Strange and Wonderful
Zelda stared at the foreign hand in front of her eyes over the cloth of her mask. She pulled the fingers in and made a fist, watched in amazement at the corded muscle that played underneath the skin. Strength coiled in her being and stored itself in the muscles of her legs. She still marveled at the change after all these months. She was not sure she would ever get used to it. Her newly acquired body was incredible in its speed and strength. She could scale a wall in a manner of moments. Those strong hands could strangle a man to death or snap his neck before he drew a breath. It turned things that should have simply been ugly and violent into elegant lines and fluid motion. It was liberating to move so freely in the world, to know that nothing could harm you. But it did not fit quite right. She was never fully at ease or comfortable for all that the other occupant for the most part remained silent.
The first time she had seen Sheik was right before the transformation. He had been Impa's greatest student and pride and the consummate Sheikah. With solemn eyes, he had told her that his greatest honor and duty was to provide whatever protection he could to the Royal family no matter what the cost. The cost had certainly been high. They had fused together, his body and her mind. It was for her own protection Impa had said. There was no other way. The Hero needed guidance in his quest, and no one but Zelda could give it. So she had surrendered her body, and he had sacrificed his free will.
Now she sat on the old, ruined wall that surrounded Lon Lon Ranch in a body that was not hers. The Hero was currently in another temple and she needed food and rest. She would have simply gone to Kakariko as she had in the past but something distant and sleepy had rustled in the back of her mind at the sight of the farm house. Sheik knew this place somehow, liked it enough to stir from his false slumber. Half out of guilt and curiosity, she had decided to indulge in this and take her chances there. Her eyes settled on the locked gate in the deepening gloom of the evening. She would have to try a less direct approach not that it would be a problem.
She loped around the building, an alien memory kindling at one particular spot outside the building. There were gaps and cracks in the structure there just enough for hand holds. She scrambled up the outer wall, perched on the ledge for a moment, and jumped off to land quietly on the other side. She instinctively pressed herself against the wall, her eyes scanning the area for any potential threat or challenge. No one was there. She relaxed and the strong muscles in her back loosened. Her steps were light and quick as she crossed the grass. She stopped for a moment to gather her thoughts. Where should she go now? A wordless tune floated to her ears. She headed towards the humming in the barn without thinking. She had done this before. Many times before. She halted in mid step to shake her head. She had never done this. He had and even though his mind was dormant, the muscles in his feet and legs remembered this path all too well. She started to pace towards the barn door again, her heart suddenly hammering in what she might have construed as anticipation in any one but Sheik. He had seemed so serious and quiet to her as he really were composed of shadows and smoke like the legends used to say about his people.
Her hand hesitated when she started to reach for the handle on the door. No, that wasn't safe something inside of her said. Never go in by the door. Never. She looked up and saw a shuttered at the peak. She would have scale the outer wall to go in.
Her fingers found the cracks between the stones again and her toes knew exactly what niches to slip into. She felt light headed at the rush of déjà vu. It seemed like a dream. She stopped for a moment and felt the wind blow across her covered face, then looked up to the shuttered window above her.
The mindless humming had stopped now and something cold and heavy settled into her stomach though she couldn't explain why. A door swung open and slammed on the other side of the barn. Zelda climbed the rest of the way up the wall and loosened the shutters with her right hand before crawling into the hayloft. She didn't bother to close the shutters, afraid that whoever was underneath her would hear. Instead, she laid in the soft straw and listened to the escalating conversation below.
"Malon," a voice hissed below her, "I told you we need to get these horses in and fed and watered before sundown. And the cows still need to be milked."
"Mr. Ingo, I'm working as fast I can, but I can't get as much done since you've driven off the other workers. I'm only one person."
Zelda heard her sigh in frustration and throw something on the ground. They must have had this conversation many times before.
"Don't give me excuses, girl. You're lazy just like your father. You don't think I see you wandering about all moon eyed like some calf?"
"Do not talk about my father like that!"
"I'll talk about your fool of a father however I please. I made this ranch. Without me, it would have gone under years ago." The man raised his voice, and Malon went silent for a moment.
Images fluttered through Zelda's brain as Sheik stirred at the back of her mind. She saw a man with a black mustache passed out in a corner. The man yelling below her working with a pitch fork. A girl with red hair. Then they slowed and melted away like morning fog.
"This isn't your ranch," the young woman finally said. "It's my father's. The only reason why you're still here is because you made a deal with the Dark King."
Ingo let out a laugh, but it was nervous and unsteady. He knew Malon spoke the truth. "You're an idiot if you think that. I got this ranch through my own hard work, which went unrecognized for years under your oafish, good for nothing father."
Their conversation went for several more minutes with Ingo hurling insults and Malon trying desperately to defend her father.
Then he said something, Zelda wasn't quite sure what, but she found herself crawling towards the ladder that led down to the floor without thinking. Something had shifted inside of her. She wasn't fully in control anymore. Rage moved through in her in a cool current. A kind that she didn't know she could feel. She didn't want to yell at the despicable man or even hurt him. She wanted to end him, squeeze the breath from his lungs until he was blue and cold in her hands. Not her hands. Her hands would not have been capable of such a thing, but Sheik's hands were. That was the truly frightening part, that she had the capacity and the will to do such things, and it would have been nothing to her. This Ingo fellow had done nothing to her. She had never seen him before in her life, but suddenly she wanted very badly to remove him from the young woman's path.
Sheik urged her on in the back of her mind, pressing her forward. She leaned over the opening and fell through to land gracefully on the straw covered floor beneath her. She stood so quickly she felt like a puppet pulled on a string. Systems and gears were whirring in this strange body that she'd never felt before. Magic burned in her nose and blood. She could have called needles tipped in poison to her fingers with a thought. She could have moved like smoke through this place.
The red headed girl shuffled back, surprised but not shocked at the sudden appearance. Zelda knew she had become accustomed to such visitations.
Ingo's face twisted into a sneer. "Sheikah," he muttered in disgust. "I thought I told you to stay off my property? Would you have me call the Dark Lord on you? I should. See you hang for the bandit that you are."
She remained silent because some unnamed instinct told her to. She was Sheikah and silence had always been her greatest ally. She looked out of the corner of her red eyes to see Malon hastily wipe away tears on the back of her hand. Something coiled tight in her stomach, ready to spring. It was anger and rage and indignation and most of all a deep sorrow that Zelda had not known Sheik was capable of. He had seemed to make himself a doll to her. She had thought he had carved out and burned away all the wet emotions that made him human and thus vulnerable in order to be the perfect vessel.
The toe of her left foot moved forward an inch, and Ingo faltered in his fury. The confidence broke and shattered like cheap glass. She could see the delicate fractures in his personality. This man was not evil, not truly. He was sad and ruined on the rocks of his own greed and selfishness, but he was not evil. His threats were idle. Both she and Sheik knew that from observation and past experience. He was an over grown child throwing a tantrum, and Malon was merely in its path. She regained control for a moment, and the rage was snuffed out a like candle. The scent of magic died away.
"Leave," she said in a voice that was neither quite hers nor Sheik's.
Ingo cast a sidelong glance before cursing her and ambling out of the barn.
The farm girl let out a sigh of relief at his departure. Zelda felt her heart flutter erratically at the small sound. She turned to face Malon to offer some pathetic words of comfort, but they stopped in her throat like caged birds. The girl was smiling despite the tear tracks staining her red cheeks.
"Thank you," she whispered softly, and the Princess felt herself crumbling inside. She swallowed down an uncomfortable lump lodging in her throat. She found herself staring at the girl's eyes and hair far too long. Her fingers itched, and she reached out to brush away an errant strand of red hair. She didn't shy away from the touch. Her face grew old and intimate and familiar in that one gesture. Zelda knew that Malon was pretty but in that moment she became beautiful.
Nausea churned in her stomach. She felt sick. She felt like a liar and a thief. This instance and time was private and sacred. It was a spot of brightness in two dark lives, and she was standing in it blotting out the light. She had never imagined this. She had never wanted to take this from them, and yet she had.
Zelda's heart swelled with someone else's emotions. At her inaction, Malon took a step backwards, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment and her eyes wounded all over again.
For the first time, she felt Sheik struggle against the bonds of his magically induced slumber. He fought against them purposefully, trying to regain control of his own body. Her reaction to Malon had upset him. He wanted to be there in that moment. Zelda could feel the pressure from his efforts building in the back of her brain. He loved this woman, missed her, and did not want to see her hurt on his account.
A deluge of emotion washed over her, both hers and Sheik's. A thousand memories sparked in her brain as he slowly reawakened, each one dear and tender to him. Soon she found that she could not bear Malon's expression as he could not. It was odd to feel his love for the farm girl radiating through her. She'd never been in love before and found herself in awe of the emotion. She liked the feeling even if it wasn't her own to have. She could at least give something in return.
Acting on impulse, she pulled down her cloth mask and stepped into the distance between her and Malon. She pressed her lips to the rancher's mouth, not quite sure what to do next. There was a moment of hesitation before the flame haired girl crushed her body against Sheik's.
Zelda felt Malon's arms reach up and encircle her neck. Her mind disconnected at the physical contact. She could sense Sheik pushing through the walls of his barrier, his thoughts and feelings mingling with hers.
"Where have you been?" Malon asked as she drew her mouth away before stepping out of the embrace, the air suddenly cold between them again. Zelda felt Sheik's presence recede. She reckoned that the strength of the spell drained his strength. He slept quietly in the back of her mind once more. With his presence gone, Zelda's courage waned. She took a step back from the red head, putting distance between them once more. A puzzled expression crossed Malon's face, but she hid it quickly. Was there supposed to be something more?
"Away," the Princess answered cryptically, not sure what response was the right one.
The farm girl nodded as if she had expected that response. "Would you care for anything to eat or drink?"
"Yes, I came hoping for a bit of food and shelter for the night if you can spare it." She tried to make her voice as flat as possible, like she'd heard Sheik speak.
"Of course." With that, Malon exited the barn with the Sheikah following her. She walked across the small expanse of grass and into the great room of the house. With quick movements, she set a bowl and a cup down on the table in the middle of the room. She ladled out stew from a pot still simmering above the fire and poured out the remainder of a bottle of milk. It was simple food but good and hearty. Zelda took a seat at the table and ate in silence. Malon said nothing, keeping herself busy with cleaning up the kitchen and hearth.
"You may sleep in my bed if you wish," the red head offered while taking up Zelda's dishes and washing them in a basin.
She shook her head vigorously. "No, I couldn't rob you of your bed."
"You wouldn't be," the other girl responded carelessly.
Zelda's face flamed at the implication. She should have guessed. After all, Sheik was male and had his desires and wants like any other man despite his heritage. It seemed not even the Sheikah stifled those urges. Sheik was surprisingly quiet at the back of her mind. She thought in panic for a second then cleared her throat and told the first lie that came to mind "No, I think the loft would be the best option tonight. I'll need to get in and out quickly in the morning." She thought of saying thank you for the offer, but thought better of it.
"Of course." The girl's voice was cold as she answered. "You know how to get to the loft so you don't need my guidance. Good night, Sheik."
The princess could feel Malon's rejection turn the air in the room chilly as the rancher headed up the stairs to her bedroom. Zelda sat at the table a moment longer, mulling over what she could have done differently. In the end, she sighed and made her way back to the barn. On silent feet she climbed up the ladder to the hayloft and curled up in a pile of stiff, golden hay.
She dreamed that night in glimpses and flashes of a past that was not hers. She dreamt of a hand slipping a knife into a man's chest. A throat gaping open and blood on her hands. Strands of red hair slipping through her fingers like silk as she buried her knuckles in it. The image of a reflection in a pool came to her mind. Sheik's red eyes glared back at her angry and sad and accusing. Malon's peaceful face swam beside his. Zelda blinked and the farmer's daughter faded from the picture. Sheik's eyes changed from red to blue. Then a double of his face appeared on the surface of the water, the eyes remaining their true crimson.
"May we talk?" The second reflection asked from the depths of the water. The voice was polite and controlled but honed with a deadly edge.
The Princess nodded. What else could she say to this man who was letting her use his body?
He sighed somewhere to her right. "It is not as easy as I had hoped it would be. Impa trained me well, drilled into me everything that it meant to be Sheikah. I am our tribe's last true shadow. I thought that I could give up everything of myself for this mission. There was not much to begin with, but I was wrong."
Her stomach churned again. She knew what he was talking about. His expression was impassive, but his words carried a vague notion of rage and shame at himself or at her she could not tell.
"Do you regret it?" She asked. The words out of her mouth before she realized what she was saying.
He seemed to be about to shake his head no before stopping suddenly. "It does not matter," he told her. "What's done is done."
"What would you have of me?" She questioned. There was a point to this. The Sheikah did nothing without a purpose. They did not waste words on idle conversation. No matter how many times Zelda had yearned to speak to him more personally, he had never assented. He had always remained the quiet and complacent shadow in the back of her conscious.
"I thought I could give her up. I have failed at that miserably. Give me this one night."
He must have felt her unease at the notion because he spoke again. This time his words were stronger and more forceful.
"One night, and then you may have control again. We may continue to help your hero."
Your hero he'd said. All of the unspoken bitterness was revealed in that one word. This was her quest and her hero, and yet he was the one who had made the greatest sacrifice. He was the one who had given over the sovereignty of his body to a woman he had never met. He had done this out of his sense of duty.
"Of course," she whispered her heart softening as she watched the joyful expression flit over his half covered features.
"Thank you," he said.
Sheik awoke in the hayloft, flexing his hands experimentally. It felt odd to be a physical being again. For months he had been nothing but an abstract thought, an idea. The rush of blood to his muscles was pleasant as warmth flooded his veins. He had forgotten what it felt like to feel warmth and cold, pain and pleasure. At that, his mind turned to the original purpose of his physical return.
The Princess hovered in the wings of his mind, watching in piqued interest. He could feel her strongly in his thoughts. No spell bound her and so she was not forced into a false slumber.
On unsteady legs, he rose to his feet, his head spinning for a moment. He balanced himself with a hand against the wall and made his way towards the ladder that led out of the loft. The ladder shook under his weight momentarily as he gained his bearings. The smell of hay brought back recollections. He staggered under their weight. The Sheikah were supposed to shed the burden of their memories and pasts. He had never quite mastered that particular challenge. Sheik had always been drawn to the Hylian way of life, standing on the outskirts of it as a Royal Shadow. Perhaps that is why Impa had chosen him for this task. Perhaps she had seen his lust for their affections and attachments and decided to use it as an instrument for the good of Hyrule.
The barn door swung open against the weight of his hand. The grass was crushed silently under the pressure of his steps. He made no noise as he moved into the main house and up the steps to Malon's room. She slept alone now, he remembered. Talon had been kicked out of the ranch and was holed up somewhere in Kakariko. Not for the first time he was grateful for the new sleeping accommodations.
She laid on the bed in twisted sheets. The moonlight filtered through the window panes and painted her ethereal. The effect was not lost on him. The irony was not either. That he a master of shadows and a student of their arts should find something so plain and humbling as a farm girl so enticing and captivating cast terror and exhilaration into his blood.
He took a step forward. Halted. Another step and he hesitated again. He could still go back now to the barn and let her sleep. He could sever his ties with her permanently now. He had seen the fissures and the beginnings of a rift between them when Zelda had rebuffed her advances. Malon had never taken rejection well. He could let her lie here tonight alone and do what he knew what was expected and required of him as a Sheikah. Indecision warred in him. Uncharacteristically, he bit his lower lip in worry and frowned at the new habit. It was a remnant of Zelda's behavior in him. It was a trace of her presence in him. The conflict was resolved in that one action. The Princess stewed in guilt within his mind, aware of the imprint she'd left on him. Perhaps permanently. Neither one of them knew what the lasting consequences of their merger would be.
He crossed the room to her bed and knelt down beside her. Her hair shook from the passage of her breath. He dragged his fingers lightly across her cheek. The girl sat bolt upright in her bed, throwing off the sheets in a hurry.
"What? What are you doing here?" She slumped onto one elbow, rubbing her eyes drowsily.
"This," he breathed against her as he leaned forward. He pulled the mask down to his chin and kissed her.
She stiffened for a moment before her reciprocating the action. Her hands skillfully unwound the strips of cloth that hid his face and discarded them at the end of the bed. He fell onto the feather mattress, pinning her against the wall.
"Why?" she asked around his mouth as his hands made their way up her thighs.
"Does it matter?"
"No, of course not," she choked hoarsely back to him.