Chapter II - Castle Gossip

by H7

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Sheik P.O.V

Disclaimer : I don't own Legend of Zelda. . .I don't own Sheik, or Link, or Zelda, or Malon, or the Castle Guards, or Impa, or Talon. . .(need I go on?)

Warnings : This story contains yaoi and violence, gore, and language. The rating of this story may eventually increase to an 'r' rating.

[Blah blah blah,] - thoughts.

Blah blah blah. . . - flashbacks

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". . .That is all for today."

I nod, inwardly sighing with relief. Ever since the events of this evening (over ten hours ago), I have been sent on a wild goose chase, hunting down hints and leads as to any information about the attack on the Queen and her entourage.

As I said, it has been nothing but a wild goose chase.

I glance up briefly at my Queen, and she motions for me to stand. I do so, trying to keep my movements respectful - I do not wish to anger her. . .Not that the Queen Zelda is easy to anger. In fact, it has been tried, by many a cunning diplomat, to force her into unreasonable anger.

They've never succeeded.

Well. . .Except that one time, but the situation was more than understandable.

The Hero was a touchy subject for a long time with the Queen, and it was no surprise to anyone that she raged when someone put forth the idea that he could be the traitor amongst our ranks.

It was also an impossible theory, as the Hero has only just come back recently.

He couldn't have been behind the treachery. . .He was not here, and none of the Sheikah spies reported seeing him in any part of the country. . .Whoever has been selling us out has hidden himself well.

My Queen looks deeply into my eyes, her soul searching mine. I force myself to loose the steel that has formed there, created by such dismal thoughts of war.

"Sheik?" she asks, and for one moment I almost cringe behind my cowl, fearing yet more work even though the sun is already appearing on the horizon, ". . .Perhaps you should go talk with Lady Impa. . .I hear she wants to speak to you."

I nod briskly, giving my Queen a bow as I leave. If my mother has words to exchange with me. . . It worries me slightly, as I know things are not good right now - almost any news is going to be bad news, or focused on moral issues and Link.

That last thought sends a shudder of guilt throughout my being, and though not in the presence of anyone, I advert my eyes down to the ground.

But. . .I really have no reason to be feeling guilty, right?

[Besides the fact you turned him, an innocent boy, into a monster? No, not really.]

But that wasn't necessarily my fault, now was it? It could have been something else-

". . I cannot remain about just to be your 'friend', there are far more important things."

[It was completely your fault.]

I sigh lightly - almost soundlessly - beneath my cowl. Perhaps I have sinned. . .

When I finally raise my eyes again, I realize that my feet have taken me directly to the entrance of my mother's quarters. Her's is right next to her Highness', while mine in lower in the castle, in the first basement. It will be a bit of a trek to get back down to the lower floors, but I do not have a shift in the morning, which means that I can get some rest.

I raise my right hand to the door, tentatively knocking. My mother has always been a private person, and I have learned more than once the hard way not to enter without permission. My mother, loving as she is, can be very strict when rules are broken.

"Enter," the words are heard but muffled by the door.

I push open the door with a turn of the knob, and the old wood creaks in protest. On the other side is a rather homely setting - warm fire in a beautiful fireplace, a large bed, paintings on the walls. . .It doesn't look like the home of a Sheikah (we, by reputation, prefer to remain cold) but my mother is different than most. She, having been Zelda's nanny for over eighteen years, has become accustomed to politics and life out in the open, and has adjusted accordingly.

A bare, cold room would cause unwanted suspicions.

The Lady Impa greets me with a motherly smile, sitting on the edge of her bed still dressed in her guardian uniform. She gestures me to move over toward her, and sit down beside her. I do, feeling oddly timid.

"You wished to speak with me, my Lady?"

She turns her head away for one brief moment, and I know why. She has never appreciated the formal attitude that I have expressed toward her - everyone - but she knows that I am not about to give it up anytime soon. Over time, she learned to, for the most part, simply dismiss my behavior, no matter how proper it is.

"How has your day been, son?"

"There has been better," I reply, switching over to the Sheikah language, "The Queen asked me to check some of our connections. I found nothing. . .Very little at all." Back into the common tongue, "Yourself?"

It is her turn to switch, and she does so in a hesitant manner, ". . .I was requested to monitor the Hero," she states, watching my expression carefully, ". . .He was acting oddly." I feel my face blanche beneath my guise.

"How so?" I ask, my voice an unusual hushed whisper. She sighs heavily.

". . .I am not sure. I did not report it with her Highness, as I have no definite proof. . .But I think that some one should be keeping an eye on him. . ."

"You don't possibly mean me, do you?" My eyes narrow ever so slightly. That smile returns to her face.

"Why not? Who could I trust more than my very own son? I expect no less from you than I do from myself."

"But. . .I, but. . ."

"What? The Almighty Sheik, stuttering?" She smirks ever so lightly, and my frown deepens. My mother often tries to 'open' me up to the world around me, and supposedly mocking my pride somehow accomplishes this.

"I'm afraid that I will have to decline, my Lady," I put extra emphasis on the word, just to watch her joyous mood crumble, "The Queen will most likely have me on duty tonight for the same reasons as yesterday, and thus I shall have no time to watch over the Hero." I almost spit the name out at the end, like some foul disease.

My mother does not look overly shocked, but instead mildly. . .Upset. Sad. . .I don't know why she would be taking this so much to heart-

"Then. . .If you will not accept this request from me. . .Will you at least see him? . . .He may not show it, but I am sure that he could use a little compassion-"

"M'Lady, he brushed me off earlier. Laughed right in my face. He could use a little compassion on his part, but there's nothing-"

". . .Please?" My gaze drops.

". . ." I trace out the figures on her bed quilt with one finger, almost childishly. I find it strange for my mother, of all people, to have a warm pink quilt on her bed. . .I never figured her on for such colors, ". . .All right. . ."

"Tonight, even?" She briefly glances out the window on the stone wall opposite the door, "Hm, it is later than I thought. . .But, you will see him?"

"Yes," a pause, "I promise."

"That's a good boy," she scruffs up my hair, "There's. . .I don't know anymore, but I do think that it will help him to see you."

"I will see what I can do." That's a lie. . .Even if I wanted to, I doubt this. . .This Link will let me get close enough to find out what has happened in the eight years since he was last here.

"Alright then," she says, giving me one of her warm smiles, "Be off, child."

I begin to move toward the door, and just as I reach for the handle, I look back over my shoulder at my mother, who sits where she was before, looking a slight bit more tired.

"M'La-. . .Mother?"

"Yes?"

"What's. . .What's wrong with him? What could have caused him to change so?"

". . .I don't know. . .I don't know. . ."

I accept the answer with a nod, and exit the room, shutting the door with a click.

My feet soon begin to lead me down the familiar paths leading to the lower levels of the castle. It is a long trip, and maybe it is because of the time that I use that simple fact as a reason not to go to find the Hero. As guilty as I feel, I find no reason in going to see Link. . .After all, he didn't look too in need of help, to me.

The marbled white hallways of this castle are grayed in the dark night, and oranged by the torches that line the halls. I pass several guards - all of whom give me strange looks - but I do not bother to hide my appearance. The Lady Impa made it clear that she wished for me to walk around normally, as other methods tend to frighten the guards and cause suspicion.

As I round a corner, about to head down a flight of stairs, I hear voices at the bottom. . .As all Sheikah are trained to know everything about the guards, I easily recognize their voices. . . But with as late as it is, I do not bother to even form their names in my mind. Instead, I continue walking like it's no one's business but my own (and in a sense, that's true).

"Did you see him?"

"No, what's he like?"

"Looks real freaky, I mean, almost unnatural." Ah, the uneducated speech of the lower guards. . . They seem to only know enough to act polite when given direct orders, but when amongst themselves, their way with words diminishes completely. The Lady Impa told me once that the castle is really the last place where people still use the more formal methods of speech.

I wonder. . .Does Link talk this way now?

"Really? Why'd they let him in?"

"You didn't hear?"

I ignore the two, and decide to just slink past them, allowing them to continue their conversation undisturbed. It does not matter to me what they talk about or whom, just as long as they are not asleep or dead in some corner.

"No. . .You know I only work the night shift. . .I am always the last to hear these things."

"Well, supposedly," a rustle of movement, and then a whisper that can't escape my sensitive ears.

". . .He saved the Queen."

My movements freeze and I go numb at the words.

"Really?" An excited whisper, slowly gaining volume.

"Yeah, yeah! I'm serious. Saved the entire group!"

"No way. . .What was he against?"

"A pack of Wolfos and two Stalfos."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"No way. . .That's like, impossible."

"I'm not kidding you - does it look like I'm kidding you? I'm serious. . .Saved the Queen, the Lady Impa, and even that Sheikah boy, too."

"Wow. . .Why do they trust him though? You said he looks unnatural."

"Looks like a ghost, I tell ya. Just like some Goddess damned specter out of one of those old fairy tales. Just awful. Skinny, pale, his hair's nearly white-"

"Yikes."

"But that's not the least of it! He wears all black and I have yet to see him smile - it's creepy, mind you - but his eyes. Oh, they just stare back out at you!"

"Why? Beady little things?"

"Nah! It's just that. . .Everything else on him is so pale, but yet his eyes. . .They just about glow. I swear it! His eyes are unbelievably bright. Cold and condescending, mind you. Really much so. Always narrowed in hate, they are."

"Then why do they let him in? Is the Queen repeating her father's - bless the old King's soul - mistake? He let in Ganondorf - this man seems no better."

"They let him in because he's the Hero of Time, apparently."

"No, it can't be. . .Not from what you say. The Hero was a good kid. . ."

Sheik shook his head and began walking off again, still slinking in the shadows until he was out of ear shot. Those two - damn how their name's continued to escape him at the moment - were the gossipers of the castle. . .Of course, they were also a useful way of gathering the opinion of the guards. . .The knights, well, there was a harder deal. Usually had to listen in and watch each and every one of them for about four days. . .

Down the final hallway to my tiny, cramped quarters, and I find my brain almost dead from the work I've done today. All I have is the echoing of words spoken running through my head, over and over and over, coupled with a now dull anger in the back of my mind. It's hard to make sense even of what I am supposed to be mad at.

Maybe a good night sleep will let me think clearer. . .It's been a while since I've had a goodnight sleep. . .

I push open the door of my little room, hardly larger than one of the cells in the basement. The walls are of cold grey stone, as is common in the basement levels in the castle, and of course, no window. I have very little decorating the place - a small dresser for clothes, a small bed, and a few little things that the Queen and my mother have gotten me over the years. It doesn't make an difference to me. . .Right now all that matters to me is the cold white sheets of the bed before me.

I fall down without grace, without caring, burying my face deep into the pillow, and dream.

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A/N : So, finally chapter two of cruel is done. A bit short, but it is better than I planned it, I think. Anyway, please review!