DISCLAIMER: Saaaame as before. xP

To Misty: Yeah, but it needed to be written. Thanks for the gbook sign!

Miarati'minai: HAHAHA. And no, they'll end up together. Thanks for the compliment. Heh, I try to make it as realistic as I can, I guess. To me, Hyrule seems like a real world. That's how I try to write it.

Everyone else who reviewed, thanks:)

He stirred from his sleep of nightmares by the sound of a door opening. This time it was a guard and a couple of his friends, carrying nasty weapons of a sort. Were they part of his dreams? He was in shock, and he knew it. He couldn't seem to remember anything from the last couple of hours. Post-traumatic shock. It'd be a while before the nightmares overwhelmed him, but until then? He could stave them off. His head turned slowly to face the newcomers.

"The King says we're ta whip ya until yer unconscious n'less ya tell us where the Hero of Time is," one said almost apologetically. They all seemed afraid of him for some reason. Red eyes stared from the darkness, bright despite the dimness of his surroundings.

"So get on with it," Sheik replied coolly, his gaze levelheaded despite still being strapped to the table, covered in blood and things he didn't even want to start thinking about. "My answer has been given."

He wouldn't give anyone the pleasure of hearing him scream. Not this time. Never again, he promised. He had violated his own kind by such a release of his own emotions. A true Sheikah would never do that. But then he wasn't a full Sheikah, now was he? But that was of no consequence.

The whip descended. He closed his eyes, and did not so much as flinch, praying he'd black out quickly enough.

Fire. There was so much fire that he couldn't even open his eyes. Sometime in the middle of the night (but was it really? There was so much darkness in this room he couldn't be sure if it was night or day, rather a twilight somewhere inbetween) he awoke and found that the bonds had been released. Or they were much more lax, either was the same. He couldn't even feel his limbs. They were dead.

He didn't know how long he'd been there. More than four days, and something less than two weeks.

But he knew this much: he'd been used. Tortured. The triforce carving on his chest had been healed sometime in his sleep, and as he raised his head, a movement which took more effort than he cared to give, he realized that he still had no clothes.

Time to formulate an escape. The Sheikah might have been torn physically, but he was more than ready to get out. He wasn't about to wait around for Ganon to show himself again. He felt like a rabbit trapped in its hole, desperate and willing to do anything to avoid pain and further predation.

Rolling off the wooden platform, he crouched on the ground and immediately fell over. His muscles were weaker than he'd expected, and stung with any kind of harassment. His knees buckled and trembled. He let out a slow hiss through his teeth and extended his arm, braced against the cold stone floor, and lifted himself back up to a standing position. So damn weak. He'd never been this weak before in his entire life. It wasn't a good feeling.

He arched his back, trying to lean against the wall with one hand. Bad choice; he stretched a scab from one of the whip strikes and it broke, blood oozing down one side of his body. He collapsed to the floor and his head swam, and for a minute or two he blacked out.

Presently he stirred again, silently cursing everything and carefully turning himself onto one side. But there were his clothes on the floor. Silently he dressed, not bothering to give the blood down his legs and inner thighs a second thought. Whoever had cleaned him up had left that as a reminder; a cruel joke, that. But that's where the dark king's notoriety came from—not from bouncing baby Kokiri on his knee with a paternal smile. The bastard liked to do things like that.

His harp was still there. He tucked it into the folds of his clothing wistfully.

Had he wanted to use his voice, he'd have found that the inside of his throat would not function. But he was now in a sort of half-feral mode, and would not be so stupid as to make noise. He searched the walls of the torture chamber to find that all the weapons had been taken, along with anything that might be of use. He'd have to use his hands, and that wouldn't be easy. He hadn't eaten in—how long was it? It felt like more than a day since one of the guards had shoved a plate of food and stale water under the door.

He crouched in the darkness and prepared to wait.

He didn't have to for long. There was a sudden sound of a bolt from the outside sliding open, and in walked a guard. With a start Sheik recognized him. He was a member of Kakariko village, a tall, bold man with a friendly attitude. What was he doing here, as one of the Dark King's servants? Trying to feed his family, maybe. He'd stood post outside the entry gate to Death Mountain for years, and now that the wars had come about he no longer could find coin, and so had turned to the only refuge he knew: the former Hylian castle.

He saw the empty table and suddenly gave a double blink, then looked around in the darkness, eyes narrowed warily like a cat's. In one hand he carried a naked sword, and the scabbard was on his left side. Other than that he wore no apparent livery but for a shapeless brown tunic and dirty, disgusting boots, and a leather coif as a helmet, with a black cape around his broad shoulders. The man prodded his blade into a corner, as if expecting the darkness to rise up and swallow him.

"Ello?" he called. "Someone in 'ere?"

Sheik darted. Hands came out, in a flash the man crumpled to the floor, out as a candleflame pinched between fingers. Five minutes later he slipped out the room and into the hallway outside, dressed in the clothing of a guard over his customary Sheikah dress, cloak pulled up to disguise his face. The only things to be seen were glittering red eyes.

He hadn't expected there to be two others posted outside. Both came at him at once, giving a yell as they did—he definitely wasn't a guard, and they knew it. Well, now they'll all know I'm here. Damnit, Sheik thought, ducking and kicking out at the first one's knee. He tripped, fell, fumbled for his blade as the second was disarmed with a strike to the neck. The Sheikah couldn't keep it up for much longer. He was fading fast, though still strong. Scabs on his back and front tore and bled, but he was in an adrenaline rush now, though limping slightly on one side, and hardly felt the pain. But he knew it wouldn't last long.

"Ey! Get yer ass back 'ere!" one of them shouted and grabbed for his ankle as he tried to move away. Sheik picked up the second guard's sword and stabbed into the opposing hand; there was a cry of pain and the grip loosened. He was just a villager, and an untrained one at that, but he was in the service of the Dark King. There was no help for him now, and he was an enemy to the Sheikah.

He'd lose that hand, though. Pity.

He pulled the cloth on his lower face up higher, as if to compensate for the shaming earlier. Time to get out of this damn palace. He remembered the layout from time spent years ago. But that had been when he and Zelda had still spoken…

FLASHBACK

"Sheik," she'd said, turning from her little garden to him. She loved that garden. Always tending to the flowers in the center as if they were her children. "You believe me about the dreams, don't you?" Her eyes had been imploring, begging him to put his faith in her.

"Zelda, I…" he had started. Instantly she stood: "You don't, do you? You're just like the rest of them. I thought you and I were friends." She snapped, then quite suddenly walked over to him and placed both hands on his chest. Even at eleven he was remotely taller than her.

"I thought Ganondorf, that fiend, had you thrown out of the city anyhow," she said nastily. Sheik smirked. "Princess. I may be a royal spy, but I am more loyal to you than any other. You should know by now that there's hardly a way to keep me from slipping between the guard's fingers." She didn't meet his gaze, instead staring at his folded-over tunic as if it were frightening her.

"We shouldn't have to handle this," she whispered. "Not by ourselves."

"The Hero will come," Sheik said. "Have faith."

"We're kids, Sheik!" Zelda said, tears already running down her face. She would not cry in front of Impa, her handmaiden, nor in front of her father. But she trusted Sheik. She pressed her nose to his front and cried silently.

The Sheikah looked uncomfortable. A hand crept up around her shoulders in an awkward kind of hug; he wasn't used to dealing with girls yet. His eleven year old mind was still trying to understand the concept of growing, for Din's sake.

Zelda reached a hand into the fold beneath his neck and pulled his tunic off one shoulder. He looked down at her in surprise as she backed away, hands clenched to her skirts. "Look at you," she said in a dead, toneless voice. "Muscles. Scars. Slash-marks. You're not a child, and neither am I. We've got to do something, Sheik," she said, raising her eyes. It was true about the marks. When he was small, Sheik had been put through multiple raucous trainings by Impa in order to prove his worth as a member of his kind. Of course, most of said trainings included things that were not quite so harmless. He still bore one particular scar on his left side courtesy of a failed entry into the Zora's royal treasury. Of course the Hylians would –never- steal from the Zoras, but it was a question of what he was to retrieve and diplomatics had had no hand in it.

He'd been assigned to steal a golden pendant of Ruto's. He had. She'd found out and had him dragged off to be whipped. She still hated him, the cold bitch.

"Sheik," she repeated. "You scare me." She turned away.

"What?" he asked, surprised. "Why?"

"I never know what you're thinking," she said. Her blue eyes flickered, reflected in a small pool of water on the side of the room as they walked over to it. Above them was a windowsill with a pot aside it, entry into a further room in the catacomb of the castle. "Such is our way," he'd responded nonchalantly.

"You should go," she said. "Now. Before my father finds you."

"Princess?"

"Just… leave me alone, Sheik. It's all-right that you don't believe me. I love you, though, and I mean it. When the time comes, I'm going to do all I can to stop Ganon. If that's not enough, and if I fail…" she paused. Her voice broke slightly. "Just take this. Will you?"

And there was a harp. Far nicer than the small one he'd been given when he was little. All the Shiekah were made to learn music—it was considered good for the senses, good for tuning oneself towards nature. But this was something different. It was golden, gilded on the sides with silver and curling outwards on the tips.

"Zelda. I can't take this," he muttered. She looked up, tears sparkling in her eyes. "I had it made 'cause I thought you'd like it," she said. "Just please do it. The next time we meet I might not be able to say goodbye, so I'm doing it now."

"Zelda. Princess. What are you talking about?" he asked,both hands onher shoulders lightly. "Stop it."

"No, Sheik. I'm serious. Don't tell me otherwise. You don't believe in my dreams, and neither does he—(here 'he' was an understood mention of the king)—but it doesn't matter. I know that in just a few days I'll be gone."

She tilted up onto her toes and pressed her lips lightly to his, a tender, innocent kiss, and then turned and ran.

Sheik could only stare stupidly after her.

ENDFLASHBACK

Sheik sprinted down the hallway. Guards fell left and right; he'd be out of there in no time. And in a moment he could see the glare of daylight through one window. Well, as much of daylight as there ever was outside the castle, which was more of a sort of darkened haze. He heard a noise from behind him, but paid it no mind, not even the shouts and cries of those following him. There was a gouge in the floor: the Sheikah almost tripped, used the momentum to make a light fronthand spring and ended up teetering on the edge of a dark and stormy crevice, the base of which was red with lava.

He hadn't been near the castle. He'd been all over Hyrule, but he hadn't been near Ganon's castle. He didn't know it was floating on… floating above a pool of lava, for Din's sake. His mind was reeling in shock, and he gave a choked sort of noise. What the hell? When had this happened?

A hand clamped down on his shoulder, and he sucked in a hasty breath, trying to twist into a defensive stance. But the person was much stronger than he was and he was in no position to fight frontal combat at the moment. He was overpowered—one arm pinned his limbs about the upper chest, and another arm encircled his waist. "So I see you've discovered that I made a few changes to the castle," the dark voice said from just near his right ear. He shivered. He didn't like being handled by the one who'd raped him only a few hours before.

"Let me go, you bastard," he said through gritted teeth. "I'll kill myself before I'll tell you anything."

"Will you? Such a temper."

Sheik did an odd thing then. Despite the circumstances, he grinned in a broad cheshire's smile.

"Oh, but it's true." He stabbed his guard's sword into Ganon's hand.

And then he jumped.

He could hear a loud curse from above. Ganon might be powerful, and cunning at that, but this was something he hadn't anticipated. Sheik fell down into the lava where he was promptly swallowed by the red liquid. His clothes and boots caught on fire, the guard's attire was incinerated, and his skin crackled and turned black in the space of thirty seconds as his body liquefied into nothing upon the crimson darkness below.

Sheik was a master illusionist. All Sheikah were. He clung onto the rocks below for dear life, knowing full well there'd be no way to recover if he dropped. He set his head against the stone and concentrated, trying to make his own shadow-image as realistic as possible. His death had to seem like a suicide attempt, enough so to put off Ganon from looking for him further.

Apparently it worked.

"Have the guards search the outside," Ganon's voice carried from the opening five feet above his head. He stood rigidly on the narrow ledge of rock he'd dropped onto and pressed his face against it, trying not to breathe the hot, acrid fumes of the lava. He was sweltering after only a few seconds. If this kept up much longer, he wouldn't have to fall to his death; he'd be incinerated as he was.

There was a noise like footsteps and he could see people peering over the ledge, but they couldn't see him. That was to his advantage, at least. Now all he had to do…

There was a small vent in the side of the rock. He shoved his legs in and began crawling his way backwards down it, head bent towards the rock so he didn't hit it. It already burned enough and was throbbing enough to kill him in a few if he didn't get out of here soon.

Down. Down. The darkness swallowed him and he didn't know which way was up, nor down. There was only himself and the vent for nearly half an hour of climbing… his arms burned, his legs burned. Normally they wouldn't have. But in this state…

There was an opening at last, and he pushed one foot through, then felt around for a landing. There wasn't one. It opened slightly towards the end of the shaft: What was this? He put both feet through and felt around. Nothing to step onto. He perched on the edge of the opening and looked into the darkness of a dank and gloomy cavern.

He dropped to his feet inside and immediately ducked into the darkness, waiting for any sign of movement. There were people not too far in front of him, he noticed, and they seemed to either not have noticed his appearance or not cared.

Oh, Gods. They were prisoners. He'd jumped straight into a jailing cell.

There was someone nearby to him, he noticed as he sagged to the floor, defeated. He'd be able to make it out, eventually, but he needed to rest. He was tired… so tired…He didn't even give the other person a second thought until they laid a cold and clammy hand on his arm. He visibly jerked, then drew away.

"Don't be alarmed," A hoarse voice croaked. The owner coughed, their entire body wracked with weakness in the dim light. An ancient Zora, it seemed. Over two hundred years—he had to be. His eyes were bloodshot and his blue skin had paled to a grayish ashen color. "We… are all… prisoners here… how did you get into the cell?"

Sheik pointed to the vent above him silently.

"A Sheikah," the old Zora continued. "I knew they existed, but I never… saw one…" he curled into a smaller ball. He was wearing nothing but a ragged loincloth. Probably his only clothes. He was filthy.. well, the entire cell was. Sheik probably wasn't the cleanest himself at the moment anyways.

"Listen," Sheik said, ignoring his comment and instead eyeing the lock on the door. He could pick it. "I'm going to free the ones in this cell. From which way do the guards come when they patrol?"

The Zora waved a hand dismissively. "We'd have no chance. We are all.. sick here. Some are dead. All of us are near death."

He then peered closer. "You may have a chance. The jail-sickness has not yet touched you."

Sheik didn't like being scrutinized so closely. He pushed the cloth on his face up a bit higher. "Chance?" he said in a raspy voice long from unuse. The Zora nodded and produced something which had been tied around his waist and concealed beneath the rags about himself. An amulet.

"It's not much," he said. "But it responds to the old songs, if you know them."

"…What does it do?"

"It will take you back to the altar we Zora used once."

Now he merely felt a sense of guilt, and also one of hope.

"Why aren't you using it?"

The Zora looked away. "I never learned the songs. There is nothing left for me. Soon I will die, and my family before me has all been frozen to ice and died…" he paused. "When the Dark King came to our domain we thought nothing could happen. We were peaceful, innocent then. Now… now there's nothing much left."

Sheik suddenly frowned in the darkness, so that none but he could see. "The Hero of Time will come. You'll be released. Don't lose faith."

The Zora sighed.

"I believed in fairy tales once," he said, then leaned back against the wall. Sheik narrowed his eyes at him, but he did not stir again. The Sheikah crouched against the wall, holding the amulet and looking at the symbol on it with curiosity and wonder. He could barely make out the design, but from what he could see…

Ah, a triforce.

His lips were hoarse and chapped. He didn't even think he had a chance at the tune. But Impa had taught it to him, once, when he was very small… Zelda loved to sing it. He knew it by heart. He licked his mouth and very, very softly began to sing the Royal lullaby.

It did not echo. It did not resonate. The tune died from his lips as soon as it reached the air, as if the air around him were actually sucking in the music. Four bars, then five, then six of the melody… and still, nothing.

"Twice more," The old Zora said, his voice no more than a whisper.

"What's your name?" Sheik asked, looking up.

The old man put a finger to his own lips in a be-quiet movement. "I am Milo. The guards will come soon to take us for questioning. Be quick."

Their voices reached the ears of those further up in the cell, and a few heads raised, eyes dull, revealing souls without hope or faith locked inside decrepit bodies. Disease was their companion, Sheik saw, and unable to look more stared back down at the amulet.

He whistled it twice more, the notes barely there they were so soft. There was a dull light emanating from it, and suddenly tendrils reached from the triforce symbol and wrapped around his wrists. There was a flash of brightness—

"Sheik?"

Sheik had obviously appeared in the middle of a battle. There was fire all around him, and he leapt back, startled. His muscles protested and he tripped. The third time tripping in his life… ever. What a record. It wasn't so much the fact that there were two white wolfos incinerating in front of him, so much as that the owner of the voice was to his left, sword raised, hand extended.

"…Goddesses," he muttered, putting a hand to his forehead. The amulet was gone. The last of the glow faded from his skin as he pushed himself back to a standing position. Everything was cold, much colder than it ought to have been.

He shivered. "What the—Link?" he looked at the proffered hand, and then to its owner. His heart gave a little leap. "So you did find the ice cavern on your own."

"It wasn't easy," Link said, his face changing. "But I can get into the water temple now."

"Then I'll teach you the song," Sheik said, his voice quavering slightly from relief. He was out of the castle. He was out of the castle. He was out…

"Sheik, where have you been?" Link asked, suddenly folding his arms to look the Sheikah up and down. "You look like you've been dragged through hell."

Sheik paused, hands about to touch the strings of the harp.

"Perhaps," he answered.

Link blinked. "You weren't…"

"It doesn't matter, Link."

End of conversation. The first lilting strains of the Serenade of Water were produced with hands that longed to play, and for a second there was nothing in the world but Sheik, his harp, and the Hero of Time. Link repeated the song without questioning; it was an old process, this.

The melody died away.

"Sheik. I still don't know anything about you. Why are you helping me?"

"I'm sworn to it."

"…That's all?"

Sheik winced. What could he say? Yes, Link. I think I may just love you. But it wasn't love, it couldn't be. He had simply spent the last seven years of his life training to be an acolyte to him, and now that the Hero had arrived in Hyrule he was… star struck? Was that the word? And was that even it?

"Yeah. That's all."

There was silence then. Awkward silence.

"Sheik, they're all counting on me. I don't know what anything is anymore."

He wanted to say something. He wanted to tell him, he wanted to tell him so badly, but he couldn't. The words burned to be released. But he couldn't.

Sheik moved backwards and cloaked himself with an invisibility spell, crouching into the wall. He noted the look of surprise as Link looked around, still baffled how he could have disappeared so silently without so much as a word of goodbye.

There was a pause. A short, sad chuckle, and the Master Sword was sheathed at his side. "Until next we meet," Link said, then turned and walked back through the chamber door. Sheik crouched in the semidarkness for a long time until he was sure Link was gone, sure he was out of the icy cavern.

Then he stood.

He didn't expect for what happened next. A rupture of pain lanced across his back, and he stumbled, the invisibility spell flickering and then dying. Some form of liquid oozed and trickled down his back underneath his clothing, and he couldn't move.

Darkness again? He wondered before passing out.