Disclaimer: These characters are not mine, with the exception of Shane. I own nada, except for Shane. I don't own Hyrule, only Shane.

First and Foremost
by Cappucinno

BASELINE: DUST YOURSELF OFF

December 16, 2016—8:30 a.m.
1904 Castle Street

If there had been anything that he had been expecting when he slipped into the backdoor of Zelda's apartment, it hadn't been this. In fact, he had been betting on the fact that he'd have a good two hours to collect his thoughts and enjoy his silence. And then Zelda would wake up—sobbing, maybe?—or just in the slump that she seemed to have fallen into.

He hadn't been expecting a fully furnished, freshly cleaned, open-windowed living room. He hadn't expected to find Zelda Harkinian, for no doubt this wasn't the Princess, perched on the back of her sofa, reading a newspaper and sipping at her coffee.

Sheik stood in the entryway of the side entrance, one boot-clad foot paused in the air. Besides the fact that he looked like he'd been frozen in time, there were no signs that Sheik was surprised. Zelda glanced up, raising a brow at his odd posture, her lips piquing upwards into an utterly amused smile.

"Sheik," She greeted, before her lips pressed into a firm line and it looked like she was doing her best not to start laughing. "Would you mind taking your shoes off? Just mopped and swept this morning, y'know?"

She turned her attention back to the headlines of her newspaper and Sheik obediently followed her instructions. She didn't miss the odd glance he shot in her direction as he knelt down to begin swiftly undoing the laces of his boots. Goddesses only knew why the man insisted on wearing them.

He was her head of security for heaven sakes, not a desert nomad. But they all had their quirks, so he was forgiven for his… more than unusual taste in clothing. Malon had an obsession with horses, Midna had always complained when it was too sunny, Ruto couldn't stop drinking water, and Zelda… well.

She liked to think that she was fairly normal.

"Princess," Sheik began as he rose, only to be cut off as Zelda raised her mug to her lips once more, cocking her head at him in an innocent manner.

"Coffee?" She queried, and before Sheik could even respond she was ushering him into the kitchen with her rolled up newspaper, ignoring his indignant protests. "Oh come on, indulge me. Pretend that you're normal."

Sheik sighed in aggravation as a cup of sloshing coffee was shoved into his hands, no cream and no sugar. Just the way he liked it. The head of security eyed the blonde, his wine red eyes narrowing in obvious irritation as he grudgingly accepted her offering.

"Thank you." He said dryly, clearly not amused. "Now, princess—"

"So, how's the place look? I went out shopping last night." Zelda said in a conversational tone, looking perhaps the best that he'd seen her since she'd been with Link. Her hair had been fashioned into a stylish updo, a few strands left alone to frame her heart shaped face. Her eyes held no trace of the shadows that had been haunting her for the past few weeks and—was that lip gloss?

"It looks…" Sheik paused, glancing around the small kitchenette and living room area. Dark wood furniture and white cushions. White curtains. White rugs. White flowers. "White."

"White, huh?" Zelda asked, hmming thoughtfully to herself as she turned to investigate. "Well, I was going for clean. But I guess white works."

"Princess—" Sheik began for the umpenteeth time, gritting his teeth as he was cut off yet again by the young woman.

"Did you see the painting over by the armchair?" Zelda asked, towing her long time friend back to the living room to demonstrate her latest acquisition. At the mention of a painting Sheik sighed and turned, fully expecting to see some rendition of a regal tapestry or an ancient portrait of one of her ancestors.

He was greeted by a mess of painted blobs of color that looked like a five year old had dumped onto the canvas. He fixed his charge with an incredulous look as she admired the 'painting', a quirky smile tugging at her lips as she took a sip of coffee.

"So, thoughts?" Zelda asked, looking over at him with that innocent expression on her face.

"Who are you, and what have you done with Zelda?" Sheik asked, his face carefully blank as he regarded the blonde's expression.

Her face was schooled into a mask of indifference, though he could full well see the crinkling of her eyes in silent laughter and the way her lips pursed in an attempt to keep herself from bursting into laughter.

"I agree, it is a nice painting isn't it?" She finally said, turning to admire the hideous blobs of color once more as Sheik shook his head at the young woman. "Well, enough of that. Let's get down to business."

"What? To defeat the Huns?" Sheik said, rolling his eyes at the blonde. He was met with an indignant 'hey!' and she winced as he felt something hard collide with the back of his head.

The Sheikah turned to regard Zelda, looking thoroughly un-amused as she stood there with her rolled up newspaper. The man's expression was sour in response to Zelda's own clearly amused expression.

"Wimp." Zelda accused, striking the Sheikah once more.

"You're just immature." Sheik shot back, scowling darkly. Zelda hit him again, dancing backwards out of his reach as he moved to disarm the blonde woman.

"Say it again," Zelda taunted, a humorously large grin lighting up her face. "I dare you."

She made an 'o' with her lips, gasping an pretending to be shocked at her own behavior. Sheik couldn't help but smirk, looking imperious as he shot her a pointedly amused look.

"You," He began, grinning at the gasp he drew from the blonde. "Are the most immature young woman I have ever met."

He pretended to flinch away from the newspaper as Zelda gasped again.

"And," He added. "Your painting looks like shit."

He deftly jerked the newspaper from Zelda's grip crowing with triumph as he bounded across the living room, neatly hurling over the couch. The blonde scrambled after him, socked feet sliding chaotically over the stunningly clean wooden floors.

Zelda stumbled to catch her footing, bracing herself against the couch as she quickly grabbed a cushion, getting into a mock battle stance. Sheik braced himself at the opposite end of the couch, newspaper still in hand.

Neither moved.

"What are you, scared?" Zelda taunted, a smug look on her face. "Bring it blondie!"

"That," Sheik said, panting heavily as he crumpled into a sitting position beside Zelda. "Was not behavior befitting of a princess."

Zelda relished in the astonished 'oof' and splutter of indignation that came from Sheik as she smacked her pillow into his face, grinning triumphantly. At Sheik's glower she merely shrugged, doing her best to pull off the whole 'innocent' act.

"I win." She said, allowing her head to fall back against the wall, eyes sliding shut. It was only then that Sheik noticed how tired his friend actually was. Zelda's face had grown thin and her lips were parted as her lungs greedily inhaled air. A two-hour pillow war was enough to tire anybody out, but when was the last time that Zelda had gone on a walk?

She'd spent about three weeks in a catatonic state, seemingly glued to her bed. She'd gone outside once or twice—but only to get the mail—and the last time she'd taken a walk was when she'd accompanied him from her office building to his car to be driven home. She'd been granted a sick leave.

Sheik didn't know why Zelda insisted on even having job—she had all the money she could possibly want—but Zelda was a stubborn girl and so they'd all relented and let her work. It wasn't like Zelda to shirk her duties, but then again, she wasn't exactly capable of doing any work when she could hardly bring herself to stop sobbing.

"Fine," Sheik relented, flinching as Zelda raised her pillow again, daring him to tell her that she hadn't been the winner of their impromptu pillow-fight. "You win."

He couldn't help but smile as she settled back comfortably against the wall, hugging the pillow to her too-slim frame. She looked peaceful. With the light falling across her face he noticed the hint of darkness just beneath her eyes, he hadn't noticed earlier. She'd probably attempted to cover it up with make-up.

"Princess—" He was cut off by a soft but firm voice and when he looked to Zelda he almost missed the tenseness around her jaw.

"Sheik." She opened her eyes and a startlingly wounded azure gaze met his own. "Don't you remember that I was Zelda Harkinian before I was ever a princess?"

Sheik wanted to open his mouth and protest—to say that wasn't how he meant it. To say that technically she was not a princess she was the Princess and that she was born to be the Princess, and then he stopped. The stubborn set of her jaw and her wounded expression allowed a ridiculous bloom of hope to swell in his chest.

Link the Hero and Zelda the Princess had never been strong enough to change the course of their destiny. But maybe Link Ordon and Zelda Harkinian—the people—were.

"Well then, Zelda Harkinian." Sheik began formally, laughing and batting her pillow away as she rolled her eyes. "Might I ask what brought about this sudden change."

"I told you." Her voice was strong, no longer faint as it had been, and she climbed to her feet, proudly perching her hands upon her hips and bending over to look down at him. "I am Zelda Harkinian. And Zelda Harkinian does not have time to mope."

"Glad to hear it, Zelda." Sheik said, smiling up at the blonde princess. "Does Zelda Harkinian have time to start working on the details of Princess Zelda's press release?"

"No," Zelda said evenly, ignoring Sheik's paternal look of disagreement. Her gaze drifted up to the ceiling as she straightened up, once more hmming to herself as she mulled something over in her mind. "Zelda Harkinian would much rather work on her own press release."

Sheik would later kick himself for being foolish enough to believe her smiles and light-hearted games, not once pausing to think that she was using it to cover something up. Just like she'd hidden the dark circles underneath her eyes.

December 15, 2016—10:45 p.m.
Oak's Bar and Grill

Link stepped out of his car, a beat up hand-me down Acura that had once been pretty glamorous, and onto the curb looking for a head of red hair. To his irritation there was a huge swarm of people at Oak's that night, making it damn near impossible for him to move more than an inch at a time. He sighed as he made his way to the entrance of bar, defensively crossing his arms to deflect the bodies continually knocking into him.

When someone's hand landed on his jacket he nearly missed it, brushing it off as just some random stranger. However when someone grabbed the back of his jacket and all but towed him out of the crowd, he noticed. He stumbled forward to regain his balance, catching himself on some newspaper stand as he turned around, cobalt eyes narrowed in indignation.

"Goddesses, Link. You look like shit." Malon said, pretty lips pursed in distaste as her green eyes raked over him, brows furrowing as she did so. "Yuck. What is that?" The redhead asked, pointing at his well-worn and slightly-holey gray jacket.

"What?" Link asked, defensively crossing his arms over the material of his favorite jacket. "It's my favorite jacket."

Malon fixed him with an incredulous look, as if she were trying to decide whether or not she actually believed him. Link sighed in an aggravated manner, feeling the chill of the night air beginning to seep into his clothes. Malon was wearing what looked like some equestrian riding get-up. She looked like she didn't even notice that it was freezing.

"Okay, get in the taxi." Malon instructed, jerking her thumb in the direction of the yellow cab that Link hadn't even noticed until she'd pointed it out. "We've got a lot to talk about."

There were a hundred reasons that Link could have turned around and got back into his car.

It was cold. He didn't much like Malon. Shane would skin him alive for talking to his long-time unrequited love. Link didn't like taxis. Malon insulted his favorite jacket. He would have preferred to go mope. Malon hadn't said anything about Zelda. It was too late to be going anywhere.

But there was nagging feeling in his chest, that familiar age-old gut-instinct that urged him onwards and Link got into the taxi. He knew better than to ignore his instincts. Following them had saved his hide on more than one occasion. They had saved him from getting caught when he snuck out, they kept him away from the movie theater the night there was a shooting, they told him when he should act and in what manner. And, most importantly, following them had lead him to Zelda.

So when every fiber of his being told him to shut up and get into the taxi, he was an obedient follower. He slammed the door shut and turned to Malon, mouth open to say something when he was abruptly cut off by a flash of metal.

"Woah, lady!" The driver said, clearly panicked. "Be careful with that!"

Malon ignored him as she held the impressive piece of metal out, palms up. Link seemed to move without thinking, his hands slowly reaching for the sword being offered to him. Malon watched silently as Link took the blade from her, her expression grim as she caught the glimpse of immediate recognition in Link's cobalt eyes.

The hilt of the sword glowed dimly, illuminating a long-forgotten family crest that had once meant the world to the people of Hyrule.

"I thought as much." Malon breathed, running a hand through her hair. Link looked up to meet her gaze, still reverently holding the sword. "Well, congratulations Link."

"Wha—?" Link turned to the redhead, lips parted in silent question. The metal in his hands was smooth as silk and cold to the touch—he got the immediate impression that there had once been blood on the blade—crafted with deadly elegance and terrifying perfection.

"I'll explain later, Hero." Malon said, turning to the window. She hadn't wanted to believe Sheik, wanted desperately to believe it was all a coincidence, but she knew better than that. She'd been trained better than that, at the very least.

They spent the duration of the ride in an uncomfortable silence with the driver making clumsy attempts at conversations every once in a while. Link was suddenly reminded of why he hated taxis so much.

"Wait, Malon, what am I doing?" Link asked, not for the first time as the two stood in the center of what looked to be a giant wooden arena. He hadn't the slightest clue how Malon had found the place and he wasn't even going to ask how she knew her way around so well.

"I can't tell you that." Malon explained irritably, hands on her hips as she glowered at the frustrating blonde that reminded her eerily of Zelda. "Now come on. Start."

"But this is stupid," Link protested, awkwardly waving the sword in his hands about. "And pointless."

"Shut up." Malon instructed as she set her foot on top of a cuckoo-cage, discretely undoing the latch. "Link, if you don't start now, I'm going to make you."

"Malon, this is fucking retarded." Link protested, and before he could comprehend what was going on he heard a foreign sound. "What?"

The young man glanced down and Malon's expression became smug as he spewed a long string of curses. "Shit! Ow!" The redhead didn't even try to keep herself from laughing as Link started sprinting frantically, cuckoos pecking at his heels as he went. Malon collapsed into a fit of giggles, watching the young man blitz through the arena.

Link, on the other hand, wasn't nearly as amused. He cursed again as one of cuckoos pecked his heels and immediately picked up the pace, determined to get the insufferable animals off of him. The breeze whipped strands of messy blonde hair in front of his eyes and he narrowly avoided colliding with a wooden pole as he ran, damning the fact that he couldn't see past his bangs.

When was the last time he'd gotten a hair cut, anyways?

The wind rushed past him and for a second he felt that he almost flying. He'd done this before, he was sure of it, except he hadn't been on his feet and there hadn't been birds chasing him. But, when?

He could almost see it now, almost taste the hay in the air, there had been a horse. A brown and white one that had been even larger than him. Completely in love with carrots. But that was ridiculous and impossible, because he'd never ridden a horse in his life.

"Gotta be faster than that, Link!" Malon chorused cheerfully. Link didn't even bother to look back over his shoulder to glower at the redhead.

"'Gotta be faster than that, Link!' Hmph. I'd like to you see you try." The blonde groused, scoffing under his breath as he picked up speed. He almost missed the stack of hay in front of him and he hurriedly recounted the sexual expeditions of manure as he hurdled over the innocent stack of hay, whipping his head back around to glare at Malon. "What the hell was that?"

He hardly had enough time to finish closing his mouth before he rapidly found himself careening backwards and he stabbed the sword into the ground to the catch himself. Malon shouted some apology and Link rolled his eyes, pulling himself back up.

He lasted about five seconds before his ass met the ground again and the blonde seethed, once more attempting to pull himself back up. The third time he caught the flash of silver and instinctively rolled backwards and into a standing position, wrenching the sword out of the ground.

Every muscle in his body was tense, acutely aware that he and Malon were no longer alone. He caught the sound of faint applause and, grating as it was, pushed it to the back of his mind, begging himself to focus. He could almost visualize the angry blue light scolding him and telling him to concentrate. But that was crazy. Because light couldn't ta—the blonde staggered backwards as something collided with his chest and he forced the pain from his mind, cobalt blue eyes desperately searching for something.

There. He caught that flash of silver once more and he swung his sword, wincing as there was a loud clash of metal meeting metal. He focused further and through the shadows he could see a figure—a woman?

"This is what you give me to work with?" The voice asked, and it was low—dangerous, something in Link's mind told him—but still feminine. Suddenly the tension in the sword was gone and Link's head whipped back around as he felt a presence just to his left.

A woman, to be sure. She was dressed in a black uniform, forearms and calves covered in protective plating. Her hair was a gray unbefitting for age, leaving Link to believe that it had always been that color. She was older than he, but no older than fifty. Perhaps in her late forties.

"You can handle it, right Im'?" Malon asked, her voice light and playful. For some reason Link wasn't shocked to discover that they'd known each other.

Impa. Something in his mind supplied, but he remained wisely silent, focusing on the mysterious woman. Thoughts of Zelda were far from his mind at the moment. There was something ancient and timeless and familiar guiding him, puppeteering his body as he swung his sword.

This is familiar, something stirred within him, I've done this before.

"I've seen worse." Impa assented and Link belatedly realized that it was a compliment.

He moved backwards as Impa came towards him again, but this time she had a sword in tow. He moved backwards again as she struck, his sword blocking her advances. Back, parry, shuffle to the side, parry, forward—faster!, strike, move backwards. His body fell into an easy rhythm that he could have kept up all night, it was so natural.

Impa's face gave nothing away as she moved towards the young man, swinging her blade yet again at his side. He was quick to block it, his body moving easily to the rhythm of some long forgotten beat. Her eyes narrowed slightly as he moved forward to hit her once more and she went through the motions of blocking before realizing that he'd shifted position.

With an elegance that only came with practice she easily turned, catching his blade with her own. There was a pause as the two made eye contact and in that moment Impa was made a believer. She stepped back, disengaging her blade, and sheathed her sword.

She was well aware of his ragged breathing and as she silently surveyed the young man she mentally noted that he would likely be quite sore the following morning. His mind may have known the dance of the blades, but his body wasn't used to it. He was still an amateur. Not bad, but definitely not excellent. For a beginner though, Impa grudgingly allowed, he was pretty decent.

She wasn't sure whether to credit that to the young man himself or the Hero's blood in his veins. She personally believed it to be the Hero. This man—no, this boy—knew nothing of the arts of war.

"Name." She instructed firmly, noting that Link's posture was still rigid, even as he sheathed his blade. Her eyes narrowed once more as she observed the familiar blade. There was no doubt in her mind that he was the one.

"Link Ordon." He responded, and Impa nodded, an amused smile curling on her lips. She was surprised as his voice filled the air once more and she raised a brow at the young man, noting that his posture was still stiff. Was he angry? "What is so funny?"

At that Impa actually chuckled, covering up the sound with her fist as the boy before her scowled darkly. Link crossed his arms and turned away from the woman, cobalt eyes sliding accusingly over to Malon.

"Not very original, now are we? Very well then, Link Ordon." Impa said, drawing his attention back to the mysterious woman. "From this day on you are my pupil. Report here again tomorrow. Same time. If you make me wait, I can promise you the repercussions will not be light."

Before Link could protest Impa had vanished, once more melding into the shadows and disappearing. He noted idly that that should surprise him, yet the sight was as familiar to him as the door of his apartment. Strange.

"You didn't do bad." He seemed to be ignoring her. Not that she could really blame him, but the red-head sighed heavily nonetheless. "Seriously? You're mad at me?"

Link crossed his arms again and gave her that look. The one Zelda wore when she was clearly unhappy with one of Malon's pranks. It made her wonder who had grotten it from whom. Malon couldn't help but roll her eyes and before Link could blink she smacked the side of his head.

"Shit!" The blonde hissed, rubbing his head as Malon smirked smugly. Damn her. "What was that for?"

"Look here, buck-o," Malon began, all too satisfied by the rapidly forming scowl on Link's face. Really, he was too easy to get too. No wonder Zelda was his voice of reason. "As the personal guard-in-training for the princess of Hyrule, you have no right to be using that kind of language."

"Well look here, carrot-top," Link countered. "I can say whatever the hell I wa—what?"

Malon sighed in a satisfied manner as she tuned out all of his indignant sputterings and accusations, followed finally by questions. All of which she chose to ignore. She got the strangest feeling that Zelda would have a similar reaction upon hearing the news.

"C'mon fairy boy. Get yer ass in the cab."

Fairy boy. Where had that come from?

A/N: There you go. A special treat for all of my reviewers in the form of a lightning-fast update. Sadly, I think that'll be the last of the lightning-speed ones to come before we gardually ease back into our every few weeks to a every other month update schedule. Never fear, this is only the beggining of the problems for our two favorite characters! Hopefully they'll get to reunite in a chapter or so, but be forewarned: it won't be rainbows and sunshine for these two just yet.

reviewpuh-leaseIluffyew?

-Cappucinno