((Before reading this, if you've forgotten significant plot points or a lot of details, I encourage you to go back and reread portions of this—maybe the whole thing, since for the life of me I can't remember when certain events happen by chapter number. I've checked the reviews and no one has accurately guessed the bombshell Link is going to drop, but I've put several warnings and precursors to his confession, so hopefully (fingers crossed) no one feels angry or blindsided in a bad way.
If you don't have time to go back through and reread everything (goodness knows I've written too much for this fic already), then I recommend the early chapters and Link and Sheik's time in Tal, as well as a critical eye of what happened last chapter.
Also, I swear I'll explain my absence at the bottom notes, but this pre-note is long enough as it is.
So, happy reading, and enjoy the newest chapter!))
Despite Sheik's best efforts, it took several days before she could walk again. While cuts and bruises healed quickly even without red potion, magic overuse and blood-loss was another matter entirely. And no matter how much red potion she took, Sheik's body was taking its sweet time to heal.
Still—four days had passed, and she was about to go stir-crazy for want of movement.
Unfortunately for Sheik, Link was very little (if any) help. Though he was happy to do anything she asked pertaining to her injuries, he actively avoided conversation. And, with his cryptic words the last time they'd really spoken, Sheik was starting to worry.
If Link was pulling back, and Sheik wasn't good at reaching out, then there was a real risk of their partnership falling apart.
Though she didn't want to partner with someone she couldn't trust, she knew Link. He had proved himself time and time again, and no matter what he had done, Sheik knew in her heart that she would forgive him. Whatever secret he was keeping, Sheik was sure it wasn't that bad. That it couldn't be that bad.
…Could it?
Despite herself, she felt doubt start to set in.
Link might have been the first genuinely good person she'd ever met. If she had been wrong about him, if he was just as bad as she was, then there was truly no hope for the rest of Hyrule.
A lump rose in her throat any time she considered it.
Between the possibility of a personal betrayal and Link letting down all of Hyrule, Sheik wasn't sure which stung more. As much as she thought she knew him, she couldn't help but worry. Maybe it was an effect of her Triforce, maybe it was practicality from raising herself on the road. She couldn't help but be cautious. No matter how much she wanted him to be perfect, to be the shining pinnacle of good that her heart believed in, there was a chance she was wrong.
Whatever the case, Sheik prayed his secret wouldn't be their undoing.
Still, much as she hoped everything was alright, she had to come up with a contingency plan. Trusting as she tried to be, it would be impractical and stupid of her to trust him blindly, leaving herself no other options.
If Link had truly betrayed her—or if he knew too much—then she'd have to find some way to deal with it. Sheik would have to push him out of her life, cut him off, and get away from him forever—otherwise she knew she'd come back. No matter how much she cared about him, she couldn't expose her secret.
She'd managed being alone most of her life, and, if she really needed to, she was sure she could manage it again.
But she prayed to Nayru that she wouldn't have to. Not with Link.
Packing wasn't as difficult as it had been, in the past. Maybe it was because they hadn't had to buy as much, or maybe it was because Shad and Ashei and the girls were so willing to help them while they were still around.
Or, maybe, it was because Sheik wasn't part of the packing much at all.
Every time she had tried, they shooed her off and sent her away. Always with something about 'rest' and 'it's absurd enough that you're setting out like this, so you should at least let us help you while we still can.'
Fortunately the impromptu lectures stopped when Shad and Ashei and the girls left.
Though Sheik couldn't do much to see them off, she was at least permitted to be up and about as they left. Their farewells weren't much, as none of them knew each other extraordinarily well, but there was certainly a bittersweet feeling to their farewell.
Link had hugged Shad and Ashei both—to Sheik's great surprise, considering his natural aversion to Ashei—and had been affectionate with most of the girls, as well. Sheik had remained apart for most of the farewells, offering a solemn bid for the party to stay careful, and to be good to Malon and the other girls at the Ranch.
But when Ashei approached her, Sheik allowed the formalities to drop just a bit, and she extended a hand.
Instead of a handshake, Ashei took her hand and pulled her into a tight hug. "Don't do anything that dangerous ever again," she said, and Sheik's eyes widened at the protective tone. "I'm not going to forget what you did for us, you hear?"
"I'll…" Sheik stiffened under Ashei's hold, but finally relaxed enough to wrap her arms around the other girl. "…I'll keep that in mind."
"Good." Ashei pulled away, attempting to adopt a brave smile—but it didn't completely cover up her worry. "We'll keep in touch. Write me at this address, and the letters will find their way to me eventually. If you ever need somewhere to stay, I… You know who to call."
With that, Ashei slipped a piece of paper into Sheik's hand, and Sheik stared at it, somewhat dumbfounded. Still, she didn't protest. "I will," she said. Then, after a beat, "Thank you. Travel safely."
Ashei smiled and nodded, and Sheik hoped against hope that they would all make it to Lon Lon Ranch in one piece.
Not long after that, the company was on the road and the Ise Mansion was silent. Sheik was left to Link, to her planning, and to her recovery.
If she were being honest with herself, Sheik would have been happy to leave the same time as Ashei and Shad. But Link had protested, and they'd extended their stay.
Apparently, being barely able to walk meant she wasn't allowed to ride on horseback. It was only a five-day journey, Sheik had protested, but somehow, she'd neglected to convince her partner.
Link, who was still avoiding her most of the day, and being overprotective the rest of it. Every attempt at conversation ended with him shutting her out—and, if Sheik wasn't getting worried about the sheer amount of self-blame he was having, she might have been irritated.
She'd been hurt, and he'd helped her. Despite Link's insistence that there was more to it than that, the more time that passed, the more she wanted to forget the matter entirely and just move on, before her suspicious ate her alive.
But Link refused to.
Sheik sighed. If there was one thing they shared in common, it would probably be stubbornness—but she hadn't expected Link to be this set on the matter.
At least she had the library, and that no one had deemed planning and researching too 'strenuous' for her. It was a good distraction from her current problems—and a good way to focus her energy into solving a greater problem:
Hyrule.
In the library, she devoted herself to every book about Hyrule's history she could find. Everything from the long lost Era of Sky to their current era. As always, there was little about the Hero of Time, but Sheik had the best primary source she could have on that one.
There wasn't much information on the Triforces, unfortunately, or of any other mystic power. Probably because Hyrule had only recently begun to follow the old ways again.
It was no secret that belief in the Three had waned during the Era of Twilight. Maybe because of the progression of technology and the sudden, horrific Invasion. That was enough to drive any Three-fearing Hylian away from religion entirely. And yet, as the situation in Hyrule got progressively worse with corrupt kings and queens following the Zelda of Twilight, the people had slowly turned back to the old ways.
Primarily, to Din.
They prayed for power, for a way to better their status. They prayed for a leader who would listen to them, who would heed their desperation. They prayed for agency and healthy crops—for their children to have a better life than the one they were currently living.
Sheik couldn't blame them.
Ecchar—despite being the most extreme example—wasn't the only city smothered by crime and corruption. From Marr and Ecchar to Solen and Ise, Hyrule was getting worse.
It was no surprise that a hero had been chosen in this generation. But Sheik could only wonder at the catalyst.
She knew that the castle had been taken over, and that whoever had taken it had the Triforce of Power. She also knew that they were likely the one ruining towns throughout Hyrule and prompting citizens to herd together in the bigger cities, like animals. So, clearly, they had powerful magic.
And, factoring in the brutal magic against Kakariko, a vendetta against the Sheikah.
There were a few groups that disliked the Sheikah, of course. As a race mired in shadow and in service to a long-forgotten deity, and as enforcers of the King's rule, it was no wonder that people feared them.
Still, perhaps Sheik was reading too far into it. Perhaps the strike at the Sheikah was merely a way to prompt Zelda out of hiding.
Without more knowledge of who had taken over the castle, Sheik could only speculate.
Sheik ran a hand through her hair, hating that she didn't know—that all she could do was watch and wait and study. Part of her hated that she and Link were even bothering to clean up towns that no one was returning to. Was it worth defeating giant monsters if no one was willing to come home? Was it worth dying for?
And yet, she couldn't just leave the towns as they were.
Perhaps breaking the towns' spells was a way to weaken their enemy. Sheik hoped it was the case. Regardless of her personal feelings, the Triforce of Wisdom wouldn't allow her to ignore the cities. She couldn't leave the towns unhealed; she needed to save them, whatever the costs.
She couldn't waste time getting caught up on side-notes to the larger story, though. Not wanting to waste time in the only library she had access to, Sheik read everything she could get her hands on. Despite not knowing for sure if it was a conflict against Zelda or against the Sheikah, Sheik nevertheless focused on conflicts between groups.
Whether it was truly the heart of the issue, there was heat in her left hand every time she passed the anthropological section, so she figured it was important. It wasn't much, but there were several books on the Sheikah, and the Gerudo, and ancient and modern Hylians alike. So she found herself reading everything in those sections, and cross-referencing them with other books to find patterns.
In the end, the only important note was this:
The Gerudo and the Sheikah had hated each other for millennia.
Perhaps the Gerudo were jealous of the Sheikah's (once) close interaction with the Goddess Hylia, while they prayed to a Sand-Goddess who hadn't shown herself for millennia.
Perhaps the Sheikah were jealous of the Gerudo's ability to get their magic from the sun, whereas the Sheikah burned themselves out if they used too much magic.
Or perhaps the conflict ran deeper than any anthropological notes could cover.
Whatever the case, Sheik found herself overwhelmed with cultural notes on both. She had, after all, been raised around Impa—but her early years had been spent in a Hylian castle, and even when she'd lived with Impa, she had still been treated more Hylian than Sheikah.
The best notes about the Gerudo, though, came from the Hero's Journal.
Granted, there was a lot about them that was probably incorrect. The Hero was very clear that the Gerudo women were under a spell—brainwashed, more likely. But despite their brainwashing, they were noble adversaries, and they gave him more fight than most enemies.
From what he could tell, women would train for years in order to become Iron Knuckles. The labor was divided evenly among the tribe, and everyone who was able to work, did. He had never worked out how the Gerudo continued on as a race (what with only one man being born every hundred years), but fortunately the books at the Ise library covered that.
Evidently, the Gerudo could take Hylian men as their own and create children with them. Despite their Hylian fathers, the children would always be women, and the Gerudo genetics never waned. Every daughter had red hair and amber eyes and beautiful copper skin. Perhaps there was magic involved, perhaps not.
As she looked deeper into the history, however, Sheik couldn't help her compassion.
This entire race depended on Hylians for survival, and yet they were shunned to the desert. After the Hyrulean Civil war, they were treated as enemies, and a deep rift formed between the Gerudo and other races. Despite once-close ties to the Gorons and the Zora, every other tribe had taken sides with the Hylian Royal family, and severed ties with the Gerudo.
And yet, the Hylians and the Gerudo had both committed atrocities during that war. But because Hylians were the victors, they had the power to cast off the Gerudo and keep them in the desert.
Perhaps worst of all was the Hero of Time's hand in all this. Despite his pure, honest intent to save Hyrule, he had killed dozens—maybe even hundreds—of Gerudo women. He had saved Hyrule from a Gerudo tyrant, and no one could fault him for that (if only history remembered him). But he had, nevertheless, come into Gerudo lands and killed them in their own homes.
Yes, they'd been brainwashed.
And yes, the Hero of Time wasn't the only hero to do it.
(Sheik had read the Hero of Twilight's biography—had read intimate letters to the Twilight's Queen and 'Midna' talking about the atrocities he'd committed during the war. She knew he had killed the Twili, and that it was later revealed it was possible to save them, and easily, at that.)
And, yes, he hadn't wanted to kill them.
But he had done it nonetheless.
Sheik thought to her own era's hero—to Link—and prayed to Nayru that he would not have to travel that path.
And yet, Sheik wondered if he already had. She didn't know what nightmares kept him up at night, but given his earlier protests, she wondered if she had a guess. Once, he had sworn that he wouldn't kill Hylians, and he had kept to it to the best of his ability. He'd even restrained her from doing the same, a few times. But time and time again, circumstances had forced his hand.
Sheik had barely noticed the change.
She wondered, despite herself, what toll it was taking on Link's psyche.
But the whole purpose of reading at Ise's library was to distract her from thinking of Link, and so she forced those worries out of her head.
It wasn't until the third day of this—a full week after waking up in the mansion—that her study time was broken up. She was forced to think about Link again; forced to avoid him avoiding her.
Because, finally, she and Link had everything they needed.
And after what felt like forever, Sheik was deemed fit for travel.
Sheik would be lying if she said she wasn't grateful for the break in the monotony. Much as she loved books, she was ready to get back into the world and get back to work.
Sheik was almost as ready for answers as she was for the quest to continue.
Almost.
She wanted the distance between herself and Link to evaporate, first and foremost. She wanted to know the truth, and what had happened, and why Link had started shutting her out. And she wanted to know what she could do to prevent that—whatever it was—from ever happening again.
But she wasn't sure if she was ready for what the truth entailed.
Whatever it was, it had genuinely shaken Link. And Link, though she'd never admit it, was one of the only steady presences in her recent life. For something to shake him—something other than flashbacks and nightmares—meant that something was gravely wrong.
Not to mention she'd missed him.
Frustrated as she was with him and his recent silence, she did still care about him. And she knew that it would hurt him to keep this secret for much longer.
She'd wanted to ask several times already. She had asked, a few of them. Link's responses were less than forthcoming—and that, more than anything, had irritated Sheik. Avoiding her was one thing, but dancing around her questions was somehow worse.
But forcing the issue before would solve nothing, she knew.
Even though he'd only made her save her questions for the road because there were other people in the mansion—and now the mansion was empty—a promise was a promise. Stupid as it was, she couldn't force him to speak before he was ready.
So Sheik bit the bullet and saved her questions for the trip to Kakariko.
After how long he had kept her waiting, Sheik had expected him to be more forthcoming when they were actually on the road.
She had been wrong.
Link remained silent as ever, fidgeting with the reins as he led Epona forward, slowly down the mountain. Sheik had matched his silence at first, waiting for him to be the one to break it, but he never did.
And that, more than anything, was what made Sheik's temper start to flare.
She had been waiting a week for his answer already. And now, when he had promised to tell her here, he remained silent? Had that promise meant nothing to him?
Or was he just a coward?
They were a few hours down the mountain when Sheik finally had had enough of waiting.
Link hadn't told her anything for days; goddesses be damned, he'd barely spoken to her. Even aside from that, even if he hadn't been pushing her away for the last week, she needed to know the truth. Link could run from it all he liked, and he could regret making that promise all he liked, but Sheik would hold him to it.
Because if he had a secret that was tearing him up inside that much, Sheik needed to know.
Not just for her sake, either. From everything she knew about him, Link had been through enough hardship to last several lifetimes. If he was holding onto something this big, it might be able to send him over the edge.
And Sheik, much as she cared about him, couldn't save the world with him if he couldn't even save himself.
…But, more than that, if she couldn't trust him to tell her something so important, than what else couldn't she trust him with?
Though she'd tried to keep her suspicions at bay (not to mention her paranoia about him learning her identity), Sheik could feel them rising up inside of her. She'd done her best to repress them until now, but she could take it no more.
So finally she put her hand on Link's upper arm, prompting him to turn and look at her. Once she was sure she had his attention, she leaned closer, not wanting her voice snatched away by the wind. "You said you'd tell me on the way to Kakariko," she said. "We are on our way to Kakariko."
Link's expression immediately turned guilty. "Sheik, I…"
"I want to know. Before something else pops up, before there's some new Nayru-forbidden disaster we have to take care of, before you can come up with some excuse not to tell me." When Link still fell silent, Sheik narrowed her eyes. "You made a promise, Link. If you go back on it, I won't forgive you."
Link let out a long, slow breath, the white of it lingering in the cold air. "I know," he said, and he sounded miserable enough that she believed him. "I just… I'll tell you if you make me a promise, first."
Sheik narrowed her eyes. "I only make promises I know I can keep," she said. "You should try doing the same."
Her partner winced like he'd been stung, but he didn't argue. "At least hear me out," he said. "I'm… I know I'm going to say things that you don't want to hear. And you're going to be angry, and upset, and I…" He closed his eyes a moment, looking like he already regretted the words he was trying to say. "…And I deserve that reaction. Whatever awful thing you're going to think about me, I probably deserve it. But Sheik, please don't stop me before I'm done. At least hear what I have to say. All of it."
Sheik felt a sinking in her stomach as she listened to Link's pleading. He wasn't exactly doing much to build confidence, and she felt her suspicion start to override the trust they'd worked so hard to build.
But it wasn't forgotten completely, because Sheik didn't say no. Instead, she stared at him long and hard, finally prompting him to face forwards so he could steer. "I'll hear what you have to say for yourself," she said quietly, hesitantly. When she saw Link visibly relax—was he really that tense?—she added, "But don't expect me to forgive and forget. I don't like being lied to, Link."
She thought she heard Link murmur, "Neither do I," but with the wind as strong as it was, and with him no longer facing her, she couldn't tell. That aside, Link was quiet for a while, and finally bowed his head. "I understand," he said. "And… I understand if, after this, you don't want to travel together anymore."
"Stop saying things like that unless you have a damn good reason," Sheik snapped. Realizing she was being rather harsh, she let out a slow sigh, shaking her head. "Whenever you're ready to talk, I'm ready to listen."
Despite her permission, Sheik didn't feel ready at all. From what it sounded like, no matter what Link was going to say, it would be some kind of betrayal. Or worse, that he already knew her secret. Because, goddesses, did he know her birth name? Did he know about her Triforce? Had he seen her blue eyes?
As Sheik tried to prepare herself, though, Link did, too. He let out several long, tightly-controlled sighs before, finally, he calmed.
No matter what Sheik had been expecting, though, it wasn't what followed.
"It's my fault you almost died back at the compound," he finally said. "Because of my Triforce."
No matter how long Sheik was silent, Link didn't seem to want to continue. But without some kind of elaboration, she had no idea what he meant. Finally she rested her hand on his thigh, just to show she was listening. Though he was still quiet for a while, finally, finally, he continued.
Link tensed against her touch. "It's…" he hesitated. "It's also the reason you saved me the first time we met—and the second. And every time after that."
Sheik narrowed her eyes, but she didn't have to prompt Link again for him to continue. For once, he did it on his own.
"You were right not to believe me when I said my Triforce just gave me the ability to… to revive from death. You were right. There's more to it than that. But I couldn't… where we were, in Tal… With how short we'd known each other, and how—how you were so closed off, I thought… if I told you anything more, then…"
"You've already told me you lied to me. I don't want to hear your excuses," Sheik said, trying not to sound half as angry as she felt. "I want to hear the truth, Link."
Link nodded. "You know that Farore is the one who gave life to Hyrule, right?" he asked. "She's also known for courage. Not like Din, or Nayru. Din respects power, and gives power, especially if it's to better a determined person's status. And Nayru is all about moral codes. But… Farore…" He hesitated again, and she could practically hear him worrying his lip. "She protects life. She will not give someone the power to kill. Not unless it's self-defense or a higher purpose."
Sheik didn't need canvassing. She needed the truth, and Link seemed to be stalling. Sheik felt irritation bubbling up in her, and it was with a rather sharp tone that she snapped, "Get to the point."
Link winced, but slowly found his voice again. "I… When I was given the Triforce of Courage, it… it didn't just give me the power to come back from dying. It… it helps me stay alive in dangerous situations. It—it does something to manipulate the circumstances whenever my safety is concerned. There was a book that mentioned something called 'circumstance manipulation.' I'm still not sure exactly what that means, but…"
Sheik narrowed her eyes. "But?"
When Link didn't immediately respond, Sheik moved her hand up to his arm, trying to prompt him to answer. Despite her touch, and despite her direct question, Link still didn't speak for a while. It wasn't until she gripped his arm harder—still not enough to hurt him, damn her sentimentality—but enough to get his attention.
"It doesn't just manipulate circumstances, Sheik," he said. "It… it manipulates people, too."
Sheik let go of his arm, body going still. At her silence, Link hung his head. Apparently he'd been hoping for some kind of answer, but Sheik wouldn't give him one.
Not when he'd dropped a bombshell like that.
"Don't make this harder than it has to be, Sheik," Link said. It scared her how numb she felt—how used—even without his elaboration. "I know I should have told you. But the Triforce acts on its own. It doesn't answer to me. I didn't even know it was doing it at first. Not until I got lucky too many times, with too many people."
Sheik was quiet for a while, having trouble finding her voice. When she did find it, though, she hated how shaky it felt—how close she was to coming undone. "Did you know when you met me?"
"Sheik…"
"Did you already know it manipulated people when you met me?"
Link was silent. The silence spoke for itself, but somehow, it hurt worse when he finally found the courage to say, "Yes."
Sheik pulled her hand away from him. She wasn't sure if she wanted to strike him, or push him away, or just hop off of Epona and walk back to Kakariko by herself. She didn't know if she wanted to scream, or yell, or actually listen to him like she had promised. She didn't even know what she was feeling. Not exactly.
She wasn't sure if she wanted to know what she was feeling.
"Then what's left to say?" Sheik said, voice flat. It was surprisingly strong, though Sheik knew it wouldn't last. "You used me. Knowingly."
Mind made up, Sheik hopped out of the saddle once Epona was stopped. Though she had no other ride to Kakariko and it would be several days' journey on foot, Sheik wasn't about to ride the rest of the way with Link. Not when he'd lied to her and manipulated her apparently from the start.
"Sheik, wait," Link said. He stopped the horse, finally turning in the saddle to look at her. "Don't shut me out again. Please don't shut me out again. I couldn't take it if—"
"At least when I lie to you, it doesn't have the potential to get you killed," Sheik snapped. Much as she wanted to avoid him, when she heard footsteps behind her, she whirled around to face him, looking down on him with the angriest expression she could muster. "At least when I lie to you, it's to protect you, and not to save my own damn skin."
Link stilled in front of her. But if he knew what she was talking about when she said she lied to him, he didn't say anything. Instead, he just looked at her, hurt in his eyes.
When he didn't reply, Sheik knew she'd struck him right where it hurt. Good, she thought to herself, pretending not to feel guilty over the look on his face. But an argument wasn't an argument when Link wasn't saying anything back, so there was nothing left for Sheik to say, either.
Link didn't follow her when she turned and walked away.
Though she'd left all of her equipment on Epona, she trusted that Link wouldn't run off and steal it—unless, of course, he was lying about that, too. Sheik felt a surge of hurt that was shortly followed by anger. But the last thing she needed was for her emotions to get the better of her, so she squashed both feelings down and walked towards the tallest tree she could find.
Leaves crunched under her feet as she walked. It would have irritated her more, if she could hear it over the sound of blood rushing through her ears, or over her own angry thoughts.
But the anger was the first to wane. After that came the intense, sickening feeling of betrayal. Of being lied to. Of being used.
Eventually, her thoughts no longer had words—just a buzz of hurt in her chest, and in her head.
It took a long time for that buzz to wane. When it did, Sheik was struck first by how far she had traveled, and then by how cold it was.
Winter would be arriving soon, she realized, looking up at the trees that were steadily losing their leaves—and at the brown leaves on the ground around her, half hidden by gravel. It would mean a shortage of supplies and difficulty traveling, but there wasn't much she could do about it.
And just like that, thoughts replaced the emotional quiet she had entered, and she felt a surge of anger yet again—but this time, less pointed. She had no Ocarina of Time, no way to go back and change the past, or to keep herself from trusting Link.
Just like she couldn't stop Impa from dying.
Just like she couldn't stop her father for abandoning her.
Just like she couldn't stop her own emotions.
And, just like Link couldn't stop his Triforce.
But unlike any of those things, Link could have told her. Preferably before she almost died for nothing. Because unlike Sheik, Link could revive. And there was no reason why she should have put herself at risk when he wasn't in any real danger.
Sheik forced herself to take deep, slow breaths.
The last thing she needed was to get angry and do something stupid. Something she'd regret. She had half a mind to take Epona herself, but it wasn't her horse, and though she wasn't above petty theft, she couldn't in good conscience leave him in the middle of a mountain with no supplies.
She wanted to, so much that she almost felt sick with want, but she couldn't.
Before today, Sheik had been woefully naïve of betrayal. Already, she wanted that ignorance back. She wanted to go back to a few days ago, where she implicitly trusted Link. With their mission, with her life, with her heart.
But there was no going back.
Sheik closed her eyes, hating the sting of tears behind them. She hadn't cried in years—hadn't had the luxury of crying in years—and she was damned if she was going to start today. Not over him of all people.
At least he'd neglected to follow her.
At least—if nothing else—she had solitude. It had been her only company for so many years that she felt almost comforted, if just for the moment. Much as she hated the idea of going on her own again, at least solitude couldn't betray her.
Sheik came upon the tallest tree in the wilderness, some distance from Epona. Though it was strong and tall, its branches were barren with the coming winter. It wouldn't give her much coverage if she wanted to hide from Link. But it probably wouldn't be the first place he'd look. Plus she'd be able to see him coming from quite a distance—and know ahead of time if he planned to leave without her.
In her heart, Sheik knew he would never leave without her, no matter their disagreement, but in the wake of his lies, she couldn't put trust in him.
So she climbed the tree and allowed herself to get lost in thought.
If nothing else, she could trust in her own company. There were, after all, no secrets between herself.
It might have been a few minutes later that Link came looking for her, or it might have been hours. Sheik hadn't been paying attention, too lost in thought to think about it. All she knew was she was angry and cold—and, more than that, ready to move on.
So when Link came crunching through the leaves and ice and snow of the mountain, Sheik didn't attempt to hide from him. She merely dropped from the tree and allowed him to approach.
He didn't run towards her, she noted. He didn't even speed his walk. If anything, he slowed it, watching her as if she was some kind of wild animal poised to attack. Good, Sheik thought. If he thought she was feral, then maybe he wouldn't try to win her trust again.
Privately, Sheik acknowledged that she wanted him to try anyways, if just for the satisfaction of turning him down.
But when he came close, Sheik saw tear-trails on his face, and she felt a pang in her heart.
She wasn't sure whether it was his Triforce or her own misplaced empathy, so she pushed that feeling away. After betraying her trust like that, Sheik certainly didn't want to feel bad for him.
And yet…
Sheik looked away when he tried to meet her eyes. "Let's go," she said. "We will discuss this later. After we're down the mountain."
There was unspoken compromise there; We have one horse, it said, and, Neither of us wants to freeze to death or go down the mountain on foot.
Perhaps under that (buried deep, deep down) was the thought of forgiveness. But if it was there, Sheik didn't acknowledge it. Instead, she finally met Link's gaze, keeping her expression cold and detached. After all, if there was anyone who should be looking away, it was Link. Sheik hadn't betrayed his trust—hadn't compromised his safety with her lies.
Link looked away after a moment, shame prompting his gaze downwards.
"Lead the way," Sheik prompted. "Quickly. The sooner we're off this mountain, the better."
If Link was surprised, he didn't show it. Instead, he merely nodded, keeping his emotions as in-check as he could manage. It was easy to see through him, of course, as he hadn't had ten-plus years of practice squashing his emotions down, but Sheik appreciated the sentiment nonetheless.
Without a word, he started back to Epona, with Sheik following at a distance.
By the time they made it back to Epona, the heat of the day had settled in. Sheik was grateful for it, as she didn't have to sit so close to Link in order to stay warm.
She wasn't looking forward to the night.
But when sunset was approaching, and they were coming towards a clearing near the base of the mountain, Sheik knew she could put it off no longer. "We'll camp here tonight," she said, stopping Epona beside a large tree. Without another word, she dismounted and began taking off their sleeping rolls and bag of food, intent on getting set up before the sun was down.
Link, thankfully, followed suit.
There was no idle chatter between them, no hopeful remarks about the night being warm, no mention of what they missed about inns or city life. But the camp was set up in record time, and soon they had a small campfire resting between them.
There was nothing keeping them from talking, now, save for the mutual desire to stay silent. But one of them had to breach it. One of them had to say something, anything, before they went to sleep.
Though Link was generally the more sociable between them, the tension in his shoulders told Sheik enough. If she wanted this stalemate to end, she had to speak first.
"So," she said, not looking up at him. "You lied to me and used me."
Link didn't say anything for a while, and Sheik wondered if he was too upset to speak—if he was crying again. But when he spoke, his voice was clear. Exhausted, but clear. "I did."
"Why?"
"I had a mission." Link sighed, slumping forward with his arms crossed over his knees. The very picture of solitude and shame. "I was asked to find the princess."
"That doesn't explain why you manipulated and used me," Sheik snapped. "I didn't even want to work together, Link. You were the one who insisted on coming with me." She thought back to those first few days, when he'd threatened to write to the King on her behalf. "Was it because you knew I'd protect you unconditionally?"
At least that prompted a response. Link immediately sat up, looking at her with wide, startled eyes. "What?" he asked, sounding genuinely upset. "No—Sheik, never. I would never endanger someone like that."
"Then why."
"Because I…" Link bit his lip. "I don't know what it was, exactly. You… When I first saw you, you saved my life. First impressions, you know? And then you did it again. And you… I don't know what it was, Sheik. All I knew was that I thought you were the most incredible person I'd ever laid eyes on. But then…" He ran a hand through his hair, slicking it back. "But then you returned with Ilia and we fought together at Telma's, and… It felt right, fighting side-by-side, but I—I also saw you get hurt. And I think I realized that—Sheikah or not, you were still… fallible."
Sheik narrowed her eyes. "Sorry to disappoint you," she said, tone dry. "That doesn't explain why you lied to me about writing to the King or why you kept your Triforce's real power a secret."
"I already told you why I wrote to the King," Link said. "And why I kept it a secret."
"Maybe I want some elaboration," Sheik snapped. "I think I'm owed that, after you endangering me this entire time."
Link leaned forward, sighing. "Yeah," he said. "Alright."
He was silent for a while, seeming to need time to collect himself. Sheik allowed him a few moments before her ire started to set back in, and she leaned back, crossing her arms and closing herself off. Once Link saw that she was growing irritated, he sighed and scratched the back of his neck, looking lost.
"I thought I could protect you," he finally said. "I thought you'd be safer with me. That my Triforce might protect you, too, if I tried hard enough. Obviously I was wrong." Link shook his head. "I wanted to tell you, I swear—"
"And I wanted to not be lied to," Sheik snapped, cutting him off. "I wanted to be safer with you, like I thought I was. But I guess we don't always get what we want."
Link looked up at her, hurt obvious in his eyes. "You know that's not fair, Sheik."
"And why not? You said it yourself—I almost died because you didn't tell me the extent of your Triforce's power."
"I didn't tell you because you would have left!"
It was the first time that Link had ever really shouted at her.
Sheik had to admit, she was startled. But she didn't show it, merely keeping her face as cold and impassive as before. "Maybe I should have," she said. "Maybe I still should."
Link went silent.
"I can't trust you to tell me the truth. And if I'm in danger when I'm around you because I can't think straight, then we shouldn't be putting ourselves in battle together. I'm sorry," Sheik said, looking away. As she said it, she felt a surge of emotion, and it she had to force herself to keep her glamour in place after such an emotionally draining day. "But I have my own destiny to worry about."
"I know." Link sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Believe me, I know. That's what got us into this situation in the first place, isn't it? We… we both just want to protect Zelda."
Sheik bit her lip. Not for the first time, she was grateful for her mask—grateful that she could keep some of the stronger emotions shelved behind white gauze. "…Right."
And there was such a look of longing in Link's eyes, so much hurt buried there, that Sheik regretted lying to him for so long.
But she didn't know how much was genuine guilt, and how much was his Triforce. And if she couldn't trust her own head anymore, she couldn't trust anything.
Sheik abruptly stood, shaking her head. "I need to get some air," she said. "I can't trust myself to make decisions around you, Link."
Before she could get too far, though, a hand wrapped around her wrist. Sheik bristled, tensing at the contact. The moment she tried to pull away, Link let her, but Sheik still rubbed her wrist as if she'd been rubbed raw.
"Wait," he said, blue eyes flickering with the campfire's light. "Please."
"You've been in my head this whole time," Sheik said. "If I'm going to make a decision—and if that decision's really my own—then I need to leave in order to make it."
"I know, I know." Link let out a sigh. "But I… I know you're thinking it's all been the Triforce, but… Give me some credit, too. You have every right to be angry with me, but I…" He looked down, where his hand was still half reaching for her. "I don't want you to leave, thinking that everything we've ever done together has been because of the Triforce. That's all."
Sheik looked at him, really looked, and clenched her jaw at the defeat in his eyes. No matter how she fought against it, the guilt was starting to eat at her.
The hero of their era, laid low by a Sheikah impersonator.
He'd done good in his life—she knew that much. She hated that even now—even when she was still feeling the sting of betrayal—she was trying to make excuses for him.
But was she really any better?
Though she prayed to Hylia, to Nayru, that he didn't know the truth, she couldn't help feeling guilty about it. If he knew what she was hiding, then he would have every right to be as angry with Sheik as she was with him.
And she knew he'd find out eventually.
She couldn't compromise her safety, no. She couldn't pretend that he was infallible anymore, either. Despite using him as some kind of moral meter-stick for the last few months, she had always known he wasn't perfect. But this, today, had proved that they were on more equal ground than Sheik wanted to admit.
So she took a deep breath, and prepared to make the biggest mistake of her life.
"Does your Triforce light up when it happens?"
Link blinked up at her. "What?"
"Your Triforce," Sheik said. "I… in Impa's writings, it mentioned that sometimes the princess's Triforce would glow when it was using power. And yours did back in Tal, didn't it? Does it glow for things like this?"
"…Sometimes," Link said, biting the inside of his cheek. "But sometimes it'll just feel warm instead and I won't be able to see anything. Why?"
"It might be a good indicator of when it's the Triforce, and when it's—when it's something I actually feel."
Link finally looked back up at her, his eyes searching hers. For what, Sheik didn't know, but she felt her cheeks grow warm under her mask. "Has it been interfering with your feelings that much?"
"I'm asking because I don't know for sure," she said. "I… I never know, anymore."
"Sheik…"
"I need to go."
She hesitated, though, as she turned.
Because, before she made any decision—before she made a decision whether to stay with him or set out to Kakariko alone, she needed to know.
It seemed that Link had been dropping hints for months that he knew more about Sheik's identity than he let on. And earlier, when he mentioned protecting Zelda—he said nothing about finding her anymore. Not to mention he hadn't just seemed guilty while they were talking. He'd seemed sad. Let down. Hurt. As if he knew her resentment was unfair when she'd done something so similar for just as long.
So Sheik steeled herself, closed her eyes, and checked her glamour again—just in case. Some small part of her hoped it would be for the last time. But Sheik knew she was never that lucky.
"Is there… anything else you need to tell me, Link? Before I make a decision?"
Link looked up at her—really looked—and offered a bittersweet smile. "Nothing you don't already suspect," he said softly. Sheik felt her heart stop in her chest. "But don't let that interfere with what you decide. I won't hold it against you."
He didn't say anything more—merely took her hand and pressed a soft kiss to the back of it. With that, he turned and walked back to the campsite.
Sheik was left with only three thoughts.
One, that he had been ambiguous, and that she couldn't be sure sure he was talking about their mutual feelings, or her identity. Two, that his left hand had been cold when he took her hand and kissed it.
And, three, that she had known what decision she was going to make long before she made it.
The stars were out by the time Sheik returned to her bed roll.
Link, respecting her need for space, had gone to his own sleeping mat despite the chill of the night. No matter how frustrated she was with him, she couldn't help the relief in her chest when she saw that he was sleeping peacefully.
So she curled up onto her own sleeping roll, piling blankets over herself till she no longer felt the sting of the night air.
Sheik still had too much to think about, no matter the decision she'd made.
Because if she was going to stay—and she knew she was going to stay—then she had to be more careful. Whether or not Link knew her identity or not, Sheik felt uneasy. Could she really trust him with it?
He'd lied to her about his Triforce—and she'd nearly died because of it.
If he knew her identity, how else might he be endangering her?
And yet, even as she considered it, she forced herself to think back to Ise—to those final moments before she blacked out.
Of course, her memories of Ise were spotty, at best. She remembered Link telling her that whatever she was saying 'wasn't her.' She remembered thinking she was going to die, and preparing for it. She remembered urging Link to take the potion. And then, nothing else.
It occurred to her—perhaps for the first time—that Link had actually tried to warn her.
Sheik pursed her lips together. It was possible that he could catch on and warn her if she was ever slipping over the edge again. But could she trust him to always do that? And, again—she wasn't sure where the boundary of his power laid, and where her own emotions were blinding her to reason.
Because, much as she was loathe to admit it, she felt strongly about him.
And, if there ever came a time that Sheik had to die so that Link would live—without any sort of prompting from Link's Triforce, without any threats to push her over the edge—
She knew she'd choose him, every time.
And that was a scary thought.
Sheik closed her eyes and tried to go to sleep, but found she couldn't. Her mind was working too hard, using every bit of energy she had left to puzzle through the answer.
In the end, she exhausted herself with thinking 'til she finally fell asleep. She was no closer to having all the answers, but at least she'd given it her best shot.
The second day was almost exactly like the first. It was peaceable, but some of the tension remained from the previous day. It was all Sheik could do to avoid conversation, though Link attempted it more than once.
He respected her wish for silence for a while each time, and so they continued their journey for hours on end without a word spoken between them.
The night was colder than the first, and Sheik knew they stood a real chance of freezing to death, had it been any colder. Even so, she didn't extend an invitation, and Link didn't ask.
But there was the growing sensation of what could be—of what could return to them. Sheik just had to allow it.
And there came the change.
The third day would have been the same as the previous two, if not for the slow forgiveness working its way into Sheik's heart. Not by logic, certainly—logically, the smart thing to do would be to stick around until Kakariko and then go their separate ways. But her heart, as always, ignored logic and plowed ahead as much as it could before her brain stepped in.
She wasn't going to leave him. And if she wasn't going to leave him, she needed to stop acting like she would.
So between her feelings and the boredom—two days on horseback with nary a word between them—Sheik knew she had to start somewhere.
Especially with the growing pleading tone to Link's voice.
Though Link was not particularly talkative at the best of times, it was rare for him to be so silent for so long. To be met with icy silence for two days was nothing short of torture, Sheik was sure.
And so, the third day, Sheik allowed herself to respond to his halfhearted attempts at conversation.
Never much, and nothing to encourage more conversation. But it was enough to get that pleading edge out of Link's voice—and enough to remind her that moving past this was worth it.
As the day wore on and Link continued to make quiet conversation—with even quieter replies—Sheik thought of the early days in their partnership. The days that he had reached—relentlessly—to win her friendship and trust. It had eventually worked, but not without an ongoing struggle from Sheik, and a few weeks' ambition.
Those weren't days she wanted to go back to. They'd built up their partnership for so long that Sheik couldn't imagine having to completely start over. But it would still take time to settle into easy companionship. She was hardly used to friendship as it was, and so rebuilding that trust after it'd been betrayed was something of a challenge.
But Sheik was nothing if not stubborn.
As night came, Sheik found herself with a question bubbling on her lips. She was only moments away from asking him if he wanted to sleep next to her, if just to stave off the autumn chill. But before she could ask it, her pride thought better of it.
Still, as she laid out her bed roll and turned away from the campfire, she hoped that they would eventually come back to that place.
Not that she'd ever admit it, but Sheik was tired of falling asleep alone.
When morning came, Sheik was exhausted from spending so much of the night awake—and, despite how she tried to ignore it, she was still healing from her injuries.
But, for the first time in days (as she hadn't gone to bed angry) she felt much more willing to forgive. And, more importantly, to take bigger steps towards that forgiveness.
Her trust, of course, would take more than three days to earn back. But Nayru knew she hadn't always been honest with Link, either. Still, she wasn't sure what she could say to get them on the right track. No matter what she did, it would be difficult to bring them back to their prior arrangement. But now, at least, she was willing to try.
So when she found Link still asleep at the break of dawn, she wasn't shy about waking him.
"We have a long trip ahead," she said, voice cold as ever—but less unkind than it had been. "Get up."
Link blinked owlishly at her for a moment. Upon realizing she didn't seem outright angry with him, he slowly got to his feet. As it was still somewhat dark out, he looked around, obviously confused. "This early?"
"Days are getting shorter," Sheik said. "We need to make the most of them."
Link nodded, slowly getting to his feet.
They packed up camp together, silently loading Epona up with their goods. As they were just finishing, Link paused, moving his hand in front of Sheik's before she could finish tying the last parcel. Though Sheik narrowed her eyes at him, she didn't move her hand away, or try to shut him up.
Encouraged, Link let out a relieved sigh. "Listen, Sheik," he started. "About a few days ago." At this, he bit his lip, as if silently asking Sheik for permission to continue. When she said nothing, he seemed to take it as a 'yes,' and continued, "I… I know we're barely on good terms again, and that's fine. But… If there's anything you need to ask, or anything you, uh, want me to avoid talking about… You have to let me know. I'm not good at this sort of thing."
Sheik pressed her lips into a thin line.
And here came the dilemma—the question Sheik had been putting off for days. Assume Link had guessed her identity, or assume he was talking about her feelings for him?
If she admitted to the former and she was wrong, she ran the risk of telling him something he hadn't already known. But if she admitted the latter, she would be admitting that she had felt something—that she still did, underneath her anger.
One was a cost of safety, and the other was a cost of pride.
Sometimes, Sheik hated having to prioritize her safety.
"Don't bring it up to anyone," she said. Though the last thing she wanted to do was talk about how she felt about him, especially with the secret he'd been keeping, she knew what she needed to do. So she bit the bullet and said, voice strained, "It is no one else's business what I feel about you—not even yours. Understood?"
It took a moment, but Link furrowed his brows, trying to puzzle through her phrasing. "Not even mine?" he asked. "What do you mean, it's not my business?"
"It's not like I chose it," Sheik snapped. Already, she was regretting this aversion. Seeing Link's eyes light up in mischief—and was this the closest thing he'd had to a smile all week?—she let out a frustrated huff. "Drop it. Despite what you think, I'm still upset with you. If you want a peaceful trip to Kakariko, you will not ask me about it again."
"When have we had peace? The entire time we've traveled together, when have we had more than five moments of peace?" Link asked. That almost-smile on his face was growing, and Sheik forced herself to look away. Still, she didn't move her hand from where he held it, and Link gently tightened his grip. "Sheik, please."
"No."
Link let out a sigh, but it seemed he'd expected as much. Still, that almost-smile was on his face, soft and sweet, and Sheik hated that she knew it was there without even looking. "And what if I'm… glad you feel this way?"
"Then get used to disappointment," she said. "Sheikahs under the employ of the King can't date Hylians."
"You told me weeks ago that you don't work for the King," Link said. "Try again."
"Sheikahs desperately searching for missing princesses shouldn't date others who are desperately looking for the princess. Too much competition."
"We're working together, not competing," he said, leaning a little closer. "Another?"
"We…" Sheik let out a sigh, still not looking at him. "We are completely incompatible, in every way imaginable. And we're both liars. And manipulators. With backgrounds and records that will be impossible to reconcile. And there's not a chance this could ever work."
Link leaned a little closer. "And what if we're both stubborn enough to try?"
Sheik allowed her shoulders to relax for the first time in weeks. Though she was putting up a good fight, it was impossible to stay angry with him forever, and in her heart she didn't want to. Not when he was trying so hard to make it up to her.
Still, no matter what she felt, she knew what her answer had to be.
"What do you want from me, Link?" At his knowing silence, Sheik finally leaned back against him, letting out a harsh breath through her nose. "No matter what we had before, we don't have it right now. I don't even know if we can have it again—if I can trust that what I feel is… real. Until I know the limits of your power, I can't take that risk. Maybe eventually—maybe even soon. But not right now. My answer is no."
Despite her answer, Link tentatively wrapped his arms around her waist. He leaned his cheek against her shoulder, his lesser height preventing him from anything further up. "I don't understand you sometimes," he said, voice quiet. "But… I will always respect your answer. And if you say no, no matter what you feel, I won't try to force you. But Sheik…"
He slowly pulled away, and Sheik turned to face him, surprised to see how downcast he appeared.
"I… I just… I wish you'd let yourself try. Not just for this. You never chase after your own happiness, Sheik. And sometimes… I really wish you would." He looked away for a moment, then hopped onto Epona. "I'm ready to go whenever you are."
Sheik was quiet as she got in front of him, taking the reins in hand.
Because, though she wouldn't admit it, sometimes she had his same wish.
But wishes weren't reality, and it didn't matter how desperately Sheik had wished for things in the past. It didn't matter how hard she'd prayed for her Father to visit, for Impa to be alive, for someone to take her in off the streets, for there to be hot food at her impromptu shelter. It didn't matter because none of it ever came to pass.
And yet, as she started for Kakariko, she felt a heaviness in her heart.
This was one thing she could control.
It wasn't an outside force. It was something she could choose, within herself. She might not be able to choose her feelings, but she had the choice to act on them and bring happiness to them both.
But Sheik didn't have the Triforce of Courage.
She had the Triforce of Wisdom.
She had logic, and the knowledge that she was already too attached to him, and that she might still be under the influence of his Triforce. She had the knowledge that she was Sheik, and the King's daughter, and a homeless vagrant in her own lands. The smart thing would be to leave him—and, barring that, remain as distant emotionally as she could manage.
So instead of praying for the courage to tell him the truth, Sheik prayed for a change in circumstance.
And that, someday, she would be able to trust her partner the same way he trusted her.
Maybe then they could move faster than a snail's pace.
((I know, I know. I vanish for like two months and then come back with something this controversial. It's bound to draw some negative attention, and I hope no one absolutely hates this fic now. However, I do have my reasons.
I've been hinting at this from the very beginning. That strange feeling Sheik felt the first time she was near Link? Triforce. I won't say how often it affected her after that, because plot, but… bear in mind that being in love does not (contrary to popular belief) completely blind you to rationality. If you find scenes where Sheik's sense of rationality was completely tossed aside, then congrats, you spotted an instance where it wasn't (entirely) Sheik in control.
The reason I chose this (even from the beginning), is to reinforce the idea that 1) Sheik doesn't always know what's going on and is an unreliable narrator, 2) that despite what Sheik wanted to believe, Link does make mistakes, and 3) that there is always more going on behind the scenes than the reader realizes.
I know some plot details have been a bit inconsistent with this fic (for example, Link mentioned a while ago that the person who took over the castle has the Triforce of Power; and then a few chapters later, it was like they'd both forgotten about that or didn't know.) But hey that's what happens when this is being written as I go and is also about 200K and still ongoing.
Until this gets edited later on and cleaned up, please cut me some slack. I'm doing this for free, and no one is forcing you to read it.
On that note: This chapter took absolutely forever to write for a few reasons. 1) Lack of motivation. 2) Depression, which basically made me lose interest in literally everything for a while, and that's kind of a scary place to be when you've struggled with suicidal idealation for a while and have nothing really tying you down. 3) I'm aromantic asexual and romance really is not my spiel. Sometimes while writing this fic, I just have to groan out loud because I genuinely dislike romance. And sometimes that feeling is stronger than others, and sometimes it lasts for a while. Like, say, two months.
Sorry that this took so long, though, and I'm sorry that it probably wasn't as good as you were expecting. Please review anyways, though, and tell me your honest thoughts. If you genuinely hate the direction this story seems to be taking, please tell me. (Politely.) I'll do my best to fix things to make it seem less forced if it seems forced, and I'll endeavor to explain things within the next few chapters. Up next on the agenda is Link's backstory, though—so, uh, hopefully that will sort out a lot of the questions you may have.
As always, thank you for sticking with me, and please review!))