Something was bright.

Sheik tried to open her eyes all the way, but whatever it was glared at her. It hurt her eyes. She turned her head away, groaning a little as she did, and tried to sit up. Her arms were weak, and she nearly fell back. Hands grasped her elbows and lifted her.

Rough callouses scraped as the hands disappeared, but by now Sheik had seen their owner and opened her mouth to say . . . what?

Link wasn't looking at her. He stared at his hands in his lap, blue eyes full of something she couldn't name. Fear filled her as she remembered what happened.

Sheik didn't know what to do, so she waited for Link to speak. But he was silent, and so they sat there for uncounted minutes, each waiting for the other to begin.

Sheik was watching the sun begin to set outside when Link finally spoke.

"We should go back."

Something had been building up in her chest, but it collapsed at his words. An odd sense of relief mixed with disappointment bloomed in her gut. What had she been waiting for, truly? Did she really want him to know? She swallowed and stood, avoiding his eyes as he avoided hers.

Their walk was silent, and he dropped her off at her door with hardly a word. But he didn't leave.

Sheik had warred with herself the entire way; when she turned from her door and saw him still standing there, hope flared. Was he waiting for something--anything--to make him stay, just as she was? She took his hand, trying not to flinch when he glanced at her and then away. "Come in," she said softly.

For a moment it seemed like he was battling with himself as well, but almost immediately he relented. His fingers were light in hers as she led him inside, shutting the door to her bedroom. He stood in the middle of the room while she tied her hair up and undid the clasp at the back of her neck.

When she turned to him, she found his eyes watching her every move, following the gown as it slid down and pooled at the floor, leaving in just her shift. She'd gone through a dozen different ways to explain in her head, and ultimately had decided that she would show him, the way he had shown her.

She stepped toward him, unable to take her eyes from his. She wanted him to see her, in a way no one else had, ever. Not even Alana had seen.

Her breath shook as she turned, and she closed her eyes when his hand settled on her back. But she couldn't keep the memories away, not when it was him, and he was there, his fingers scraping the outlines--

She heard his intake of breath, and she knew what he was about to ask. "It was before I left the palace," she said, trying and failing to keep the tremor from her voice. "Ilayen and I . . . we had decided to go out--just for one night. Just to see . . . what it was like. To not be bound."

"He snuck me out of my room and we left the town. We got as far as the first outpost. At first, we didn't realize anything was wrong. It was quiet. There were no guards around, and something stank."

Tears welled in her eyes and fell. "Then we turned the corner, and they were all--all piled on top of each other. It smelled so awful that I gagged, and then they--the monsters saw us."

"For a moment, we just stared at them," Sheik whispered, her shoulders shaking. "It felt like forever, but then they screeched, and one of them was right in front of me, and--"

She broke off, covering her mouth with her hands. But though she'd stopped talking, she could still see it in her mind: that Lizalfos--even after all this time, she remembered it, would never forget it--knocking her into the stone wall with its tail, looming over her, its huge eyes darting as it raised its weapon.

Sheik sucked down several deep breaths. "Ilayen was screaming for me to run. I tried, but I got lost in the garrison, and it was following me, I knew by the lightning strikes. It cornered me in a room, and I tried climbing the walls . . ."

Link's hand had been on her back, but when her voice cracked, it went to her shoulder. "You don't have to tell me," he murmured, voice strained. But Sheik shook her head. She did. She did have to tell him, because if she didn't, she'd hold on to it forever until it burst out of her, and she wanted him to be the first to hear it.

"I remember the pain. I never understood when people said they don't, because how do you forget? The pain keeps it real. And it hurt. What happened after . . . is what you forget."

"I woke up in the infirmary," she said, her voice dull and empty, now that it was finally out. "There was another patient there, too. He had his friends with him. None of the adults would let them near, though. But I remember them."

Now she turned and looked at Link, finding him staring at her, eyes wide and stricken. "That was you?" he whispered.

Sheik didn't know what to say--now that everything was in the open, and he was touching those three jagged scars--but she didn't have to speak. "Why didn't you say anything? To--to anyone?"

To me?

Sheik looked away. "I was ashamed. At first--at first I didn't know how to feel about them, but then . . . I saw you, and Ilayen almost died, and . . . they were just this horrible reminder of what I'd done."

She tried to back away, but Link held on to her, one hand grasping her hip, the other tilting her face up to his. "You've got nothing to be ashamed of," he said roughly. His eyes were bright by the candles, and for the first time Sheik noticed the flecks of black and gray in them.

That was so untrue--so untrue, and he could see her denial in her eyes. He grasped her chin gently, turning her face to his. "Why should you be ashamed?" he asked softly. "Why should you have to suffer that burden? What wrong did you commit?"

"Because!" she cried, her voice no louder than a whisper. "Because I did what I had been told never to do, simply because I was curious! Because I almost died, and Ilayen--Ilayen almost--"

Link shook his head. "That was no fault of yours. That was on your father. Instead of hiding you away, treating you like a porcelain doll, he should have trained you. He should have prepared you for situations like this--so you could defend yourself."

He was right. He was right, and she knew he was right, but she still couldn't shake the guilt. She could still remember the way her stomach had dropped when she'd seen Ilayen lying there, pale as death because he had protected her useless arse. Because she couldn't ever do anything. She knew she'd carry that with her until she died, and that made it worse, because she wanted to be over it. She wanted so badly to be over it all, to forget about it.

She looked up at Link again, feeling his thumb tracing her jaw, and had to fight back a fresh wave of tears. Why him? Why was it always around him that she felt so unsure of herself? She lost her footing when she was with him, her thoughts constantly turning to his blue eyes, the tiny scars she could just make out on his face, the way he was always--always--there. It made her feel weak by comparison.

If he could get over the same, or worse, experience, then why couldn't she?

Sheik wanted to ask, but then the memory of Ganondorf's lab resurfaced, and she shut her eyes. "And now we have those same monsters right under our nose," she whispered.

To her relief, Link didn't step away, instead leading her to her bed. "He spoke of a contact," he said, sitting on the coverlet with Sheik. "Apparently, this contact knows about the . . . experiments." He swallowed. "And about the warrior."

Sheik watched him fiddle with his hands, and slowly, her fear faded. Replaced by all her other worries. Maybe that was the key, she wondered. Distracting herself, to the point where she forgets it ever happened. It had worked well enough in the past. "It's clear he knew what happened to the warrior. But, Link," she added softly, and he stiffened, "we don't have time to go searching for him right now. Especially now."

Link took a breath, though she knew he wanted to argue. "I know. But I just . . . I feel like we're running out of time. Ganondorf is obviously on the hunt for him, just as we are. But he has more freedom than we do. He can come and go as he pleases."

Sheik stared at the wall across from them, her lips pursed. Link was right, she mused. "Perhaps we should change that."

She met Link's confused face with a wicked smile, despite everything. Or maybe it's because of everything, a voice in her head whispered. This is one way you can put him in his place. One way you can hold off the inevitable--at least until you're ready.

"If Ganondorf wants to run the empire so badly," she said, standing, "then he can go right ahead and do so. Which means where I go, he goes."

Link's grin was feral in the candlelight.

/

It seemed that all of Sheik's worst ideas were good in theory.

Chaining Ganondorf to her hip had been a good idea in her head, but the reality was . . . challenging. To say the least.

He was like a thunderstorm, constantly threatening to rain down on her. He always found the negative in things, under the guise of pleasant conversation, and he always--always--had something to say.

After two days, Sheik had finally snapped. She'd had enough of his breathing down her neck, and it seemed her anxiety increased tenfold whenever he was closer than ten feet. So she'd made it an order--without his knowledge, as that would give far too much away--that she always be notified when the advisor disappeared and where he'd gone. Even if it was just to the bathroom.

Sheik wasn't taking any chances. With what they'd learned in his secret room, she wanted to be absolutely ready for anything. She'd had Impa's best shadows search the underground below the castle, every last shadowy nook and cranny, and bring back anything they found to be examined.

So far, nothing. Not even a talon. Frustration built up in Sheik's gut like a river, beating against a dam of relief. She was glad, more so than she could express, that none of the monsters seemed to be in the castle itself, but if they weren't here, then where were they? She mulled over it for hours, occupying most of her thoughts, and now, reviewing reports from Waker Islands, she stood abruptly, rubbing her head. "I need some fresh air," she muttered to Link, who looked up from his book.

He shut the novel and left with her, thankfully not commenting on the fact that all she wore was her cream sweater. Sheik was surprised, honestly. He'd been so flustered when he first saw her like this. Though, she supposed they were both beyond that point. The memory of his fingers on her back made her flush, and she was glad he was behind her.

As they rounded the corner into the hall, a servant came flying toward them, red-faced. "Your Highness!" he gasped. "You must come quickly!"

Sheik immediately straightened. "What is it?"

"You must follow me, Your Highness! There--there is a young girl at the gates, she says she is friends--"

"Saria!" Sheik gasped. She pushed past the servant and rushed out into the night. Link was on her heels. They sprinted past couples and courtiers on the promenade out for a walk, ignoring their disapproving glares. All the way to the bottom--

Where she saw a young girl, holding a bundle to her chest, under heavy guard. "Let me through!" Sheik shouted, out of breath. "Let me through--Saria!"

The guards parted quickly to avoid getting trampled, and Saria's tear-stained face materialized through the bristling spears. "Sheik, I'm sorry," she cried, nearly tripping. Her dress was torn, and dirt was smudged all over her. "Saria, what happened?"

"Th-there was a fire, in the warehouse. One of the orphans was playing with a lit match, and the whole place--" Saria broke off in a sob, and now Sheik could see the plume of smoke and bright flare against the night sky, on the outskirts of the town. "I didn't know what to do," she whispered, staring up at Sheik. "You said--you said we'd always be welcome here, but--"

"You are," Sheik insisted, glad that Saria had finally taken up her offer, but hating that it had taken something like this. "You are, but--where are the rest of them, Saria?"

"The guards wouldn't let them through. Only me, and only because--"

"What is that?" One of the guards demanded, and Sheik finally noticed what was in Saria's shaking arms. She'd first through it was a bundle of clothes, but now she saw a tiny, pale arm flail out, fingers grasping the edge of the blanket.

Sheik stared at Saria, disbelief bouncing against the walls of her mind. "You--you--"

"She's not mine," Saria whispered, trying to quiet the soft cries that rose from the bundle. "We found her on the doorstep this morning. Someone--someone just left her there. What was I supposed to do?" She searched Sheik's face for an answer.

Sheik's heart broke. "Nothing you haven't already done," she said fiercely. She ached inside; the strong, independent girl she'd once known was nowhere to be found. Instead, cruelty and heartlessness had reduced Saria to a small, shaking orphan, with no one to turn to.

Not no one, Sheik swore. "Come inside. All of you," she added, with a stern look at the guards. They were dubious, but they stood aside, opening the gates further.

"No."

Sheik froze at the voice. Turning, she found Link watching her with sad, hard eyes. "We can't let them in, Sheik," he murmured.

She had no voice, but it didn't matter, because Link took her aside. "We can't bring them into this," he muttered, one eye on the group of children staring up at the castle. "Ganondorf is practically running wild, and there are monsters in the castle! We can't bring a bunch of children--"

"I am not leaving them here, Link!" Sheik hissed, furious that he would even suggest it. "I told them they would always have a place here! I can't just abandon them--"

"I said nothing about abandoning them!" he snapped back. "Just step back a moment, will you? You don't always have to be in command."

Sheik almost snorted at the absurdity of that statement as he dragged her back to the children. "You three," he addressed three senior guards. "Dispatch a team to put out that fire before it spreads. You three, I want you to watch these kids. The rest of you, put together an escort. Bring supplies, it's going to be a long journey."

"Where will we be going, sir?" A senior guard asked, fist against his heart.

"Ordon Village," Link answered, the faraway fire lighting his eyes. He turned to the kids, crouching down to their eye level. They crowded together while Saria and Sheik spoke privately, their frightened, soot-stained faces fixed on him. "Now, everyone listen to me," he said softly. "The castle isn't safe right now for you, so the princess is going to send you to a nice, quiet village in the woods."

"But she said we could stay with her," a young boy called. Link remembered his name--Mido.

"I know that," he answered, trying to come up with a reason that aligned with Sheik's pledge to her people. "But . . . the princess wants all of you to be safe, above everything else. She cares very much about you. Which is why Ordon Village is perfect."

"I've heard of Ordon," a solemn girl said quietly. "You can fish and farm, and there's lots of goats."

Link smiled. "That's right," he said, at the same time another boy, this time with black hair, asked tremulously, "What are goats?"

He huddled into what could only have been his twin's side, who answered. "They're friendly, Tael, don't worry. They've got horns and they make funny noises."

"That doesn't sound friendly," Tael murmured, but he didn't argue.

Satisfied, Link stood and faced the guards. "Take them to the receiving room and put them up for the night. You will leave at dawn."

"Yes, captain."

He turned to where Sheik was still talking with Saria. Their soft voices carried over to him on the summer breeze.

"I don't know what's going to happen. How do we know Ordon is safe?"

"I trust him. He wouldn't send them anywhere he thought they would get hurt."

"And what about Navi?"

A sigh. "He's told me about someone in Ordon. A mother. She can probably--"

"She won't make the journey, Sheik. She's hardly more than six months, and Ordon is on the other side of the country."

"There might be someone here who can take her. But you can't stay, Saria, I can't let you get dragged into this--"

"I'm already into it," Saria hissed, but there was no anger in it. "I can't leave her alone--"

"And what about the other children?" Sheik demanded, voice low. "What about Mido and Tael, Tatl and Fi? Who will look after them? They look up to you, Saria, they need you. Without you there, they will scatter. Is that what you want?"

"Of course not! But . . . Navi--"

Sheik gently took the bundle out of the younger girl's arms. "Navi will be safe here," she almost whispered. "But you won't. How do you think the court will react to half a dozen orphans showing up overnight?"

"You and I both know the court is beholden to you," Saria answered, but Link and Sheik both could hear the defeat in her voice. "They would cut off their own foot if it pleased you. The only one to fight you on this is--"

Sheik shushed the orphan, looking around. "Not here. But . . . you've seen it?"

"Of course. It's not exactly hidden, how much he hates you. At least, not to us."

Sheik laughed dryly. "I'm glad I'm not the only one."

"Trust me, you're not," came Saria's dark reply. A moment of silence descended, during which Link tried and failed to keep his eyes off of Sheik. She'd cradled the baby in her arms, and his heart ached for her. Even after what she'd suffered, what she still suffered, she was strong.

She's strong because she cares, he thought, swallowing. She's always been that way--from the moment she looked at me in that medical ward, those years ago. I could see it then, and I see it now.

"Don't worry, Saria. They will be safe in Ordon, and Navi will be safe here. I promise."

As strong as she was, she couldn't keep her voice from cracking on that last word, and she and Saria embraced as tightly as they could without smothering the baby. Again feeling like the moment was too intimate for his eyes, Link turned away and began organizing the travel parties. Already, the fire had dimmed in the distance, but he didn't know if it was because the firefighting team had gotten there in time--he doubted it--or because it had died on its own.

Whatever the case, he sent a prayer up to the goddesses in thanks. At least it hadn't spread. He was broken from his thoughts as Sheik came up to him, the baby in her arms. She observed the guards leading the children up the promenade quietly, her eyes on the small figure in front, back straight and head high.

"Make sure they're comfortable," was all she said. She turned from the sight and headed for the entrance to the Guard's Chambers. The sad group ahead of them had a good headstart, but they were upwind, and so the beginnings of crying drifted down the air towards them. Link hurried after Sheik as she ducked into the entrance, her head bowed low.

He called her name in the torchlit passages, but she ignored him, hurrying past the guards practicing or simply enjoying their free time, who watched curiously. Sheik didn't stop until she'd reached the level above and rushed along the servants' passages, finally turning into a large room filled with servants, young and old, male and female. Some were shuffling across the room, getting ready for their shift, while others were just collapsing into their beds. Whatever the case, they were all half-asleep enough to not care very much when the princess and her personal guard walked in with a baby.

"Sirela!" Sheik hissed, hurrying toward a young girl with dark hair. She turned, blue eyes widening when she saw them. Link remembered her as one of Sheik's friends.

He glanced at Sheik. Was she trying to pass off the baby as Sirela's? The girl glanced around and pushed through the tired crowd to them. "What are you doing here, Zelda? Whose baby is that? Oh, hey, Link . . ."

She covered her mouth with her hands and her eyes widened. Link felt his heart speed up and had to fight not to clear his throat. Beside him, Sheik's face had gone an amusing shade of red. They said together, perhaps a bit too loudly, "She's not ours!"

Sirela's face said she very much doubted that, but she didn't press it. "Then whose is it? And why do you have it?"

"It's yours," Sheik answered. "Where's Faylen?"

"I'll fetch him."

She dove back into the sleepy crowd, leaving Sheik and Link to stand awkwardly, trying to stay out of the way. Sheik shifted the baby in her arms, hunching her shoulders to keep from bumping into a servant, and brushed against Link as she did so. He wondered if she could sense the way his pulse picked up at her touch, even through their clothes. He swallowed. No, bad Link. She's the princess. He repeated the words to himself, as he did every time she was near.

When Sirela's husband had arrived, Sheik explained what had happened. Sirela let out cooing noises and took the baby when she began to cry, rocking her gently. "This will be hard to explain," she told Sheik. "As far as everyone here knows, I wasn't pregnant. That would have been a tad difficult to hide."

Faylen answered before Sheik could. "But my cousin was." He glanced at Sirela, his face mirroring the uncertainty in his wife's eyes. "We could say she couldn't take care of the baby, and sent her here . . ."

"I suppose," Sirela said, unconvinced. Sheik stepped forward. "Please. You two are the only ones I can trust with this. Many of the guard have already seen me with the baby. They will suspect something has happened. But," she took Sirela's and Faylen's hands, "if it's you two, no one would be surprised. Most everyone knows you are my friends. It would be seen as a simple favor."

"I could command the guards not to talk, either," Link put in. "The last thing we would need is talk of this reaching the wrong ears." He glanced at Sheik and saw his own worries there. Ganondorf.

He faced back to the pair. "Your safety, and Navi's, is paramount. We would never allow this to affect your positions in the castle, or your security."

The pair still looked unsure, but as they gazed down at the baby, their expressions gradually softened. Faylen wrapped his arm around Sirela's shoulder. "We have been praying for this," he murmured.

Sirela laughed, her eyes bright. "Perhaps the goddesses work in strange ways."

They looked back at Sheik and Link. "We will take her. Don't worry, Zelda. She will be safe."

Sheik was noticeably relaxed. "As will you," she called softly, as the pair walked off. She and Link stood watching them for a long moment, until it became all too apparent that they were standing as close as the married couple had been, close enough for Sheik to feel the heat from Link seeping into her side.

Clearing her throat, she stepped away and tried to hide her shiver. It was chilly in the servant's quarters. Unsure what to do now, she began the trek up to her room. But halfway there, in an abandoned hallway, she collapsed against the wall, unable to keep it at bay anymore.

Link lurched forward, but was stopped short as she raised her head, tears burning her eyes. "Why?" she whispered. "Why can't I protect them? I--I promised them--and they believed me."

She lifted her hands. "What good is a crown if it cannot provide? What--" She looked at Link, then, and he swallowed at the confusion in her eyes. "What good am I doing?"

He didn't have an answer. Gods, he wished he did, but . . . nothing came up. And he hated the way her shoulders fell when she realized it.

The walk to her room was silent.

——————————————————————————

Hey y'all *waves*

A bit shorter chapter today, but by Monday the story will hit a major point and begin picking up. Buckle up! HAHA

Anyway.

REVIEW REPLIES

To Ultimate blazer: dark times indeed! The Master Sword has been conspicuously absent so far; also yess haha

To Oracle of Hylia: hit the nail right on the head. You're too good at this you know XD thank you for the compliment, I felt appropriately evil when I left it there hehe

To Generala: memories can be pretty shitty things sometimes tbh. These two know that best in addition to. . What you said LMAOO. So do all of us, by the way XD

See y'all on Thursday, thank you for reviewing and please continue the support, love you guys :))) later~