Sheik had heard though the whispers of the spirits that resided in Hyrule Castle of a grave marked for the Cursed Swordsman that slept beneath a tree. Though he knew it was a long shot Sheik was unable but to sate his curiosity by seeking it out. The Sheikah, wanderer and last of his people, commoner with the dead, easily followed their quiet whispers toward the very sacred tree they spoke of and the spot where the supposed grave rested. It was unmarked, untouched by time but the rough soil easily gave away where the grave would be. No flowers grew around or on it, no life apart from the tree existed and it struck a very pain filled cord within the warrior.
The spirits that gathered around the gave parted when he arrived, distancing themselves from the red eyed Sheikah that spotted them with ease. He didn’t spare them a glance as he stepped up to the side of the grave, gaze cast downward toward it as he considered actually going through with it. Would he just–upset the man by being here? Was he even welcomed or should he leave? Deciding he had to do it, the Warrior knelt beside the dirt and fell into a silence.
For a good hour he just sat there, mind full of chaos and hands clenched around his knees. The spirits started to get restless, perhaps thinking Sheik was going to starve or dehydrate down here and join them. He had no intention of that, he just needed to organize his thoughts. He also wanted to make sure that the swordsman was listening.
When another hour rolled through Sheik finally turned, neck cracking from being so stiff and radiating a pain through his body. He looked to the grave and then reached his right hand up, trembling finger hooking along the edge of the mask and yanking it down. He removed the cowl, dropping it beside him and then trailed his hands up to unravel the turban. Face exposed, sharp curved features barren to the cold air, he sat everything down beside him and pulled his long braid over his shoulder.
It’s the first words out of his mouth, a sad smile on his face as he glanced upward. The leaves of the tree moved with it’s branches despite the area being void of any wind, it was incredibly chilly in here but Sheik didn’t feel it. If anything he felt numb, his heart heavier than anything else as he sat beside the unmarked grave.
❝ You died alone, unknown for the things you did and we all knew it would happen. Zelda, Impa–even myself. We played you along like a puppet, strung to the command of the Goddess knowing that once you returned to your time, no one would remember. ❞ Zelda remembered, he remembered, but Sheik was sure very little of that mattered in the long run. Link had considered him a friend, he relied on Sheik, and it felt as if the Warrior had tricked him into believing in him, into caring for him just to end up like this. An unmarked grave forced to wander and unable to finish his duty. Full of regret.
Sheik hadn’t wanted that for him, none of them had wanted that. They used him, they were all aware of that, and then when the end came and he was no longer useful they discarded him without considering how it would effect Link. His hands fisted around his knees again and Sheik bit his lip, fully visible without the mask and cowl. ❝ You must resent us, and rightfully so. We stole your childhood, forced you into a role to big for a child and expected you to face everything without being effected by it. ❞ Stick to the shadows, don’t get attached, the Hero has a task to do. He did that and yet he had still gotten attached, Sheik cared for him and that made this hurt all the more.
❝ I know you won’t believe me, but all I wished for after you defeated Ganondorf, was to find happiness in your own time, Link. ❞ Sheik blinked and then clenched his teeth together roughly as a few tears slipped down his cheeks. He didn’t believe the Hero found happiness, instead he focused on that anger and went off seeking more battles. He heard of Termina. Had he really been so scarred from everything that he only found satisfaction in fighting more monsters? Hadn’t he thought of his own happiness once he was freed?
Sheik wanted him to be happy. Look where that got him?
Shaking his head Sheik sighed and reached behind him, drawing out the Lyre and a small wrapped package. Resting both items down he first undid the wrap and opened it up, revealing a few things tucked inside. First he picked up the small vase of flowers, sitting it on top of the grave and then he grabbed the little wooden plaque. Carved into the wood was LINK HERO OF TIME and the Sheikah placed that at the top of the grave where it belonged. The last item he dragged out was a green cap, worn through time and torn in places. He had repaired it as best he could but given everything the child hero had gone through it was all but a lost cause. Sheik placed that beside the plaque and then picked up the Lyre.
The song he played carried a heavy note, slow and remorseful in tune. He could feel the spirits in the area gather around, listening and he let his eyes close as the sound of the Lyre consumed them all. It wasn’t much, in fact he barely considered it anything in exchange for all the grief they had caused Link, but there wasn’t much he could offer the Hero now that he was gone.
When the song came to an end his fingers fell to his lap, gaze returning to the grave once more. ❝ Forgive me, Link. ❞
His life had hardly been what anyone would have called ideal. It was something that Link was always... vaguely aware of. In the back of his mind, in the spot where pain and hurt sat and his thoughts could work away at it like a tongue prodding at a loose tooth, the acknowledgement of his own disjointed upbringing and his own unwellbeing existed. It was a place that he had always danced away from, not knowing how to truly process what he had gone through, and equally not wanting to.
Choice... was something that had rarely, if ever, been given to Link. There had been the illusion of it, the idea that he could say ‘yes’ or ‘no’, that he could rebuke the tasks laid before him, that he could allow Hyrule to slip and stay in darkness, but that was a lie. There was no choice. There was no chance that he would say no. It wasn’t in his nature.
Whether that was truly by choice or by design, who could ever know. And who would want to know? Worrying over such a think could easily drive a man to madness.
The lack of recognition and of remembrance hadn’t hurt, but there was no denying that Link was-- separate from the Hylians around him after returning to his time. He wasn’t a Hylian, but wasn’t Kokiri, and he had a mind full of memories that hadn’t and would never truly happen.
He had drifted away. To Termina and to the lands that lay beyond, nearly losing life and limb time and time again to try to scratch at the itch that had wormed its way into the back of his thoughts. The lose of Navi had made him even more separated; he had lost his only source of communication and a barrier had been erected between him and those he was meant to protect.
Eventually the reaper did catch up to him. Eventually he did lose his life. A nasty wound had taken his eye and infection had started to slow and painful process of burning through his veins and robbing him of himself. In his last moments Link had dragged himself back to the woods that had once been his home before passing away. Quietly, alone, and unceremoniously.
At the sight of Sheik before the now-marked grave. The pain and sorrow in his tone were so very evident and it ached to hear that. He had never wanted to cause pain, and now his very existence (or lack thereof) was doing nothing but.
A twist of wind tossed stray leaves, grass, and twigs into the air as the Hero’s spirit began to take form. The scars of his battles were present even as a ghost, along with his blood-stained tunic and sad smile as he reached out to let a hand gently rest against Sheik’s shoulder.
Unfortunately, even death hadn’t restored his ability to speak.
