((I've gotten several questions regarding where this is on the Zelda timeline, and whether or not it's an AU. Just to make it very clear, this is thoroughly AU because it will use characters from various games. Because of that, it's not set in any one game—if anything, it's in the style of Hyrule Warriors. Not anywhere in particular on the timeline (though if it was, it would be after Twilight Princess), but makes reference to other games.

Sheik's design is actually from Super Smash Brothers Brawl, and the only appearance difference between her and Zelda is the red eyes. She is blonde in this fic, though a dirty-blonde. Link's design is similar to Twilight Princess Link's. He has a different starting outfit, though. He isn't a farmhand in this AU, and the climate he lives in is cooler, so he can't afford to wear sandals and only one longer sleeve.))

Ravio's shop was tucked away deep within Solen's downtown area. All considered, the pawn shop's location alone should have made it a target to the authorities—and for it to be a pawn shop of all things, it was doubly suspicious. And yet, Ravio never seemed to struggle with the authorities, and he never turned away Sheik's business. Even when her items were clearly stolen, with names engraved that didn't belong to her, or the authorities had been notified, he'd still accepted them without a second thought.

Now that the soldiers were gone, though, Sheik feared being caught even less, so she wasted no time placing the jewelry from Ardock on the table.

Ravio looked up at her with a smile, his dark hair bouncing as he picked up the gold and jewels. "Looks like you've found some pretty great ones this time, buddy," he said, holding a particularly shiny gem up against the light. "Where'd you find this thing, anyways? Just for this one I'd say… maybe two hundred rupees?"

"It's worth at least two-fifty," Sheik was quick to haggle. "And it's the same as the rest. My cousin's."

"Your very rich, very generous cousin," Ravio said, clearly just humoring her. "This one looks like it's seen some hard times, though." He held it up to the light, squinting at it. "Looks like it's been frozen solid and unfrozen, judging by the wear on the polish…" He glanced at the pile, then held a few others up to the light. "In fact, looks like all of this has been frozen… Where'd you find these, really? Snowpeak?"

"None of your concern." Sheik glared down at Ravio—easily a head shorter than her—with her bright red eyes. "Will you give me a fair price or not?"

Ravio, coward that he was, backed up quickly, nearly tripping over himself in his haste. "I'll give you two-twenty five for the gem! The rest I'll need a better look at! But don't worry about it, buddy, you'll get your money's worth!"

Sheik frowned, hidden under her mask, but she wouldn't find a better pawn broker anywhere, she knew. So she crossed her arms and backed up half a step, giving him a quick nod. "I'll hold you to your honor."

Within minutes, Ravio had gone through most of the jewelry, testing for counterfeits as he went. In the end, though, Sheik had over two thousand rupees in her wallet—yet she still had the lingering feeling that he'd cheated her out of some money.

Sheik couldn't be too angry, though—she'd hardly had to work for those jewels. No one had even been there to defend them. Not to mention she'd finished off that mug of ale Telma had sent her off with. That, along with the two drinks she'd had earlier, easily put her in a more peaceful mood.

"This is it, then?" Sheik asked, pocketing the last of the money.

"That's all I've got to give ya, buddy." Ravio smiled, smiles all around now that he'd put the gold away for safekeeping..

Deciding it definitely wasn't worth the haggle now, Sheik just nodded, slipping her wallet back inside one of her many pockets. Without another word, she started to head out, but just as she reached the door, Ravio's voice stopped her.

"Stay safe out there, will ya?"

There was almost concern in his voice. Sheik tensed immediately, hand freezing on the door frame. Though they'd been trading partners for years, there had never been anything personal between them—and certainly not enough for him to care about her wellbeing.

But though Sheik couldn't bring herself to make eye contact, she forced herself to answer him.

"You too, Ravio." The words felt heavy in her mouth, and she was glad to let them go, hurrying out the door as soon as she'd said them.

She'd have to find another pawnbroker.

It hurt, after all these years, knowing that she'd have to break trust and find someone else—but what could she do? Two groups were searching for her now. As reliable as Ravio had been—and though he'd never once turned her in for theft—Sheik couldn't afford to get caught.

If that meant not even letting her pawnbroker get close to her, then so be it.

She could stick around cities closer to the southern border—far away from Solen, far away from Castle Town, far away from all the people that were searching for her.

But even as she decided to stay hidden, a sudden ache in her chest reminded her of Ilia—and of all the girls going missing because of how Sheik prioritized her own safety. She had to stay hidden, especially now that people were searching for her—and she had the skills to do it. But who was helping the other girls? The ones who didn't have her abilities?

Basic self-preservation told her to run, but everything else—instinct, conscience, wisdom—told her to help where she could.

But what could she do?

Sheik looked down and realized, all too late, that she was still holding the mug Telma had sent her off with. It was long since empty now, and Sheik realized a bit late that she'd had more than her fill tonight, and with her reflexes slowed, she might get herself into some trouble if she stayed out any later. It would do her some good to rest for the night, regardless—for once without the threat of criminals, soldiers, or, more recently, ghosts, to harm her.

She had to return the mug to Telma's, anyways—one night at the tavern's inn wouldn't kill her.

And, if she was staying somewhere safe, it wouldn't hurt to ask for a refill in that mug. She'd been through enough these past few days to make anyone need a drink.

"My," Telma said the following morning, amusement in her voice as she watched Sheik descend the stairs. "Someone's up early. Didn't expect it, considering how much you drank last night, honey. Need some water?"

Sheik was grateful that her red eyes made her look a bit murderous as it was—otherwise mornings like this her glare wouldn't be half as effective. Telma didn't seem to feel threatened, though, and simply laughed as she poured her a glass of water.

"I take it you didn't get much sleep last night?"

"I got enough," she said, voice flat as she accepted the glass and downed it within seconds. "Is Ilia still staying at the apartment I walked her to?"

Telma crossed her arms over the counter and leaned against it, an almost flirtatious smile on her lips. "Why, are you up so early to escort our little miss?"

"Is she or isn't she?"

Perhaps it was just her hangover—and Sheik had damned herself, deciding to have another round after she returned Telma's mug—but she wasn't willing to put up with much this morning. Telma, angel that she was, refilled her cup with water despite Sheik's expression.

"She's still there last I checked, honey. Got nowhere else to go, else she would've gone already." Seeing Sheik perk up, Telma smiled and shook her head. "I recommend getting a move on though, honey. It's a long way to Ecchar."

Sheik nodded, downing the second glass nearly as fast as the first. Her head was still pounding, and there was nothing she wanted less than to be on top of a galloping horse all day. But her hangover would wear off eventually, she knew, and by that time she'd have plenty of other miserable things to focus on, like the late summer sun beating on her back and the sheer distance between here and Ecchar.

But her desire to save Ilia was greater than any of it, and so she pushed the glass back to Telma and took her leave. It wouldn't do to waste the morning.

After all, she had a long, long three days ahead of her.

When she finally arrived in Ecchar, Sheik was in much the same state as when she'd come all those weeks ago: Exhausted, starving, and in desperate need of a bath. But this time, she had a goal in mind. As soon as she set foot in the town, she checked the premises once, twice, three times on her way to Ilia's apartment.

But just as when she'd searched for those kidnappers before, she found no one suspicious. So Sheik came to the door and knocked, not caring at all that it was late.

To her pleasant surprise, Ilia didn't take long to come to the door. Fortunately she had enough brains to check through the slot before opening the door, and when she saw it was Sheik, she was quick to pull her through the door and shut and lock it behind her.

"What are you doing out here at this time of night?" Ilia stared at Sheik, looking at her as if she'd lost her mind. "It's not safe here!"

Sheik brushed off her uniform, nose crinkling as she realized how much dust she was getting in Ilia's apartment. "That's why I came to escort you to Solen," she said. "Just like you were planning on doing already."

Ilia's eyes widened. Her hands raised defensibly, and Sheik watched—still as death—as she reached for a dagger. "How did you know I was going to Solen…?"

"I talked to Telma," Sheik said, keeping her voice soft and reasonable. The last thing she needed was to be killed for wanting to protect someone, goddesses damn it. "She said you'd be leaving in a few days. I wanted to make sure you had safe passage."

It took a moment for Sheik's words to sway her, but finally Ilia put her dagger back in her belt loop. "I'm sorry, Sheik. After what you did—what you're trying to do even now… I should have…"

"I'm just glad you're not an idiot," Sheik said. "You have a weapon and you don't trust people blindly. I'm glad you're being extra careful."

Ilia nodded, letting out a deep breath. It took a moment, but finally she seemed to have fully regained her composure. She backed away from the door after double and triple checking that it was locked, leading Sheik towards a makeshift living room.

As far as homes went, Sheik knew this one was nothing fancy. If anything, it was rather run-down—but in Ecchar, it was hard to expect much else. Sheik was just glad that Ilia had a place to call her own. Living on the road wasn't something she'd wish on anyone—especially not someone like Ilia.

Ilia was strong in her own right, of course. She was cautious, and independent enough that she lived alone here, judging by the empty apartment. As much as Sheik could respect that, though, her instincts told her to protect this girl. Maybe it was guilt—the kidnappers were searching for her, after all—or her usual protectiveness of other women, but Sheik knew she couldn't just abandon her here.

"Did you plan on leaving tomorrow?" Sheik asked. "Or later?"

Ilia sat in a frayed, faded old couch, legs tucked under her. "Later, I suppose. But nothing's tying me here, either. Tomorrow would be fine, so long as I finish packing tonight…"

Sheik nodded, training her eyes out the window. "We'll head out early tomorrow morning, then." She leaned against a wall, too stiff from riding all day to want to sit down. "Hyrule Field is dangerous at night. I'd prefer it if we crossed it before sunset."

"Dangerous?" Ilia looked up at Sheik, concern on her face. "How so?"

Sheik shifted, subconsciously rubbing the tension out of her arm. "It used to be dangerous because of the soldiers," she said. "Mostly because they'd pursue thieves and outlaws and innocent travelers often got caught up in these pursuits. Soldiers can be… dangerous, when they're determined. But now that there are no soldiers, outlaws control the field. I'd like to believe they wouldn't attack or rob travelers, but I don't trust them any more than the soldiers."

That was certainly some hostility, considering Sheik was supposed to work for the Royal Family. But speaking well of anyone in league with the King made her stomach twist. Any time she tried to speak kindly of them, it felt like she was betraying herself. So she didn't bother holding her tongue.

After all, she was doing this to help Ilia. She had a feeling the other girl wouldn't waste her breath criticizing someone who was putting themself on the line for her.

"Is it possible to go around it?" Ilia asked. "It seems like a terrible place to pass through."

"If we went around it, it would take a week. We don't have enough supplies to last a week," she said, shaking her head. "It'll already take closer to four days rather than three, because my horse can't bear the weight of two people as easily as one, but—"

"I have a horse," Ilia interrupted. "I wouldn't have dreamed of making the trek alone on foot."

Sheik wanted to accept it as truth, but she couldn't help her confusion. As far as she knew, Ilia didn't travel much, and she lived here, in an apartment. Just what was she doing with a horse? "Where are you keeping your horse, then? Are you paying to keep it in a stable?"

Ilia fidgeted, cheeks pinking in embarrassment. "It's—it's in a stable, yeah. But it not actually my horse, exactly. But Link sent me money to buy one so I could travel safely to Solen."

The answer made sense, but Sheik couldn't help but wonder—Link again?

"How do you know him?" Sheik asked, curiosity getting the better of her. "Telma knows both you and Link, but… she said he'd introduced you to her."

Ilia smiled, seeming glad that Sheik knew him, too. "He and I grew up together," she said. "We both came from the same province, so after an illness wiped out most of our village, we were raised in the same orphanage together."

Orphanage?

"I'm sorry for your loss," Sheik said, redirecting her gaze towards the window. Though she certainly empathized, the last thing she wanted was to give anything away about herself. "That must have been hard for you."

"I hardly remember them." Ilia shrugged a shoulder, looking quite small in that faded armchair. "It was only difficult when we were kicked out at thirteen."

Sheik's eyes flickered briefly over to her, a flash of anger in them. "Kicked out?"

"We were old enough to support ourselves," Ilia said simply. "They had to make room for the younger ones—the ones who couldn't survive on their own."

Rage boiled in Sheik's stomach, and she was grateful for her mask more than ever. It took great effort to suppress that anger, knowing first-hand what Ilia—and by extension, Link—must have gone through. "It's not right, abandoning someone so young," she said, praying that Ilia wouldn't notice the tension in her voice, try as she might to force it down. "I'm sorry you had to go through that."

Ilia just shook her head. "I'm made it just fine, thanks in part to Link." She wore a fond smile on her face, and Sheik couldn't help but feel that Ilia was like a proud older sister. "Besides," she said, voice growing more somber. "People have been on the streets much younger than thirteen."

Ten.

Sheik nodded, expression as calm as she could force it. "I suppose you're right," she said. She needed a change in subject, and fast, else she knew she'd end up lashing out. So she cleared her voice and moved away from the wall, stoic as ever. "You ought to finish getting packed tonight. It's going to be a long day ahead of us."

With that, she turned and headed back into the front room. There wasn't a bed for her and the house didn't seem to have an extra bedroom, but Sheik had slept in worse places.

So she sat down in front of the door and leaned her head against it. If she couldn't a bed, the least she could do was stay near the door and keep anyone from coming in. she was a light sleeper by now, anyways. Eight years on the run tended to do that to a person.

Ilia was busy packing, and Sheik knew she wouldn't be very good company even if she wasn't busy—so she didn't feel bad about it as she tucked her knees against her chest and fell asleep for the night.

"Impa, Impa!"

The elderly woman smiled as Zelda ran through the garden, carrying a bundle of flowers in her arms. "What is it, my dear?" she asked, happily scooping her up in into her lap. The mud on Zelda's dress was, naturally, now being shared between them. But Impa couldn't help wanting to share Zelda's excitement.

"I found some of the best flowers in Kakariko," Zelda said proudly, holding up white lilies for Impa to see. "They were growing just over the hill, on the meadow on the other side of the graveyard!"

"The meadow, hm?" Impa pulled a few lilies from her hands and lifted them delicately to her nose. "They're beautiful, dearest. Thank you for bringing some back."

Zelda beamed.

"A maid?" The man at the castle entrance examined Zelda, finding nothing but red and puffy eyes on a girl far too young to look so determined. "I'm sorry, little miss, but we have no openings right now. Especially not for someone as young as you. Go back home to your parents, okay? They'll take care of you."

Zelda was too young and scared to insist on being heard, and not old enough yet for her tears to have completely dried up. So she balled her little hands up into fists and didn't say a word as she hurried back to Kakariko Village. She prayed, and prayed, and prayed that Impa would be waiting at home, same as she always was. But there was no one there.

The people of Kakariko had already taken care of her body. Impa was buried in the graveyard where the rest of her family lay—wrapped in white and placed, stiff and unyielding, into a coffin.

There wasn't even a body here for Zelda to cry for anymore.

All that was left were the white lilies that well-wishers had left behind, and what Impa had been able to leave for Zelda.

All that was left were memories.

"Impa, why can't I go back to the castle?" Zelda asked, voice no longer thick with tears. There was only confusion left, and brittle hope that this time, the answer would be different. "Papa never made me hide like this before…"

Impa looked at her with an expression her young mind couldn't quite understand. But she picked her up and held her close to her chest, stroking her fine blonde hair in a way Zelda's step-mother never had. "Things are very different now, child," she said softly. Her words had sounded so wise back then, but as Zelda grew up, she knew that Impa had only been trying to make the best of a bad situation. "You'll be safer here with me, far away from that place. I'll take very good care of you, little one, I promise."

But Zelda missed her papa, and her step-mother, and all the castle children she'd played with while she lived there. She missed the maids, and the servants, and the chefs and knights that always gave her sweets or flowers and told her that she was 'the cutest princess Hyrule ever had.'

Kakariko, though, was small, and the people didn't smile as much, and the only one Zelda knew was Impa, who was too old to run around and play with her. There was nothing to do and no one her age to share it with.

But Zelda, wise enough to know not to ostracize the only friend she had here, kept quiet about her woes and just let Impa hold her. There was no need to make the old woman feel guilty, after all. Zelda knew she was trying her best.

So she held back her tears and tried to make a home here in Kakariko, where she was a stranger instead of the treasured daughter of the king, and where white lilies grew instead of pink roses.

Morning came with packed bags and stiff muscles, still sore from three days' hard riding. But she had three more to look forward to, and sore muscles had never held her back before, so Sheik rose with the dawn and loaded up Ilia's things on their horses. They were off before the rest of Ecchar was even stirring, and the day was spent in near constant silence.

Talk was useless to Sheik, and it seemed Ilia had plenty to think about now that she'd be living in a new town. There was a lot to be said, but none of it to each other, and that was just fine with Sheik. The silence was a welcome distraction.

Yet, all the same, part of Sheik wanted to know more about Ilia. Like how she'd ended up in Ecchar to begin with, and why she and Link were living in separate cities now if they'd been so close when they were younger.

But asking someone about their life seemed to only be an invitation for them to ask about hers, and Sheik was in no mood to create a story about her identity. Lies were hard to craft, and even harder to maintain. Eventually, something would slip and give her away anyways—so it was better to give nothing about her own life at all. It was like a puzzle; Sheik would rather the puzzle be mostly blank space so that no one knew what to do with any piece they did find.

Not to mention there was always something intimate about sharing secrets.

And as much as Sheik respected Ilia, and as much as she wanted to protect her, she couldn't allow herself to get any closer to this girl than she already was. The past eight years had taught her a lot, and they weren't all happy lessons.

So Sheik was happy to save Ilia's life—but she drew the line at being a part of it.

((Thank you all so much for the reviews! These past few days have been very hectic with projects, and I've been outlining the rest of this story, so I haven't gotten to finish this chapter till today. Thank you again so much—and if you like this chapter, or if you don't, please tell me in a review! I read and re-read them all frequently, and they give me motivation to write the next chapter!))