I didn't mean for this to happen.

And that's not to say that I don't think that this is good. I wouldn't have posted it if I didn't think it was good. However, I don't typically like overlapping stories because I have so little free time as it is. But I couldn't help writing it, and I couldn't help posting it. So here it is.

All of my stories so far have branched off of Ocarina of Time, but this one is from Twilight Princess. I've wanted to do one ever since I beat the game, but I didn't want to be lost in the crowd. Now that it's been out for a good ten years (yeesh) they've all run their course. The clichés have run their course, and I will be doing my best to avoid them.

Please be aware that my main project, the King's Bride, will be my first priority until it is finished, so updates to this will be few and far between. I also have zero clue where this will end up going, so any feedback about expectations/hopes/ideas etc will be greatly appreciated.

Hope you guys enjoy!

~Alyssa

ABOUT THE STORY:

The Price of Two Faces takes place about a year or two after Twilight Princess. The incarnations of Link, Zelda, and any other familiar names are from the game unless otherwise noted. This will be sticking very closely to the canon, though I am taking full creative license when it comes to fleshing out the world in ways that the game did not. That includes introducing new characters. That being said, it's been years since I played the game so if I'm doing wrong or incorrect in some way, let me know, and I'll do my best to fix it.

Though Sheik does not have an official role in TP, she does in this story. She is canonically a female, and all of the pronouns used will be she and her. I know her gender is very ambiguous and I've seen literally every interpretation of genders and gender identities, but just to be clear, there it is.

Now, buckle your seatbelts. This will be an interesting experiment.

o(OXO)o

Freedom, Sheik had come to think, was a relative term.

Long ago, when she was still quite small, she used to envy the common people. Working in the fields and the cities, they seemed free of any kind of trouble. So long as the king did his job and kept them safe and fed, the only thing they had to worry about was minding the land that they lived on.

From afar, she watched, longing to join them. She heard the laughter of the men in the taverns and saw the smiles of the women on the streets. The children ran barefoot in gaggles through the square, dancing without a care in the world. They braided flowers into each others' hair and smeared mud on their faces, uncaring if it got on their clothes. How much freer could they be?

But there was more than what met her naïve eyes. What she hadn't realized by watching those people was the price they paid. In exchange for the lack of propriety, for the freedom to laugh and smile and sing, some days they went hungry. Some nights they were cold. When war ravaged the land they called home, they fought and died, lacking the ability to deny the king they bent the knee to. They were the first to be sacrificed. They had no power to decide their own destinies, and no say in the laws by which they were forced to live by.

The nobles, too, often had their hands tied. Though they enjoyed some idea of power over the lands that they held and governed, they were in constant fear of losing it. They were forced to skulk and scheme and scrape for the King's favor, all the while managing the matters of the people who were their responsibility. They were the ones who were blamed first and foremost for things that went wrong, and there was always someone to answer to. They were the people's servants, but also the King's. It was a precarious balancing act, one that no amount of fine clothes and expensive parties could truly make up for.

Even the Princess of Hyrule herself, the most powerful women in the entire kingdom, wasn't free. Arguably, she was weighed down with more shackles than anyone. Yes, she lived in the palace and wore beautiful dresses, parading around with a lovely tiara on her head to balls and banquets and jousts. She had the best of everything. She was the envy of every girl in the kingdom.

But Hyrule was her responsibility. When she failed, the people bled.

And bleed they did. Not even the power that she possessed gave her the ability to stop the Twilight Invasion. Her palace and gowns had jewels hadn't stopped them from murdering her father. And now, years after the ordeal of surrendering, being captured and then rescued, she didn't even have the freedom of choosing her own husband. That honor would go to a man she had met exactly thrice.

The situation in Hyrule had become unstable, her brother, newly crowned King Dorian, had said. There was no way the nobles could be allowed to fight amongst themselves for her hand, not when Hyrule needed to view herself as a united whole. The people needed to feel safe. And how much safer of a man could she be wed to than the one who had delivered them to salvation in the war?

Of course, there were none.

Sheik's eyes turned to the setting moon, and she sighed.

It came with a price. Everything came with a price.

She could enjoy some liberty by night, but be exhausted come day. She could be happy and leave her responsibilities behind, but only for a few hours at a time.

She could have peace in her country, but only if it meant marrying a man she barely knew.

She longed to be free, but what was free?

She had to concede that she didn't know.

Sheik released her legs and stretched them out, stiff from hours of hugging them to her chest. The chill of the autumn night had led her to abstain from her usual antics in favor of curling up beside the chimney of some bar in the East District. Though she was near covered from head to toe in soot, the spicy smell of the smoke calmed her frayed nerves. She hadn't been able to get away these last few days with all the preparations to receive her intended, and she felt her mind was about to snap.

There had been meetings about how she was to wear her hair. About what dress she should wear. About if she should wear jewelry, and if she did, how much, and how expensive? They wanted to impress the Hero of Twilight, but at what point would he think her shallow and frivolous?

She had wanted to scream for days on end. Though she was the first to concede that she knew next to nothing about the Ordonian, she knew that he would care less what she wore. He had seen her at her worst without so much as batting a lash.

But then, none of them knew that. As far as they were concerned, she had sat in the castle contrite and waiting until he had liberated them after single-handedly defeating Ganondorf. Her possession of the Triforce of Wisdom had to be kept a secret. There had been no witnesses to their battle through Hyrule field to stop the evil Ganondorf, and no one but the Hero knew that she had been blessed with the power of the Goddesses.

He had not betrayed her. Then again, he wouldn't have had the chance to, either. Not one for festivities, the Hero had slipped away as soon as he could get away with it, and had remained in Ordon ever since.

Until now, of course, when he returned on the request of the new king.

He would arrive on the morrow.

Sadly, Sheik lamented that it couldn't be called the morrow anymore…by the look of the sky, it was already today.

In a scant few hours she would meet the man that she was to spend the rest of her life with.

He was the man who had saved her country, the silent but loyal man who had rescued her from Zant and fought beside her against Ganondorf. He was strong and gentle and had a sort of air of intensity about him that made her intrigued.

But he was also the man that had picked up and left when all was said and done without so much as a goodbye. After the Mirror of Twilight had shattered right before their eyes, she never heard him speak another word. Whatever delusion she had of them becoming—oh, she didn't know…friends, perhaps, or comrades bound by shared burden and circumstance—dissolved immediately.

It pricked her to this day. She didn't pretend to understand why he had chosen to so studiously ignore her, and not understanding made it sting worse than anything.

She supposed she would have her answers soon. If the Hero had any sense, he would start off their reunion with an apology.

With a last glimpse at the fading moon, she stood. Her time was dwindling fast, and she would need to head back now if she had any hope of sleep. She knew there would be no chance of sneaking away for a nap today.

The surety of a thousand nights guided her as she took two short steps back, then took off running. She flew through the air and landed on the building opposite the bar for only a second before jumping again. Her nimble feet tread lightly as she weaved through the rooftops, following the familiar path that would take her home. She was as quick and silent as the cats that prowled the alleyways in the West End. No one was any wiser.

A loose brick in one of the walls that surrounded the palace served as a foothold as she hoisted herself up, and many other imperfections found on various nights helped her get her way over. She had realized long ago that any kind of subterfuge was wasted energy on her part. At this time of night, the guards were all asleep or close to it.

She leaped from the top of the wall across the gardens to an oak, her fingers just catching on the highest branch that she knew would hold her weight. The limb sagged as it always did, but she could never help the nervous breath that she sucked in when it began to fall.

She dropped down to a lower bough as soon as she knew she was stable. This branch was much sturdier; she could walk across it nearly to the end. As soon as she had gone as far as she could, she was in the air again, completing the distance between the tree and the castle wall with ease.

The east wing's third floor window was big enough that she could wriggle through, and the hall was rarely guarded. As soon as her feet hit the blissfully echo-proof stone of the floor, she began to run again.

The servants' staircase was the most obvious choice, and she took them. There was no business for any maid at this hour, and they were always deserted. She climbed four flights under the cover of darkness, then peered out into the hall on the landing.

She allowed herself a moment to smile. It seemed that she had perfect timing on this night; the men at the end of the hall were too occupied with the changing of the guards that she could pull open her door and slide through.

The room was cold—she had long since told the maids not to disturb her at night, and the fire had gone out without her there to replace the kindling—but she didn't have the time or patience to start a fire. Instead, she crept across the room to her vanity.

In the mirror, a red-eyed warrior stared back at her. She was cloaked in a shawl, her face completely covered besides those eyes and a tuft of blonde hair that must have escaped at some point during the night. Her limbs were lean but strong, and somehow she conveyed a fluidity that was so pronounced despite her motionlessness. Her chest was flat. Her wrapped hands balled into fists.

She raised her arms above her head, and when they lowered, her costume melted away. Gone were the shawl and the body suit and the wrappings. Her eyes changed in an instant, a soft blue overtaking the red. Unbound, her golden hair fell in waves down her back. Her clothes morphed into a nightdress. Her boots faded until her feet were bare.

In the mirror, a frowning woman of twenty stared back at her. Her features soft and lovely, they called her beautiful, but all she could see was the dark circles that graced the underside of her dull eyes, the lines that creased her forehead. She felt naked in the flimsy gown that she slept in, and she wrapped her arms around herself to guard herself from the chill.

The Princess Zelda walked across her floor, uncaring of the creaking noise that her weight made on the old hard wood. Running a hand down her face, she crawled into bed, balling on her side and pulling the covers up to her chin.

As she drifted asleep, a small part of her wondered if she would be able to keep this secret from her husband. The Hero wasn't stupid, not by any stretch of the imagination. If they were to share the same bed, there would be no way to keep it from him. A touch of sadness settled in her gut as she contemplated tonight being the last night she could ever run free again.

Or as free as she could ever be, anyway.

Obviously, not a lot of plot, but a bit of character work.

I've always thought TP Zelda was the most wise of the Zeldas, but also, she's the most burdened. There's not that much canon-ly to go off of (though she has more appearances than any other Zelda besides maybe ST) but I've always held the impression that she carries a harder weight than the rest of them. She's older, more mature. And she always seems so much more sad.

Leave a word, if you would! I'm still kind of experimenting with this concept, so any kind of feedback would be appreciated. Keep in mind that my prefaces are always short, so the regular chapters will be nice and longer.

See you guys later!