To all you faithful reviewers! I'm very, very, very sorry that I didn't update for a very, very, very long time. I was banned from the computer and I had exams! I'm sorry okay!? You don't know how it killed me not being able to write... TT

So, as a tribute to you all, I decided to put your review replies here.

HeroofTimes : Yeah, I guess he could get the deku tree to stop the curse, but I don't think my Sheik is the type of person who asks for help. Too stuck up and independant, you know? And here's the chapter you've been waiting for!

Secret13 : Thank you for your praise; your wish has been granted.

Coriyana : Thanks for the praise! I hope you like this chapter and leave a review.

Wesley : It was; now it isn't. YAY!!

Wufie-the-back-side-slayer : Oh thank god, I was worried about me killing off Lynda's whole, holder of the Triforce thing, but... so glad. Thank you for reviewing, now! And don't worry, Savir does not die. Yay!

simbiot2.0 : Ehehe... I do read yaoi, but I don't write it. So... sorry if it's a disapointment. Aheheh (sweating)

Louiii : Nothing too unfixable, don't worry. Thankyou for the praise, and so so sorry for such a long wait till this update!

A person that likes to kick butt : Thankyou. I like putting in culture to these people, it just makes it seem more real, you know?

TwilightComet : Of course I won't make you wait five weeks! I made you wait LONGER! Waah! TT I'm really sorry! I didn't mean to I swear! (SOB)

Devilish child aka Raven : Thankyou for reading through this whole story! Wow you definitely have patience... and I think brutality make stories interesting. (smirk)

TheWatcherandReader : 'Fait' isn't a spelling mistake, but you're right, it's the wrong word. ... What is 'fait' anyway?

Baronfly : Yeah, the mud cakes are for later. Pompous dukes won't know what hit their stomachs... (evil laugh)

Link-the-Hylian : Thank you for your praise, and the understanding you show on the reviews thing. Sigh... anyway, I've fianly updated. I do hope you enjoy...

xbluxmoonx : Thankyou so much for your praise, it's good to know that people enjoy my chapters! I hope you like this chapter too, please tell me if there's anything wrong with it!

SailorElfGirl : Maybe you're right on the too big a change on personality thing. It's just that I made Lynda go through something very bad a couple of years before this story, and I'm hoping to bring it out later, so... yeah. Maybe you're right. I'll try to make it better in the next chapter. Thanks for the comment!

Blazestarre : Yeah, I meant 'fate' sorry. I made Zelda that way because she was panicking, you knwo? She loved Link and Lynda had the Triforce and she thought Link was killed... I thought that might make people a little uglier, so I gave it a try. Thanks for pointing out the typo.

Ami Metallium : You don't know just by how much that emans to me, what you siad (teary eyed with happiness)

I am the Bane of My Sword : That's good right?

Sicknesses

Sheik sighed as he leaned against the wall, tapping his heel idly onto the floor. Dizziness was coming over him, and the concentration on the tapping of his feet seemed to be the only thing that was keeping him awake. There was a tightness to his bones that he didn't really want to dwell on, and the fact that his skin seemed to be flaking away was not helping him at the very least. The bandages were keeping him together, but just barely. He refrained from shaking his head in despair, in case more hair malted away from his head.

Gods, if Dacha didn't come up with a remedy in the camp sooner before that later, he was screwed. Absolutely, totally, screwed.

Well, at least he had several weeks…

The door finally opened, much to his relief. Lynda looked shaken as she came out.

Sheik felt mild concern, wondering what brought on the sudden change in mood. Sure she'd just talked to her mother for the first time in her life, but wouldn't there be some joy in that? Unless they'd discussed the whys of Lynda's whisking to the Forests had sprung up… yes, that was a sticky subject.

Sheik idly sniffed the air, tasting lemon. He wasn't at all surprised that the perfume the maids had forced onto the Princess was still lasting; it was made to last, and perfumes were expensive for a reason. Sheik congratulated himself again for the reaction he'd given her that morning.

He'd been waiting outside her room, leaning on one side of the door, while a Hylian guard stood rigidly at the other. He'd been an old man, if Sheik recollected correctly. It wasn't because the guard hated him for being Sheikah that he didn't know anything about guard, it was just… his uselessness, Sheik decided. Nothing worth hiding, nothing worth exploiting. Nothing worth knowing; not even his name.

It was when the tension between them was about to spit sparks that Lynda had stumbled out in a yellow and faint green tea-gown, looking absolutely humiliated and embarrassed, except she looked more like a Princess than Sheik could've ever imagined. Waking somewhere unfamiliar and being touched by the maids (they couldn't help it; she needed dressing and accessorising) left her pale and shaken, stumbling in shoes that were too tight for her comfort.

Sheik had watched her nearly fall, her hair glittering with silver and gold daisies, saved by the old guard. Watched her pull back with fright, her attire beautifully modest with its flowing sleeves and laces, putting on an uneasy smile, probably being haunted by the memory of being dragged to the dungeons, helpless. The beauty he had been impressed at in the forest was amplified tenfold with the get-up.

He had felt nothing for her.

"Princess," he said, returning to the present, head lowered in a curt bow as she turned to him with a frightened squeak, "Mistress Impa would like to inquire if you wish to have breakfast in your room?"

She was faintly confused. "Why?"

Sheik fought the smile that tried to curl his lip. "You missed it, I believe."

"Oh."

She remembered now; she'd been too queasy to eat anything. "No… no, I'm fine thank you. I… I just wanna throw up. And maybe hit something."

Sheik wondered whether the throwing up bit was a confession to fear or just a mild complaint. Coupled with the hitting comment it could be the latter… but now that he looked closer… that shaking… was it, rage?

Hmm… this may cause complications.

She wanted to murder somebody.

Lynda hadn't really thought about meeting the Queen, her mother. She'd never imagined what she'd look like. So it hadn't been much of a disappointment nor shock when she had seen how much of a wreck she had been. Hair unwashed for months, skin unattended to, only barely alive. Everything about her seemed snuffed out, even her eyes, which had been a dark blue so unlike Zelda, but nearly identical to herself.

What she had expected though, was some kindness. Understanding. Some bond, a connection that would show her that indeed, the dying woman was her mother, and standing there, was her daughter.

But there was nothing. Nothing.

They were nothing alike. They liked parties, but the Queen liked the quiet type, while Lynda enjoyed the wild ones the Gorons or the Gerudo might throw. Reading? Her yes, Lynda no. All manner of exercise? Her no, Lynda yes. Going outside? No and yes. Jewellery? Yes and no.

What were they, polar opposites!?

And the nerve she had…! The disrespect she had shown to the Kokiri! The Queen had given her second daughter away to the Kokiri, promised to return in two, three years… four years tops… but had never come back. But the Kokiri had still treated her as an equal. By that sense they had given her privileges like having a fairy to herself, which was unheard of in the Hylian world. They had loved her like a family of distant cousins.

But then the Queen goes on about how she shouldn't have been treated like an equal!? That she should've been pampered and spoiled like a fallen fruit!? She even went to saying that she regretted putting her 'beloved daughter' to 'those savages of the forests'. How dare she!? Lynda owed her life to them; that meant the Queen owed them too!

She'd nearly been a property of Ganondorf. Of Ganondorf. She still remembered his laugh, still remembered that grin, the power that had raked through her muscles and jarred her bones, the Triforce of courage the only thing to have protected her from complete obliteration.

She would not have been treated the way the Kokiri had done with her. Maybe she would have been fine if Nabooru had taken care of her, but would Ganondorf allowed that to happen? It could've been anybody, most of them ready to follow their King. And not to mention, the Twin Rova! They'd done brainwashing—and goddesses knew what other kinds of magical experiments—with their second in command! They would not have hesitated with a Hylian princess. Never, ever, ever.

But that was only if she really were her daughter.

"You've got the wrong girl. I'm not your Princess."

Sheik cocked an eyebrow behind the bandages and scarf. "And you think that because…?"

Lynda looked up at him furiously, as if disgusted that he was even questioning her. "She and I are nothing alike. Just because I look like her doesn't mean that I'm her daughter. I can't be her daughter! Do you know what she said about the Kokiri!?"

Sheik thought it over. Probably called them a bunch of Forest nut-cases, he thought. But he opted for, "Enlighten me." instead.

"She called them savages! Freaks! She said she regretted putting me with the 'tree vermin'! If she cared so much, why not just pretend that I was… I don't know… a friend's niece or something!? She owed them for taking m—for taking the real Princess to their forest and putting her in their care! The nerve of her! I won't have a mother like that. I won't!"

The smile that twisted his face had no inkling of humour in it. "A child can't choose its parent, Princess. No matter how much one despises the other."

"Well thank Furore I don't need to." She growled stubbornly, clawing at the bodice of her dress, "Because I'm not her daughter. I can't be. I'm a boy; the Hero of Time. And heroes don't get themselves tied up in corsets and lace."

Sheik spun on her and stopped her in her tracks. He would not have this. He'd had to suffer for the last nine years, and she was his ticket to freedom. She needed to be Princess; or else there was hell to pay.

He calmed down a bit before asking, "Were there any other girls that seemed odd in Kokiri standards?"

She frowned and pouted at the same time, avoiding his gaze. "What do you mean."

"A girl that didn't have a fairy like you, perhaps? Or a girl that seemed out of tune to the Forest? Maybe one that got kicked out because she got a head taller than any body else?"

An angry red spread across her face like wildfire. She said nothing.

"Lynda," he prompted, gentler this time due to the headache that came with strong emotion, "there's nobody else that fits the description perfectly. And it makes sense, don't you see? The Royal Family's been gifted with powerful magic; you've inherited that."

She gritted her teeth. "Have not."

The headache was rapidly turning into a migraine. Sheik saw black blotches fly across his sight. "Lynda, you healed me…"

"That was a fluke!" she threw at him furiously, hating to admit it, "It was a frickin' fluke! I can barely perform Din's Fire without the crystal! You call that 'powerful magic'!?"

The Sheikah's face contorted aggressively. "If it weren't for your stupid-"

The hallway teetered. His knees buckled. Sheik grabbed the wall and hissed as every bone in his body throbbed with every heartbeat, drumming discomfort into his veins.

Shit.

Lynda quickly forgot the argument and tried to help him from his half-crouch, only to be shrugged away. "What's happened? You okay?"

Sheik chuckled ominously, feeling his sanity slipping away. His hair had dulled in colour, and was weak against his face. He could almost feel his skin peeling off to reveal dry blood and brittle flesh. Oh, he'd seen it, and didn't intend to for a while. He'd had to change all his bandages for new clean ones before meeting Lynda for fear of infection. Seeing his dieing flesh was an experience he didn't want to repeat.

And the fact that he could not see really clearly was not helping either. The shaking in his legs were gone, but they felt weak as jelly. Coupled with the dizziness and the lack of good eyesight, surely this was not a good sign.

He gave a grin anyway and stood straighter. If the authorities in the castle found out that he was weak in any sort of way, who knew what they would do?

"I'm fine. Perhaps a little tired, but… I'm okay. Really." He insisted, as Lynda determinedly stood and glared.

She sniffed at the air suspiciously, and she said, "You smell like a Poe. Only it's faint, so you can't notice. Are you sure, you're okay?"

He nodded, still leaning against the wall. "Perfectly."

She crossed her arms and said, "Prove it. Stop leaning against the wall, stick out your tongue, and flap your arms like a cucco."

Sheik groaned, knocking his head to the wall. "You do realise that that is one of the most degrading things you could ever suggest?"

Lynda rolled her eyes. "Just get off the wall at least. You may have caught Forest Sense."

Sheik cocked his head to the side, mildly interested under the dull headache the real problem was causing. "What's Forest Sense?"

"It's a phase or disease where you get the sense of becoming one with the forest and end up a spirit by shucking your skin. If you're young enough you become a forest child like Skulkid, but as you're not… things can become a little… pale, you could say. Now come on; off the wall."

Sheik almost felt fear; he didn't want to look weak in front of her. The one that saved Hyrule with her sword, the one that faced against all odds and defeated Ganondorf. The one that he found unrealistically attractive…

He mentally berated himself before attempting to push off the wall. He did not find the Princess attractive, not anymore. In the forest he might have, but he did not find her presence almost intoxicating. He was not literally sliding to the ground, with a high fever and his flesh practically drying and hardening to bone. He was not sprawled on the floor like some discarded puppet, helpless, useless, weak.

Oh, who was he kidding, he thought miserably as Lynda screamed and called for help, he was in deep trouble, both physically and mentally, and he had absolutely no way so far in fixing himself.

Dacha better come soon, was last of Sheik's thoughts before he blacked out.

The girl cursed as she ran through the Market place, fearing her cloak would leave her any second. Damn it, why did the magic she had to borrow always be 'temporary'!? Temporary underwater breather, temporary heat guard pendant, and now, temporary invisibility cloak! Why couldn't she get something more permanent, huh!?

Because it'd cost too much; a bitter voice in her head said.

Dacha shook it off and carried on towards the castle, determined to get there before the magic wore off. She had what was needed to save Sheik from that curse. Oh if only he hadn't been the one to go seek the Princess, if only he hadn't been the one to save her from that bloody Stalfos!

It was the Princess's fault that he was in this mess!

Grinding down the anger that boiled in her chest, Dacha sped through the garden and jumped through Sheik's window, hoping that he would be there. She was disappointed to find that he was indeed, not there, but also horror struck at what they had done with his room.

It was totally trashed.

The drawers had been smashed, and his clothes were scattered everywhere, most of them shredded to mere rags. The ones that had pockets especially; the rest was strewn across the floor, having left there trampled and ruined. His desk was upturned and smashed, the papers that were in it ripped and lay in soggy heaps of ink. The bed was ripped and the mattress lay precariously on the bed stand and floor, consequently making the room full of feathers, some of them tainted a sick colour of brown-black because of the ink.

Several other things were vandalised—the wardrobe, the tapestry, the walls, heck even the floor—and ruined to a state where it was near impossible to fix.

It was of no condolence that the mess meant that the soldiers had found nothing, whatever they were looking for. Savir had always been careful that whatever he found he gave it to his tribe straightaway for use, leaving no evidence for the soldiers to find.

But the several scorch marks suggested of the spells that the magicians of the castle had tried to break through, or broken through. Savir had put in a lot of them. Spells of silence, invisibility, deception, security sirens, but lock charms, mostly. By the amount of scorch marks on the walls Dacha saw that they had found most of them, and saw that the weapons that had been on the wall were confiscated.

But was his prize possession gone too?

Dacha immediately went to the wall that opened up to the secret passage way—the catacombs of the castle went practically everywhere—and took five steps forward, six to the left, seven behind, and one to the right. She pushed at a block at shoulder height and felt it grate to the side. She blindly reached through, and sighed in gratitude. His lyre was still there.

But where was Savir?

Dacha felt her stomach lurch at the sight. She'd come all the way from the Lost Woods with the cure, searched for hours through the castle, yet there seemed to be nothing she could do to help him.

"(Savir…!)"

The physicians of the castle had stripped him of his bandages to reveal placid, peeling skin, dry and crumbling almost like the bone-white desert. It plagued half his face on the left side, and his right arm looked as if it had been swapped by a re-dead. In the cracks were clotted blood and puss, flowing from his crusty wounds in sluggish lumpy drops, some of them lucky to reach the bed-sheets.

By the looks of things, he was at death's door.

"(Savir! Oh, by Din's Eye, please, please, please wake up! I've got the cure! C'mon… stop messing around and wake up! You've… you've got to be alive! … Right!?)"

After several desperate seconds in which Dacha dared not try and shake him awake, Sheik's eyelids cracked open, the skin at the corner of his right eye splitting apart to let a single sloppy drop of blood run free.

Somehow, someway, his eyes still remained cunning and strong. "Dacha…"

She nodded frantically as she kneeled beside his bed, gently clasping his untainted hand in hers. "(It's me. I brought the cure, see? Water from a Great Fairy's fountain, and some of her tears too. She seemed pretty eager to help when I mentioned your name, you sly dog.)"

Her attempt at light-hearted humour, she knew, was rather pathetic.

She busied herself by trying to release the vials from her hip with fumbling fingers. She wondered what she was supposed to do, despite having the cure to the problem. Was she supposed to wipe it into his wounds? Was she supposed to have him drink it? "(Look, I'll try to…)"

Tap-tap-tap.

Dacha spun around, heart in her throat and knives in her hand. She discovered the Hylian dressed in green that stood precariously on the windowsill, tapping the glass desperately while pointing towards the lock for entry.

Dacha pulled her arm back to throw. Hesitated when the Hylian outside crossed two middle fingers of his right hand over his chest. How the heck did he know of the Sheikah sign of honour?

Dacha wrenched the window open and put the points of her knives to his throat and hissed, "What the hell do you want?"

The blue-eyed blonde panted as if he'd run a mile or had just experienced a minor heart-attack. "You have to leave. I got myself spotted while looking for Sheik, and they think I'm Sheikah! You have to go before they find you. Now!"

"And why should I believe you?" she ground out angrily, mad beyond measure for the disruption this blundering Hylian had caused. "I don't intend to leave him alone with a Hylian."

The green-clad man half shrieked in exasperation. "Dacha we don't have time for th-"

"How the hell do you know my name!?"

"Dacha…"

Both turned abruptly to the dieing Sheikah, argument forgotten. He was looking at his two supposed healers with what seemed like mild amusement. "Re lli to fin… con le Ylián. Tu… se donat kame ye, mamec la Ruyel."

He closed his eyes.

"Oh crud." The man gasped, his breathing becoming more rapid, "Oh crud, crud, crud, crud, crud. Sheik!"

"M' fine…" the Sheikah mumbled, his eyes still closed,

The stranger dived for the bed and cursed savagely. He put three bottles full of metal liquid, all a different hue, a different bottle containing water that seemed to sparkle to the floor and began to strip the Sheikah of the bed-cloths.

"What are you doing!?" Dacha shrieked, grabbing hold of the Hylian's arm,

"I'm trying to fix him, that's what!" the man hissed, glaring with his winter eyes, "Now help me by getting new bandages! These lousy castle living idiots don't know what they're doing!"

He finally got rid of Sheik's shirt, and was immediately tempted to throw up. Most of his chest—and likely his back, too—was contaminated with that same, crumbly, decaying look, and worst of all, it was on his left side. Right on top of his heart.

The Hylian swore spectacularly, which forced a tired chuckle out of the Sheikah. Taking that as a sign that his friend was indeed still fit enough to live, but teetering on the edge, Link scrambled to open a bottle. Looking for something around the room, he noticed the two vials hanging from Dacha's hip, and looked amazed. "Is that Fountain Water? And Fairy tears?"

Dacha hid them from view. "What's it to you?"

"Everything! Quick, empty all of it in a bowl and mix it with this." he handed her a bottle full of what looked like liquid pearl. "And soak as much bandages as you can in it."

"What about your water!?"

"I need it to clean Sheik's system out! Now stop complaining and get to work!" he yelled back, blue fire in his eyes.

Dacha reluctantly got to work.

She watched him from the corner of her eye, making sure that he didn't do anything funny. She did as she was told, but she always kept an eye on him, one of her hands always itching it grasp a knife. He mixed his Fountain water with Liquid metal with a green hue, tipping it into Sheik's mouth. He murmured sincere words as he helped Sheik drink, giving a display of brotherly affection that couldn't be fake.

"Here," she said, giving him the soaked bandages, still unable to believe a Hylian was helping them out, "What're you going to do now?"

He licked dry lips and said, "The thing about this… condition, I guess, is that it spreads from the entry point. I'm guessing he had a cut on his arm and one on his side. Why didn't he tell me?" he asked almost to himself, looking both exasperated and guilty at the same time. "I've given him my Fountain Water mixed with Gohma Juice, so that should stop the spread…"

Sheik gave a disgusted cough. Dacha raised an eyebrow. "What's a Gohma?"

Link gave an embarrassed grin. "You wouldn't want to know."

He grabbed the last bottle, liquid metal with a tinge of yellow, "This, he has to take once he heals."

"If I heal," Sheik sighed, his head lolling to the side,

"Say that again and I'll kill you."

Sheik did not chuckle. Dacha knew that to be a bad sign.

"What about magic?" she asked frantically, putting an imploring gaze to the Hylian.

Colour mottled his cheeks. "I know the spells, but I don't have the power. Cuts and grazes I can handle, but… this is way over my head. I need help! I know how to handle magical stuff, give me a rod that can give statues life, or masks with demonic souls stuck in them but… I'm useless!"

"It's the damn hat…"

"Shut up about the damn hat!" the Hylian yelled,

"Both of you shut up!" Dacha yelled back, panic in her red eyes.

The men wondered why, until they heard yelling from both outside the door and window. The Hylian paled and grabbed at Dacha, pushing her to the window, "Get going! I'll keep a look out on Sheik, don't you dare come back for him, you hear!? If they get you, the whole treaty fiasco will be ruined!"

"How do you know about th-"

"Get going!"

Dacha threw herself out of the room and into the dark, giving one last fleeting glance to the dying Sheikah before leaving.

Link hastily began to prepare a barricade on the door. An ornate chair was propped up against the handle, the handle itself was secured to a hook on the wall with a piece of string, makeshift wedge were pushed into the door frame, and several other random things in hopes of keeping the door shut.

Link went back to the bed and glared. "Why the heck did you bring up the damn hat!?"

Sheik chuckled and tried lifting himself up with his untainted arm. Link, alarmed, held him down, hissing, "Stop being an idiot! You're not invincible, and you're definitely not healthy! Just tell me why you brought up the damn hat!"

Sheik chuckled again, sighing. His head lolled to the side so he could meet the Hero's gaze. When he spoke, it was in a hoarse whisper. "Magic in objects expire… usually. Your hat's lasted too long… acting… like leach… you have power Lynda. Just… not as Link."

The said Hylian jumped when someone outside rammed at the door. He frantically looked from the door to the dieing Sheikah, back and forth, back and forth, wondering whether what his friend was saying was true, wondering, if it was, could he really help…? But the guards, they'll see him, he'll be killed, but maybe not as Lynda since he was technically a Princess then but…

Ugh! What the heck!

Link ripped the hat off of his head and murmured the spell for fast healing, shocked when gold light emitted from her Triforce, bubbling into the Sheikah. Lynda licked dry lips and changed the spell for the one that would stop the spread of the Stalfos curse, and another to revive his life force, which, once tapped into, found to be dwindling considerably. She watched Sheik consistently as she worked, finding that he didn't struggle, a satisfied smile on is lips as he drifted to sleep.

When she was done the door to the room exploded, and the soldiers came streaming in, pikes held to her throat.

Two days later Sheik deemed himself healthy enough walk around the castle, fully armed and ready for action, despite the horrible aching his body was going through.

It was worth it, just for the look on those soldiers' faces.

He sighed a good job well done for talking Lynda into letting him walk around freely, settling into his chair of his newly fixed room, which he pretended not to notice that it had several signs of major trashing.

There was nothing to worry about, after all.

"(Heya Dacha,)" he greeted without turning to the window, leaning on the two back legs of the chair, "(You have my lyre?)"

She tossed it and he caught it. Her tone was accusing when she said, "(I want to ask you something.)"

Sheik waved his hand and swung the chair on a final leg, finally meeting her hurt gaze. "(Ask away,)" he said, looking concerned.

She hesitated. She sat on the windowsill and swung her legs contemplatively, watching her friend warily at the same time. "(It's about the Princess.)"

Sheik raised an eyebrow. "(Oh?)"

"(It's just that…)" she looked away and muttered, "(You sounded like you cared about her.)"

Sheik now looked utterly perplexed. "(I'm sorry, I don't think I'm following what you're saying…)"

"(When you were dying, oh don't give me that look you were definitely dying, you told me to look after the Princess.)" She said, an accusing tone to her words.

Savir rolled his eyes. "(Of course; she's vital in our mission. Without her we wouldn't have come this far, frankly. I think she'll be more use to us, as long as we keep an eye on her,)"

Dacha seemed unrealistically relieved. "(It was just that… the way you said it made it sound like you really cared about her. Almost like a sister or… something more.)"

Sheik shook his head. "(Nope. None of that sort of thing, don't worry about it.)"

Dacha smiled bashfully and hopped into the room, giving a sidelong glance to her friend. "(So, uh… how're you feeling? Is your arm okay?)"

Sheik lifted the said arm and flexed his fingers, still bandaged in soaked cloth, "(Can't be too careful.)"

She stepped closer and held the bandaged hand, twining the fingers carefully, watching Sheik's reaction. His gaze was one of questioning and gentle warning, and it hurt her.

"(Savir…!)" She protested, as he gently let his hand free from hers.

"(Dash, we've talked of this befor-)"

"(But you said you felt for me! You said you-)"

"(Once, maybe.)" He gently interrupted back, an apologetic light in his gaze, "(But we know each other too well, Dash. It'd only make life uninteresting, believe me.)"

Anger at rejection brimmed in her eyes, and she spat, "(It's Lynda, isn't it.)"

"(Dash…)"

"(It is!)" Her rose-like eyes grew thorns. "(You care about her more than you do about me!)"

"(Dash, now you're just being difficult.)" Sheik growled, standing up, "(We're friends. Lynda and I; we've got nothing. They will be nothing from now on, too, okay? Now if you haven't got anything to report, I think I'll go snoop in Zelda's library, thanks.)"

Hurt, Dacha left looking downcast.

Sheik just hoped there wouldn't be more troubles from her.