Hyrule forever."

The sheikah of the Crown; Link had known many of them by name, their faces burned into his nightmares.

There was a startling sadness to Sheik's words, the lonely meaning of the story filling the void that his toneless voice left. Loss was a hammer stroke that shattered both of their lives and Link knew its swing all too well.

"I'm sorry for your loss, Sheik." And he meant it more now than any other time those words had left his mouth.

"Loss is strength. Without loss we learn nothing of the value of life." The sheikah's words in tandem with the lonely howl of the blizzard were the most poignant things Link had heard in years, cracking open doors deep below his skin that had long since been shut in his chosen exile.

"The war's end, as I hear it, was six winters past. Have you been traveling that long?" Sheik inquired during their third cup of tea.

Link nodded, drawing his eyes away from the blank window once more. "I visited the surrounding kingdoms for many of those years. And when the other end of the continent was not enough, I crossed the sea and found these lands. To my surprise, tundra suits me rather well. And you?"

"I came here much sooner. I lived for a year or so in a city at the coast but after all my years growing up under the sun, I too found the tundra more comfortable. This is my first journey deep this particular valley, so you may imagine my surprise to see a hylian here with the same idea." But Sheik didn't look at all dismayed at this and even smiled a bit more. "After many years alone, this is the first company to be so easy."

Link understood the words more than he could articulate. It was always difficult for those who had seen too much to connect with those who hadn't. War, grief, and darkness made unmovable marks, changing its victims on the deepest of levels. It was so rare to find another that understood it and Link couldn't remember the last time he had.

If only he could shake off the guilt.

"It is," Link agreed, wondering if the Goddesses had brought this man to punish him for his crimes.

The day pushed on, the blizzard ever-constant and conversation peppered throughout the hours. Sheik had taken to reading from a leather-bound book he carried, and Link carved nothing of interest out of a chunk of wood. Scraps still lingered here and there throughout the cabin since its construction the previous summer and it had been his unconscious mission to make something out of all of them. Wasting the wood felt wrong even if all he managed was a misshapen thing possibly resembling a bear.

And when night began to fall and candles were lit, Sheik gave him a questioning look.

"You're welcome to stay and take my cot," Link offered.

"No, I am more accustomed to a bedroll—keep your cot."

He seemed insistent enough so Link nodded, settled into his bed. The storm showed no signs of stopping, even in suffocating darkness, but Link was sure that even if it had stopped, Sheik would be staying regardless.

He wondered if it was out of kindness or guilt.

Nothing else was said that night as, on opposite sides of the cabin, they fell into slumbers despite the cacophony beyond the walls and the still very new trust between them. And for the first time in nearly a year Link had a new dream:

He stood on the battlefield, his comrades among him, just as unsure as he. Before them lay the sheikah encampment. It was a small cluster of tents to house the sheikah loyal to the Crown. Their allies.

Their friends.

In Link's fist, crumpled in tense rage, was the order to exterminate them. To betray them. Why had the order been given? In a time of such darkness, why would their lord endeavor to turn them all against each other? With such a long history of genocide, why had the King chosen to subject such a valuable people to it again?

He felt fury. He felt his own sort of betrayal.

But orders were orders and Link had taken his oath, so his garrison had insisted. They pushed him forward, implying that he was too young to understand how to follow a direct order, quoting their lord's claims. The King had told them the sheikah were traitors, that they had leaked the vital secrets responsible for the most recent decimation of a hidden refugee camp. That the sheikah had sold Crown secrets to the enemy for a handsome price. Even that the sheikah had stolen from the Princess Zelda herself.

Could it possibly be true?

Time flashed quickly before him and he killed the first sheikah warrior to fight back—it was clearly their chief. He was tall and lean, skin the color of burnt gold and hair soaked with his own blood as Link held him. The rest of his men ignored Link's orders to cease the attack; they slaughtered without mercy.

"I'm sorry," Link pleaded to the fallen sheikah, closing the man's scarlet eyes and feeling a horrible nausea creep up his throat. "I'm so sorry."

The sounds of the massacre permeated around him, an all-too-familiar symphony of the past three years in his career. The cycle of hatred, the endless and pointless fighting like animals…would it see no end? How far would it go? To what lengths would the races reach to possess that infernal Triforce? What glory could it possibly bring to a kingdom now soaked in blood?

Link could not end the war, but he could end his part in it.

The walls of the gorge closed them all in, the stone seeming to grow taller as the sun left them to fading darkness. Only the fires of burning tents illuminated the bodies. His men left him for the river on the other side of the gorge. Despite their coaxing, their captain would not rise, unwilling to release his hold the body of a fallen sheikah. They shook their heads, called him a traitor, and said they'd be back for him after they washed up in the river.

Link sat with the sheikah, silent as the fires slowly began to die. He cared not if they came back for him. Link reached up and tore the marks of a captain off his cloak, tore the Royal Crest from his sleeve.

So many had he killed in the name of the King, convinced it was for an honest, glorious cause. Countless lives had he passed judgment on, fueled by the infectious passion their lord had set alight in the youthful blood of his battalions.

Never once had Link thought for himself or that the King's words were a cover for his greedy conquest—they were all lies. He had not seen the truth until he stared down at the pale, lifeless face of the sheikah chief he had once called his comrade.

"Link."

His eyes shot up, arms still supporting the dead sheikah chief as a figure moved slowly through the bodies, careful to tread on none of the fallen. He was wrapped in white furs, the bottom stained crimson as it trailed behind him.

It was Sheik, so vivid and stark against the orange light of the battlefield.

His gaze was magnetic, everything else falling away as the sheikah stopped before him to offer his staff. It was smooth and flawless in the half light, cold and firm in his grip as Link stood and accepted it. His eyes wandered its length, coming to rest at the red stone mounted at its top. It pulsed before him, whispering in Sheikah, a language he had never had a chance to learn. Link looked once again to Sheik, unable to find his voice as that luminous red eye held him as though shackled.

"Don't let him leave."

Link opened his eyes, thin morning light muffled through snow-covered windows, his breath a puff of moisture in the frozen cabin. The dream disturbed him and he forced himself up to survey the cabin. The sheikah was still asleep, broad furred back facing him as it rose and fell in measured breaths. Link knew he should feel strange about the living person still there…but he couldn't. Now that Sheik was there it felt even stranger for him to leave.

Don't let him leave.

They woke for the day and Link prepared breakfast for them both, the storm long passed. Sheik spoke of moving on, giving Link his solitude back and no longer imposing, but Link cut him off.

"Actually," he said, "how about you stay?"


This fic was heavily influenced by the song White Foxes by Susanne Sundfør—a lot of the themes and imagery come from it. Take a listen if you have a chance—it's a super cool song.

For those of you that are new to my work, I'm the writer of Congruent. It's a much bigger work (~200k) of this pairing and is now complete. If you're into shink (specifically male sheik), definitely check out Congruent. Click on my name and you can find it on my profile or read it on Ao3 (my name is Sincosma over there as well).

Other places to find me:

Sincosma on Tumblr

amandalynnsings on Instagram

ohamandalynn on snapchat

amandalynnsings . c o m for my music

Thank you for reading!