Chapter Text
Time passes, people move...
Like a river's flow, it never ends.
Sheik had been waiting to leave again for weeks. To leave Princess Zelda and everything she represented behind for a night.
Finally having a real home was nice, but as a consequence, there were far more people around who might catch him. His stealth wasn’t the problem; more the idea of somebody coming in and seeing that the princess was missing, or catching him half-changed into his Sheikah clothes. Problems that would only be magnified once Hyrule Castle was rebuilt, though that was a few years off.
There wasn’t anything wrong with where he lived at the moment, a small building in between Castle Town and what there was of the old castle grounds. Not much larger than the homes inside the city, only a few servants – nothing compared to how he’d lived prior to Ganon’s takeover. A stopgap, with the purpose of creating somewhere regarded as the princess’ residence during the long, arduous process of reconstructing a palace from the ground up.
As he prepared to leave, Sheik kept having second thoughts. It still seemed too close to the last time he’d snuck out. Sheik tried to keep his appearances as Sheik as infrequent as possible to manage the risk, living for months at a time as Zelda before breaking down. After today, though, the feeling had emerged in full force: a ripping in his chest, a pent-up scream.
Your coronation, Princess Zelda. Are you sure you want to wait? Yes, Zelda had told them. While they were still rebuilding, a coronation had to be low on their list of priorities. At the very least, they could wait for a Queen until there was somewhere proper for her to rule from.
Sheik took a breath and let go of the problem with his exhale. Those were problems for Zelda, not him. The seven years he’d spent as Sheik nonstop had solidified the idea of him as a character of sorts, one who had no need to be concerned with the workings of the Royal court (or what remained of it). Somebody to step into and out of in the same way that he changed his clothes.
Splitting the two was getting exhausting, but it was how he’d always done it. To be able to play the part of Sheik as fully as possible during Ganondorf’s rule, Zelda had been shut down. No trace of her had been allowed to remain. Her thoughts and feelings didn’t matter – difficult at first for a child to sustain, easier as time went on and he began to forget who ‘she’ had ever been. Being faced with the need to bring her back had been daunting, but nothing compared to the desperation to spend time as Sheik again. A desperation so strong that even as he promised himself this will be the last time, he knew it was a lie.
Some days, he felt so close to an epiphany that might make it make sense. But he could never take that final step. Duty came first, after all.
After finishing his bandage wraps, Sheik stood up straight and stretched. The Sheikah clothes clung to his body in a way he didn’t like, especially since he’d lost a lot of muscle tone since starting to live as Zelda again. Illusory magic only did so much. Still, he was as ready as he could be. Before he could start overthinking, Sheik pushed open the window and swung himself up onto the roof.
“Hey.” He whipped around, barely keeping his balance. Who in Hyrule – ?
Link was sitting on the edge of the roof, casually swinging his legs. When Sheik didn’t reply, he sighed and said, “Well, it’s nice to see you too.”
Sheik’s head spun with questions, all some variation on Why are you here? In the end, he went with, “What are you doing?”, trying to stay at a whisper and hide his panic.
“Travelling around, you hear things.” Link didn’t seem to share his concern about keeping their voices down. “Some reports of a mysterious Sheikah man in Hyrule, only seen at night. So I was intrigued. Then, one person I asked had spoken to him. Isn’t that interesting?” Even in the dim light, Sheik swore he could see a glint in his eye. “Said his name was Sheik. And I thought, ‘Wait, I know that name’. What a coincidence, right?”
Why are you messing with me? “You can’t tell anyone.” Sheik’s voice was shaking. Link shrugged. “Link, please – ”
“I won’t.” The front dropped, then, and Sheik realised that he was… hurt? “I wish you’d told me,” Link continued.
There were so many options for his response – from You don’t have a right to know to And when was I supposed to tell you that, exactly? and ending at I’m sorry – that Sheik felt overwhelmed and said nothing. Instead, he sat down next to Link, pulling his knees up to his chest. He was grateful that the mask hid his expression, even if it had been useless at hiding his identity in this particular instance. There had to be a minute, maximum, until Link told him to go back inside, so Sheik sat as still as he was able and tried to draw it out for as long as possible.
Link’s next words were unexpected. “Let me come with you.”
Was this another ridiculous joke? “What?” Sheik asked, staring.
“To wherever you’re going. I’ll come with you.”
Understanding that his situation was entirely in Link’s control didn’t stop Sheik from bristling. “I don’t need protection.”
“I know. It’ll just make me feel better. Unless you want to go back to bed, of course.”
When had Link become so brash? It might be that he’d always been this way, and Sheik had been stupid to think those brief conversations to offer what guidance he could had meant anything. It was that or he hadn’t been, but the destiny that had been forced upon him had made him that way. Destiny that Sheik had played no small part in, and was therefore culpable for any damage it had done.
Link raised an eyebrow, and Sheik realised he hadn’t answered. “Fine,” he replied, forcing an extra coolness to hide relief and something that felt oddly close to excitement. It had been years since they’d spent time together: Zelda saw him on occasion when he made brief stops in the town, but Sheik kept a wide berth. As an afterthought – “As long as you can keep up with me.” If Link got to be bad-mannered, then he did, too.
“I think I can manage.”
Sheik pushed himself up and turned. When he looked back over his shoulder, Link stared back with a cocky half-smile like he was trying to get a rise out of Sheik. Fine. He set off, jumping from the roof to the small stone courtyard below. Out of a residual annoyance, he didn’t check to see if Link was following when starting towards the town.
The reconstructed Castle Town was easier to hide in than when it was all ruin, with deep shadows in between buildings and underneath awnings, but with the tradeoff of guards waiting at the walls once again. When everything had been partly built, it had been the worst for Sheik. All the risks of people living there without half the cover he had now. While Link wasn’t silent, Sheik couldn’t deny that his skills weren’t too far off from Sheik’s own. He had learned something, then, after his journeys to the temples when he’d exhibited all the grace of a newborn foal.
Sheik didn’t stop running as he reached the corner of the square, using the momentum to launch himself up the perimeter wall, fingers hooking into cracks in the wall that were almost too small to see. It was muscle memory that led him to the top, where he dropped into a crouch even though the only guardsmen outside at this time should be flanking the drawbridge. A soft gasp and Link appeared beside him, surprisingly quick and dignified, until he flopped onto his stomach and swore under his breath. Sheik took a second to make sure he was (probably) alright before taking off, kicking from the wall as he jumped and landing in a roll just clear of the moat.
Link joined him a minute later, the tip of one boot splashing the water as he landed. The sound made Sheik flinch, muscles tensed in case it brought the guards over. Surveying the field, calculating where he might be able to hide in time – nothing happened. Seconds passed as Sheik waited, agitated, until it was clear that they hadn’t attracted any attention. For his part, Link seemed unbothered.
Once they were a fair distance from the town walls, Link asked, “So, where are we going?”
“I don’t know,” Sheik admitted. Link looked like he was trying to hold back a laugh. “I needed to get out of there. I didn’t think about anything after that. Probably would have just walked around until I had to get back.”
“Well, that’s no fun.”
Sheik rolled his eyes. “Have it your way, then. Where are we going?” He thought Link was ignoring him by rummaging through his pouch until he produced the Ocarina of Time, holding it up like a trophy.
“Lake Hylia?” It had been so long since they’d last played together. Sheik couldn’t suppress a smile and was relieved again to have his mask, even if it didn’t hide the way his eyes creased when he smiled. Link wouldn’t notice – he’d never seen Sheik or Zelda happy.
Sheik took out his harp and nodded. The Serenade of Water, a song to reflect upon oneself. He hoped Link hadn’t chosen it as another jab.
Despite not playing the melody in years, Sheik’s fingers didn’t stumble once as he plucked the strings, perfectly in time with Link’s ocarina without looking up. Some guiding intuition always took over that Sheik had never felt with any other instrument he’d tried, not even other harps.
Then, that sudden feeling – of being everything and nothing at once. A body of light or of total blackout, at one with the world and the most alone he’d ever been. Disconcerting even after countless journeys. The first time he’d travelled with music, Sheik had thrown up as soon as he touched the ground and then lied about it to Impa when he got back: It was fine.
At once, Sheik was standing again, the solid stone platform underneath his feet a relief. The last time he’d been on this small island in the middle of Lake Hylia must have been when he’d met Link after he’d freed the Water Temple. He shouldn’t have – but the look on Link’s face had been worth it, some of the stress seeming to leave him as soon as he turned and saw Sheik. “Ruto wanted me to thank the young man who saved her,” Link had gasped, words coming out in a rush as he ran over. For some reason, his facade of neutrality had been almost overwhelmed with joy, and Sheik had to stop to collect himself.
Days afterwards had passed with Sheik turning those words over in his mind: Ruto wanted me to thank the young man who saved her. The young man.
It had been dawn when he’d waited for Link, the sun on what was exposed of his face a comfort and the clouds turning a pastel shade of yellow. Strange, then, to stand in the same place near midnight. The moon was reflected in the lake, its image wavering in the ripples. It had been full a few days ago, Sheik remembered. Zelda had watched it from her window. Now it was waning, soft silver against the ink-black sky.
While Sheik stood on the pedestal, waiting for his eyes to adjust, Link rolled his shoulders and walked over to the water’s edge. A few paces and he was a dim silhouette, barely illuminated by the light of the moon until there was a soft hiss and a shock of light: Link was holding a small lamp, yellow flame flickering inside the glass. “Always prepared,” he told Sheik.
“Some of us don’t mind the dark.” Sheik couldn’t explain why he was being combative. Knee-jerk reflex.
“I’ll put it out if you want.”
“No, it’s…” Fill in the blank. Thoughtful/kind/appreciated. “Fine.”
Link nodded and put the lantern down on the grass, then sat, cross-legged. When Sheik didn’t move, he patted the ground next to him. “I don’t bite.” Link stopped, then grinned and added, “Most of the time.” Sheik hoped the heat flooding his face wasn’t visible. He didn’t know what Link was implying by that, but it left him flustered all the same. Still, Sheik sat, pulling the scarf down from his face and taking a deep breath to calm himself.
Back when they were meeting on the threshold of every temple, Link had never spoken like that. He would try to converse with Sheik in any way he could, from joking to yelling at him to stay, but there was something different here. As Sheik noticed on the roof, it was a side of Link he hadn’t seen. When he stopped by Castle Town, Link only ever saw Zelda, whom he treated with the courtesy and slight distance that appeared to be the neverending curse of a de facto monarch.
Link had been released from any service to the Crown after the final battle with Ganondorf. The idea of asking him to serve in the army (after waiting for an army to even be formed again) or assist in rebuilding Hyrule (when he was the only reason there was anything to rebuild) had seemed insulting. So Link had taken Zelda to Kakariko, where the majority of the Hylian survivors had fled. Spent a few days spreading the word of Princess Zelda’s return and the King of Evil’s defeat, brought a few terrified carpenters to assess the extent of Castle Town’s damage.
And afterwards, he left.
“I’ll return, Princess,” he’d assured Zelda. Link hadn’t lied; he was here, after all, taking the pack off his back and stretching out his legs. The visits, though…single days spaced out by months or even a year, conversations not much more than perfunctory remarks about construction progress or a strange plant he’d found in a land outside Hyrule. When Zelda’s home had been built and she could at last stop living in Impa’s old house, filled with ghosts and nagging memories, she’d wanted nothing more than to tell Link. By the time he dropped in again, it was old news. As Sheik, he’d spent nights by the river wishing for Link’s company as the cool air bit at small slithers of skin.
Having reached a moment of stillness, Sheik had the chance to study Link properly. His tanned skin reflected the hot summer they’d had so far – that they’d had in Hyrule, he reminded himself. For all he knew, Link might have been on the other side of the world. Otherwise, he looked almost the same as ever. Same green tunic, patched and sewn up rather than replaced. He’d lost the matching hat to a Like-Like a few years prior, so his choppy haircut was obvious; Sheik was pretty sure that he did it himself. The same off-white trousers tucked into brown boots.
The one other change was a scar that ran straight down from under his right eye to his jaw, a bright pink that revealed it was relatively new. The flickering light from the lamp in turn obscured it and threw it into sharp relief. Whenever asked about a new mark, Link claimed it was so long ago that he’d forgotten the cause, including once when he’d been asked about a fresh cut. “Nothing to worry about, Your Highness,” said with more than a little irony.
Link looked over and caught Sheik’s eye, making him turn away. He hadn’t been staring, Sheik told himself. Just checking over him, that was all. His feelings toward Link were best left alone. It was embarrassing to harbour a teenage crush after all this time, all this distance. The space between them was the width of his palm, yet it felt like a chasm.
Sheik tried to bridge that divide by asking, “Where have you been?”
“Oh, you know…around.” Link waved a hand dismissively.
“Don’t give me that,” Sheik said, his voice sharper than he intended. He tried to soften his tone when he asked, “Are you still looking for Navi?”
Link froze, not even appearing to breathe for a few seconds. “I’m trying not to.” He picked at a small hole in the knee of his trousers. Ask Zelda to fix that for you before you leave, Sheik wanted to tell him. “I’m trying to accept that she left. It’s been years, and…adults don’t have fairies anyway.”
Guilt flooded through Sheik in a rush. Of course, he shouldn’t have asked about Navi. Link would have brought her up himself if he wanted to talk. Sure, Sheik had wanted to learn more than just that she’d left once Link decided to stay as an adult, but that didn’t entitle him to pry. I am a terrible person. I am a terrible person. He tried to rectify the damage. “That doesn’t mean it’s easy. To lose a dear friend is difficult. You have memories to lean on, but you’d rather change what happened.”
It seemed as if something in Link cracked, shoulders hunching. “I’m sorry I never stay.”
“No, I didn’t mean that, I – Zelda meant it when she said she wanted your life to be your own.” Amateur mistake. He was out of practice talking to people as Sheik. Acid crept up his throat, residual panic from the time when a lapse like this might have cost him his life.
“So you’re still doing the whole Sheik and Zelda thing, then.”
Sheik gestured at himself. “Isn’t that obvious?”
“No, I mean that whole – whatever you call it where you try and pretend you aren’t the same person.”
“Link.” Whenever there was a chance of opening up about his feelings, he always changed the subject, Sheik had noted. Though could he say any better for himself?
“If you weren’t who you are,” Link continued, “Don’t you think you’d just live as Sheik?” The question was like a punch, or someone grabbing his head and trying to force him to turn and look at it. The niggling thought at the back of his skull that would never, could never, see the light of day. Because Sheik was Sheik , forever his own entity. Sheik was him, and Zelda was…her. Whoever she was. And he couldn’t consider that one of them felt more natural, air to breathe and akin to lightness – and it wasn’t the one who was chosen by the Golden Goddesses.
“Don’t make me talk about it. I can’t.” He’d thought he was doing a good job at hiding his emotions until his voice cracked on the can’t.
The slip of emotion seemed to startle Link as well, eyes widening. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to upset you.”
Sheik made a conscious effort to keep his voice even when he countered, “You didn’t. I just don’t want to have this conversation.” Even though he knew he was lying. He wanted, desperately, to stop struggling against the part of himself that wanted to be heard. Endless battles were exhausting, Sheik had enough experience on that front. It was one of those situations where what he wanted wasn’t important, though; this way was for the better.
They sat in silence for a spell, listening to the lake lapping at the edges of the island.
“I’m sorry. Again.” Link sighed. “I guess I just think you’d be happier if you thought about it, but that’s not my decision to make. So – sorry.”
“You’re right, it’s not.”
Link winced and picked at his nails. “Yeah, well…” he tailed off, deciding against whatever it was that he’d been planning on saying. Sheik was glad for it. He was tired of arguing – infinite discussions with people who were full of opinions on how Zelda should act, thinly veiled slights about how the princess had abandoned everybody for over seven years. After all of that, the last thing Sheik needed was to fight with the one person who might understand.
“Forget about it, Link. It’s alright,” Sheik told him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Link nod, relaxing.
What had been the purpose of coming out here? To be with Link, he supposed, an opportunity to see each other outside the confines of etiquette and prying eyes. Sitting in silence together after bickering was still better than a slow walk around the town as Zelda, pointing out the newer buildings and the foundations of the castle rising up from the dirt.
Link shifted closer. Not much, but enough that their thighs were slightly touching, body heat passing through thin clothes to light something inside Sheik. A subdued version of lightning emanating from every point of contact, a stutter in his heart from the scent of woodsmoke and grass that lingered on Link’s skin. He was so close to being perfect, closer than any person had a right to be. Everything about him inspired resentment: how he was built like the hero and adventurer he was, seeming to inhabit his body with an ease Sheik couldn’t grasp. To just…be at home in yourself was an otherworldly beauty. Of course, Link had struggled; but he was here now, relaxed and with that easy smile that made Sheik feel like he was dying.
Another step closer to that death, or a way of getting rid of Link’s aggravating look of contentment: Sheik leaned over and kissed him.
Link leaned into it without hesitation, sliding a hand up Sheik’s neck and tangling fingers in his hair. This was it, the universe in its entirety condensed into one single moment. More transcendent than awakening as a sage or hearing gods speak in his dreams. Desire that he’d carried for years, finally acted upon.
The first time he’d felt brave enough to kiss somebody was as Sheik. What did that mean?
Gasping, Sheik pushed Link away, his final thought resonating through his mind like an echo in a deep cave. Don’t you think you’d just live as Sheik? What if this joy, this closeness, was one he’d only ever feel when he accepted that –
Link was staring at him, eyes wide in shock. Sheik moved to go – I am the worst person in the world, I have to get out of here – reaching in his pocket for a Deku nut when Link shouted, “No!” He froze, half a second from disappearing. “Sheik. Don’t go.” When he didn’t move, Link added a soft, “Please.”
Sheik sighed. He was out of practice when it came to resisting that voice. It had been agonising every time he’d left Link, just out of sight hearing him call out with some mix of desperation and anger. Duty had kept him strong then. There was nothing driving him now. Fine. Sheik sat back down, this time at a much safer distance, and pulled his mask back up to make sure.
“You have no idea…” Link started. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for that.”
Oh.
That wasn’t what Sheik had expected.
Something about how Link was sorry that he’d given off the wrong signals. Or that he hadn’t meant to kiss Sheik back. Not… want. Not that force in his voice that sounded like he’d do it again if he had the opportunity.
But when Link said he’d been waiting for it, what did that mean? Had he been waiting to kiss Sheik or Zelda? Or both? Or was he seeing that thought again, the one that Sheik had assumed he’d crushed to the point of nonexistence until Link pressed on it like a bruise a few minutes ago?
The thought that possibly –
No.
He might be happier if –
This will not end well.