|4. Mirrors|

For the following days, a level of paranoia like a thick fog hovered over them. The plains yielded to thick forests after their second day of travel from Lyton. Most of the snow had melted, only lingering patches of dirty white clinging to trees and spiny underbrush. Despite the cold, they still had adequate cover in case they were being followed, although no evidence suggested it. The forest was quiet save hushed bird calls and the occasional game. The nights were frigid still but the days grew sunnier and warmer at high noon.

It was still four days to the Glass Lake when the caution finally abated. With no sign of pursuers, a sense of ease finally settled over them—it was like it had been back in the mountains before everything became so dire. They hunted when they could during the day and lit a fire at night to cook their spoils. It was one night, shielded by the broad face of a boulder, that Link finally chased a curiosity that had previously been ushered away by worry.

"Back in Lyton," he prompted after their meal of rabbit, "you said you already had an ocarina. I'm surprised you would have one—is the lyre not the traditional instrument of the Sheikah?"

Sheik seemed surprised by the sudden inquiry. Link had asked plenty of questions about the Sheikah and their customs before. Clearly something was different about this particular query.

"It is," Sheik replied in a quiet tone. "I had one when I was young, made by my mother before she took her oath to the Royal Family and we left the deserts. I'm not sure what happened to it after I left, however. I gave it to my father before my departure. It was a trade of sorts: I gave him the lyre and he gave me the ocarina. It had been trusted to him by a Hylian—a soldier, he told me—to keep it safe until the war's end. As I know it, the soldier died and my father could not bear to keep it."

As all stories between them, this one ended with death. And Link felt his stomach tighten horribly at the inevitability that Sheik's parents were dead. With the extermination of Sheikah all over the kingdom, he was again faced with the responsibility to divulge the truth of Sheik's people. Link knew if he opened that door, however, the rest of the skeletons would fall from the closet; he would be unable to pull his guilt from his words and Sheik was far too perceptive to miss it.

And then Sheik saved him the trouble.

"I also can hardly bear the burden of it, just as my father—it was the last time I saw him before his murder. The ocarina is all I have left of him."

"Then…you know of the genocide," Link said slowly, only able to watch the fire now. Despite the blindness in Sheik's one eye, Link felt it could see the truth far better than its red companion—if his gaze met it, Sheik would surely see the guilt.

"It was kind of you to refrain, but yes. I knew of its coming, in fact."

Link's head perked up and now he was staring widely at Sheik. "You knew?"

"My mother was one of the King's bodyguards. She overhead the ruling in the Senate that war would be waged between the races. Considering the power the Sheikah wield, we all knew it was only a matter of time—the King had been distrustful of our people before. I urged my family to flee but they refused. A mass exodus of Sheikah would only make matters worse for those who either couldn't or chose to remain behind. They entrusted to me pieces of Sheikah history and artifacts and, before it was time for me to make my oath to the Throne, I left."

The rest of the world seemed to fade away in the wake of Sheik's tale. There was no doubt that the man felt a deep sense of regret; to abandon his people when knowing their fate would drive anyone mad.

"Though it means little under the weight of what's happened to you, I am truly sorry for your loss, Sheik." It was all Link could muster. If he went any further his dark secret would find its way from his lips. Though it would possibly relieve him from years of guilt, he didn't have the heart to lay his burdens on his companion.

Sheik only nodded, his look grateful when their eyes met.

"What of your family?"

Link let out a sigh, having known the question would come. And it wasn't as though his story would be any brighter than Sheik's. But Link wouldn't withhold his past from someone who had just revealed so much.

"My mother died during childbirth, my father was a general in the Royal Army. I wasn't given a choice when I was of age; on the day of my birthday I was enrolled in the academy," Link regaled. "My service turned me into a monster—I was lethal and apathetic to the people I ended—and it seemed the more lives I took, the more my father finally began to approve of me."

"It seems we were both victims to the tides of circumstance. You can't hold yourself accountable for the ignorance forced upon you in your youth," Sheik interjected, perhaps sensing the guilt now mingling in the air.

Link wanted to say how the ignorance couldn't atone for the innocent lives lost by his hand. Link wanted to insist he was a murderer and deserved exile or even death. But, as before, the argument would lead down a path Link was not yet prepared to take. He let it go and they sat in silence as the sounds of night surrounded them.

There was half-hearted discussion of who would take first watch but even when it was settled, they sat by the fire, eyes lost to the flames. Link thought back to the time before Sheik arrived when he lived alone and carried his burden without question. The sword stayed on his back and a hardness grew in his mind. His dreams were a cycle of faces killed by his hand and the cries of his victims. The solitude was self-imposed, his sentence life-long. Link needed no judge when he was alone and seldom few could rule a harsher punishment than himself.

But now, regardless of the trouble Sheik's arrival had brought, Link felt the hardness in his mind beginning to crack. Since Lyton, he had thought many times of throwing his sword aside if it were not his only one. His dreams were becoming more pleasant, more hopeful. For the first time,;

Link felt a deep friendship he had had with no one else. Sheik made him feel like maybe he could be forgiven for his follies—or at least seek redemption.

Link's thoughts were broken by a familiar sound. His vision had been blurred by the flames so when he looked to Sheik, it took him a moment to blink away the shadows. But he didn't need to see to know that Sheik had brought the ocarina out. It was a melancholy song that Link had never heard—there were many popular songs throughout Hyrule, many of them he grew up hearing around a campfire with his comrades or in the market. There were water songs and forest songs and lullabies and holy hymns. Link could probably hum all of them, even play them if given the chance.

This song was completely different, utterly foreign to his ears as he watched Sheik play it with a remorseful expression. It was as though recalling the melody was a physical pain. And when it finally ended Link suddenly noticed the night had gone silent around them, the silence like a heavy veil over their camp.

Sheik laid the ocarina in his lap—it was a handsome instrument that Link almost asked to admire but thought better—and let out a sigh. "I haven't played that song since I left Hyrule."

"I've never heard that one. I know all the songs of Hyrule, but I've never heard anything like that," Link said, a strange chill creeping over his shoulders as though the song had cast a spell over him.

"Most Hylians have never heard it. Neither have the Kokiri, the Zora, the Goron, or the Gerudo. It is a secret song among my people. It's a lament played at funerals or in times of great hardship. Some played it when great change was to come. It's both a dirge and a prayer." Sheik tucked it back into his furs and leaned heavily against the boulder at his back. "It's almost forbidden to play it for anyone but our people."

"Then why did you play it for me?" Link asked, deeply honored but confused at the privilege of hearing it.

"Because you are my people now."

The words hung heavy in Link's mind and the world suddenly felt too big and too harsh. It was unpredictable in the most violent of ways. Link had dealt death to the people he now replaced. Life was a furious circle of loss and rebirth and he wasn't so sure which part of it he was riding on. Honored to be a comrade or ashamed to be a betrayer—how would he balance them?

Link took the first watch after that. His mind was restless, and he doubted he would sleep even when his shift came to an end. Eventually, the wilderness around them chirped and cooed once more, the last shivers of Sheik's song finally fading from the air. Link wondered if it was simply a strange, new sound that had quieted the night, but he knew the song must have held some power to hush them.

He managed a few hours of rest before they were up and journeying onward. They would reach Glass Lake by dusk and there was a renewed optimism to contrast their somber night. As there had been a cabin in the White Keaton Mountains, Link had also constructed a shelter at the lake. Though it was normally warmer when he traveled there, they would make do with the half-open hut despite the cold. It was by noon that the large white peak loomed through the dead branches and feathered pine trees. It was a sight that filled Link with even more relief.

"What mountain is that?" Sheik asked after a while.

"It's a volcano."

Though it was nothing as unique as Death Mountain, the volcano looked like any other mountain save the cratered peak. Snow was still brushing down its sides, but soon there would be none left but a ring of ivory at its lips. If the volcano had a name, Link didn't know it. Sheik didn't seem to bother asking because of this. Maybe his companion would name it for him—Link had chosen Glass Lake so perhaps it was only fitting to give the volcano to Sheik.

With their destination so close, they eagerly picked up their pace. They traveled so quickly they arrived well before dusk and, when the trees broke to the flat banks, Link felt a deep sense of pride for his treasure that had previously not been shared.

No villages or cities surrounded the volcano. It had once erupted many years ago and now lay dormant, but none would risk going near it. Superstition ran so deeply in the people of Iryo, it seemed. In Hyrule, the Goron lived on the volcano. The castle was nestled in its shadow. The Zora swam in waters that collected at its base. While the Hylians revered their volcano, the people of Iryo couldn't seem to get far enough away from theirs.

Link heard Sheik gasp quietly at the sight before them and they stopped just a few strides from the tree line. When Link had first traveled there, it had reminded him painfully of Lake Hylia though it looked nothing of the sort. The sands here were a volcanic black, jagged stones littered about as broken memories of more violent times. The water was black and the surface still, which was the point.

"It's a…perfect reflection," Sheik said in an awed voice. There was nothing close to this view in Hyrule. While their homeland was rich with many splendors, Glass Lake was unmatched. An inverted duplicate of the volcano mirrored off the water like an immaculate black and white diamond. "Why would you not call it Mirror Lake?"

In many ways Link had expected the question—he too had considered the name when he had found this lonesome place. But something had steered him away, an idea that seemed to be ever-growing in his mind as the years dragged by.

"It's not one, it's two," Link answered, pulling off his pack and removing his sword to stab it upright beside him in the ground. "The lake is simply a piece of glass to separate them. One is up, one is down. It is the two sides of everything. Good, evil, light, dark. All things have the potential for both."

Link reached down to pick up a rough, black stone. "Sometimes it only takes," and then he threw it as far out into the lake he could where it collided with the water and distorted the entire effect, "the smallest of things to break the glass and destroy the boundaries."

He could feel Sheik's eyes on him but Link kept his gaze fixed on the rippling waters. They stood there for a while in silence, the whole lake shimmering in the wake of the disturbance. It was only after the waters settled that Sheik spoke.

"Your focus lies in the destruction," he said softly, sliding his fingers through Link's loose hand and holding firmly for a moment with a warm grasp, "but you forget the boundary heals and calm finds a way to return." Link, taken aback by the moment, looked to Sheik and was caught in a powerful gaze. He couldn't help but notice the parallel within Sheik as well—the red eye created by good and the white eye created by evil. "It takes time, but one day you find you never needed the glass in the first place."

Sheik let go as the moment passed and rested Link's hand atop the hilt of the blade that had ended so many lives.

"You find your sanctuary and life goes on."

Link stood still as his mind turned over and over, Sheik's words echoing endlessly through his mind as he struggled to understand the wisdom in them. His companion leaned down and picked up Link's pack, slung it over his shoulder, and headed towards the hut near the shore.

His fingers gripped tightly around the pommel of his blade as Link felt a rumbling emotion quake through him for a few moments. It tightened his throat and blurred his eyes and ached in his chest.

You find your sanctuary and life goes on.

Link stood before Glass Lake and watched Sheik walk away, the stride so familiar to him now, the white fur so stark against the black waters. White and red—two shades to battle the gold and blue of his youth. For the first time, he imagined leaving the royal banner behind and placing his loyalty in these new colors. He could walk away from his past and end his punishment. He could forget the glass and find his sanctuary, where ever it was.

Don't let him leave.

"No," Link whispered to himself, "I know where my sanctuary is."

He lifted his fingers from the blade and left the sword in the ground as he followed Sheik to the lake.

The sky was so clear that night and the moon so high and nearly full. Soft light was a gray aura over the mountain and the reflection of the moon was like a perfect, glowing gem in the water. Their fire chased away the new sort of cold they discovered on the open shore and they sat close as they watched the night.

"Sometimes," Sheik said softly, "I think Iryo is more beautiful than Hyrule."

"Perhaps it's because it's not Hyrule."

Link felt his companion chuckle slightly. "Perhaps."

"But somehow Hyrule still followed us across the sea."

"If the people of Iryo fear the volcano, the chances of those soldiers coming here are slim," Sheik sighed.

"Or this is exactly where they'll come because it's feared by others. We aren't denizens of Iryo."

Everything went quiet after that—Link could've continued the conversation but it was nothing but a loop.

They were looking for me. Are you certain you still wish to travel with me?

Yes.

Are you sure?

Yes.

He wanted to believe that the soldiers would continue searching the White Keaton Mountains. The range was so vast, it would certainly keep them busy for a long time. Regardless, Link felt the deep urge to only stay at Glass Lake until the end of spring and then move west. More forest lies that way, though he'd never himself gone further than the volcano. Len had told him the general geography of Iryo a while ago: north was tundra, east was mountains, south was sea, west was forest and then more plains.

Movement caught Link's eye and he glanced over to see Sheik's dark fingers fiddling idly with part of the fur wrapped around him. The memory of earlier resurfaced and Link could almost feel the ghost of Sheik's touch on his hand. The bubbling need to feel it again was surprising and new—what did that mean?

Sheik's cowl had been pushed down, wandering light cast over his dark face from the fire. Sitting at his left, only the blind white eye could be seen. Link hadn't realized it but normally Sheik always kept his good eye closer to Link, most likely a habit of his for safety. Now it seemed Sheik trusted him enough to allow Link in his blind spot. It also gave him the security to stare without worry of discovery.

"Link," Sheik said suddenly, his voice breaking the night's silence. His voice sounded different now and it was an intonation that made Link's heart pick up. "I know I said it before when we left the mountains...but thank you for allowing me to stay with you. Thank you for allowing me to interrupt your solitude despite the trouble I have brought with me unknowingly."

Link measured his words for a moment, having not ever thought of Sheik as interrupting his solitude. It had never bothered him once. Never had he wished for silence or for the absence of a companion. More than anything he was grateful, even dependent on Sheik's presence now. He wondered if Sheik would ever abandon his contrite mentality and cast aside the worry that he was somehow still bothering Link.

"Sheik, there is no need for gratitude," Link replied evenly, trying to keep the strange emotion that churned in him from worming its way into his words. "In fact, I should be thanking you. Despite the drama of our flight from the mountains, you've been a steadfast companion. I had never expected I would be so willing to set aside my thirst for exile but here I am—there is no part of this arrangement that feels to be a burden on me."

Sheik had now fully turned his gaze so that the red eye fixed intensely on him. The look was a subtle mixture of surprise and...affection? Link had never had such a look placed on him and it was a foreign but welcome sight. What felt like electricity twisted around his chest as he felt a tidal lock with the expression.

"I am grateful." He paused, looking a hint unsure. "If at any point, however, you wish to part ways I would understand."

"That will not happen," Link replied a little too quickly.

Sheik's expression shifted again, both surprise and affection growing in turn.

They left it at that, their day's travel weighing heavy on their eyelids. Limbs ached and they readied for sleep, bedrolls closer than they had ever been. The fire was dying and a cold set in—they drew nearer for warmth, Link attempted to believe. And to no avail.

Morning brought biting air and bland skies. Link woke before Sheik and readied his dagger for a hopeful hunt. Though they still had some rations from Lyton, they were meager at best. He spotted movement at the tree line and crept his way forward. Sheik had not risen and he likened to the idea of the man waking to breakfast.

Managing a large hare and two smaller ones, he returned to find Sheik awake and kindling their fire. The same muted affection held in his eyes when he saw Link's spoils. Food was cooked and ate in silence, Link mulling over the strange knots inside him he realized had actually been slowing building like a tower, its peak finally breaching the clouds. Previously an intense coagulation of familiarity and loyalty, now coalescing into something he could imagine qualified as non-platonic.

The days slid forward in unspoken synchrony, their conversations relaxed and quiet. It was the first time since their flight that they could relax and enjoy the welcome return of placidity. Every other minute, it seemed, Link could feel an aggressive but pleasant pressure making a home in his chest. By now he had identified the feelings and their implications, but he had yet to admit them with any sort of clarity.

There were feelings and, like a compass pointing unwaveringly north, they were pointing at Sheik.

Each morning warmed just a bit, hints of spring creeping up like the morning sun on the horizon. Before he knew it, they had been there for nineteen nights, and even in the wake of rising temperatures, they slept in a proximity that wreaked havoc on Link's now unruly emotions. He knew they were slipping out through the spaces between his words and the glances lingering with a growing apathy. Perhaps it was due to Sheik's warm expressions, the red and white eyes that held gazes for too long.

They hunted without speaking now, their new language in glances and body movements. Slowly, they began to settle into their existence there. The fire was always going in some form or fashion and animal furs were stretched tautly out to dry. A small collection of black stones were now carved and polished—as much as one could polish volcanic rock—into various shapes that reminded them of Hyrule. Unfortunately, the water of Glass Lake was vaguely toxic, forcing them to search the forest for a small stream of fresh water.

It was on one unremarkable day that it happened.

Carrying their rattling empty canteens, they walked through their now beaten path to the stream for a much-needed refill. The trees were budding and it was now fair enough to shuck their furs. Now without all thick white fur and cowl to obstruct his view, Link could see the shape of Sheik's body.

It was a slender form, his muscles arranged in a way that was clearly of a body coiled to spring at any moment. His hands were now bare, revealing silver scars like another language on his dark skin. Everywhere Link could see, Sheik carried evidence of hardship and, in many ways, it made Link feel ashamed for assuming his burdens were greater or heavier than Sheik's.

Guilt was just as heavy as sorrow.

Guilt was a torture; pain was a torture. They just came together from different directions.

They crouched side by side at the stream, the freezing water rippling into their canteens and over their fingers. Despite the deep winter they had just endured, Link felt a shiver roll through his shoulders now with his furs gone. Sheik seemed to see this, a concerned look lingering in his glance. The canteens were full and they stay crouched there, tucking them in their pockets. For a long moment, they watched the stream, small chunks of ice traveling past pale stones and sticks clumped together to obstruct the water's flow.

Sheik laid his hands on the ground to push himself up and that's when Link noticed the two circular scars on each, as though a nail had been driven completely through. They rose to their feet and Link took his companion's hands before he could think better of it.

Upon closer inspection, it was clear Link's initial suspicions were correct—something sharp had pierced his hands and a certain sickness fell over his stomach. Sheik made no effort to pull away, palms opening gently in Link's hold to display what had been done. Like an offering.

"They nailed me to a stake for eight days." Sheik's voice was low, his tone calm. As though he were telling a story about someone else. "The wounds never fully healed—they ache in the cold and I've lost some feeling in two of my fingers."

The words brought so much pain to Link's mind, he almost couldn't bear it. Emotion rose in his throat like he hadn't felt in years and, for one horrible moment, Link felt as though he might explode. Sheik's eyes were solemn as they watched him, his scarred hands slowly turning to wrap around Link's trembling ones. The texture sent exquisite waves of heat through his body and the sensation finally took him over in one inevitable tumble.

"Link, I don't want to ignore this anymore."

He took one step into Sheik's space and pressed their lips together.

Their hands ripped apart and, almost at the same time, they dragged the other closer. It was a combination of heat and excitement that blinded Link and sent his mind sailing away as he gave in to the storm between them.

Sheik's lips were soft against his, insistent fingers trailing into Link's hair and across his jaw. It was a type of affection he had no experience with and it overwhelmed him immensely. But he didn't want to stop, couldn't stop. Everything Link had been struggling to contain for weeks possessed him, erased his thoughts, and urged him on.

When breathing became a priority, they stayed there for a moment with foreheads pressed together, breathing each other's air heavily. But there was a smile on Sheik's face that Link had never seen before but knew deep down in his bones that he would do anything to see for the rest of his life.

The walls had broken and he had never felt more vulnerable yet powerful before.

"You were saying?" Link quipped, a sort of odd giddiness taking over and summoning a grin to his lips.

Sheik pushed him gently against a tree, kissing Link's lips, then his jaw, then his neck. His breath came out harsh puffs of moisture in crisp air. The hair on Sheik's jaw scraped past the sensitive skin on his neck, the sensation shooting heat down his body.

In the only two romantic encounters he had ever had, neither had set his blood on fire like this one. He had never been held the way Sheik held him now. He had never been touched with such reverence or received such warm, loving eyes.

It made him want to cry.

Because, he realized, no one had ever treated him so kindly. Certainly not his father, none of his friends, neither of his past lovers. Eve had been shallow and loved him only for being a soldier, while Edward had ultimately wanted company only for the nights he felt lonely. Both had further reinforced the fear that he wasn't good enough. For anyone.

"Link?" Sheik looked at him in concern, holding his head carefully between his hands as though he were fragile. And maybe he was. "What's wrong?"

Link's eyes were a little blurry. "Nothing is wrong. It's just…"

"What?"

"I've…I've never known anyone like you. You're kind and treat me like…"

"Like?"

"Like…like I matter." His voice sounded so rough, as though he'd been running.

Sheik held him close, pushing their bodies together so tightly, Link could feel their heart beating together in a waltz. He shook his head. "I wish I could hurt every single person in your life that ever made you feel like you didn't matter."

Link nearly cried at those words. Those sweet, heavy, kind words. But he managed to find his composure.

"I spoiled the mood, didn't I?" he joked.

Sheik laughed, shaking his head again. "This kind of mood can't be spoiled that easily."

"Good," Link said, running hands through Sheik's hair and kissing him soundly.

Hey, here's some gay shit. My poor sons. Link is such a disaster, honestly. Thanks for reading! Next chapter currently being written.