The Legend of Zelda, its characters and locations are all property of Nintendo. Any and all OCs and original locations belong to me unless specifically stated to belong to someone else.

The Voice
15 - I Can Be Diplomatic!

It had been a long day, and Link was looking forward to getting some shut-eye in a proper bed. The sight of the massive horse's head that marked the location of the East Akkala stable was a welcome one, and it hadn't taken much convincing for Sheik to agree to the idea, especially since Robbie's laboratory was, apparently, not very far away. Best to be fully rested when going to meet him, was their justification.

Link's motivation was mostly fatigue from the long night and subsequent full day of travelling, while Sheik's...well, he was just overly keen on postponing their meeting with Robbie in general. Link wasn't entirely sure why, but he had an inkling...

He let the eager, helpful girl by the pen take Maladict away, promising Link she'd give him the full royal treatment (whatever that meant), and that he'd barely recognise Maladict the next day.

"That almost sounds ominous," Sheik whispered as they watched Maladict being led away.

"I'm s-sure sh-she'll just b-brush him and s-stuff," Link said. "M-Maybe untangle his m-mane."

"I warned you about trying to braid it when he was moving," Sheik said.

"I g-got c-curious, all right?" Link defended, slinging the pack off his shoulder and heading for the entrance to the large tent-like structure that served as the stable's inn. Some other guests were milling about outside, tending to their own business. The Sheikah armour drew some curious looks, but they left him alone, luckily. He just wanted to sleep...

A pity, really, that fate had something else in store for him. Just as he rounded the pen fence and made to enter the tent, someone else was on their way out, carrying so much it obscured their view. Link grunted as the tip of something wooden struck him just beneath his sternum, making him instinctively curl up, which tripped the person coming out.

The end result was the pair of them lying on the floor in a heap, surrounded by the man's...painting supplies? Paints, a blank canvas, a folded-up easel...yup, definitely painting supplies.

More surprising still was the man's head of chalk-white hair, his red eyes, and the simple working outfit he wore—identical to the day-to-day clothes worn by the inhabitants of Kakariko. What was a Sheikah doing all the way out here?

"Ah, my apologies, young man," the old Sheikah said, smiling at him. "The canvas makes it damn hard to see where I am going! Are you all right?"

"I-I'm f-fine," Link said, horrified at having knocked him down. "I'm s-so s-sorry—"

"Oh, don't worry, nothing was broken from what I can see," the Sheikah said cheerfully. "It's a good thing I haven't even started the painting yet, or I might have been a little disappointed if it got smudged."

Link quickly helped him up, and then gathered his supplies for him. As he did so, he noticed the man's eyes landing on the armour he was wearing, and the prominent Sheikah eye on his chest.

"Say," he said carefully, "forgive an old man for prying, but...care to share with me how you ended up with that armour?" His tone had acquired an edge that did not match his cheerful expression at all, and Link suddenly felt that he was in danger. The man was old, but chances were he was just as well-trained as the rest of his clan mates.

"Er...I..." he struggled to come up with a proper explanation (so used to making up stories by now, the thought of telling the actual truth didn't even occur to him)...but as it turned out, he didn't need to, as Sheik chose that moment to speak up, talking to the Sheikah in their native tongue.

Link had to admit he was fascinated by hearing Sheik speak it—it was so different from the Hylian tongue he usually used. He definitely heard his name being mentioned somewhere in there, and could only assume Sheik was giving the man a quick, abridged version of their story.

The Sheikah stared at the slate for a moment, then replied also in the Sheikah tongue, giving Link an apologetic look right after. "Forgive me for my rudeness," he said, lowering his voice, aware they'd acquired something of an audience because of the impact, and then the voice issuing from the slate. "Perhaps we should speak somewhere else?"

Link nodded, and the man led them a small, rocky knoll that overlooked the stable, and gave them a spectacular view of the Akkala Highlands as well. The sun was setting, casting an orange glow over the landscape. The Sheikah began setting up the easel, placing the canvas upon it.

"Such lovely lighting here, this time of year," he said, fishing out a palette from his bag. "Figured it was time to capture it." He paused, then held out his hand. "My apologies, I forget my manners. My name is Pikango—it is an honour to finally meet you, Master Link."

Now there was a coincidence. Link had been convinced they'd missed their chance at meeting up with the Sheikah spy, and then he runs into him (literally) here, of all places. Link shook his hand, managing an introduction that was nearly without stutters at all, to his surprise.

"J-Just c-call me L-Link, please," he added. He gestured to the slate. "Th-This is—"

"Sheik, yes," Pikango said. "He...made it clear in no uncertain terms who he is, who you are, and what Impa would do to me if I threatened you for wearing our people's sigil."

Link glared down at the slate. "D-Did he, n-now?"

"I was trying to prevent a cultural incident," Sheik said innocently. "Usually, someone wearing the Sheikah sigil without earning it is...well..."

"Killed on the spot," Pikango supplied helpfully, causing Link to gulp. "After the schism, we were forced to take...drastic measures towards those who wore our colours and mark without permission."

"R-Right..." Link said, worried about the way Pikango's eyes shone during the explanation.

"I have to say, though," Sheik said, "I'm surprised you took me at my word so easily."

"You speak our language, you dropped the correct names, and he matches the description of the Hylian champion perfectly...save for the uniform," Pikango said, shrugging. "I will admit I do not know much about the Sheikah Slate's capabilities, but honestly, based on the stories Impa has shared with me over the years, it certainly didn't surprise me to hear it speak so rudely."

"Hey—"

"And his description of Impa's punishment was correct and detailed to a disturbing degree," Pikango added with a shudder. "I have only crossed that woman once, and I shall never do so again."

"She's scary, huh?" Sheik said.

"Terrifying," Pikango agreed.

Link could only blink in confusion. Impa had been nothing but lovely to him, like a grandmother. True, he'd heard Sheik scream something horribly when he was left alone with her, but he'd assumed she'd said something that pissed him off. Then again, he had been oddly subdued after she'd adopted him...

"Anyway," Pikango said, beginning to prepare his paints. "What can I do for you, Champion?"

Link did his best to explain the reason he'd come looking for Pikango, but that turned out to be a little harder than he'd thought. It felt strange, having to describe how finding places on photographs would help him regain his memory.

Pikango continued mixing paints as Link explained, eyes never leaving him. "Photographs, you say?" he asked. "May I see them?"

"W-We've already f-found o-one," Link explained, pointing out the picture of the old temple.

"I see," Pikango said. "Yes, this isn't too far away from here, is it? Mmm, let's see..." He hemmed and hawed as Link scrolled through the remaining photographs. "I recognise most of these places," he finally said. "From what I remember of the stories, the princess went on quite a journey with her protector. You'll be trekking all over Hyrule if you're looking to see these spots."

"We'll be doing that anyway," Sheik said. "If you can show us where they are on the map, it'd be a big help."

"Certainly," the older Sheikah said. "How do I do it?"

"Just...point, and Link will mark the spot."

Sheik was clearly still not comfortable with anyone but Link or Sidon touching him, apparently, and it was an awkward exercise for Pikango to point out the approximate locations of the landmarks on the photographs, and for Link to mark these spots on the slate's map.

"That should be all of them," Pikango said, glancing towards the highlands, squinting at the rapidly setting sun. "Damn, looks like I won't be getting any painting done today."

"S-Sorry," Link said. "I d-didn't mean t-to—"

"Do not worry, Champion," Pikango said with a smile. "I'll be staying here for at least another week. I'll find the time to paint sooner or later. And frankly, helping you is a tad more important than me indulging in my hobby."

"Damn right," Sheik said.

"Shh," Link shushed him.

"Is he always like this?" Pikango asked.

"Y-Yes."

"My sympathies."

"I can hear you, you know."

"...an impressive figure on the battlefield, our leader," Pikango said, smiling at Link over his mug. "She may not look it now, but I have no doubt Impa is still one of the strongest fighters we have. I would certainly hesitate to take her on, sparring or not."

Link nodded with fascination. He was so damn tired, but the stories Pikango had to share about the Sheikah and the exploits of Impa after the Calamity were just too exciting to miss. The sun had set long ago, and it was pitch black outside, the majority of the stable guests and workers having congregated inside the tent, many turning in for the night while others remained at the bar counter, drinking their sorrows and worries away. Pikango had down several mugs of ale at this point, while Link had stuck to water.

Sheik was propped up on the bar counter, also listening to Pikango's stories, asking questions or commenting from time to time in a quiet voice only they could hear.

"Do you know Robbie at all?" Sheik asked. "Impa did not sound thrilled when we said we had to speak with him."

Pikango's brow furrowed. "Robbie is...interesting. Brilliant, no doubt. His research on the Guardians has provided us with plenty of valuable intelligence, which we use to develop techniques for fighting them. Without him, we'd still have no idea how to even kill them."

"I sense a but in there somewhere," Sheik said drily. Link nodded.

Pikango sighed. "You know the saying, there's a fine line between genius and madness? Well, Robbie has one foot each planted on either side of that line at all times. It makes him an...acquired taste, and not particularly pleasant to be around, even on his good days." He finished his drink and ordered another. "To say the least, there's a reason I'm staying here, and not at his laboratory."

Well, that wasn't a good sign. Not at all. Link felt he had a pretty high tolerance for unpleasant people, but Sheik...he had to make contingency plans.

"I feel bad for his assistant," Pikango continued. "How on earth he managed to convince her to marry him is beyond me, but there we are. Perhaps she's just as bonkers as him, deep down."

"Oooookay," Sheik said slowly. "Now I'm worried about what we're about to walk into."

"You should be," Pikango said with deadly seriousness. "You. Should. Be."

It was no wonder Link had nightmares when he later went to bed.

"Best of luck," Pikango said, seeing them off at dawn. "Remember, I will be here for another six days. Stop by if you have the chance—I'm sure I can provide some valuable intel on wherever you're going next."

"Th-Thanks," Link said, nodding.

"Might want to keep an eye out for Yiga members," Sheik added. "We ran into a pair of them on the road here. Link killed one, but the other got away."

"Noted," Pikango said. "Thank you for the warning. I've had my fair share of scraps with the traitors, but never in this region. If they've managed to infest this place too, they'll soon regret it. I can sniff them out, you see."

"H-How?" Link asked.

"Well, for one thing they all have a strange obsession with bananas, so I just keep my guard up if I happen to see any," Pikango said.

"Hah!" Sheik exclaimed, apparently feeling vindicated. With the way his mind had derailed completely that night, Link was happy his companion had some confirmation of the weirdness of it all.

"And they never can resist picking a fight with Sheikah in the wild," the older man added. "They see this outfit," he gestured to his clothes, "and out comes the knives, regardless of what they're up to or which role they're trying to play. Quite useful for rooting them out of local communities, honestly."

"These ones managed to keep their disguises up long enough to nearly take Link's head off, though," Sheik said. "They were definitely looking for him, claiming Ganon wanted his head."

Link had tried to forget that bit. It meant that anyone he met these days could be a Yiga in disguise, trying to kill him. Frankly, just sleeping at the stable was an unnecessary risk he shouldn't have taken.

"Then I urge you to be extremely careful in the future, Link," Pikango said gravely. "Though I think between the two of you, no Yiga will be able to fulfil their mission. Even so, I suggest making a few rules of precaution, like not trusting anyone you randomly meet on the road, not taking any food or drink from them—"

"I a-ate th-their food," Link said, wishing he could slap himself in the face. "Wh-What if w-was poisoned?!"

"If it were, I'm pretty sure you'd be dead by now," Sheik said soothingly. "If anything, it speaks of the Yiga's lack of ability—they trusted their blades would be enough. But yes, in the future, I think it's best not to accept gifts from random strangers. Honestly, that's a good rule in general to have, even when you're not being hunted by a gang of homicidal, banana-obsessed, traitorous losers in red pyjamas."

Pikango snorted. "Agreed," he said. He patted Link's shoulder. "Chin up, Champion. You're not dead yet, and since you're still standing here now, a hundred years later, they will find you a much tougher opponent than they can imagine." He glanced towards the uphill road that would lead them to Robbie's lab. "Now, I suggest you get going. Robbie tends to be in a better mood in the mornings, before whatever experiment he's working on has failed spectacularly."

"Well, this is just getting better and better, isn't it?" Sheik said with the enthusiasm reserved for doing taxes.

"See?" Sheik asked as they made their way up the hill. "Now that is how a braid is supposed to look!"

Link blushed, seeing the elegant patterns and designs the stable girl had made with Maladict's mane, which was completely opposite of the unmitigated disaster he'd made of the poor horse's hair. It wasn't his fault—everyone else made it look so easy.

"You need to work on your dexterity, my friend," Sheik continued. "I'm pretty sure the stable girl will yell at you if she sees another mess like that again. I bet she spent half the night fixing it, the poor thing—"

"Sh-Shut up!"

"Th-There it is," Link said, bringing Maladict to a stop as a building that could only be the Akkala Ancient Tech Lab (Pikango had been very particular about them getting the name right, for some reason) came into view at the top of the hill. Much like Purah's lab in Hateno, it appeared to be an old lighthouse, converted with numerous modifications and contraptions that served purposes Link couldn't even begin to imagine.

"Great," Sheik said quietly.

Link sighed and picked up the slate, holding it in both hands and looking down at the screen. "Wh-What's w-wrong?" he asked.

"Nothing," Sheik said. "I'm fine."

Link narrowed his eyes at him. "Y-You sure?" he asked. "Y-You w-were trying to s-stall us in c-coming here." And not the good kind of stalling either. Sheik could lie at the drop of a hat, but he'd been utterly unable to hide his discomfort with seeing Robbie. At first Link hadn't understood why Sheik had been so against it, especially since he'd been quite enthusiastic about it back in Hateno.

It had been a mystery, up until the point Link had remembered the last time Sheik had been keen on visiting Robbie and finding out more about his origins, which was before they'd met Sidon. Before they'd...figured things out.

And Link felt like an idiot for not figuring it out before now, so late. Almost too late.

"I haven't been stalling," Sheik protested. "Just pointing out that I'm not important enough to setting aside your quest for."

"Sh-Sheik..."

"Yes?"

Link took a deep breath. He wasn't good with words. He got proof of that every day. He doubted he'd ever be able to master them—not with his damnable stutter, which made him feel embarrassed every time he opened his mouth. Therefore, he could only say exactly what he meant, as clearly as he could. It wasn't elegant, it wasn't poetic. It was clumsy. It was awkward. But at least it was honest.

"N-No matter wh-what w-we discover in th-there," he said slowly and carefully, enunciating each word as best as he could, "it w-won't ch-change how I f-feel about y-you. N-Nor how S-Sidon feels. D-Do you understand th-that?"

"...you don't know that," Sheik said, voice low, barely audible over the blowing wind. "You say that now, but what if it's true? That I'm just an artificial intelligence meant to give the slate's user something to talk to? No greater purpose than to just be a voice, and obey commands? I thought I was satisfied with that, but...now that I have...you and..." he trailed off. "Never mind. It's stupid."

Link looked down at him sadly. How long had he been worrying about this? Losing him and Sidon was one thing, but had Sheik really been satisfied with potentially being a completely artificial construct this whole time? Or had the doubt gnawed at him since they'd spoken with Purah?

"It's n-not s-stupid," he assured him. "And I p-promise you, m-my feelings w-won't ch-change. I s-swear it! B-Because e-even if you are artificial, y-you're s-still my f-friend, my companion," he bent down and kissed the screen, whispering, "my l-lover."

There was a long pause, Sheik's screen dimming and brightening quickly. "Sidon might not—"

"S-Sidon w-won't care as l-long as y-you keep r-rolling those Rs," Link said, grinning.

Sheik chuckled. "Ah, so it is true he only wanted me for my accent, huh?"

Link nodded, laughing a little. "I c-could n-never hope to c-compete."

"Yes, well, my voice is rather exquisite, isn't it?"

Now this was more like it. Sheik was at his best when he was arrogant and smug. Link kissed the screen again, hoping to cement his point. "S-So...let's g-go talk to R-Robbie, yeah? G-get to th-the bottom of th-the m-mystery?"

"All right," Sheik said, sounding more determined. "Even if I don't like the answer, I can still shout him into submission, right?"

"I'll j-join you, even," Link promised.

Sheik thought for a moment. "Is it bad that I actually want to see you shout at someone until they cry?"

Link didn't know what to make of that.

Link spotted the familiar-looking furnace outside the lab before Sheik did, and while he wasn't happy to see it, he nevertheless made no mention of it, hoping he could make it inside the lab before Sheik noticed it and made a big deal out of—

"You've got to be kidding me!"

No such luck.

"What is it with Sheikah scientists and being utterly incapable of keeping a damn fire burning?!" Sheik exclaimed. "Are they all really that lazy and incompetent?!"

Link remained quiet, deciding to let his companion burn out on his own time for once. There were only so many times he could he could agree and acknowledge Sheik's outrage.

It took several minutes.

"...take their torch and shove it!"

"Y-You f-finished?" Link asked when no more verbal abuse towards his own people was forthcoming.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm done," Sheik said, still sounding annoyed. "But I tell you, if Robbie asks you to light it for him—"

"S-Shove the t-torch, I heard," Link finished. Honestly, he agreed with Sheik on this one, albeit in slightly more diplomatic terms. Purah had made it explicitly clear how important the blue, magic fire was to her work, but if that were true why was he the one who had to fetch it? It wasn't even that far away. He couldn't see the source for Robbie's fire, but surely that wasn't too far away?

Unless...

A sinking feeling began to grow in his stomach as he imagined having to trek all the way back to Hateno just to light the stupid fire, because, with his luck, that was the only source of that damn flame, of course!

"We are not going back to Hateno for it," Sheik said, as if reading Link's mind. "He wants it so badly, he can go get it himself. It'll be good for him to get out in the fresh air."

"A-Agreed," Link said. No way in hell was he travelling that far just for dumb blue fire. He paused at the door to the lab, fist poised to knock on it, remembering something Impa had told him about Robbie...and what not to let happen. Big personalities, and so on. "Sh-Sheik?" he said.

"Yeah?"

"L-Let me d-do th-the talking, y-yeah?"

"Are you sure about that?" Sheik asked dubiously. "You hate talking to strangers."

"Y-Yes, b-but I n-need th-the practice," Link lied.

"...plus, it'll likely triple the time it takes to finish, because you take forever to get to the point."

"W-Well—"

"And Goddess forbid that he says something insulting, because you're far too nice to insult him right back. Link, why are you so nice?"

"H-How sh-should I—"

"Honestly, I really should do all the talking because I'll cut right to the heart of the matter—"

"I w-will talk!" Link said. "And th-that's th-that!"

"...and I assume I'm to shut up until further notice?" Sheik asked. "Are you that ashamed of me?"

"N-No," Link said hurriedly, wondering why he didn't just say he doubted he and Robbie would get along right away. Well, he knew why, really. Because Sheik would take offence to that as well. "I'm n-not a-ashamed—I j-just th-think diplomacy w-will w-work best."

"I can be diplomatic," Sheik muttered.

"J-Just...let m-me, okay?"

"Fine, fine, shutting up now."

"Th-Thanks," Link said, raising a fist and knocking on the door.

"I bet he's short."

"Shh!"

No answer. He tried knocking several more times, but no one came to open the door.

"Maybe they're out getting the fire?" Sheik suggested with glee.

Link ignored him and tried the doorknob, which turned just fine. The door swung open, and Link stepped inside. In many ways, Robbie and Purah's labs were almost identical. There were papers everywhere with complicated sketches and mathematical equations, bookshelves lining every available length of wall free of other obstructions, and tools littering the floor.

In the middle of the large room that made up the lighthouse, however, was something Purah hadn't had. It looked like a huge vase or pot, but with glowing blue lines running along the seams, and the Sheikah eye featured prominently on it. And it appeared to have eyes, half-lidded and lazy.

"What the fuck is that?" Sheik asked, summing up Link's own thoughts expertly.

He stepped closer to it, staring into its "eyes".

"I..."

He nearly jumped back with horror as the thing spoke with a hollow, ancient-sounding voice that echoed through its body.

"I...it's...an...it's..."

Link didn't know what to say or do. Was he supposed to answer this...thing? Did it need something? It didn't seem capable of saying anything other than random words.

"Hey, you!" exclaimed an angry, gruff voice from behind him. "What are you doing here?"

Link turned, and saw...well, who else could it be?

Robbie was short. No taller than Purah, in her six-year-old form. Did all Sheikah shrink to that size as they got older, or was it just those three? At least the person Link assumed to be Robbie's assistant slash wife was of normal height (still taller than Link, to his immense displeasure)...though clearly not even near her husband in age. Which was...well, none of Link's business, really, given his own peculiar romantic life.

More peculiar still, however, were the goggles Robbie wore. They obscured the upper half of his face (and splitting his white hair in a rather comical fashion), making him look a lot like a bug with glowing eyes.

"Hmm?" Robbie demanded, stepping a little closer. "Hmmm?!" He scratched his chin.

"You owe me five rupees," Sheik whispered.

"A-Are you R-Robbie?" Link asked, doubting very much he had the wrong, tiny Sheikah. "I c-came here t-to s-speak w-with you."

Robbie didn't answer right away, taking a moment to walk around Link, seemingly studying every inch of him. "Hmm," he muttered. "Correct height and build..."

"Uh...uhm..." Link began.

"Are you...the one called...Link?" Robbie finally asked.

"Y-Yes?" Link said, hating that he made it sound more like a question than an answer. A real Hero would probably strike a pose and bellow an affirmative. Link's was barely more than a squeak.

Robbie scratches his chin again. "Hm? Hm. That's too bad," he said. "If you were the legendary Link, there would be something important I'd need to tell you."

"I a-am," Link said, even if he didn't find the legendary part of it all that true.

"But how," Robbie continued, as if he hadn't heard Link at all, "can I determine with full certainty whether or not you are the true hero? Yes, how indeed?" He looked up at Link with a sceptical frown, turning a gauge on his googles, which caused the lenses to spin a little. "Hm?" he demanded.

"I...d-don't know?"

The female Sheikah wasn't bothering with the conversation at all, having retreated to one of the bookshelves and picked up a random volume, reading it. No help whatsoever.

"Hm, hm," Robbie continued, humming like the madman he surely was. "Yes!" he exclaimed. "If you can show me the wounds that your body suffered one hundred years ago, that should prove you are truly Link."

"E-Excuse me?"

"Go on, boy," Robbie said, snapping his finger in a very Purah-like fashion. "Strip down and show me your body."

Link wasn't entirely sure how to react to that demand.

"Ex-fucking-cuse me?!" Sheik shrieked, louder than Link had ever heard him before, "What did you just say, you old pervert?! What sort of sick thing is that to ask someone not even a tenth your age?! That some sort of hobby of yours, asking young lads to strip for you? Is that how you get your rocks off, staring at glistening muscles and supple skin? For fuck's sake, man, you have a wife! She's standing right there!"

Wishing a hole would open up beneath him and swallow him, Link gave Robbie a crooked, hopeful smile and gestured to the slate. "Th-This is Sh-Sheik...Impa's n-nephew."

Robbie, who'd been taken aback at the sudden onslaught and suggestive insults to his person, took a moment to stare at Link, then at the slate, then back at Link. "Hm," he said after a while. "The note did mention something about a rude little bastard living in the slate."

"Oh-ho, it's on now, old man!"

"Sh-Sheik..." Link said despairingly, wondering how his life had taken such a wrong turn. "P-Please don't p-pick fights!"

"That is not the thing to say to the one trying to defend your virtue!"

"He j-just w-wants to s-see m-my scars!"

"And he could have just said that, instead of asking for a show! This is ridiculous, first the king and now him?" Sheik's screen flickered dangerously. "I'm onto your game, perv! Link doesn't have to show you a damn thing to prove he is who he is!"

Deciding he'd had enough, Link did the only thing he could think of, which was to grab the bottom of his tunic and pull it up, exposing his midriff and a great deal of the scarring there, including the bottom half of the large burn on his chest.

"Th-This g-good enough?" he asked.

Robbie stepped a little closer, almost gleefully ignoring the fuming Sheik, and looked at the scars. "Hm...yes...the number of scars...healed over, of course, but they correspond quite well to the injuries I know you sustained during the Calamity..." He stepped back, gesturing for Link to drop stop exposing himself. "Hm, yes. I acknowledge you as the real Link," he said, like it was some sort of huge service he was providing.

"Well hurrah, hurrah," Sheik said sarcastically. "What would we ever do without your coveted acknowledgement?"

"Let us begin again," Robbie said, looking up at Link. "I am the lead Guardian researcher and director of the Akkala Ancient Tech Lab." He stamped his feet repeatedly and struck a dramatic pose...which would have been a lot more effective if he didn't only come up to Link's chest and, as stated, looked a bit like an insect with those goggles. "Doctooooooooor...Robbie!"

Link stared, unsure of how to react.

"So...Sheikah become demented perverts in their old age," Sheik mumbled. "Good to know."

When he clearly didn't receive a standing ovation, Robbie cleared his throat and adjusted his goggles. "In any case," he said, "I really am impressed that you made it all the way out to this rather remote location. Did you, perchance, meet Purah and borrow her power?"

"We met a child," Sheik replied.

Robbie stared at the slate. "Hm? Purah? A child?"

"Oh, so you can hear me. Good. I thought you were stone deaf in addition to addle-brained."

Robbie, displaying a fantastic ability to only hear what he wanted to hear, completely ignored the insults. "What?! She really has a kid?" he asked. Then he grimaced. "Hmm...or do you mean that Purah aged backward...and she is now a child?"

"I feel it says a lot about these people when he got it right on the second try."

"P-Purah got y-younger," Link supplied, fighting the urge to agree with Sheik out loud.

"Hm? Are you certain?" Robbie asked. "Hm! Impa's note didn't mention that...so she's as crazy as ever," he muttered to himself.

"Takes one to know one, perv," Sheik added.

"Okeydoke," the elder Sheikah said, straightening up. "Knowing her, I'm guessing she screwed up some experiment. Hm, hm, yes, typical."

It really was the one with which he said it that had Link wondering why these people were considered the brightest minds in all of Hyrule. He didn't even dare consider what the Sheikah who'd originally built the Guardians were like, if the likes of Purah and Robbie were simply researching their craft.

"Let us return to the subject at hand, hm?"

"For the love of Hylia, yes, please!"

"You know the Calamity is regaining its power, yes?" Robbie asked, to which Link nodded. "Ah, good, so I do not need to tell you the story?"

"Try it, and I will scream until you stop, old man."

It really was impressive, how Robbie managed to ignore Sheik to such an extent. It was like he had some way of just...tuning him out. Link wondered if Robbie could teach him...just for the occasions when Sheik was being annoying, but not bad enough to warrant the mute switch, of course.

"Y-You d-don't have t-to," Link said.

"Yes, I see, hm...in that case," Robbie said, suddenly pointing at Link. "You! Now is the time to join forces with us Sheikah, yes?"

"Er...y-yes?" Link answered slash asked, wondering what he'd been doing so far if that wasn't joining forces with the Sheikah.

"We must destroy the Calamity!" Robbie announced, posing once more.

"Can I change my race?" Sheik asked, embarrassment and loathing in his voice.

"Let's d-do it," Link exclaimed, trying to sound as enthusiastic and pumped as Robbie did...which, predictably, wasn't even close.

At least they'd made contact successfully?

"You can take your blue fire and shove it so far up your—"

"W-We'll g-get it!"

"Now then," Robbie said, finally turning his attention to the slate. "About your little friend..."

Link slumped a little on the stool, using the table behind him to brace his back. It had been a long day—fetching the fire to reactivate the ancient oven (which Robbie had named Cherry, the story of which made Link uncomfortable) and getting it ready to produce weapons and armour using scrap from destroyed Guardians, had taken a lot out of him.

Sheik's incessant complaining hadn't helped either, but he felt it was justified in that Robbie had simply ignored Sheik the entire time even though he was the entire reason they'd come here in the first place!

...Link might have been a little frustrated himself, now that he really thought about it.

"If anyone's little here, it's you, Mister Garden Gnome," Sheik said nastily from his perch on the table, having activated his projection a little while ago.

"How you stand being around such an, hm, unpleasant personality?" Robbie asked.

"W-We get a-along j-just fine," Link said, unclipping the slate from his belt and holding it up to his face. "Right?" he asked.

"I'd say so, yeah," Sheik replied. "When we're not surrounded by madmen, that is...which seems to be about ninety percent of the time."

"Well, it certainly confirms that the experiment had merit," Robbie said, sounding more than a little smug. At Link's look of confusion, he cleared his throat. "Hm, after receiving Impa's message, I looked through some of my old notes. It's been so long I'd forgotten about the artificial intelligence program. Interesting stuff, though I had little faith in it."

Sheik's screen dimmed. "...so it's true, then? I'm an artificial intelligence?"

Robbie hummed. "Yes...and no."

"...well that's bloody helpful. Which is it?"

"Jerrin," Robbie said, turning to his wife, "could you fetch the box on my desk upstairs?"

"Of course," Jerrin said, quickly hurrying upstairs, returning with a box full of papers and books. Robbie thanked her and wasted no time in digging out several complicated-looking diagrams and displaying them on the table. Link swivelled the stool around, propping Sheik up so he could see them. His image was standing stock still, looking down at the papers.

"Now, from what I've managed to puzzle together," Robbie said, gesturing to one particular diagram on which the slate was drawn, "having an assistive intelligence in the Sheikah Slate to help the user was the plan from the beginning. The manual manipulation of the slate's functions and features was only meant for emergencies, in case of system errors."

"But?" Sheik asked, apparently scanning the information carefully.

"They never managed to build one," Robbie said flatly. "Hm, not a true thinking machine, at any rate."

"B-But the G-Guardians...?" Link said.

"Not really thinking, at least not for themselves," Robbie said, waving a hand dismissively. "Guardians simply follow a set of instructions, of which there are only a certain number of different permutations. There is no...hm...possibility of these instructions changing, no matter what situation the Guardians find themselves in."

"Not evolving," Sheik said. "Not adapting. They just follow the instructions slavishly until they accomplish their goal...or get destroyed trying."

"Hm, precisely," Robbie agreed.

"S-So...n-not intelligent," Link tried. He was way out of his depth, here. At least Sheik and Robbie were being civil to each other, for now.

"It's like the towers, Link," Sheik said. "When I connect to and reactivate them, they follow the instructions they have been programmed to. They will always do that, regardless of whatever else I tell them to do. That's why they always try to reconnect to the network, and fail. Guardians are the same...albeit with a very different set of instructions."

"I s-see..."

"But you said it failed?" Sheik asked. "Then what am I?"

"Hm, hm, like I said, a true thinking machine turned out to be outside of their reach," Robbie continued, picking up one of the dusty-looking books and opening it, referring to several passages of ancient script Link had no chance of being able to read. "They came close, but the entities they created couldn't think or reason; they couldn't learn. So, they decided to try something else, which was, hm, a rather unethical plan, in my opinion."

"And that was?"

"The entity needed a baseline to work with, something to get it started on the path to proper thinking," Robbie said, turning several pages until he reached a few sketches of a Sheikah in full armour, the slate, along with mathematical equations (or what Link assumed to be equations, at least) pointing to the Sheikah and the slate. "That is, intelligence that already existed."

Sheik was quiet for a long moment. "...are you saying...?"

Robbie turned the page and pointed to a specific passage. "Can you read this?" he asked the slate.

"Some of it," Sheik replied. "A successful transferral of consciousness is a risky and dangerous procedure, and not something the subject was comfortable with attempting, nor did the Elder authorise it. Instead, the subject agreed to extensive mapping of behavioural and neurological patterns, to produce the best facsimile of his own consciousness. In essence, a replica..." He trailed off. "I...am I...?"

"The subject they chose was a boy named Sheik," Robbie said. "Exactly what qualities they looked for, I am not sure, but he certainly wasn't chosen for his patience or general affability."

"Well, fuck you too."

"Case in point."

"S-So..." Link said, trying to make sense of all this. "Sh-Sheik is a r-real p-person?"

"No," Robbie said bluntly, and Link felt his spirits sink a little. "The real Sheik died thousands of years ago—killed during some war, I believe. The records aren't very clear on how." He pointed to a passage.

"Project delayed," Sheik read out mechanically. "Subject expired during skirmish with enemy forces."

"Quite young, he was, at seventeen. They never managed to finish the program, and the project was abandoned," Robbie said. "What work they had already done was still kept, and, at some, point transferred to this particular slate." He pointed to Sheik. "And there it remained, until now."

"So...I'm just...a voice, then," Sheik said. "A loose collection of programming, lines of code augmented by the thought patterns and neural waves of someone who's been dead for thousands of years."

"Hm, in essence, yes," Robbie said, nodding. "Rather fascinating, really."

"Huh..."

"B-But you s-said it d-didn't w-work," Link said, worried about the lack of inflection in Sheik's voice. It had just gone...dead. "H-How is he...here?"

"That's the interesting bit, which I do not know, but I have a theory," Robbie said brightly. "When you were hurt and had to be put in the Shrine of Resurrection, without a doubt the most sophisticated technology our race has ever produced, we also left the slate with you, plugged into the Shrine. Now, our ancestors built both these things, but there were hundreds, if not thousands, of years between their respective dates of creation. I don't think it ever occurred to the descendants of the ones working on the AI project to try using the Shrine to, hm, put it all together. As the Shrine worked tirelessly to restore your ruined body, Link, I think it also devoted itself to analysing and, for the lack of a better word, fixing what was wrong with Sheik's copy. It made the code compatible with his neural patterns, eventually ending up with a fully functional hybrid...and a very foul-mouthed one, at that."

That was...a lot to take in. Link didn't understand how it all worked, but he got the gist. And his heart broke when he heard Sheik's next words.

"Just...a copy," he said. "Not a person, not a real AI...more like a monster, an amalgamation of biology and tech. I'm...nothing..."

As he spoke, his image faded away, the projection cut off.

"Sh-Sheik," Link said, trying to put on an encouraging smile. It wasn't the answer Sheik had wanted, he knew, but surely just knowing what he was could be a source of relief, if nothing else? They finally knew... "Y-You're n-not a monster, and y-you're n-not n-nothing, I—"

"Link," Sheik said, cutting him off. "I appreciate it, I really do. But...I need to think. I...er...I'm going to shut down for a while, okay?

"Sh-Sheik, please—"

"Just for a little while, okay? Just...take some time to rest, Link. I'll be back soon."

He didn't give Link time to beg him not to, the screen going dark immediately after, leaving the slate inert and dead. Link shook it slightly.

"Sheik! P-Please, d-don't lock yourself a-away!" he shouted. "Please!"

"Hm, a rather unexpected reaction. Likely a weakness of the algorithms in place," Robbie said, his tone callous. "I believe we can consider the project a success, if somewhat delayed. I'm sure tweaks to the intelligence's emotional instability can be made, to prevent such events in the future." He held out a hand. "I can take a look at it, if you wish."

Link glared at the short man, pointedly clipping the slate to his belt and standing up, heading for the door. "N-No thank y-you," he said. There was nothing wrong with Sheik, and especially not his so-called emotional instability. Link would probably react the same way, had he been in Sheik's place. His lover was hurting, and Robbie spoke of him like he was just a machine that needed fixing. Right now, he couldn't stand being in the same room as the scientist.

"Where are you going?" Robbie asked. "We have a lot to discuss, Link!"

"N-No, we d-don't," Link said. "N-Not n-now. I m-may be back l-later."

"Link—"

"G-Goodbye, D-Doctor, Jerrin."

Link patted Maladict's neck, making sure the horse was comfortable before returning to the fire he was preparing. He'd found a somewhat sheltered copse of trees not too far from the lab (though not in view of it), and decided to make camp there. So far, Sheik had not shown any signs of life, the slate remaining blank.

He sighed, returning to his task of bringing the fire to life. By the time it was burning bright and warm, the slate was still dark. He turned to cooking, trying to pass the time. He didn't have much in the way of ingredients, so he went for the simplest thing he could imagine. It was almost a miracle, really, that the soup not only turned out edible, but quite delicious. Surprised, he grinned widely and turned to tell Sheik about his success...and then remembered himself.

"I'll t-tell you about it l-later," he promised Sheik, finishing his meal.

Hours later, he laid down on his bedroll, staring up at the night sky. It was clear, that night, and the stars shone brightly. Sheik liked the stars, sometimes entertaining Link by pointing out constellations and telling him their legends.

Link curled up on his side, the slate gently cradled in his hands. He wasn't sure how much Sheik was aware of when he was...off, but Link hoped he knew that he wasn't alone, at the very least, that Link hadn't simply left him on the table in Robbie's lab.

He wished Sheik would wake up soon. He wanted to talk to him, reassure him, make absolutely certain that Sheik knew this changed nothing. A copy, code, brain patterns...Link didn't understand it all, but he still knew that he loved the rude, uppity Sheikah who lived in the slate. He knew Sidon loved Sheik. Sheik was the one who needed to know that now.

"P-Please come b-back s-soon," he whispered, closing his eyes and holding the slate to his chest. "I'll b-be here..."