Enemies and Allies.
Lynda was bored out of her mind.
She was wearing her yellow tunic and her favourite ear-rings, the blue ones, and her hair in a ponytail. She glanced at the hat that hung on her bed post, pinched herself for being tempted, and then walked to the door that led outside her room.
Slowly she turned the knob. She glanced around the door and was sourly disappointed to find the guard there. Sneaking didn't seem to be an option. "Excuse me."
He glanced her way and then returned to staring absently towards the far wall. "Yes, your Highness?"
She shuffled her feet behind the door, closing it enough so only one of her eyes were visible, "Yeah, I was wondering… what time does everybody else wake? I mean, Zelda for instance."
Another quick glance. "Not for another four hours, your Majesty."
"You're joking."
The guard recoiled slightly with the tone.
Lynda noticed, and tried to make amends; her partial freedom depended solely upon his approval towards her. She even opened the door a little further. "Sorry for the rudeness, but… what am I supposed to do for the next four hours? What does… my family, do?"
The old guard pretended not to notice the bitter tone in her voice. "Perhaps the Princess Zelda revises through her personal library, but I believe, my liege, that they stay in bed."
Lynda gawped at him as if she couldn't believe her ears. "They sleep until eleven in the morning? It's almost lunch by then! And…" she shuddered, "Zelda has a personal library?"
The guard cocked an eyebrow behind his visage. "Does not the Princess Lynda enjoy literature?"
She shuddered again. "No. I hate reading. I can barely read signposts; why would I want to read sheets and sheets of nonsense? And please, don't call me Princess. I… I'm not comfortable with it."
The pleading in her eyes softened him up a bit. "As you wish, your Highness."
She made a face as if something funny was stuck between her teeth. The guard observed the girl look up and down the corridor, an almost calculating look in her eyes. Once finished she sized him up, looking at the sharp end of his spear as if it were a challenge.
She looked at him dead in the eyes and said, "What's your name?"
The old man blinked. Since when was the last time people asked him that? "Ian Mayne, your Highness."
She smiled. "Okay, Mr. Mayne. Do you think you could let me walk around a bit?"
"I'm afraid I cannot, your Highness."
Her face fell. She practically whined, "But why?"
"Your safety is our duty, your Highness. I must be certain that you are in safe hands, by making sure that you stay in your room."
"How old am I, three?" she scoffed back, closing the door.
Ian couldn't help but smile.
Lynda tapped her foot irritably on the floor, looking around her room. She didn't feel too happy with the fact that it seemed large enough to cover the whole of Kokiri square, not to mention the bed could've housed the whole population of her village. She really, really wanted to explore her new cage.
She opened the door and peered round the edge again and asked, "What if you followed me around?"
Ian seemed to think it over.
"Please? Pretty please? Just around the corridors? I just want to see how this place works, like the kitchens, the armoury… um… the armoury…"
He said it carefully, slowly, trying not to sound accusing or wary. "Why are you interested in the armoury?"
"I swordfight for fun." She admitted and stepped outside, trying to look small and insignificant, "It's just that… I've never tried using a Ball and Chain before; I'm interested in how the technique goes."
"A Ball-and-chain."
"Mm-hm." She nodded, a perfect picture of innocence.
Ian tried his best to steer the conversation somewhere less frightening. "What about knitting, Princess?"
She frowned. "I'm Lynda. Repeat after me: Li-n-da. And I've never tried knitting before. I can weave and sew well enough, but how's those supposed to help you survive? Can you knit fishing nets? Is that how they're made?"
She plunked herself onto the floor, crossing her legs, the epitome of interested attention.
Ian found himself a little flustered. "I'm not quite sure how fishing nets are made myself, but, knitting can be very useful. With only two sticks and long string, you can make all the clothing of the world. Scarves, mittens, jackets, anything."
Lynda nodded. "But I don't see why I should knit when I can weave and sew."
"I think it would be less time consuming, your Highness."
"I see," Lynda said, nodding in a sagely manner. She leapt and cart-wheeled backwards, standing several feet away from the stunned guard. "Thanks for the talk! I'll look around myself, now. You're welcome to join!"
She sprinted away, laughing.
It was a full half-hour playing cat and mouse before the guard caught up with the Princess. But even then, the situation did not go for the better. She was royalty, so as far as her blood was concerned, she could not be escorted to her room through brute force. Besides, it was not in Ian's nature to grab a young woman anyway. The old man, whose hair was already white from the flow of time, did the only thing he could think to do: reason.
It was failing miserably.
"Princess…"
She kept humming.
"Your Highness…"
She hummed a more complicated tune.
Ian gave up and muttered, "Miss Lynda…"
She made a distasteful face, but seemed resigned that it was not going to get any better. But definitely grateful for the guard's effort, she turned around and smiled sheepishly. "Thank you, you know, for calling me that. I'm sorry I've been throwing you around a bit. Look, how about you keep calling me 'Miss Lynda' and I'll retreat to my room. Deal?"
Ian Mayne sighed, tired. He remembered having a daughter her age, but he hadn't realized just how much he missed her compared to such a boy-ish Princess. "Of course, your High… Miss Lynda."
"Thank you," she said earnestly before making a U-turn towards her room. She looked at the tired looking old man, and deciding that she had nothing to be afraid of; she offered her arm (because that was what she had been instructed to do for ladies as Link) and said, "So, Mr. Mayne, what's it like around here?"
Sheik was making sure his spells of silence and secrecy were working when his first visitor knocked. He opened the window and ushered them in, smiling in a satisfactory manner when his eyes kept slipping off the cloak his visitor was wearing. He'd been a little apprehensive, putting that spell on those cloaks, but now, seeing his acquaintance stepping into his room, not being able to be looked at… tweaking magic definitely was worthwhile.
"(Dacha, take off that cloak or all I'll be able to do is talk to the wall you're standing next to.)"
"(Your fault then,)" she gruffly replied, stubbornly keeping the garment on, brushing at her black hair.
Sheik smiled tolerantly, shrugging. "(Whatever suits you then,)"
She scowled and leaned back in a corner, waiting for the other representatives to arrive.
They came soon enough, all of them wearing the cloaks Sheik had spelled over, pulling them off to reveal middle-aged men and women, all from the different tribes of the Sheikah. Sheik counted seven and was content with the number. Now, all they had to wait for was… ah.
A portal that reminded everybody of a bottomless well appeared in the centre of the room, and from it a cloaked figure rose, a powerful aura emanating from the figure. There was a silence of awe, several bowed their heads to the persona, and Dacha finally took off the cloak in hopes of being seen and noticed.
It was Sheik that spoke first: "(Wonderful theatrics, Impa. I hope you haven't desecrated any of my barriers; I'd hate seeing any of us caught by our dear Zelda. Or the King.)"
Impa did not respond to the dry humour. Merely frowning at his impertinence, the sage stepped up to the map of Hyrule Castle Town, sceptically looking over its patterns. She looked up at the teenager who was getting stabbed in the back by several heated glares, and asked, "(What is the plan?)"
He shrugged. "(Simple. In two days' time, The Royal Family will be riding through here,)" he slid his fingertips across the red line that indicated the main road from the Castle to the town, "(And while the King goes on a long speech about Lynda's return, we're going to make sure nothing too unpleasant, happens. Word about the treaty spread insanely fast…)"
Sheik shook his head, appalled with the King and his complaints, with the castle's gossipy maids. "(Anyway, the townspeople aren't happy with Zelda's decision. She may force Lynda into speaking, and that's when the riots will most likely begin. I'm thinking we spread all our forces through the crowd; evenly, carefully, discreetly. Keep a look-out on assassins, thugs, anything that may cause us trouble. And now,)" Sheik stepped back and let a hand sweep over the assembled Sheikah, "(You all may choose where you'd like your troops.)"
The muttering began, and Sheik glanced into the walls, shifting his sight, tilting his head to the side like an owl. He saw the seal and its branches of silence and secrecy covering the wall in erratic right angle lines. He checked the other seals on the other walls and the ceiling and the floor. He made sure the window was closed and the anti-sight barrier was still intact.
Sheik let himself sigh and carefully listened to the mutterings of his 'superiors'.
The grey-brunette Lady with hair tied up in an impossibly neat bun looked up and down the Princess's body, putting an extraordinarily thin finger to her temple in thought. Lynda was wearing a peach satin robe that clung to her like a second skin, making her feel extremely awkward.
The woman, ignoring or unaware of the Princess's distress, scrutinized the curve of her jaw —almost too hard to belong to a face so small and thin— the bare forearms —not as muscley as she had feared— and thankfully not as tall as her sister. Her whole frame was not the enviable hourglass figure Zelda had so easily acquired; her hips weren't as wide as expected, her waist was completely smooth muscle, and her chest was not as round or full as Zelda's. She looked like a tall child, more or less.
"Well, Princess," the Lady commented, "You have a fine stature, to say the least. However, we must do something about your posture."
She looked up and cocked an eyebrow. "Huh?"
The Lady winced. "And your speech, your highness."
She looked more perplexed. "What's wrong with it?"
"It is not 'Huh', my Lady, it is 'Excuse me', or 'Pardon'."
Lynda gave a sheepish grin and wrung her hands nervously.
The Lady clapped her hands twice and the maids that had lined themselves at her far wall marched two steps forward, unnervingly like a small army.
"Now," the Lady said, smiling thinly at Lynda's wary gaze, "As you probably know, my name is Mistress Sarren. From now on, I am your tutor in all aspects that will converge with being a Princess. This includes Hylian History, Ancient Hylian, Literature, Music, Mathematics, Geography, Commerce, the Study of past Kings and Queens, Diplomacy, Conversation, Poise, and Manners."
Lynda frowned bravely. "What's wrong with my manners?"
"There will be eight spoons, nine forks, and four knives around your three plates. Do you know which of these you will use while eating soup, meat and bread?"
She blinked, thought, and said, "Open mouth, insert foot."
Dacha drifted towards Sheik and leaned on the wall next to him, muttering, "(You know that this very room got seriously trashed, right?)"
He gave an affirming hum, still listening to the geezers' debating.
"(Do you know how much of a mess it was in?)"
"(Vaguely. I know that some sorcerers tried breaking through some spells. Don't worry; none were found.)"
"(But those scorch marks…!)"
"(They hit a ward. It was connected to all my other spells, and when it was found, it eradicated all of them. It's going to take a while to get them all back…)" he gave a tired sigh, thinking of the bandages on his arm and torso.
"(But Savir, wouldn't that ward be considered suspicious?)"
Sheik shrugged. "(Highly doubtful. It was disguised as a purely Hylian spell; as far as they were concerned, it was just something basic to keep away mediocre spies. Every other room has that sort of precaution.)"
Dacha seemed highly nervous now. "(But what would they think of that? Wouldn't they be suspicious to find that kind of spell in your room? What would happen to you if they find your… their… that barrier thing up again? Why would they start bombing the place if they didn't find anything?)"
Sheik smiled lazily behind his mask. "(Exactly: they didn't find anything. All that ripping, crashing, for no plausible point. They'd have to vent their anger somehow, now don't they? As for the barrier actually being there, well, as far as they know it could've been there before me. Now, about putting it back up… I highly doubt I'll be doing that. I think I'll just take every spell down when I leave the room and put it all back up when I get back.)"
Dacha noticed the annoyed frown. "(Wouldn't it be taxing? For your strength, I mean.)"
"(I'll handle it.)"
His friend was about to object when she was called over to decide where she thought their chief would want his troops. Sheik was about to listen to the geezers again when another disturbance presented itself.
Sheik sighed tiredly. "(Impa. What do I owe you for this conversation?)"
She wore a dangerous scowl as she crossed her arms. "(Zelda's pain.)"
"(Oh?)"
Impa didn't like the way Sheik's interest perked up. "(Savir, Zelda's been distraught since Lynda's arrival; it has something to do with you, and I'd like to know exactly what's going on.)"
Sheik blinked. "(You're telling me you don't know? Can't you sense it from her?)"
"(All I sense from Zelda is grief and regret, Savir. If it's Lynda you're talking about, yes, I have sensed some power from her, but…)"
"(Impa, that's not 'some' power. That's the Triforce of Courage. As in, Lynda's the Hero of Time. You know that ridiculous hat Link used to always wear? Apparently that changed her gender.)"
Impa scowled. "(What are you hiding from me, Savir?)"
"(Hide what, Impa,)" Sheik replied irritably, trying vainly to concentrate on the geezers' ranting,
"(Since when did you have the power to erase memories? To keep Zelda's magic in check, to manipulate spells to your advantage, to be able to do all those things and slip through the sights of the Sages?)"
Sheik cursed at his carelessness, trying to think up something to say. "(What, you think I'm dangerous? I'm flattered.)"
Impa twitched an impatient eyebrow. Sheik sighed. "(Impa, as far as I'm concerned, the Sages are all powerful; aside from the Wielders of the Triforce pieces. If you guys couldn't detect my magic, then I mustn't have enough power to be a plausible threat. Besides, you always knew I had a knack for memory manipulation, and as for—as you put it—'keeping Zelda's magic in check', she was emotionally unstable at that point. I don't think it'd be easy conjuring Triforce powers when you're going off the hook.)"
Impa watched him suspiciously, but he didn't change his expression or even move. Finding that more unnerving than reassuring, Impa requested carefully, "(May I look at your hand?)"
If looks could murder, Sheik's glare would've done a splendid job of it. "(I don't think that would be appropriate at this time and place, Aunt…)"
"(Give me your hand. Now.)"
Knowing which one it was, and hating himself for complying to the demand, Sheik wrenched his left hand from his bindings and thrust it into the Sage's face.
On his palm was a spiral of scars, the Markings of Faith. It wasn't as large as the chief's, but the pinpricks that were supposed to look like brown, healthy freckles resembled scars from white hot needles, black and sickly as death. All except for the one in the middle.
Impa hissed in outrage.
Sheik snatched the offending limb away, wearing a feral grin. "(Surprised?)"
Impa's anger grew at Sheik's acidic tone. "(Do you feel no shame!? This goes against everything your ancestors have worked for! Do you not realise?! It's the things that you are doing that lowers the reputation of the Sheikah! Those promises, Savir, goes against everything that we are working for this very moment!)"
Sheik evenly held Impa's eyes, black mirth in his soft snort. "(Did you honestly think I was helping you all from the goodness of my heart? Did you honestly believe, that I was working for the sake of being selfless? Impa, I think the time you've spent in the Sacred Realm has dulled your senses.)"
The Shadow Sage's aura had slowly darkened the room, as if a whole storm had suddenly engulfed the meeting. The representatives watched the teenager stand coolly in front of the enraged near-immortal, wondering what kind of madness the young man had revealed in order to distress such a level-headed leader.
"(Then tell me, Savir,)" Impa lowered her face right in front of Sheik's, the things she could do reflecting in her eyes, "(Why do you even help? What do you gain from all this? And most importantly, what is stopping me from striking you down right now?)"
Sheik let a lazy smirk rise to his face, watching stupid bandits get strangled by Redeads, Deadhands wrenching tomb-raiders limb by limb, Keese pecking eyes from children disfiguring tombstones, a corpse screaming from nightmares of the living… "(I help because it benefits me, what I gain is up to me, and why you don't strike me down…)"
Slowly Sheik pulled out crystals with muddy centres, all of them the size of his thumbnail, linked on leather ties. He showed them to everyone, who were staring avidly for the impudent Sheikah's demise, "(These were donated from one of my informants. They shall change your eye colour, if you tap into them with your will. Brown, as you can probably guess.)"
The representatives grumbled. A woman with gold streaks tattooed on her cheeks demanded, "(Who gave them to you? How do you know we can trust this informant? How can we trust you?)"
A murmur of consent. Sheik stepped away from the wall and away from Impa. "(Gentlemen, and women, you seem to forget that you don't have anybody else to trust aside from me. Sure, Impa's loyal to you, but recently, who can deny that she's been acting Sage first? And who doesn't wonder whether she feels more a nursemaid to Princess Zelda than a Sheikah? You all know these are dangerous times; even your greatest leader, you cannot trust. And as for my informant, well, I don't think there's any point in telling you their name, since, they don't even remember they helped. Even if they did…)" Sheik shrugged.
"(How do we know they work?)" a man with white hair demanded, despite looking like he only just entered his thirties.
Sheik scoffed. "(Do you really think I haven't tested them out? They work; even for those who don't know an inkling of magic. And for as long as you will it to boot.)"
"(Are there enough?)"
"(There should be. If there aren't, I'll ask for more; now do me a favour and tell me how many troops you're setting up in your areas, and I'll send the pendants by owl tonight.)"
The Sheikah men and women grudgingly told him, disliking the way he nodded at the statistics and wrote them down, hating the fact they had to bow their heads to a mere slave of the Royal Family, a mere child. They shrugged on the coats that had brought them to the castle safely, trying to ignore the fact it was the boy who spelled them, and left.
Dacha was the last to say goodbye. "(Savir, why's Impa so mad you?)"
Sheik shook his head, "(You really don't want to know.)"
Dacha, worried for him, gave him a swift hug before retreating, jumping out the window and into the afternoon. Impa watched a weary Sheik turn on her, tone not of arrogance but of exhaustion, "(You know what I want.)"
"(That is not the way of getting it.)" she nodded towards the hand and stopped the urge of spitting in disgust.
"(But without them, this operation would've been finished before it even started.)"
The Sage growled and snapped her fingers, making the portal reappear on the floor. Wordlessly she left, sinking slowly into the shadows as if it were quicksand.
Sheik sighed and began to work through the numbers and lists, trying to remember how many pendants he had gained and how much he would need. He looked over the map, the different shades of colour representing the different tribes and their positions. Dacha's, he noted, were on the rooftops; he wondered whether that was a good idea, but left it at that.
He began to jot in his own colours, marking places he needed to ward, places he knew rioters would try and escape through. That done, he proceeded to put down his silence and secrecy wards before going onto the anti-sight one on the window.
Then he spotted something in the gardens and groaned. "This is one heck of a day…"
Lynda breathed in deep, long and loudly, trying to get as much fresh air into her lungs as possible. It was saddening that the only way to cure her homesickness was to spend her time in the gardens. Even if she threw herself onto the grass, smeared herself with sap, did every barbaric act of trying to be part of a forest far away by destroying the garden she was in… it would never be enough.
But she snapped a branch of a hedge anyway, putting her nose to the opening to smell the crisp scent of a living tree.
"What in Din's name are you doing?"
Lynda jumped and turned from her sitting position, finding Sheik crouching next to her, looking incredulous behind his scarf and fringe.
"I miss home," she simply said, before returning to the snapped branch, shaving all of its leaves into a pile on her lap, Sheik watching intently.
She was wearing a brown dress, a white undershirt underneath. Aside from the stiff ribbon that held her hair in a high ponytail and the blue earrings she always wore in her ears, he saw no accessories. Not even shoes.
Sheik found himself liking the image far too much.
Lynda looked up from her work, an accusing glare to her lake-blue eyes. "Stop staring."
"Pardon me, Princess," he huffed, pulling back the uninterested mask, "Can't one wonder why one's dressed un-accordingly to one's title?"
Her frown deepened into a snarl. "You go fancy-talking me and I will push this branch through your throat."
Sheik followed the flailing of the branch, not as menacing as the look the Princess was giving him. "It was Mistress Sarren, wasn't it."
"If it's the last thing I'll do, I will wage a full war on her and her stupid heels." She scathed, stabbing the branch into the soft earth. She proceeded to rip at the collected leaves, growling obscenities under her breath.
Sheik couldn't help but smile. "Heels?"
"Those abominations, shouldn't be called shoes. They should be called 'Feet-eaters'! Do you know by how much they hurt my toes? They're worse then Dekubaba! She kept insisting that the shoes were the right size when my feet felt like they were being squeezed by Wall-Masters, and they're so unbelievably hard to walk in! Furore, it's like they want to lame me or something! And they won't give me my boots back!"
Sheik found himself chuckling at her rants. He sat back as she continued on, resigned to the fact that he was going to be there for a while. "You know what they did to my boots!? They cut them in half—in half!—and put them on my head! 'Walk around without making them fall off, Highness, you have to make sure your posture is perfect for the march!'" she made her voice higher for the mistress, and then fumed in her own voice, "Screw that! They ruined my boots! My boots!"
"Dare I ask what's so important about your boots, Hero?"
"They were my first and only pair!" she wailed, amusing Sheik by completely missing the change in title, "They went through all the Temples of Hyrule, walked across Termina, survived through nine operations to be brought back to life, I kicked my first Peahat with them! They were the ones I fitted the Iron Soles and Hover Wings on! Now that they hardly go past my ankles, how can I be sure they won't slip off or something!?"
She stopped ranting on a whimper, sounding close to a sob. "They were my best boots…"
"Only boots."
"Still the best…"
Sheik fondly patted her back, prompting her to look at him miserably. "Think of it this way: when you get new boots, you might get a chance to use them especially for kicking servants you don't like."
"But when you kick them you get told off," Lynda muttered, scooping up her skirts to hug her legs, "At least with monsters people don't mind; hell, they worship you for it. It starts to suck when your life goes on the line, but… I have to have the occasional adrenaline rush. And those boots gave them to me! And now… my occasional adrenaline rushes are over. They're just not the same without my boots."
"Ah, well," he said, standing up, "We'll get you a new pair once the publicity blows over, deal?"
"Nothing beats my old boots." She mumbled, surprising Sheik by extending both her hands to him, wordlessly asking for a helping hand. He pulled her up gently, careful not to make the same mistake as the forest.
But as she let go, Sheik found himself almost reluctant to let go, found her cool hands leave imprints of relief in his magic-burnt paws, found himself noting that they weren't that small, they could still wield a sword nicely if they wanted to, that she was really light for a person like her, she looked nice with her hair tied up…
No. No. She was of Royal Blood! Just think of all the things that they made you go through, Savir, do you really want to get involved with one? No, no he didn't. Good.
"Sheik?" Lynda had turned to regard the boy, her head cocked to the side. "Why do you wear that all the time? Dacha doesn't."
He fiddled with the cowl, deciding on a part-truth. "The Castle gents don't appreciate having Sheikah around. Thanks to this, they're terrified of me." he chuckled to himself. "You won't believe how many of them think I have a blind eye from a Wolfos attack."
"But why would you want them terrified?"
"To protect myself," he said simply, joining her walk back to the castle, "Hylians fear what they don't understand. They can't understand why Sheikah can be so close to death and not be bothered about it. They can't understand why we have eyes that remind them of blood. They can't understand why a person would want to hide their face. Imaginations go wild, and there you have; a terrifying picture of a member of a terrifying race."
She nodded in fascinated consent, although frowning a little. "I didn't find that mask terrifying when I first saw you. You know, in the other time. Actually," she grinned boyishly, looking slightly smug with herself, "I find it creepy you even had a face behind your scarf. I didn't recognise you at first when you barged in on my home; I think you looked scarier."
"Why thank you," he said, "You look quite dashing yourself, as a woman."
She made a sour face and said, "Touché."
Sheik snorted with genuine amusement, and Lynda chuckled too.
They didn't notice the jealous eyes that watched them heatedly, fingers curling menacingly over a dagger.