EXTENDED SUMMARY:

Murderer. Thief. Cheat. Sheik's been called worse. It's just what he has to do to get by. It's business. It's Hyrule's underground doing what it does best: thriving. He hates the terms 'mercenary,' and 'assassin,' even if that is what he's become. After all, he's survived this long by taking immoral, unethical, and often nefarious jobs for the pay. And besides, the money goes to people who need it, so what's the harm? But when a new job comes in from an anonymous source to kill the Prince of Hyrule, his plans don't go at all the way he intended. In fact, what he thought of the world very quickly starts to crumble around him. Schemes. Lies. Mystery. Evil. And all he has to face it with is Link: the stupid little prince that he was hired to kill and somehow ended up accidentally and impulsively kidnapping.

Happy to FINALLY be posting the first chapter of my new fic! As said in the summary, this is an M!Sheik/Link fic. I like to think of this as an AU twist on canon, but that's being too generous. It's mostly just AU; but it will be good, and heart-wrenching, and exciting all the same, so I encourage you to read it! Because Sheik is a badass assassin with a dark past and Link is a steadfast prince with a frightening future.

Before the story begins, I'd like to note that there will be some TRIGGER warnings for future chapters, having to do with violence, rape, and some language warnings as well.

Disclaimer: I don't own any part of the Legend of Zelda. All other original characters belong to me.

The Good Fall Harder From Grace

Chapter One - Assassin

There was a dead man lying on the floor.

...Sheik was sitting there beside the corpse, whiling away the time until the manservant would return. He twirled a small dagger in his fingers, watching the bloodstained blade catch the light falling in from the window; very pretty, in a macabre sort of way.

"Are you done in here yet?"

Sheik glanced up from the bloodied blade he'd been fixating on. He'd stopped twirling it as soon as he'd heard the voice.

The manservant—the one who had gotten him into the manor—was standing in the doorway, staring down with mild alarm at the corpse on the ground. Sheik didn't quite get why he appeared frightened, though; the idiot knew exactly why Sheik had been welcomed into that house, what he was there to do. The manservant's gaze trailed over the bloody body with its throat torn open and then back up to meet Sheik's eyes, the most peculiar expression on his face. He shrugged when Sheik continued to stare, as if to say 'well, what can you do?'

"You were supposed to leave after it was done," he said finally, after a moment too long of them staring at one another. He began to fidget, casting his eyes down and wringing his hands together as if he wanted to wash this mess off of them.

Sheik shook his head slowly, standing up off the floor and tucking the bloody knife back into the pocket of his coat. "Yeah, I was just leaving."

"Doesn't look like you were," the man muttered, his lips twisting up in a nervous pout. "You… you were hired to make the kill for my master and then leave. That's what I was told."

"I am leaving," Sheik hissed at him, growing irritated.

But he couldn't leave just yet. He had one last thing to do, one last thing to mark off in order to complete the job. Sheik started forward, shouldering past the manservant in the doorway, his heavy footsteps resonant on the polished wooden floors. He started off down the hallways as soon as he was out, making sure the man was following him as he went.

"Your master has yet to pay me for my services," Sheik called, glancing back at the man. It was true enough, he supposed. But he never got paid until a job was finished. That's just how it was done when you were hired as a mercenary, and this job was only halfway completed. 'Frame my manservant,' the employer had said. Sheik distinctly remembered the callous wave of his hand as he condemned his servant to life in the prisons. But if Sheik could do one thing really well, it was lie, and he needed to stall, because he couldn't leave just yet. He had framing to do. "I kill his brother for him, and he doesn't even have the decency to pay me up front for the task?" he spat back at him.

The man snorted. "Well, he's a Lord, isn't he? Not a very decent man, when you think about it. Sitting on all his money like that when there are families living in the streets. That's where my family would end up if it wasn't for this job, sure enough."

"No," Sheik agreed offhandedly. "He isn't very decent. Not by far." He stopped walking, hand going into his pocket to wrap around the hilt of the dagger. The loss of his and the man's footsteps made the silence of the manor house all the more unnatural and unnerving.

"Well, don't stop here!" the man pleaded, sounding like he was close to panicking. "You have to get out! You've just killed a man, for the love of the goddesses! I have to call the soldiers here, so go!"

Sheik sighed and turned to face him, resigning himself to what he had to do. "Actually," he murmured dully, meeting the man's eyes. "I believe your master's instructions said that I was to call the soldiers here."

The man faltered, moving back a step, his hands falling limply at his sides. "W-what did you say?"

Sheik raised an eyebrow. "You've just killed a man," he said flatly. "Your master called me here to talk over business, and while he and I were discussing important matters in his study, we both heard a shout come from down the hall." He frowned, cocking his head. "What could it have been, now?"

The man started shaking his head, his eyes widening in realization. "No. No, I—I didn't, I—"

Sheik closed the distance between them, bearing down on him like a predator closing in on its prey. "In reaction to the scream," he continued, "Your master and I came running down the hallway to investigate. And what was it that we saw?" Sheik paused. He was toe to toe with him now, using his advantage in height to bear menacingly down on him.

"No," the man squeaked, shrinking away as Sheik backed him against the wall.

"Yes. You killed him. You killed your master's brother." He shook his head sadly, grimacing just a bit. He really hated when it came to this. "But before you could get away, I wounded you." Sheik pulled the knife from his pocket and shoved the man up against the wall, pressing an arm into his throat to hold him there. Bringing the knife into view slowly, Sheik pressed the blade into his cheek and cut a long, shallow line there, marring his face. It wasn't deep enough to do damage or really hurt, but it was enough to prove his story. The man whimpered, gaping at Sheik in horror, jaw trembling and eyes full of fear.

Sheik took a step back, letting him off the wall. The man nearly fell to his knees, barely catching himself on a low side table as he coughed and sputtered and wiped at the blood oozing up from his cheek. He stared at his crimson hands in shock, almost as if he had never seen blood before and couldn't fathom what it was that was staining his hands.

Sheik watched him with a schooled expression, dropping the knife to the ground and crossing his arms. "What was your name?" he asked.

The man looked up at him, eyes wide and confused, and Sheik saw tears on his cheeks, mixing with the blood. The cut had to have stung. It struck him in that moment just how very young this man probably was; most likely not yet out of his twenties. Still older than Sheik perhaps, but by no more than a few years, surely. Good goddesses...

"My name is Ander." He lifted a shaking hand up to Sheik, reaching for him. "Please. I have a family. I can't go to the prisons!"

A sudden pang of guilt hit Sheik. It hit him hard. It'd been such a long time since he'd felt any kind of remorse for the actions his life forced him to make. He felt almost... sick.

But, whenever this emotion did come about in him, Sheik knew what to do to ease his mind. He just reminded himself of all the good the money from the jobs he took did for the poor in the kingdom. That's where most of it went, after all—to starving families and the homeless—and it did much more good in the form of a hot meal for a starving child than it did weighing down the pockets of some nobleman's silk trousers. He just... Sometimes he hated that this—like this thing with Ander—was the only way he really knew of to get that money. He might have even been tempted to get a normal, respectable job if any of them paid a halfway decent amount. But really, even there he was kidding himself. No one would give a job to somebody who had spent time in the prisons. And he certainly had.

If this bloody kingdom knew how to take care of its people and not leave them to starve, he wouldn't have ended up living this kind of life at all. He'd still be living with his mother, maybe; or at least somewhere near to her. Perhaps he'd have been a farmhand. Something simple sounded nice. But no, he was a killer. A bloody fucking 'get paid by the rich to kill or steal from whomever they want to feed the poor because the King of a Hyrule can't see the suffering that is happening right under his nose.' Yeah, that was what his life summed up to these days.

Ander had a family; he'd just said so. He was the kind of person that Sheik would normally be trying to help. And Ander was right—he couldn't go to the prisons. Not if he wanted his family to be okay.

But that wasn't Sheik's problem. He couldn't help everybody.

"Why?" he asked finally. Ander didn't respond, and Sheik had to wonder how long he had been inside his own head, thinking. The man remained on the floor, holding back sobs, tears dripping from his face as he stared up at Sheik like he was the only one who could save him.

"Why?" Sheik asked again, walking over and squatting down next to him, laying a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Why can't you go to the prisons? I was sent there much younger than you are now, and I'm still kicking." He stood back up to his feet, turning and casting a cold glance over his shoulder. "You will survive the ordeal, I assure you." But he couldn't make that promise, could he? And he certainly couldn't promise it to the man's family, because he didn't know. In all honesty, Sheik had been lucky to have survived the four years that he had spent in that accursed place. He would have to make sure to locate Ander's family after this was all done with and give them something to keep them going.

"But..." Ander squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head.

Ander reminded Sheik a lot of himself... Back before everything had... happened. Sure, he looked nothing like him, but... the hopelessness in his expression, the fear, and the... the vulnerability... It all just made Sheik sadder.

"I have a little girl," Ander pleaded. "And my wife and I just had a baby boy, and they need me. She can't put food in their mouths on her own!"

"Look," Sheik said sharply, glancing back. "It's either they take you, or they take me, and I'm not going back. I already fucking served my time." Sheik turned around to face him again. "It's not my fault your master is a complete bastard that felt the need to pull you into his affairs! I'm just following his instructions, understand?" He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. "I'm not heartless, you know," he said softly. "I do what I have to do to get by; and no, I'm not above doing some very bad things to stay afloat, but I'm not heartless." Even as he said it, Sheik knew the words sounded ridiculous coming out of a killer's mouth. He wasn't quite sure what he was trying to prove.

Ander sniffed loudly, looking up at Sheik from under his dark, wet, clotted eyelashes. "Then why are you doing this?" he whimpered. "I have little mouths to feed! I can't—"

"I have my reasons," Sheik interrupted, turning away. "And they're no business of yours." He brushed some invisible dust off the sleeve of his greatcoat, wanting to be free of the cold, dusty manor home. "I'm going to go call for the soldiers." He fixed Ander with a stern gaze. "I suggest you run."

Ander ended up being arrested. He wasn't fast or clever enough to escape, Sheik guessed.

Sheik stood in the street with at least a hundred other spectators; including Ander's wife and daughter and baby boy, as well as Ander's employer, the man who had hired Sheik for the killing, as they carried the body out. He kept quiet, looking properly upset and surprised at the death, playing his part. After the dead man had been carried away, the soldiers put Ander in shackles and threw him into the back of a cart, bound for the prisons.

After slipping Ander's wife a small bag of rupees, not bothering to explain himself when she asked, Sheik left the city within the hour, bound for the north. Ander had shaken him. Sheik needed to be strong and unflinching while doing his work, and he had been less than professional today. Professionalism was deadly important when making a living off of your skill at theft and murder, and Sheik always kept his jobs very tight and clean. However, this particular job today—a Lord paying to have his brother killed for sleeping with his wife—had been messier than Sheik liked to keep things. Yes, he had gotten away without suspicion, and yes, he had been paid a hefty sum that would do quite a lot of good, but... he had hesitated. He had hesitated after hearing Ander's story.

In Sheik's line of work, he couldn't afford hesitation.

He needed to act swiftly and have a sharp mind, like the fall of the blade of a guillotine. He needed to be fit and ready for anything that might throw itself in his way. He needed money, and to be on the good side of the people who ruled over Hyrule's underground.

Sheik had and was all of those things, but he knew why he had hesitated during the job. He had seen his past in Ander. He had been Ander, all those years ago. Frightened, vulnerable, and nigh-on hysterical with fear. He'd been a boy then, sure, but seeing his old self reincarnate in that man had been... it had awoken certain... memories in him that he really did not care to remember.

Sheik didn't often feel remorse for the things he did. Most of what he did was stealing from the rich for the rich, or killing the rich for the rich. To him, the wealthy were a disease on the land. They hoarded their money, sitting in their fancy mansions and guzzling their fancy wines while there were more than a few families out there who couldn't afford to eat or feed their children. Who really cared if a few nobles were dying? And every once in a while, a good man like Ander would get hurt, but it didn't happen often.

Sheik knew he wasn't the only mercenary, assassin, whatever you wanted to call it about Hyrule, either. There were others. He'd seen and spoken to a few. There weren't many—you didn't last long in this business unless you were either incredibly skilled or incredibly careful, and Sheik was both—but they were out there. You could go places, looking for the familiar shape of the inverted Triforce, flipped on its point, etched into a door frame or carved into a stone, and you would seek refuge there. That was the symbol of the Hyrule's underground. The people in those places were the people who were willing to help and house lawbreakers like him. It was only natural that others who lived the same life as Sheik would seek refuge in those places as well, and so sometimes he met others. A criminal brethren, if you will.

It was in one of those places, in the next city over, that he was propositioned by a man in a dark cloak. A man who told him that his services were required in Castle Town. A man who gave him directions to a tavern that would bear the inverted Triforce in its door, where he could get more information on what he was supposed to do. A man who had pressed a small bag of rupees into his hand and left directly afterward, not even giving Sheik a second to so much as ask who he was.

Thank you so much! Any comments in review/PM form are really appreciated! I'd love to know what you think. :)