The Unforgiven One
Title: The Unforgiven One
Author:
fireflyepenance
Fandom: Legend of Zelda
Pairing/Characters: Sheik (not Zelda), mention of Impa, Zelda, Link
Summary: Sheik's life, or lack there of.
Author's Notes: It should be known that I really do not like songfics. I don't like reading them. I don't like writing them. That said, my Sheik-muse heard this song the other day and has been aggravating me ever since to get some writing in on this topic. The song in question is “The Unforgiven” by Metallica, though I listened to the Metallica version and the Apocalyptica version as I was writing this. I will only use the first few lines of lyrics here to set a scene, then I will just move on to write the various scenes that this song has inspired from there. This is mostly Sheik centered, but there's a little Sheik/Link in store.
New blood joins this earth
And quickly he's subdued
Through constant pained disgrace
The young boy learns their rules
1.
They called him Sheik and it was no honor to do so. Impa watched the boy as two of her men pried him from his mother's arms. If she had remembered how, she might have shed a tear or two. The boy was determined, the woman weak and unworthy to be called Sheikah. The noise alone was irritating and loud. While it took time, the boy was pried away and slung over one's shoulder. The woman slid to the ground, her eyes brimming with tears. Helpless.
Impa just stared, not judging, not speaking.
“You! You would do this to me? Why him? Why my son?!” she bellowed with all hate and pain in her voice, in her eyes. Impa kept staring, and never even blinked. She turned and without word, her men followed her, the boy wailing and the mother sobbing into her own hands now.
The woman was her sister. The boy, her nephew.
She never justified her actions to her sister or herself. It was their way, their laws. Sheik was a bastard and would be raised to be a soldier.
Their way, the way of Shadows.
It was hours later when she found herself studying the boy with the scarlet eyes. He was still sniffling, with his knees drawn up to his chest and glaring at her with all his heart in those eyes. She would have smirked.
“Do you hate me?” she asked mildly. Sheik said nothing but after a long time he nodded. She wondered how old he was. Four or five. It was hard to tell with such a skinny child. “That is good.” Impa murmured, more to herself than to the child.
She turned and left the chamber.
2.
He cried out despite himself and crumbled. The knife went tumbling out of his hand, and he clutched his arm close to his chest. Blonde hair fell into his face, and he was gasping for air. The older Sheikah stood over him, unimpressed but still. It was his eighth birthday.
He knew he had to stand. He had to stand. He kept telling himself that until one shaky leg slid under him, and then the other. He pushed upward, still clutching his arm to his chest. He turned to face his instructor.
The older Sheikah backhanded him and sent him sprawling to the ground once more.
“Sheikah show no weakness.” the woman said without heat, without hate. It was a fact she stated, nothing more. Sheik closed his eyes and rose again, ignoring the sharp pain in his arm, and the stinging welt on his cheek.
3.
He was ten when he was presented to the princess. Destiny, they said, had made itself clear. He would be the princess's shadow, her will, and an extension of her life. They met in her private courtyard, and Sheik did not so much as look at her, his eyes kept politely down until he was bade do otherwise.
Impa was near him, but she kept silent as she watched her charge and the Sheikah boy interact.
“What is your name?” Zelda finally asked. Her voice was sure but light. There was always such light clinging to her voice. Sheik noticed it, and part of him hated it.
“I am Sheik.” he said matter-of-factly. Zelda ducked her head a bit to catch his eye, and it worked. He blinked. She smiled.
“I am Zelda, Sheik. I hope we can be friends.” she said. Sheik did not smile. It would be the princess's goal to get him to smile.
4.
“Sheik, you know I wouldn't ask if I had any other choice.” Her hand clenched his forearm, and he could nearly feel her desperation. He looked at her, and knew that it would be selfishness to deny her. She was almost as tall as him now. How long had it been since the fall? Four years? Four years now that Ganon ruled over the ashes of her father.
The Sheikah village they inhabited was remote, far from the troubles of Hyrule, but the princess itched to return. She only asked the use of his body to do it.
And he knew he would not deny her.
“Your will is my life.” he said too softly, wishing he had the strength to deny her. His mind was not his own.
5.
He was part of it all. He felt, he saw, he knew what Zelda did with his flesh. At times, her will slept within him. He did little with his free will.
Until he saw the Hero for the first time, and felt hope for the first time in his life.
Zelda's words formed on his lips, and he had no means to do anything else. He watched the Hero, standing there with the Master Sword gripped firmly in his hand, and he believed for a moment in hope.
6.
He came more often than Zelda would have liked. The temple songs were her. She could play the harp, not he. Sometimes, he would follow the Hero to make sure he was alright. He remembered fear, pain, and jealousy. All of them were emotions foreign to him, and he tasted them gingerly.
Until Kakariko Village. It was him in control as Impa's village burned to the ground around him. Zelda was screaming at him to let her out, but he'd held on. He'd vowed to protect the Hero and the princess and to do that, he needed to seal the well more firmly before the evil inside broke free.
He was too late. When he came to, Zelda had already wrenched controlled away from him. His vow already broken, he slipped into his own sleep.
He knew regret.
7.
Their deal had been fulfilled to the letter. She returned his body. In the process, she killed him. Oh, his physical body lived on. Zelda could never have lived with herself if she had killed him. No, she had simply protected his existence by claiming it to be a figment she created.
He should thank her.
He saw the shock on Link's face, and it was the last thing he did see. He was hurtled back to the place the spell had originally been cast. Shocked Sheikah scurried around him as he fumbled, fighting to his feet. Faces he couldn't have put names to. Three years since he'd seen any of them.
He flew. He stole a horse and rode for Ganon's Castle as fast as he could. Despite nearly killing the beast, he made it in time to see Ganon fall. Elation filled him, and he was actually laughing, his cowl half falling from his face. He wanted to stumble forward. He wanted to look the Hero over for injuries. He wanted skin to touch skin, in reassurance that everyone was still alive.
But then they were gone, in a blinding light. Sheik slid to the ground, knees striking rock, then hands. Gone. Sheik knew what Zelda would do. She was the Sage of Time after all. She would give Link his lost years.
And Sheik would never see Link again. He would have cried, if he had remembered how.
Author:
fireflyepenanceFandom: Legend of Zelda
Pairing/Characters: Sheik (not Zelda), mention of Impa, Zelda, Link
Summary: Sheik's life, or lack there of.
Author's Notes: It should be known that I really do not like songfics. I don't like reading them. I don't like writing them. That said, my Sheik-muse heard this song the other day and has been aggravating me ever since to get some writing in on this topic. The song in question is “The Unforgiven” by Metallica, though I listened to the Metallica version and the Apocalyptica version as I was writing this. I will only use the first few lines of lyrics here to set a scene, then I will just move on to write the various scenes that this song has inspired from there. This is mostly Sheik centered, but there's a little Sheik/Link in store.
And quickly he's subdued
Through constant pained disgrace
The young boy learns their rules
1.
They called him Sheik and it was no honor to do so. Impa watched the boy as two of her men pried him from his mother's arms. If she had remembered how, she might have shed a tear or two. The boy was determined, the woman weak and unworthy to be called Sheikah. The noise alone was irritating and loud. While it took time, the boy was pried away and slung over one's shoulder. The woman slid to the ground, her eyes brimming with tears. Helpless.
Impa just stared, not judging, not speaking.
“You! You would do this to me? Why him? Why my son?!” she bellowed with all hate and pain in her voice, in her eyes. Impa kept staring, and never even blinked. She turned and without word, her men followed her, the boy wailing and the mother sobbing into her own hands now.
The woman was her sister. The boy, her nephew.
She never justified her actions to her sister or herself. It was their way, their laws. Sheik was a bastard and would be raised to be a soldier.
Their way, the way of Shadows.
It was hours later when she found herself studying the boy with the scarlet eyes. He was still sniffling, with his knees drawn up to his chest and glaring at her with all his heart in those eyes. She would have smirked.
“Do you hate me?” she asked mildly. Sheik said nothing but after a long time he nodded. She wondered how old he was. Four or five. It was hard to tell with such a skinny child. “That is good.” Impa murmured, more to herself than to the child.
She turned and left the chamber.
2.
He cried out despite himself and crumbled. The knife went tumbling out of his hand, and he clutched his arm close to his chest. Blonde hair fell into his face, and he was gasping for air. The older Sheikah stood over him, unimpressed but still. It was his eighth birthday.
He knew he had to stand. He had to stand. He kept telling himself that until one shaky leg slid under him, and then the other. He pushed upward, still clutching his arm to his chest. He turned to face his instructor.
The older Sheikah backhanded him and sent him sprawling to the ground once more.
“Sheikah show no weakness.” the woman said without heat, without hate. It was a fact she stated, nothing more. Sheik closed his eyes and rose again, ignoring the sharp pain in his arm, and the stinging welt on his cheek.
3.
He was ten when he was presented to the princess. Destiny, they said, had made itself clear. He would be the princess's shadow, her will, and an extension of her life. They met in her private courtyard, and Sheik did not so much as look at her, his eyes kept politely down until he was bade do otherwise.
Impa was near him, but she kept silent as she watched her charge and the Sheikah boy interact.
“What is your name?” Zelda finally asked. Her voice was sure but light. There was always such light clinging to her voice. Sheik noticed it, and part of him hated it.
“I am Sheik.” he said matter-of-factly. Zelda ducked her head a bit to catch his eye, and it worked. He blinked. She smiled.
“I am Zelda, Sheik. I hope we can be friends.” she said. Sheik did not smile. It would be the princess's goal to get him to smile.
4.
“Sheik, you know I wouldn't ask if I had any other choice.” Her hand clenched his forearm, and he could nearly feel her desperation. He looked at her, and knew that it would be selfishness to deny her. She was almost as tall as him now. How long had it been since the fall? Four years? Four years now that Ganon ruled over the ashes of her father.
The Sheikah village they inhabited was remote, far from the troubles of Hyrule, but the princess itched to return. She only asked the use of his body to do it.
And he knew he would not deny her.
“Your will is my life.” he said too softly, wishing he had the strength to deny her. His mind was not his own.
5.
He was part of it all. He felt, he saw, he knew what Zelda did with his flesh. At times, her will slept within him. He did little with his free will.
Until he saw the Hero for the first time, and felt hope for the first time in his life.
Zelda's words formed on his lips, and he had no means to do anything else. He watched the Hero, standing there with the Master Sword gripped firmly in his hand, and he believed for a moment in hope.
6.
He came more often than Zelda would have liked. The temple songs were her. She could play the harp, not he. Sometimes, he would follow the Hero to make sure he was alright. He remembered fear, pain, and jealousy. All of them were emotions foreign to him, and he tasted them gingerly.
Until Kakariko Village. It was him in control as Impa's village burned to the ground around him. Zelda was screaming at him to let her out, but he'd held on. He'd vowed to protect the Hero and the princess and to do that, he needed to seal the well more firmly before the evil inside broke free.
He was too late. When he came to, Zelda had already wrenched controlled away from him. His vow already broken, he slipped into his own sleep.
He knew regret.
7.
Their deal had been fulfilled to the letter. She returned his body. In the process, she killed him. Oh, his physical body lived on. Zelda could never have lived with herself if she had killed him. No, she had simply protected his existence by claiming it to be a figment she created.
He should thank her.
He saw the shock on Link's face, and it was the last thing he did see. He was hurtled back to the place the spell had originally been cast. Shocked Sheikah scurried around him as he fumbled, fighting to his feet. Faces he couldn't have put names to. Three years since he'd seen any of them.
He flew. He stole a horse and rode for Ganon's Castle as fast as he could. Despite nearly killing the beast, he made it in time to see Ganon fall. Elation filled him, and he was actually laughing, his cowl half falling from his face. He wanted to stumble forward. He wanted to look the Hero over for injuries. He wanted skin to touch skin, in reassurance that everyone was still alive.
But then they were gone, in a blinding light. Sheik slid to the ground, knees striking rock, then hands. Gone. Sheik knew what Zelda would do. She was the Sage of Time after all. She would give Link his lost years.
And Sheik would never see Link again. He would have cried, if he had remembered how.