Disclaimer: I don't own anything even remotely related to The Legend of Zelda. I've actually only played through Ocarina of Time and Majora's Mask, so I'm not even a true devotee. Don't sue.
When Push Comes to Shove
by: thelittletree
(Sorry, I know there isn't much action going on in this fic. I actually didn't mean to spend so much dang time building the characters and situation. Oh well, it's done. And, no worries to some of you die-hard Zelda fans! I don't mean to mess with too much of the canon stuff. Though I may dabble, just a tad. Try to keep an open mind! Think 'what if'.By the way, thanks for reading and for reviews! Heh, I'm surprised every time someone wanders over from my FFVII fanfic to read this. Thanks much for believing this might not suck!)
"Lift your leg higher, like this. Higher."
Sheik stood on one foot in the middle of the glade, one leg out at a steady right angle from the rest of him as if it was the simplest thing in the world to do. His tone, and what the princess could see of his expression, seemed to be getting more impatient by the moment.
"I can't move it higher," Zelda said, and it was the absolute truth. It was also difficult to keep her balance with the wind blowing the leaves overhead, and a squirrel in a nearby tree chattering angrily at the invasion of its privacy. She had thought in the beginning that an enclosed glade was the perfect place to practice, free of distractions. Free of distractions if you had grown up knowing these distractions by heart, she'd realized too late. The castle courtyard had never been so busy with movement and noise.
Sheik dropped his leg and sighed heavily, and Zelda caught a quick glimpse of his face as he brushed his bangs back, before the stubborn fall of hair returned to cover it. He had a high forehead, well-spaced eyes, and what appeared to be a straight, strong nose. And cheeks that, had he been anything but Sheikah, she could easily imagine split with an impish grin now and then.
"I can't teach you if you're not going to try," he reproached her, as if they'd been at this for hours instead of only a few minutes..
"I am trying," she insisted, softening her tone almost immediately. If both of them were frustrated, the last thing they needed was for one of them to get angry. "I just can't…hold myself like this." She gave her own sigh and put her foot back on the ground, perturbed by the ache of untested muscles. No princess, in all the generations of princesses before her, she was sure, had ever had any reason to do anything so tediously strenuous.
"Let's take a break, then." He kicked indifferently at a patch of grass and sat down. Zelda thought about how much time she probably had left before someone missed her, and then sat down, too. They could take a short break, she decided. Though she wasn't about to let him give up on her so easily.
They had chosen spots about five yards apart from each other, but the grass came up just an inch or two shy of their shoulders. Zelda felt suddenly shielded and very comfortable, surrounded on all sides by this barrier of green. No wonder Sheik came here to escape classes; no wonder he'd wanted to claim it for his own. It did feel very private and secure from the rest of the world. She supposed it was a kind of compliment to have been invited back.
"So, what does your guardian do for you at the castle?"
Ah yes, now Zelda remembered their bargain. She picked casually at the head of a weed as she thought. "Well, she used to help me dress and draw me baths. And she would attend me at dinner and at bedtime and during my lessons." In the end, she realized, it didn't sound like a very appealing job. Impa had said she was there to protect the royal family; what protecting had she ever had to do before now? "She guarded me from harm, I suppose, during the day. And her chamber was connected to mine in case I needed her protection during the night."
Sheik seemed to continue listening for a moment even after she'd finished speaking. "Is that all?" he asked finally.
"Well, no. She brought me here when the castle was under attack."
"Under attack." It wasn't a question; it was almost a wistful whisper. "Who attacked you?" he demanded, his tone direct and brooking no discretion in what she was learning to accept was simply his way; he probably didn't even realize how imperious he sounded most of the time.
"A Gerudo man who wanted my father's throne," she said, and silently added 'and the Triforce'. "Impa saved me to protect my bloodline, and so that I can return to help rescue Hyrule when the time is ready."
"When will that be?"
He was leaning forward, she realized, the eye she could see wide and attentive. His iris was almost a dark enough blue to be considered purple. He was not like the rest of the Sheikah around her, she thought for a second time. And not like her. She was completely happy with her life as a princess. Sometimes, she admitted, she had wished for more freedoms, but on the whole she hadn't dreamed often enough about adventure to make her despise her destiny. He, on the other hand, seemed completely unsatisfied with his position as the Orator's son. She felt a strange, vague sort of pity for him; if she hadn't wanted to be queen, but had known deep-down that she would probably someday have to be, she imagined she would want to escape, too.
"I don't know," she answered, and the very uncertainty made her sure that she was going to have to make herself as ready as possible, as soon as possible. Who said the day for revenge couldn't be as close as tomorrow? "We have to wait at least until the Hero of Time has the Master Sword. Impa says I will know when the time comes." Her eyes fell automatically to the back of her hand, as if she expected to see the evidence of what was inside of her glowing as she spoke. But there was nothing. She turned her eyes away again, half afraid to call it unnecessarily to the surface.
"How will you know?"
Zelda sighed. "I don't know," she repeated and got to her feet, wiping stray bits of grass from her clothes. "Will you show me again, how to do that exercise?"
Sheik didn't stand right away, and the princess had the feeling he had other questions he wanted to ask her about her guardian and life in the castle. But they only had so much time.
He seemed to realize it, too. His mouth tightened briefly into what was almost a resigned frown before he got up in one brisk, fluid motion. "All right. Maybe you just need…practice."
She nodded and, determined to watch him carefully, came a full three steps closer.
By the time she reappeared on the school yard, Zelda had managed to complete a couple of clumsy moves and felt at least a little better about the training. It wasn't impossible; Sheik had been right, she just needed some practice. As Impa had said, her muscles would adapt, but they needed her time and diligence and patience, something most of the Sheikah here seemed to carry in abundance.
She rejoined the group of children as the circle broke apart, just as she had the other day, and felt relieved at first to think that no one had noticed her slip away this second time either. But then she felt someone's gaze on the back of her neck. She debated, for a moment, the decision to turn around; it might be considered an admission of guilt if the person thought they'd seen something. But then she couldn't help it. What if they knew the truth?
It was a pretty-ish girl, taller than herself, with long nut brown hair that almost fell in curls and an expression that seemed somewhat calculating, as if she'd guessed where Zelda had been and was trying to decide how best to use the information to her advantage. The princess tried to smile a little, as if she didn't suspect why someone might be watching her, and followed the rest of the children into the building.
The next day, the princess caught a glimpse of Sheik for a moment outside of his forest. On her way to school, a ripple of a familiar blue in her peripheral vision made her turn her head, and there he was, darting from behind one final village dwelling before ducking into the school yard. She wondered, at first, if he was thinking about attending.
But he wasn't in the classroom when she sat down at her desk. His father, however, was. The Orator stood at the front of the room speaking in low, urgent tones with the teacher, and the few words Zelda was able to catch, not that she was obviously listening, led her to believe the Orator had meant to bring his son straight to school, and Sheik had managed to elude him, again, in a moment of distraction.
He was a stubborn boy, determined to get his own way no matter the consequences. She could at least say that about him. But, as she was learning, sometimes running and hiding wasn't the best way to follow your dreams. Though he would have to learn that himself, and probably the hard way.
"Excuse me, Orator."
Zelda turned with all of the other eyes in the room to look at the owner of the voice. It was that girl, the princess noted with a momentary flash of unease; the girl who had stared the day before when she'd come back from the glade, as if she had known exactly what she'd been up to. She was standing at the back, her face set and her chin lifted in a kind of resolved certainty; her eyes, however, still appeared to Zelda to have a kind of calculating remoteness to them.
The instructor stepped forward to address his student as the Orator frowned at the unexpected interruption. "The Orator is very busy, Crea. What do you wish to say?"
"There is someone here who knows where your son is, Orator."
Zelda felt something cold and heavy drop into her stomach even as her face began to flush. No, no, she was going to get into trouble, she hadn't meant to cause any trouble, she'd just wanted things to work out, she wasn't really involved…
The Orator stepped forward then, not bothering to wait for the instructor to ask. "Who?" His eyes were suddenly on all of them. "Which of you knows? Where is he?"
Zelda felt her teeth inadvertently chatter together as she breathed. But it was probably better to own up to the knowledge than to be pointed out. She licked her lips. "I do."
The Orator's eyes were as gray and steely as she remembered when he looked at her and she felt as small and vulnerable as she had in the dim, stone council room. She put her hands in her lap to keep them from trembling. He recognized her, she saw after a second, even without her dress and headpiece. The Hylian, she could almost hear him thinking.
"Where did you see him, child?" His voice had softened marginally, though his expression remained as indomitable as before.
Zelda lowered her face. She had committed herself; she couldn't back down now. But Sheik…she hadn't meant to give him away. He'd been helping her, and she'd sort of hoped he would continue to help her. How was it that she kept becoming responsible for things she barely understood? "In the trees, behind the school. The glade," she answered, unable to raise her eyes.
The Orator was away with a flutter of his robe. The instructor followed him for a couple of steps, as if he would lend a hand himself, but then he seemed to remember his place. "Edrich, go help the Orator find his son."
"Yes, Father."
The other children were looking at her, Zelda knew, but she only spared a glance for their curious, unreadable gazes. The only one that gave her much pause was the gaze of the girl, Crea, who was again seated calmly at her desk and looking coolly at the princess as if she'd won something from her. Zelda wasn't sure what to make of that, so she turned forward and determined to simply sit and do as she was told for the rest of her stay.
It was less than an hour later when the Orator and the instructor's son returned, the Orator firmly leading a sullen, grass-smudged Sheik by the elbow. Sheik had been crying, Zelda could see, though now he was silent and staring resentfully at the floor. His father escorted him decisively to a desk and practically forced him to take a seat.
"Now, you will stay here for the rest of the day, and tomorrow you will attend just as you are supposed to. I do not want to have to do this again."
A black cloud, still muffling and tense with spent thunder, seemed to hover over the room even after the Orator had left as Sheik roughly wiped at his eyes and opened his books. And, no matter how many times Zelda tried to assure herself that there was nothing else she could've done, it wasn't her fault, it would've happened someday anyway, the cold stone of guilt weighed heavily in her gut until the lunch hour.
Impa was waiting for her again and Zelda thought she'd never been so happy to see her guardian before. She was more than ready to spill out her side of the story, truancy and all, and especially to Impa who would understand that Zelda hadn't meant to do any wrong. But, before she could attract her guardian's attention, she was pulled aside at the door and dragged around a corner of the building.
"You told them," Sheik accused immediately, and the princess was somewhat taken aback by his anger. She'd never had anyone accuse her of anything before.
"I had to," she defended automatically. "Someone saw me coming from the forest."
He continued to glare at her as he absorbed this bit of information, though it didn't appear to do anything to cool his temper. "You didn't have to tell them I was there," he huffed. "You could've…"
Zelda didn't let him finish. She was not a troublemaker; she had never directly disobeyed her elders; she wasn't about to start now. "I wasn't going to lie," she told him firmly.
This seemed to surprise him, as if he'd never considered the things he'd been doing as bad behaviour.
It was hard to stay angry with him, she discovered then. He'd misbehaved, but only because his father seemed to be forcing him into things he didn't want to do. Now that he'd been brought back against his will who was there to blame but herself? She felt some returning sympathy despite herself and sighed. "Someone would've found you eventually. You couldn't have stayed forever in that forest."
"I wouldn't have stayed forever," Sheik protested, now mumbling toward his feet. "Just until my father realized…"
"Princess!"
Zelda glanced over her shoulder, but Impa wasn't yet in sight. She turned back to the Sheikah boy in front of her and wasn't sure what to say. "My guardian is looking for me," she told him finally. "I have to go."
She began to step away, but was arrested by his hand on her arm again. She looked back, entreating him to let go, not entirely sure what Impa might do if she found Zelda being restrained by a boy.
"Do you still want me to teach you the exercises?"
She was a little startled by the offer, considering how angry he'd been a minute ago. But then she realized. He was like an outsider among his own people: shunned and betrayed by his peers, independently defying his own destiny. Lonely, she thought, too. Perhaps she was the closest thing he'd ever had to a friend.
"Yes, all right. But only if you come to class and show me."
He smiled then. Not broadly, but his mouth was definitely curving out of its usual young gravity and even his expression, the look in the eye she could see, seemed to warm a little. Then he disappeared around the school house a moment before Impa found her.
Things changed quickly after that. Sheik began to teach her outside of the circle of the other children, far enough away to avoid attention, until she could do the training regime almost as well as he could. Her muscles ached, there were moments of frustration, she came home and cried more than once into the calm, reassuring embrace of her guardian. And her appetite rocketed.
She began to spend time outside, and began to grow less afraid of the Sheikah around her. Most of them were kind, if a little austere, and most of them were deferential to Impa and could be called upon to donate clothing. Most of them, she began to understand, were just living their lives to the best of their ability in a social system Zelda eventually began to recognize for its advantages as well as its drawbacks. No one went in want; no one was left without a vocation; every Sheikah was born into a sense of who they were as a part of a whole.
And Zelda began to feel almost as comfortable as she had in the castle.
And then Impa left.
Zelda was placed with a family who had a child of their own, the red-haired girl Zelda sat beside in class and had become acquaintances with. They kept her well-fed, gave her a comfortable, private place to sleep, cared for as well as Impa had done. But nothing was the same. Her guardian had been her last tie to who she really was: the princess of Hyrule. Without her, she felt like she was drifting, trying to find a foothold in a place that had no real place for outsiders.
Impa had kissed her. Smoothed back her hair. Told her to be strong and to keep up with her training, and she would be back very soon, in a month if she could. And Zelda had done her best not to beg her to stay, though she'd cried harder than she ever had before, as if her world was ending. It might've been the truth. Her father was dead; she was alone, an orphan, easily mistaken for a nobody.
It was like being delivered from a pit the day she came to realize what friendship was really for. When Sheik came to visit her one evening, holding something carefully wrapped in a cloth under his arm. When he took her to sit with him on the steps of Impa's stone house, their backs to the darkened windows, and lifted off the cloth to reveal a small harp.
He wasn't very good, the result of not enough practicing, Zelda thought. But it made her smile, even more when he attempted to teach her how to play.
She knew, then, that she would be all right. Things might never, ever be the same; she might never be the same princess she had been. But she would be all right.
And so a year passed.