Two weeks of spying on the brat. Two weeks is how long it takes for him to make a breakthrough. Well, less of a breakthrough and more of slow, painful progress. He had almost had some luck the day before, luring Sheik out to the river that ran along the tree line of the Lost Woods. There, he showed the wide-eyed Sheikah different fish and bugs native only to this place. Mentioning a history with the local flora and fauna, Link felt quite smug about how much he could tell the other, and it seemed as if the ruby-eyed man had been about to tell him something in return.
And then a blue-haired girl, followed by a hoard of monsters and her own heavily wounded army, ran through their approaching group. After explaining her troubles to them, the sorceress asked for help defending the Lost Woods and the Great Deku Tree it protected in return for helping them on their quest to find the Princess. After a grueling battle that left everyone burned, drenched, and exhausted it was back to tight-lipped responses and a toned back facing him that night. To say he had been frustrated would be an understatement.
Upon meeting the mysterious man, Impa ordered him to weasel up to the guy and see what he was really after. Link, well, he was great at dealing with people, getting them to trust him, and they often let him into their inner circles. It was how he climbed the ranks as quickly as he did. Sheik, however, was a tough nut to crack; one of the only to ever look at him in disgust and Link only found the challenge more entertaining. Something in his gut told him cracking the musician's shell would be more than worth it. If the guy turned out to be an actual enemy, well, at least he wouldn't be bored for a while.
Day three of their stay in the Lost Woods led to their General, Lady Impa herself, making the Great Deku Tree their base of operations. While footsoldiers, squires, and other lesser knights set up the base camp, Link led a small fraction of the Royal Army deeper into the old forest, Lana, the blue-haired woman from before, and Sheik following after him. The group hoped to find a hint of Zelda or the whereabouts of The Master Sword, which was rumored to have once been hidden in these very woods. Many of the soldiers took this time to get to know Lana, a young sorceress who shares the same magical clan as Cia, the one responsible for the attack on Hyrule. Every word that poured from her lips was followed by her unnerving purple eyes tracking the hero's every action.
Something about the way she looked at him caused his body to shudder as if she were looking deeper than simply his flesh. He can barely stifle a scream as a finger taps him on the shoulder. Turning to let out an irritated growl, he stops mid-startup as red eyes twinkled mischievously at him. The Goddesses were truly cruel for making a possible enemy this beautiful.
"Sorry to startle you, Hero." the androgynous voice was light, laughter hidden by the apology. "I'm turning in for the evening. Thought I should let my shadow know before I slipped away." he teases, drawing heat up from Link's core. Guess he wasn't as sneaky a spy as he thought.
Swallowing, his throat felt dry as he watched his bunkmate turn, the dim firelight lighting up his golden braid. Call him dramatic, but he was sure at that moment that he was standing before a God in the flesh and the idea of him just walking away infuriated him. Opening his mouth, he reaches out to stop the other man, quickly interrupted by Lana's high-pitched voice.
"Sheik! Do you have a minute?" she calls, waving the two closer to the campfire, several familiar faces looking at the duo eagerly.
Letting out a tired sigh Link drops his hand, strolling easily towards the group with an almost lazy grin on his face, Sheik following silently beside him.
"What might I help you with, Miss Sorceress?" the voice is tense again, closed off like it was before.
Link can't help but feel smug at how distant the Sheikah keeps everyone else, then quickly stuffs that feeling down. This guy was probably an enemy, and not to mention he could barely fucking tolerate him. Sure, the guy was as mysterious as the day is long if you're into that kind of thing (which he 100% was NOT), and sure, he was a pretty damn good fighter, easily keeping up with him and Impa on the field. These traits were fine and dandy, especially when it came to the best part; he was eye candy incarnate. Oftentimes Link would find his eyes drawn to the curve of the Sheikah's thighs as he stretched, lingering glances at peeks of skin, and he's sure he's been caught often staring at Sheik's ass. But none of that mattered when you had as sour a personality as the mysterious warrior did. He hated this guy.
Leaning back on her log, the young woman bobs her head from side to side, humming as she thinks about her question. "I noticed you don't just use your blades like a Sheikah trained here in Hyrule. You use song magic, right? I've never seen a sorcerer able to channel it through something as picky as a harp though! How did you learn it?"
For a tense moment, it looked like Sheik was going to ignore the woman's question, his shoulders practically up to his ears. Letting out a soft sigh, the blonde pulled the golden instrument off its base on his back, tilting his head towards the group. Cocking a hip to the side and standing beside the hero, he chuckles.
"That's not all it can do you know."
Eagerly clapping her hands, she jumps up, grabbing Link by the arm and dragging him to sit beside her and Remus, a friendly apprentice knight who everyone doted on. Easily sliding his arm out of hers, he gave Sheik a small nod, urging him to show off. Who knows, maybe his musical skills would be terrible and he could hold it against him later. (And if he wanted to see Sheik knock all of the soldiers on their asses with his skills that was his damned business)
Raising the harp close to his chest, Sheik takes a deep breath, the flickering flames illuminating his fingertips as they began their slow walk across the strings. The song he offers them has the entire camp entranced, starting with a slow, almost playful rhythm. Link is almost sure he can hear the men humming along with the music. As the tempo picked up, the sound of the air around them rose, joining its voice with the calling of the blessed instrument. With an air of finality, a large healing spell encircles the camp, washing the warriors in its warm light.
The group had been in a small skirmish earlier that day, and most of them made it out unscathed. Many of their scouts along with a few specialists they sent ahead, however, were exposed to dangerous toxins from the deku babas in the area during an ambush. Sheik had helped lead most of them out safely, utilizing his small size to avoid the plant's sight and took the monsters out from under their noses. Even now, ever mindful of the army's supplies, he saved many of them from troubles further down the line.
"I believe that should more than suffice for tonight's entertainment." tucking his harp away, he leaves the small camp, headed towards their tent.
Rising from the log, Link doesn't hear Lana call out to him over the loud groans of disappointment and complaints from the men behind him. Following at a distance, he tries to urge his feet to move faster, getting caught up by people trying to chat about the day's spoils or people impressed with their musician's skill. For a moment he thinks he loses the other man as he jogs towards the edge of the camp in an attempt to pass the oncoming soldiers and catch up with his charge.
Reaching the tent, Sheik hastily freed his hair from its braid, tossed the kunai on his bedroll, and grabbed a thick cloak from his bag. He had to be quick if he wanted to be alone for this, and knowing his luck Link would catch up with him as soon as he realized he wasn't in the tent. At the sudden pressure of a sword pressed against his throat, he raises his hand, the cloak dropping in a crumpled mess on his bedroll. He's ashamed and how much the betrayal stings, radiating from the cold metal against his bodysuit.
"I humor no wish to run to the enemy's side, hero." he hisses, tossing a nasty glare over his shoulder.
"Then where do you think you're going? Last I checked, Impa ordered you to stay in my line of sight at all times." Link growls out, eyes fixed on long golden hair that he tried not to be distracted by.
Once again, the air between them was tense, neither willing to breach the silence. With a tired sigh, Sheik weighed his options before he made the first move. "I just…I'm not allowed to let others see my face, hero. I need to tend to my own wounds, I used the rest of my mana to heal the others and a spell like that doesn't work on the caster." the response is soft, almost embarrassed. "Please. As long as you don't look you may follow I just can't be seen."
It was the smallest he had ever heard the prideful Sheikah sound, the noise grating his ears in a way that made his teeth ache. Something about it sounded so wrong like it shouldn't have happened in the first place. Maybe it was the venom that laced the seemingly small words. Had he assumed wrong? Was his companion simply wishing for a moment alone? Clenching his jaw again, the ache there brought him back to his senses. Sheathing his sword, Link gives the tense warrior a small push toward the tent's open flap.
"Lead on then. Any funny business and I'm dragging you to Lady Impa myself," he warns.
Sheik remained silent, simply grabbing his bag and leading his observer to a nearby forest spring. Like the first night in their shared tent, Link watches as the heavily guarded Sheikah starts de-arming, leaving his knives in a small pile. Next was the cowl, the rest of his hair tumbling down, sunshine-colored waves reaching low enough to hide the man's tightly clothed body. Reaching up to his mask, the Hylian watches almost too eagerly for a moment before red eyes pin his gaze.
"Now look away, hero, lest I have to resort to something drastic." his voice is harsh, the feeling of any camaraderie with the hero had been burnt by the sting of the Master Sword.
Ruby-colored eyes stayed on him, narrowed suspiciously as he raises his hands in defense. He watches for a moment longer, the man standing before the spring lowered his head, letting it hang to look down at the ground. Under the hero's gaze, it almost looked as if he was swaying. Rolling his own eyes, Link can't help but chuckle at the other man's seemingly dramatic antics
"Fine, fine, I won't look. Just dress your wounds so we can head back."
Though against his better judgment, he turns his back to Sheik, almost surprised by the immediate sound of the warrior's body plunging into the water. Sighing, the hero pinches the bridge of his slightly hooked nose, hoping a full bath wasn't the other man's plan. A soft ringing in his ear caused it to twitch in irritation, almost like someone whispering.
{Are baths supposed to be quiet? Did he even take the rest of his armor off?}
Spinning on his heel, blue eyes widened at Sheik's body floating face down, almost lazily drifting in the spring. Lunging into the water, he couldn't hear anything over the rushing in his ears. It felt like an eternity before he finally reached the other man, quickly drawing him against his chest. Blood was coming from somewhere, evident by the pink-tinted water that dripped off of the man as Link lifts him from the water.
Dragging Sheik out of the water, he hastily starts tugging at the skin-tight suit before cursing in pain as hands that looked deceptively thin held his wrists in a sudden vice grip. Looking up at the other man's face he's surprised to see the Sheikah's eyes on him, struggling to focus on his face.
"Hero. Please." He whispers, tears gathering in his eyes. "Don't… let anyone…see." his voice wheezes softly, giving Link's wrist another firm squeeze before promptly passing out.
He knew he should have taken Sheik to the medical team but the sheer desperation in his voice had him sneaking the unconscious Sheikah back to their shared tent. Dropping the bleeding man onto his personal cot, he pretended it wasn't because he remembered how much Sheik liked keeping his blankets clean and soft. Pulling out a spare dagger he sets to cutting away his companion's armor and bodysuit, quite sure the meticulous planner had more to spare. Metal plating gave way to the annoyingly tempting skin-tight material, bandages tightly wound around the chest of the suit. Cursing again, he cuts the bandages first, giving the man more room to breathe. Tugging some of the tight material of the suit away from sweat-slicked skin, Link cuts the fabric and finally exposes pale skin to the dim candlelight.
The Sheikah's body was coated in a thin sheen of sweat causing the suit to stick as he pulls on it. Wincing at the sound of the unconscious man's body flopping back onto the bedroll, he starts to examine him. Almost immediately he notices numerous thin cuts curving up in a half circle around his left breast, each cut sluggishly oozing blood. A quick check of his back confirms that it's in just as bad of shape.
Trying to ignore the burning questions slowly consuming his mind, Link starts cleaning the wounds, quickly noticing the poison that adds an almost oily slick sheen to the man's blood. Getting a bowl of water, he works on cleaning away the tainted blood, using herbs Sheik had prepared in his personal satchel to combat the poison. While he dressed the wounds, his eyes were easily drawn to the curves of the man's breasts, the dip of rounded hips, and the tuft of sunlight curls that hid what he was sure was paradise between milky thighs.
Gritting his teeth, he finished dressing the wounds scattered over Sheik's torso, finishing just as the rest of the men turned in for the night. Sitting in a chair beside his occupied cot, the flickering candlelight only aided in his eyes betraying him, once again locking onto a masked face. Skin flushed and fevered from Deku Baba poisoning, Link could only assume one had taken a good bite out of the Sheikah warrior while he was defending some of their men.
Irritation flared up in his gut at the thought. If Sheik had just told someone (him) they could have (he would have) given him the antidote and he wouldn't be in this mess. But no, the stupid moron had to stay "mysterious" for the sake of his pride and some mystery tradition no one knew or cared about. Angrily, and with more force than necessary, he yanks the fevered man's mask down. Satisfaction, though instant, was vastly overshadowed by how caught off guard he was.
Sheik could have been Zelda's match in sheer beauty alone. Golden bangs dusted just above arched brows, while they were usually quirked in irritation, now they were furrowed as the warrior fought off the remains of the poison in his blood. Link's hands ached to touch them, to trail a finger along the bone there, see how the man would react if he brushed his bangs out of his face. He had always thought the man's eyelashes were quite long, only aiding in making the eyes maintain their sharp angle. Thin lips were parted, fevered pants the only sound this late at night. A long mark, from what the hero was unsure, followed the curve of the Sheikah's pale neck, almost looking like text in a script he couldn't quite make out. The letters ranged from right under the man's ear and followed the curve until they reached his shoulder.
Tilting his head, Link squints, trying to decipher the words when, with a tired groan, Sheik sits up, head sagging forward. Bringing one of his hands up, he cradles his head for a moment, cursing softly in a language the Hylian hadn't heard before.
"When did I..?" as crimson eyes dart around the tent an almost panicked wheeze escapes the shorter man's throat, breaking off into silence when his gaze meets Link's.
For too long the two men simply stare at each other, neither knowing how to break the tense moment. Just as before, Sheik moves first, bringing a hand up to cover the text down the side of his neck. Ah, so it was something he was ashamed of. Something he didn't want others to see.
"That's a spell," Link realizes, something in the back of his brain telling him he'd seen the symbol, and hell, maybe he'd even seen that spell before.
Sighing softly, the wounded warrior lets his arm drop weakly onto his lap, eyes remaining fixed on his upturned palm. "Yes. It's a brand. It's supposed to remind me of my…position."
The words make the back of his brain buzz, something not quite making sense. Position? Brand? What kind of person needs to be reminded of their position? With a frustrated huff, Link rises from his chair, grabs a blanket from Sheik's cot, and tosses it over to the man occupying his bed.
"Get some rest." he had some digging to do. Too many questions to answer. Sheik didn't stop him on his way out.
'Shit...Fuck. Shit." The words were his mantra as he forces his legs to push him forward, headed towards General Impa's tent. The further away from Sheik he got, the more his blood rushed in his ears. The back of his hand started to ache, the strange relic called the Triforce causing his skin to itch and tingle. He could barely hear Impa trying to get his attention as he pushed his way into her personal quarters, immediately making a line for her books and scrolls, the rushing in his ears urging him to go, go, go.
"Link what in Hylia's name is going on? Do you have any idea what time it is?" the Sheikah woman demanded, her words falling on deaf ears.
Digging and pilfering through his observer's belongings, ancient texts, and scrolls were dropped on the floor. That symbol on Sheik's neck was a spell, ancient Hyrulean if he had to guess, and not just anyone had access to the old magicks anymore. At the bottom of the crate, an ancient book, bound in old leather with pages yellowed and brittle with age sat innocently, as if waiting for him.
The moment his fingers touched the cracked leather, a surge of pain shoots through his hand and up his arm, almost like burning fingers creeping up the back of his neck. Yanking the book out of its hiding place, Link hastily pages through it, ignoring Impa's frustrated scoldings of the delicacy of the pages. Then, nearly at the end of the book, he finds it.
Turning, he is ashamed of the tightness in his throat. "Impa. Sheik's not going to defect," he reports, eyes fixed on the page before him, the words burning his eyes.
Before she can open her mouth to speak, his fingers fall onto the cursed words, written on ancient parchment. Her scream echoes around the camp as the parchment tears in his hand. He leaves her tent after she scolds him, the torn page stuffed and crumpled in his pocket.
His feet guide him to the dim embers of the campfire, eyes fixing on the dying logs as he thinks. Crouching, he stirs the logs a bit, stoking the flames and waking the sleeping embers. This was a big secret, and it burned in his pocket almost as much as the triforce ignited the blood in his arm. Just letting the words he read leave his head aching and his ears ringing.
Pulling the page out of his pocket, he examines the symbols in the firelight. Ancient Hyrulean wasn't something people in Hyrule used anymore, so seeing it shocked him. The word didn't quite make sense to him, so he assumed there wasn't an equivalent word to it in the modern language, but its rough meaning was clear; property. Sheik was an escaped slave. From where he wasn't sure, but it made a lot of the way the guy acted make sense; wanting to hide his face, tending to his own wounds, a general distrust of people asking simple questions, flinching if someone came up behind him too fast. Damn…
Hyrule, though usually prosperous and peaceful, always struggled to keep evil away from its borders. Slavers and smugglers ran rampant during eras with shortages of soldiers or heroes, and this age was no different. Even he had to deal with groups of bandits and rescue a kidnapped maiden every so often. Feeling an ugly twist in his gut, he gives the page a final glance, burning its contents into his memory.
'I may not like you, Sheik, but your secret is safe with me.'
With a silent curse and a prayer to the goddesses, Link tosses the page into the fire, watching as the same text from his companion's neck shrivels and is slowly eaten away. No one else would know of the man's enslavement.