Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Hyrule has a long history of brutality. Even in the oldest tales of their prosperous country, violence is carved into stone by their ancestors' hands. The battle for the Triforce between their patron goddess and the forefather of evil was only the beginning of their bloody history. Regardless of the ending of every tale, strife always comes knocking back on their door. Mages kidnapping princesses, young knights forging and wielding legendary swords and armies fighting foul demons to keep their holy lands safe. Their lands are built on myths and legends. There is no end to the prayers and suffering people must endure living in it. The Hylians did what they had to do. If they did not take up arms, it would be the annihilation of their race, of everything they had built. Nobody can blame someone for protecting their home.

It would be nice to believe that only the force outside their country is to blame for all the misery in life. It is easy to condemn something that cannot fight back and, when it does, is painted as the bad guy. They are different sides to a story, so many perspectives and details eroded over time. The winners write history, and the rest lie to the wayside. Never to be recovered from the shadows of the past. Like the old tales of glory and magic told as bedtime stories, the paint flakes as you grow older. Who knows what the past is like when only the lies remain? For what is knowledge good if only a few know it?

Vio closes his book, sighing as he stares at the weathered cover. The first hero's story is stored inside it, bundled up nicely in faded green. It is a simple book, more of a fairy tale than an accurate account of events. Vio doubts half of the things transcribed in it happened in the holy war between Hylia and the first demon king. However, knowledge is power. Vio would never throw away a book, even if it only contained drivel. Someone put their time into copying and binding the pages to be read. They might not have liked doing it, but work was still put into it. He cannot let someone's hard labour go to waste, not when 70% of his entertainment lies in the written word.

The pages are barely held together by twain and leather. He carefully places it back on the shelf, knowing the slightest wrong touch could make the looser pages fall to the ground. It will be a nightmare to clean up, and seeing as numbering pages is a new addition to literary works, Vio is not looking forward to figuring out what page comes first. Even though he knows the story like the back of his hand, it would still be a headache.

The room he is in is dark and smells like paper decay. It is cold, and the rough stone walls do not help keep the books in good condition in the small room. Much less keep Vio warm. But it is not like he can do much about it. This is his little sanctuary, a private library of forgotten literature and ancient scrolls. He would love to store them somewhere else, somewhere where the pages will not rot. But he fears that they will be found. Nobody cares about these texts. Otherwise, the royal scholars would have come to him with their heads in their hands – pleading with him to look for them before his fathe- the king has their heads for negligence. 

Still, Vio, of all people, owning a book is unacceptable. The paper used for these books is as good as the material his dear old king uses to wipe his arse. Nonetheless, being able to read and prove that he can despite his societal situation is unheard of. In his position, punishment is to be expected. Worst of all, his treasures will be taken away to be burned. To teach him a lesson, the king would titter gleefully. Trying to break Vio's poker face for even a glint of despair. It might have worked once upon a time. But he is older and wiser. The king will have to try harder to break his spirit. 

Vio leans back onto the stone-cold wall, letting the darkness envelop his mind. The lantern is dim enough not to bother him as he rummages through his thoughts. He breathes in and out, measuring his breath as he comes to himself.

Red's birthday was a week ago, and the festivities are only calming as of now. As lovely as the distraction has been, it is back to putting his nose to the old grindstone. The good news is that Red is finally eighteen. The bad news is that according to Hyrulean law, Red can only take the throne once he turns twenty-one. He must also procure a wife by then, or his claim will not be considered legitimate. It is a little factoid now that Red is an adult the king has been complaining about for the entire week. For a good reason, for once. The other noble houses are clambering to put their daughters and sons on the throne.

Arrangements to have Red be engaged should have happened a long time ago. Arranged marriages are famous for a reason and are the perfect bargaining tool among noble houses and foreign royalty. But the king is lazy and left the arrangements to Vio when he was a pre-teen. What a fool, giving him the task of finding his brother a spouse. It must have been a way to make Red detest him, as the prince has advocated marrying for love since he was a teenager. Red has always been a romantic. He will never settle for a political marriage, not as long there is air in his lungs to breathe. 

Vio's lips twitch into a grin, reminded of his brother's earnest demeanour. If he can trust anyone from the small pool of people he is close to staying true to themselves, it would be Red.

If Red is going to marry, it will be for love. Nonetheless, Red has a big heart. If there were no other option, he would marry for his country as his predecessors have done before him. Vio will make sure of that even if it is by the skin of his teeth – his little brother will marry because he wants to settle down and not to secure his rule. He will not compromise. If they ever find themselves in a bind that involves marrying Red off, Vio would rather take his place than let Red suffer in a loveless marriage. He will never let Red sacrifice himself. He deserves so much better.

Vio pushes himself from the wall, cracking his back. It pops with a crack. It should clear his mind, but it makes him even more tired. He can feel the bags under his eyes dig into his cheeks as he drags his hands across his face – counting down from twenty. 

When he reaches zero, he straightens and wipes away all evidence of his misery. It will not do well to show how exhausted he is. That is just asking to be taken advantage of. 

Vio dusts himself off, nabs his lantern and walks out of the room and into the corridor. The light sears his eyes. Vio grunts at the headache welling inside his temple. He ignores it, locking the door and putting the key back into his pocket, safe and sound. He jerkily strides up the stone staircase, leaving his lantern on a hook where more lanterns are collected—hurrying to make himself scarce from the dungeons.

An underground chamber is a shady place for his little hideout to be. But it is also easily overlooked. Nobody would snoop around here unless they suspected him of treason. In his years serving the crown, he has never done anything to bring suspicion upon himself. And when there is - with his connections, he makes sure they report back to him. Whenever the king's paranoia gets the better of him, Vio leads him on a wild goose chase while he relocates his belongings. Any sensitive information is stored far away from his person. They are scattered across the palace grounds. So even if they found it, they would only be able to trace it back to him if they had the whole picture—Vio's plans, as always, are bulletproof.

At this point, the king has given up on sentencing him to the gallows, too busy feasting and partying to care what happens to the little rat he brought into this world – his words, not Voi's. And even if he did – Vio has a thousand-to-one trap for the fool to fall into while he constructs an airtight alibi. This game of cat and mouse has been going on for years, and he has never lost. Otherwise, he would not be here, strutting across the halls with a self-assured gait at the age of twenty-one—way past his expiration date, as the king would say with a sickening grin. 

Vio sighs, his vigour leaking from his ears as he braves the final staircase. Walking up the stairs of the palace is usually fine for him. He has been running errands for years and has even been punished with carrying heavy things his fragile child body could not handle up the stone staircases of the castle. But the festival has run him dry, and jumping back into the fray is like a punch in the gut.

Still, it is not an excuse. Vio is a servant, and servants do not get rest. Especially for who he is. He is lucky to be alive, to eat from the kitchens and sleep on a bed within four walls. He does not live a cosy life, but it would have been barely better if he had been born a peasant. Vio cannot forget how worse his life can be if he screws up. He has been to the slums before. Vio is not blind to the danger outside the palace. He will die sooner from the diseases that run amok in the streets than make it to the safe haven that is Zora's Domain or Kakariko Village. If they will even grant him asylum when they hear who he is.

The palace halls starkly contrast with the damp dungeons Vio came from. They have a sweeping, open-air design with a great view of the kingdom. Vio has seen the sight so many times, and he walks by it, welcoming the breeze but not the acrid summer air that comes with the season. The maroon carpet muffles the sound of his soft sool boots as they connect with the floor. Every step makes his eyesight blurry, but he pushes through. He needs to finish many things before the day ends, and he already took his break. A break Vio is not allowed to take, and he bristles at the thought of someone but his close allies noticing it. Nevertheless, he hurries his pace, deciding to finish the most crucial task of the day before he forgets.

Vio's life has always been like this. He takes the burden Red cannot carry and ensures everything runs smoothly, so the outside will never know that the Sacred Hylian kingdom is running on its last fumes. Rinse and repeat, day in and out. The routine is as soothing as it is exhausting. Yet, he will take this above anything unexpecting and unrepairable happening. It is hell, but it is a hell he is used to. He can do this. He just needs a little more strength to get through this day, and then he can collapse in his bed and forget everything that is his life for a few blissful hours.

Vio winces. His hip smarts and he remembers why. The king's lapdog hit his cane against it as an 'accident'. When the old coot did his spiel – he and his father both knew it was not true. But his father will never take his side. Vio knows that as well as he knows his place in life. There is no reason for the king to show mercy to a bastard, even if, by blood, he is his son. Everyone knows. It is not a well-kept secret inside the castle. However, not a whisper leaves its grounds. Everyone knows what will happen if someone finds out Vio has royal blood flowing through his veins. Nobody wants to be the herald of disaster.

Vio clenches his fist. It is easy to take the pain when he knows the same treatment will never befall his brother. Nobody strikes the crown prince, not even the king. Red may not be one of the sacred princesses that runs in the royal family's bloodline, but he is still a son of Hylia. A beloved heir who the court will side with even if their wrathful father orders his execution. Vio has done everything in his power to make the people like Red, and it has paid off. The king's frustration is aimed towards him, but he does not care. As long as Red is safe and sound, he is happy.

The king may be the most powerful man in the country, but even he is just a man, made from flesh and blood. Oh, so fragile and easily susceptible to coup d’états. Even if their father finds a way to make Red ineligible for the throne – which he doubts because as stupid as their father is, he likes Red – Vio has his connections. That man will not be a problem for long if his consumption habits have anything to say about it.

They have to wait until Red turns twenty-one. If only their ol' pops could keel over and die already, he would be doing Vio a favour once in his life. It would be the greatest gift. It will make up for all the birthdays he used to remind Vio of who he is. Unfortunately, he only exists because his father decided to have an affair. He could be the son of a baroness, a chambermaid or a knight. In the end, it does not matter. He was born out of wedlock, the first son in a kingdom that favours princesses for their holy gifts. He is not even the late queen's son, and although he never made a chance for the throne – his birth was a bad omen. 

Hyrule loves its daughters, not their sons. Red's birth which took the queen's life, made the Hylians panic. With no direct bloodline connected to the goddess Hylia, they were lost. The people thought the world was falling apart. 

Only the charismatic words of their then gout-less king made them reconsider getting out the shovels and digging their graves. Firstborn sons are bad luck, but his majesty told him of Vio's existence, though he never clarified who he was. He let them assume Vio was stillborn, and his presumed death brought joy back to the kingdom. His father still uses it to taunt him to this day. He will never be remembered, and if someone does, he will be the cursed first son to a mother who would never have called him her own. He wonders if the queen hated him – the representation of her husband's unfaithfulness. Would the same hate that courses through this kingdom's beliefs reflect on her? Or would she have wrapped her arms around her, given him a home in her heart even if he never will be the child she wanted? 

Vio knows his biological mother did not want him, and if she did – she would have been taken out of the picture before holding him. If he had been born a girl, his mother would have been paid a pretty penny, and he would have been named Zelda – the sacred princess of Hyrule. Maybe that is why she laid with the king, a quick chance at fortune. It could also have been misplaced love. The king was not always the disgusting man he is today. It could have been a million things that led to their coupling, yet none of it matters. Vio is here now, and nothing in the past can change that.

The only thing she granted him was his name. Vio can thank her for that, at least. He feels nothing when he thinks of her. It is for the best. He has no time to mourn for a mother that never was his.

The sunny skies do nothing to lighten the storm inside his head. The palace's gardens, with their floral scents and beautiful landscaping, should bring a smile to his face. But expressing emotions has always been difficult to mimic when there are no people to copy from. Even so, he is not in the mood to fake a smile when there is nobody to placate. He appreciates being outside after the morning he spends indoors – especially in his dark little cave of stories. But he will not force anything when his face feels dry mud and his head is pounding from the sun's glare. He is happy he is wearing as few layers as possible while getting away with propriety. The good thing about always being in the background is that he does not have to care for his image. He can show his bare arms, and nobody will care. He cannot imagine what a wild spirit like Red feels like in this heat. Though he can guess from experience that Red would lose his doublet the first chance he gets.

Speaking of his little brother – where is he? Red should have his lunch break in the royal gardens with the sun high in the sky. Yet he is nowhere in sight. 

Vio strides towards the centre of the lush garden. The hedges orbit around the gazebo like a cradle, worming their bush-like arms around it like a mother lovingly holding her babe. The imagery of their patron goddess is everywhere when one knows where to look. Her crest is carved into the white wood of the gazebo, the wing-like carvings trailing up its pillars down to the seashell stones rippling like scales in charming colours. The trimmed bushes are perfectly symmetrical, and Vio would admire the skill of their gardeners if it were not for the empty pavilion. There is a cart of dirty dishes standing in the shade, shy of the decorative staircase leading into the cosy gazebo, but no one to clean it up nor the person who ate of them. The tablecloth on the round table has yet to be taken, either. Vio recognises the hot cacao and chilli peppers his brother loves so much left in his place. 

Red was here, and he had something sweet for lunch. Vio clenches his teeth, his head thumping with stress. His brother will be the death of him. 

Vio spins on his heel, switching to 'find' mode as quickly as he stumbled upon the scene. Knowing Red, he will be out of here before Vio can round up a search party. Not that he would. Bringing attention to Red's unruly escape from the castle grounds is the last thing he wants. Red is eighteen now. He can no longer excuse Red's childish behaviour as a teen being rebellious. Acting out after his birthday, his stepping stone into adulthood – will besmirch his reputation. Nobody likes a wild prince.

Red may be beloved, but that love can quickly turn into hate if the people suspect even a hint of history repeating itself. There is a reason Hyrule hates their princes, and it is not because it comes at a loss of a holy princess. No, their history runs much deeper than that. Vio had hoped Red would have left his childish games at the door when he became an adult, but all his hopes turned out to be for nought. He is not surprised. Any wish he makes always falls on deaf ears. 

As is expected, guards are standing at every entrance of the garden. Vio walked past one of them, so used to their presence that he did not register it. Just as they ignore him, he and the palace staff are similar. The only difference is that they get paid for their services. Vio does not.

One of those guards strolls into the garden, no doubt doing their rounds. They wear a steel grey uniform and armour that blends in well with the drab colours of their army. The only difference is the plume on their helmet is coloured a bright blue. New almost, as if the long feather has been recently dipped into fresh paint.

Vio heaves a sigh of relief. He recognises the white tunic worn over the chainmail of the many guards and soldiers their kingdom employs. Green will know where Red is. As his personal bodyguard, Vio will be disappointed if he does not. It is not the first time Red has snuck out, but Green seems calm, so Vio hopes it is just a misunderstanding. Perhaps he was already at his afternoon lesson, and Green decided to clean up after him. It sounds like something Green would do. He is kind-hearted like that. Of course, Vio would rather have him do his job, but Green's selfless qualities are precisely why he ensured Green got the job. He has to take the bad with the good, Vio supposes. 

"Excuse me, Green - have you seen Red? He should be here, but-"

"Who the HELL are you?!" Vio blinks, his train of thought stopping dead in its tracks. 'Green' draws his sword and jabs it in his face, a single parry away from slicing Vio's neck open like butter on hot toast.

 Huh , Vio licks his lips, coolly staring at the tip of the elegant sabre,  not  Green is holding. It is a sobering experience to be had at the end of a sharp weapon. It scared the fatigue infesting his brain right away.

Vio takes a closer look at the 'guard'. A platinum blond fringe and ocean blue eyes peek from under his helmet. They are nowhere near the dirty blond hair and sky-blue eyes Green possesses. His skin is as pale as ice, and Vio wonders how much time this guy must spend inside if he is this pale. Though, it could be the contrast between his dark eyes and barred teeth making him seem wild. If Vio did not know any better, he would say this man carries Zoran DNA with how sharp his teeth are. The way he pulls back his lip to growl at him does not help. Vio has no idea how he mistook Green for this stranger. They could not be any more different!

Whoever he is, it is a good thing Red is nowhere nearby. He does not know who this imposter is or what he wants, but he has some nerve, attacking Vio. He will not make the fake guard regret pulling a sword on him. 

The man's grimace deepens as Vio deigns to answer.

"I won't ask again, bastard.  Who  are you?!" Vio drums his fingers against the inside of his elbow. He clenches his jaw. Well, he is not wrong – whomever this may be. Vio's eyes narrow. But he doubts that this aggressor knows Vio is a bastard child – especially of who.

Vio clicks his tongue, pinching the end of the sword between his fingers. The guard's eyes widen as Vio points the blade away from his person. The sword's edge is wicked sharp. Vio knows one wrong move will have the sword cut down to the bone. Still, he continues, seemingly unphased.

 It is odd , Vio muses as he carefully studies the bewilderment on the man's face. For someone impersonating Green, his sword is of the Royal Guard make – not something an impersonator could get their hands on. Unless they stole it from a guard, even so, the blade should have dulled if it had been stolen weeks ago. Whoever this sword belongs to was attacked recently.

 Green…   Vio feels anger well up inside of him. It bites its way through his insides to the soft tissue of his tongue. He talks faster than he can exercise caution. If this is someone who can take out Green, he is in trouble.

"Who I am is none of your concern, pest." Vio spits, continuing to be curt. "More importantly, who are you?" 

"Who am I? That is my line! Are you stupid or something?! Sneaking into the royal gardens, and you are asking who  I  am?! You're a dumb thief - that's what you are! I won't let you get anywhere near Red." Vio bites his cheek, holding back a 'you've stolen the words right out of my mouth. The disrespect of calling the crown prince by his name makes Vio's blood boil. Red may tell people to call him by name, but that does not mean this man can do that all willy nily. He will pay for his transgressions.

"I asked you a question – answer it." Vio sternly commands. The fake guardsman does not like being talked down to, it seems. He points his finger at him like a child – forgetting that Vio has let go of his sword. It is good that he has not thought to pounce on Vio. Vio cannot avoid an attack this close.

"I asked you first!"

"I asked you second." Vio retorts, amused with the way the man scratches underneath his helmet in frustration. At least he can get a little fun out of this. 

The 'guard' growls.

"Arghh! Enough! I will just cut you down and be done with it! Green can yell at me later!" Vio backs away, knowing he will need the space to react. One stab from that sword, and it is done for him. But he will be in the clear if he can disarm the assailant. Other guards should be nearby, which Vio can call upon once the faker is subdued. Calling them now will give the fraud the time to hinder him. Vio laments the fact he left his throwing knives in his room. They could have come in handy. 

Vio only has a little time to react. For some random assailant, he is lightning quick – jabbing the sword right where Vio's precious organs are. It is only by dodging the blow Vio bypasses becoming a meat scabbard. He doubts Green would like his sword being used to harm him – nay, kill. Vio grits his teeth. He knew he should have worn his padded tunic today! The heat be damned!

The attacker grunts, swinging the sword over his head and jumping at him - yelling a battle cry.

" Hi-yaah!  Take this-"

"Hold on! Vio, Blue – don't fight! It's all a misunderstanding!" Vio rolls to avoid the attack. He rests on his haunches, his head swivelling towards the garden's main entrance. The attacker stops, too, pointing his sword at Vio as if to arrest him. Vio would roll his eyes and get up. But he fears becoming a shish kebab if he has as much twitches. 

Green, who he mistook this suspicious person to be – runs up to them. Fearful as he slides in front of them – panting and heaving. Green holds his arms between them, nudging the attacker away with his foot and treating the assailant as if he is just a harmless mouse who has gotten into the pantry rather than an armed and dangerous man. The fake Green makes an offended noise but lowers his sword. However, his eyebrows crawl to his hairline when he sees Green helping Vio up.

"I'm so sorry, Vio! I should have told you sooner, but I couldn't get a hold of you this morning. My deepest apologies." Green states, taking off his helmet. He rubs the back of his head, his sweaty hair glistening in the sun. How Green avoids getting overheated in his uniform is a mystery. He tucks the silver helmet with the verdant green feather into the crook of his elbow, bowing slightly.

Vio dusts himself and nods. He is frustrated, but he has a mind before he starts blaming the people around him for the things they cannot control. He is not his father.

"It's alright, Green. You have nothing to be sorry about." Green heaves a sigh of relief, bows his head, and puts the helmet back on, retying the clasp. 

Vio sighs. He wishes Green would stop carrying the burden of others upon his back. It will break him one day. But that is like asking a Zora not to swim – or for Green to stop acting cordially around as if Vio is a noble's son. Green is too stubborn for his own good. It makes him a good knight, though.

"Green, what the hell?! Why are you apologising to a creep?!" The faker splutters. Vio rolls his eyes and watches with mild interest, Green reprimanding the impersonator. Though, with how amicably Green acts around him – Vio supposes this burglar is not the miscreant he thought he was.

"Blue! I can't believe you! This is Vio! How could you attack him?! He is our employer!" Green pokes his finger into the mystery man's chainmail. The aptly named Blue hisses at the contact. But there is no venom in his voice, only noisy confusion.

"Our employer?! The last time I checked that is the king himself. So what in Dim' flame are you talking about, Green? Did you finally lose your marbles?!" 

"No – Blue-! Aarrgh!" Green grabs his head and groans. It is the fastest Vio has seen the usual good-tempered knight lose his cool. Blue must be one frustrating man to work with. But, from what Vio has seen, he cannot say he is surprised.

"Vio," Green gestures towards Vio, "Look at him -  really  look at him! Open your eyes, you idiot!" 

He grabs Blue's face and forces the rogue's eyes upon Vio. Vio raises an eyebrow at the display, wondering when the last time he saw Green was so animated. He narrows his eyes as he observes the pair, curious. They must be close. 

Blue wrestles his way out of Green's hold, burning red where Green's touch lingers. It colours his pale skin like a sunburn. So he must have sensitive skin. A strange quirk but not a weird one. Despite his crude deposition, it would not be surprising to Vio if Blue turned out to have some blue blood in him. 

"I can look on my own, thank you very much!" Green throws his hands in the air, yelling.

"Then do it, numbnuts!

"You're the numbnuts!" Blue retorts.

"Are you sure? Because I'm not the one who attacked Vio! Should I call the old home grandpa? Because you are as blind as a keese!" Blue scowls, finally looking at Vio after pretending he does not exist.

"At least I'm not stupid, Green! Do you really think I would bow to someone who is obviously a peasant? He looks nothing like…." He trails off, his eyes widening. The bags under his eyes make them appear bigger than they are. The way he pales makes Vio smirk. 

"-Red?" Blue squeaks. Green laughs, nudging his fellow guard on the shoulder. Blue flushes and inches away from the touch, embarrassed.

"Took you long enough, Bluey. I know it is not obvious at first, but anyone with a good head on their shoulders eventually sees the resemblance between the two." Blue puts his face in his hands, sighing long, suffering into his gloves.

"You're never going to let me live that nickname down, will ya?" Green grins.

"Nope!"

Blue groans, and it makes the usual courteous Green bursts into laughter. Blue looks annoyed but does not lunge at Green to make it stop. Instead, he shoves Green's shoulder, but that is about it, scowling with a red face.

Vio's smile falls to a frown. Do Red and he look alike? He never thought about it. The palace staff know because they do not bother hiding it, nor does the king. Sure, the king keeps his mouth shut about it with visiting dignitaries and nobles, but Vio had always thought the castle staff knew because they gossiped. His stomach rolls. Vio is not sure how to feel about that.

Vio waits until Green and Blue are done with their theatrics. Green coughs in his hand, taking the reins as Blue fumes in the background. Smart enough to keep his mouth shut and let Green do the talking. But not smart enough to think better of glaring at Vio with Green's back turned. 

"I apologise again, Vio. I should have tried harder to reach you before Blue got here." 

"It's fine, Green. You don't need to apologise twice." Vio meets Blue's gaze. The new guard does not back down. Instead, Vio's eyes narrow, and he grins sardonically. Well, now Blue is an exciting development, disregarding the near dismemberment.

"So – what is the situation? I can only assume that our… charming companion that nearly skewered me is a recent addition?" Blue gasps, clutching his pearls like a scandalised lady. Green facepalms. His near-endless patience seems to decline rapidly when in Blue's presence.

"What is that supposed to mean?!" Blue shouts. 

Vio sighs. 

"Exactly as I said. Keep up, will you? I don't need dim-witted guards in our employment." 

"Dim-witted?! I will show you dim-witted-" Blue hollers, holding up his fists to fight him in a battle of good old fisticuffs. Green stops him before he can get close enough to touch Vio. Steam blows out of Blue's ears like an angry teapot. Vio cannot help but relish how easy it is to rile Blue up.

"Okay, enough, Blue. We do not threaten our superiors. We talked about this."  

"But-" 

"No, Blue, believe me, you are better, not engaging." Green shushes him before Blue can think of a way to defend himself. Blue flushes red from anger. Even the feather on top of his helmet bristles with him. His glare is murderous. If looks could kill, Vio would be ten feet under.

Yet, despite this, Blue turns around and screams into the empty air. Vio's eyebrows crawl up to his hairline at the reaction, and Green lowers his head in embarrassment.

Green swallows the sigh Vio can see coming from a mile away. His eyes shine with an apology - an apology he knows Vio will dismiss again if he voices it out loud. So he does not. 

Green straightens and answers, using Blue's loud frustration as a cover.

"The king assigned Blue to be Prince Red's second guard. It is a very recent decision he has taken. I'm not surprised you haven't heard of it." Vio nods. Vio has to admit Blue's yelling is pretty handy. Nobody can eavesdrop on them if Blue's screaming is so loud. It does turn heads, but Blue's antics must be famous already because the castle guards groan and move back their stations inside the castle walls. Vio smirks. Lucky them.

Vio's eye twitches. It does, however, worsen his headache.

"Huh, very sudden. Is there any reason to suspect something?" Vio whispers, patting himself down as he keeps his body language natural. When people look at them, they will see an errand boy casually talking to a knight. If Vio leans in or crosses his arms, he will look frustrated or guarded, and they do not need that.

Green copies him, moving his hands as if trying to explain something. A mentor behaviour, nobody will question the poor busboy from admiring a prodigy knight and asking him for tips. It is the perfect cover. 

"No, not that I know of. It came out of the blue. I can only assume he specifically asked for Blue because my father bragged about him?" Vio creases his brows, his eyes sharp with suspicion. He does not even comment on the unintentional pun Green made. But, of course, it could be nothing. His father does most impulsive things. But employing two personal guards for Red? That is odd.

"Captain Rorill did? Any reason he brought Blue up?" Green looks at him, recognising the tone shift in Vio's otherwise impassive façade. He is one of the few people who can. 

"Don't." He warns, and Vio lets up, raising his hands to show he has no ulterior motive.

Green sighs.

"No, my father was reminiscing about when I was a child and mentioned his shield brother, my godfather. One thing led to another, and suddenly the king decided he needed to have Blue here to protect the prince too." 

"Why did he think it was necessary?" It is not that Vio doubts Green's capabilities. If it were not for how logically inclined Vio is, he would say Green comes the closest to being the legendary hero incarnate. Courageous, kind if a bit bossy and quick on his feet. Vio could not have asked a better man to guard his brother. Of course, it helps that they are close in age, so Red has someone to relate to. But that was not the deciding factor.

Does his father suspect Green and he are working together and decide to add his own pawn to the game? Then why would he pick someone so close to the green knight? It does not make sense. 

Green scratches his cheek, looking sheepish. Vio cocks his head.

"Blue is my childhood friend and placed second on the knight's exam when we became sixteen. His majesty's reasons were, and I quote, 'a brotherhood forged through the ages will keep the wheel running smoothly and sturdy' end quote." He waves his hands in a shy version of jazz hands and gives a dry chuckle, "Heh." 

Vio blinks slowly, taking in the information.  Well, that explains how close they are.  He muses.

Before Vio can ask for Green to explain further – his father's words are as nonsensical as ever and do not make sense – Blue slings an arm around Green's shoulder, cutting off his newly revealed friend.

"Ha! Childhood friends? More like childhood rivals! We used to butt head all the time. Remember when we couldn't decide who got to go by the name Link even though eight more boys had the same name as us? We had that fight which we had to end in a tie because our dads pulled us apart." Blue chortles loudly, punching Green in the arm. Green snickers at the memory, a healthy flush coating his cheeks as Blue's contiguous laughter seeps into him.

 They are really close . Vio narrows his eyes.  Too close . Not that it really matters, but Vio hopes that closeness will not get in the way of protecting Red. Knowing Green, he will never let it get to that. 

"Oh, how sweet, but you're both named Link? I can imagine the ledgers to be confusing to sort through." Vio says as if he is not the one who will have to do the paperwork, even though his father is the one who decided to pull this stunt. There are already fourteen Links stationed in the castle. Luckily the majority are not knights, but adding Blue to the pile will make organising work a nightmare.

Green waves off his concern, misunderstanding the aghast look on Vio's face. He is going to be up all night getting everything in order.

"Eh, it's fine. Everyone in the castle already calls me Green anyway – the king included. So Blue will fit right in." Vio sighs. At least he will not have to worry about that. It would be a pain if Blue were one of those 'I go by my real name alone!' when there are five people in the vicinity with the same name. He cannot imagine dealing with that kind of Blue. Vio supposes he should feel lucky he was born with such a rare name. At least he will never be confused for someone else.

Vio glances at the garden entrances, keeping an eye out for how time has passed. It does not feel like much, but with each minute he spends here, he becomes more suspicious. Vio must finish this up and let the knights return to their duties. The less reason for people to investigate them, the better. He can catch up with Green later in private. 

Still, Vio has to know. So he leans in slightly as he twirls a strand of hair between his fingers. The sand blond lock is pale and dry in the sun from only the barest of care. But Green catches his sign, nodding firmly and leaning in as if to reciprocate the gesture. His face is serious, though. Despite their body language, there is nothing romantic about their interaction.

"So Blue is…?" Vio does not finish, wanting Green to do it for him. Blue looks at them like a fish out of water, inching away in that awkward way any third wheel would. It is the best cover. Blue might not be so bad after all if his reactions fit so well with their objective.

Green follows his gist.

"Completely trustworthy. I trust Blue with my life, Prince Red and yours. So you have nothing to fear, Vio." Vio nods. 

"Alright," He leans away, wanting that precious personal space back. "That's all I wanted to hear. " 

"I am right here!" Blue yells, completely ignoring the sappiness from Green's statement. The redness from Blue's cheeks comes back in full force, "Can you two stop talking about me as if I'm not here!"

"I trust you, Green, which means I will place my trust in your friend." Vio continues, ignoring Blue's outrage. 

"Again – right here!" Blue points at himself, gritting his teeth, waving his other hand as if invisible, and proving himself not to be by being obnoxious.

Vio shakes his head — what a pain.

"Yes, I heard you the first time. Knight Blue?" 

"Uh, yes?" Blue stops, surprised at being finally addressed. He straightens, standing like a proper knight rather than a monkey dressed in guard's clothes. Vio is sure propriety lessons are a part of a knave's apprenticeship. He has no idea how Blue came in second in the exam if he is this mannerless. Oh well, they do not employ bodyguards for their grace. He needs something different from Blue.

Vio turns his steely gaze on him. Blue gulps, bewildered by the sharpness behind the seemingly harmless errand boy's eyes. 

"Protect Red. In my position, it is impossible to be at his side. If the king sees us or hears that we're together too much, he gets a little…, paranoid for lack of a better word. I trust you to keep the crown prince safe and sound. Can you handle that?" There is no room for argument in Vio's voice. 

Blue blinks but recovers quickly, grinning cockily. Determination blazes in his dark blue eyes.

"Easy, it's my job, smarty. You have nothing to worry about." Blue holds Vio's gaze, but rather than challenging him - he eases Vio's worries. Despite Blue's brashness, he knows how important his job is.

Vio sighs in relief, a rare smile blooming on his stoic face. Ease fills his heart. He is glad to have one more person in his corner. Even if he feels he will not get along with Blue often. Call it a hunch.

"I wish that was true. Protect my brother for me." 

Blue nods, holding out his hand.

"I will." Vio eyes Blue's gesture warily, but at Green's encouraging look, he accepts, placing his hand within Blue's and making the cross handshake so favoured among soldiers. Blue grips tightly, and Vio does not let him get away with crushing his fingers, squeezing back tightly. Blue's eyebrows lift, almost impressed as they let go.

"Good, I'm glad we were able to come to an understanding."

Blue grunts, "Me too, I guess." 

"Ah! I'm proud of you two!" Green beams, hands on his waist as he praises them like a dad. The blue and violet pair roll their eyes. It is not that special, "You resolved your conflict, and now we're all pals!" 

Blue snickers dryly, scratching his nose.

"Heh, you sound like Red." His grin is razor sharp, making Green freeze. Green rubs the back of his neck.

"Ha, is that so?" He side-eyes Vio nervously, "That's good. The prince is a good influence." Blue guffaws, hiding his laughter behind his elbow as he has to stop himself from laughing too loud.

Vio cocks an eyebrow, sensing a story he is not privy to. However, Green's wild eyes have Vio narrowing his eyes in suspicion. He would like to know if it has something to do with Red.

Green coughs in his hand, and in a move that is too smooth in his clunky armour, he grabs Blue's arm – making a quick retreat as his nervous laughter echoes through the garden. 

"Welp – we have wasted enough time! Back to work, Blue. Prince Red is not going to guard himself!" 

"But – lunch! Ow!" Blue tries to argue but is pinched when he struggles. They disappear into the cool darkness the open-air halls provide, leaving Vio bewildered, staring after them.

Vio is not sure what to make of the interaction. He is relieved that it was just a misunderstanding, but something fishy is going in with them. Nothing life-threatening, or he would have demanded Green to explain himself but definitely something he should keep an eye on. Vio shrugs. He does not have time to worry about that now. He has to get back to work. 

 It is a shame, though , Vio laments as he walks back into the castle – grateful for how cold the palace is because of its stony walls. Even in the oppressive heat of summer, the walls stay blissfully cool. 

He had wanted to say hello to Red as his brother had complained that he barely got to see Vio before his birthday. It is true their father will grow suspicious if he sees or hears that they are together too much – but simply stopping by with an excuse should escape his radar – if Vio plays his cards right. He wishes he could use one of these excuses, but if Red is entertaining the Zora dignitaries or in a meeting with the advisors, Vio cannot just barge in there saying he needs to file some papers. He will have to wait until Red is free, and as a now adult crown prince, he doubts he will be able to catch Red free from his duties the whole day. They cannot even eat dinner together as it is customary to entertain the noble guests during dinner and supper. 

 A prince's job is never done.  Vio chuckles dryly – sighing as he accepts the soothing darkness of the castle. He is where he belongs, in the underbelly of the palace, going out of sight and out of mind. But, if he ever walks into the light and his existence is questioned, Vio does not doubt his father will find an excuse to get rid of him. It is easy to plant false evidence, and his friends – not even his brother could save him. But, knowing his father, it would be a symbolic punishment. At least Vio will have a laugh right before he dies. Then Lady Irony would be the only woman he ever loved.

Vio runs his hands through his hair, wincing at a knot that stubbornly clings to his fingers. He untangles it with a pained groan. Vio wonders why he keeps his hair long if it causes him this much grief. A flash of baby blue eyes and a red cap invades his mind. A smile worms its way onto his face. Right, of course, Red. Red likes to play with it, and he has not cut it since his little brother told him how he adored his hair. But unfortunately, Red is not allowed to keep his hair long, so Vio does it for him.

If Red is the light, Vio is the shadow he casts. He takes care of the unsavoury sort, and Red will rule the world of light with a gentle hand. He may have been born first, but it was to take the brunt of the world Red would have taken if he had been born years earlier. Vio cannot say he does not envy the power Red holds as the future ruler of Hyrule. But he would never think of stealing it from him. Red is his little brother - he must protect him with everything he has, and if that means suffering under their tyrant father and making sure his image is holy and perfect – he will. There is almost nothing he will not do to make Red happy. Giving up his happiness for Red is a small price if it means Red will be free and merry. Well, as free and merry as one can be as royalty.

Vio climbs to the castle's highest tower, the royal prophet's domain. The man is a piece of work, but he keeps his father placid, so he goes to his tower willingly, regardless of the bone-tiring chores the glorified soothsayer has for him. Moreover, Vio does not care if the prophecies the seer tells are accurate – caring about empty words is above his pay grade. But a happy - or at least not murderous - king makes Vio a happy camper.

Vio knocks on the door and waits for an answer. Entering without permission will get him lashes, and announcing his coming will get him a slap. He is at the same level as the cleaning crew, and they live by one motto 'to keep a castle working, you work unseen'. Vio is not in the mood for pain - it is overrated.

No one answers, and although that should be his sign to leave – Vio opens the door and walks inside. That old prophet gets into drinking stupors sometimes before noon and falls asleep shortly after. He is better off cleaning up the place so the prophet does not get pissed at the cleaning staff for not cleaning up his drinking binge. It will not look good on them if the Zora sees the oracle of all people mistreating the staff and jeopardising their treaties. Plus, it is just a headache Vio does not want to deal with.

The room is dark and filled with items that supposedly help predict the future. Purple satin curtains cover the walls with starry skies, and a crystal ball casts pearlescent light on the table. The luxury in this place makes Vio grimace. He is used to it, but it is just a nightmare to clean, and with the dust, malicious ingredients and alcohol that gets on them, he does not even want to bother. But, alas, he is but a 'peasant'. He does not get to choose.

The soothsayer is not here. Odd, but Vio does not care, rightening the soothsayer's 'throne' of a chair and picking up the fallen papers on the floor. He is off entertaining the guests or stroking his father's ego – probably both. Vio is unsure of his predictions, but he does know one thing the prophet is good at – keeping people distracted.

After sealing the inkpot lid, Vio hauls everything from the floor and picks up the broom. It is luckily stashed in the corner as the royal prophet breaks too many things during his seances. Its presence makes his work easy for him as he does not have to trek back down to the cleaning quarters to get one and back up again.

 Small mercies , Vio muses as he sweeps the floor. The room is quiet as he gathers the dust. His mind wanders, and he loses himself in his thoughts. Though it is not fantasies, he gets lost in it. There is always the next chore to do in his life, with no breaks in between. There is never any rest. He will only be done when he hits the hay, and when he rises, a slew of other jobs will be waiting for him.

It is not that the other servants cannot do them. But there are eyes and ears everywhere. Unless the head doctor checks on him and can procure that he is unfit to be among people, can he go a day without chores – that and on festivals. But even so – his dear dad tended to double his workload after a bout of sickness or state holiday. Cleaning the prophet's tower is tame compared to the rotten jobs the king has in store for him if he thinks Vio is lazy.

Vio grits his teeth, wanting his thoughts to be left in peace while working. The good thing about doing chores is not being reminded of how shit his father is. So why does he need to think of him all of a sudden?

Only the bristles of his broom brushing against the carpet meet his ears. Vio frowns. The sound of a knife being drawn makes him turn, holding his broom in front of his body. It turns out to be the correct move. The throwing knife hits the wall beside him – a miss.

A shadowed figure goes in to strike, the curtain over the window flapping in the wind. Vio blocks the kick, meant to disarm him. Instead, he twirls the broom in his hand, jabbing the bristles in the assailant's face. It does little. They wrap their hand around the tied twine and  pull  the broom towards them.

Vio lets go and backs away, searching for a weapon to use against his lightning-quick opponent. They go for his ankles, and he evades the low kick – leaving himself open. A punch to his gut makes him stumble, knocking his breath out.

Vio gasps. He expects to meet the floor and knock over his hard work. He will have to start over again. Pity, and he was nearly finished.

But he does not fall. Instead, the attacker holds him by his shirt, holding him upright. They draw him back just in time to let him observe their appearance.

They are clothed entirely in black, but he can tell they are a lethal force from their frame alone. He recognises the martial arts immediately from how they go back into stance. Their mouth is covered, and so is their head. Yet wisps of stark blond hair and dark red eyes peek from the swathes of black cloth. Their eyes narrow, waiting for him to strike.

Instead, Vio dusts himself off with a smirk.

"Sheik, good tidings. To what do I owe the pleasure?" The mysterious person does not react. They falsely swipe at him, but he does not give in to their wordless taunts. Rather, they let up, drawing to their full height.

They click their tongue.

"You are stealing my game, Vio." Sheik admonishes, drawing the wrap from their face. The face of a Sheikah stares back at him as he suspected. Even if he did not know Sheik, he would recognise the martial arts of the elusive shadow tribe everywhere.

Vio chuckles, holding out a hand for his broom. He needs to get back to sweeping.

"Whatever do you mean?" Vio asks, amused. Sheik tisks, brows greasing as she withholds the broom from him. Vio lours, but Sheik does not budge, setting it back in the corner where Vio cannot reach it unless he can get around him. It is unlikely he will. Sheik has years of experience that he can never hope to match. 

"Being so mysterious – don't you know there can only be one mystery person in the group? You are stealing my character quirk." Sheik jokingly accuses him, laughter shining in their eyes. Vio chuckles with a shrug – oh well! If Sheik does not want him to clean, who is he to deny them? He is done with this room anyway. Well, emotionally, at least.

Vio's lips quirk upwards, and he slides towards the door. If he is not cleaning, he wants to avoid being near this tower. The soothsayer expects this place to be squeaky clean, but he less than cordial to the people doing the job.

"I guess you will have to kill me then." Vio titles his head, daring Sheik to draw a kunai to his neck and slit his throat. They can take 'character quirk' if they want it back so badly.

Sheik rolls their eyes, earning him a giggle from the typically stoic man. Then, they pick up their throw knife and follow Vio on his heels. 

"Indeed. I will kill you and reclaim what is rightfully mine!" She declares dramatically. Unburdened by the presence of people. They are the only ones inside this tower.

Vio shakes his head with a grin. 

"Go on then! I won't stop you." 

"No, no," Sheik playfully admonishes, closing the door and seamlessly walking into the shadows. Vio walks beside him, sticking beside them as the blinding sunlight from the small windows makes a perfect cover for her to hide in case someone stumbles upon them, "-I will kill you in your sleep. You won't suspect a thing."

The gleeful gleam of their red eyes makes Vio bark a laugh. 

"Comforting. I shall look forward to my peaceful demise."

"Only the best for you, Vio. Though I must admit, you have been getting better. The next time you can get a break, we should practice. I like how you immediately defended yourself with the broom. We can make a quarterstaff master out of you yet." Sheik nudges his shoulder, a giddy smile hidden by their scarf.

Vio grimaces. He does not mind the thought of wielding a spear, a bo staff or a sharp edge of a Naginata, more traditionally used by the Sheikah. But it is too close quarters for him. He prefers his faithful bow and the throwing knives Sheik gifted him way back. Far distance s his preferred modus operandi.

"That's flattering, but I'm more of a bow person." 

"Hmm, remind me to sneak you a phrenic bow one of these days. I need to see you using one to gauge how far your archery is going." Sheik hums.

"Sure." He promises with lacklustre. He doubts he will get a break soon anyway.

They fall into a comfortable silence. It would be nice if it could stay like that. But – there is no time for peace. The times have been too hectic for just a simple visit from his favourite Sheikah. They are here for a reason.

"So, why are you here?" Vio questions, leavening nothing but business in the hollowness of his voice. 

Sheik groans, their cunning eyes giving Vio a look for his directness.

"Hmm, as sharp as ever. Maybe you should be the spy?" She teases. It is Vio's time to roll his eyes. Right, as if he could pull off being a spy. The next thing Sheik asks him is to impersonate someone to get state secrets from Labrynna or something.

"Please – I may be forgotten but not forgotten enough. My father will immediately send a kill order when he suspects I ran away." He cannot risk getting the word out who I really am, Vio does not say. Knowing Sheik will catch on even if they do not show it through their poker face.

"True." Sheik sighs. He takes a deep breath.

"The Zora dignitaries have little to no dirt on them. Either they are as squeaky clean as their appearance suggests, or they are good at keeping secrets. I will have to dig further into that. But they did not come here for simple chatter." Sheik draws Vio's gaze, and they make eye contact.  Oh, it cannot be good , Vio thinks. He recognises that serious dead look in Sheik's eyes.

"They came here to arrange a marriage between Red and their princess." Sheik grits through her teeth.

Vio hisses. He probably should have expected that. The Zora are a proud people who believe in fated and true love. But even they are suspectable to political marriages. With how much sway a Zora on the Hylian throne could bring – Vio cannot fault them for trying. If his people were oppressed like they are, he would try everything until the other faction gave in.

"Princess Rua? She permitted this?" Vio does not know much about the royal families of the other tribes – much less the chiefdoms. But a proud person like the Dragon Scale Princess is not one to bow down and accept Hylian custom just so that there is a Zora vote on the Hylian council. She is more likely to hold a tournament and fight the final contestant herself before she would willingly give her hand in holy matrimony. 

Sheik shakes their head.

"I quote 'if it is for my people, I shall gladly offer my hand in marriage' end quote." 

Vio snorts.

"Ah, spoken like true royalty."  And most likely not the words she used,  he muses. The Zora's royal family has a soft spot for blond and blue-eyed Hylians - no doubt because of the legendary hero. But he is sure the Zora princess will not tolerate his pacifist brother. Sacred blood or not.

"Indeed. You could learn some things from her." Vio looks at his friend quizzically. What do they mean by that?

Sheik shrugs, continuing.

"The Zora's have been trying to get the idea through, but neither the king nor Red is budging. The king because of his arrogance and Red – well, you know."

"I know," Vio repeats after Sheik nods solemnly. Red will only marry for true love. The sentiment has remained strong since Vio last saw him. Of course, it is unrealistic for Red to have decided who his spouse will be so soon after his eighteen birthday. But that does not stop the entire kingdom from pushing until his brother bends to their whims and knows how soft-hearted Red is. He suspects Red will break once the sob stories come rolling in. 

"The soothsayer has been adamant that two races shouldn't mix, you know, the spiel. Bringing up the Twili to make his point." Vio mirrors Sheik's shrug. The Twili are an interesting case. Unfortunately, what the ancient Twili princess did for them meant nothing to the historians as they only remembered the things the Usurper King did before she and her hero trounced the fake monarch. They became the boogeyman, the jealous reapers who yearn for the world of light in storybooks. In the end, though, it does not matter. They are just another marginalised group of people Vio cannot do anything for. He does not have the power to change people's minds, nor will he put energy into an endless endeavour when he has bigger fish to fry. Not dying on a whim because of his father, for one, is much higher on his priority list. 

"I'm pretty sure those two are not related, but whatever. Proceed?" Sheik bobs their head, adjusting the cloth tied around his head. Her steps are soundless on the stone staircase. Vio wishes he could match, but his patchwork boots are not silent. He learned to be quiet. But more is needed to fit the subtle elegance of a Sheikah warrior. 

"The king had to take his leave early today." Sheik throws in, disrupting Vio's thoughts.

"Nothing new." Vio dismisses. The king excuses himself because he is a man-child all the time. He probably wanted to leave his duties to Red since his brother is obligated to carry them out in his absence. He would do that.

Sheik nods, but he looks unsure.

"Yes, I know, but something was off about today. He looked awfully pale."

Vio rolls his eyes.

"From a hangover, I bet. He has to meet one of our best allies, and he treats them like dirt. I swear if we lose Zora's support, it is because of him! Hundred years of kingdom friendship – down the drain!" Vio frustratingly crows. He is fed up with everything his father does. Honestly, if his poor excuse of a father could just keel over and die, their lives would be so much easier!

"I wish the king would just die already." The words pass by his lips before he can think better of them. He freezes, his heart hammering inside his chest. He and Sheik are alone, yet the words are as damning as holding the knife to his father's neck. He could be executed for just thinking it!

"That sounds like treason." Sheik remarks, sounding amused. Yet Vio can see the wariness in her impassive features. He might agree, but it is a dangerous game to admit this shared belief.

Vo sighs. He is more tired than he realised if he is letting his thoughts slip by him so easily. 

"I… had not meant to say that."

"Yes, I can tell. Your lack of sleep is messing with your head. You need sleep, friend." Sheik says gently.

Vio sighs. He needs to consider investing these sighs – he could be making bank out of them. He would be the wealthiest man in Hyrule.

Vio throws his hands in the air in exasperation. He feels like a corpse - he is barely functioning!

"I can't sleep! You know what happens if someone finds me sleeping during the day. I will be punished for it, and that little reprieve will vanish like snow in the sun. It is not worth it." Sheik opens his mouth to argue, but they close it before a sound can escape. They think better of trying to convince Vio otherwise. Vio feels terrible for making one of the few people he can trust in this kingdom worry, but it is not like he has a choice. Well, he does – it is just a foolish choice.

Vio is so tired that he does not notice Sheik disappearing. Instead, he looks around himself, startled, until his weary eyes find the dark patch beside the window. Beams of sunlight filter through, but he can see the outline that makes up Sheik's body. She blends in well, yet Vio knows where to look. 

"Okay, if you won't sleep, do you mind if I show you a little trick?" Sheik asks. Vio cocks his head, stepping into the light Sheik gestures to. He shields his eyes and peers down the window. 

They are not at ground level. The drop from here is still high enough to kill a man. Underneath is a thin bit of greenery, a part of the castle's courtyard. It is protected by high walls, which are sounded by a glittering moat. How beautiful, he would say, if it is not for a fact he knows how much disease swims in its cold depths. They dump all the sewage water in there – he would not even take a dip for a crypt full of ancient scrolls.

"What trick?" Vio cautiously queries. He can trust Sheik to be a rational person. But often, she forgets that Vio is not made from the same ilk as them. What they find normal is different from Vio's sense of normalcy.

"See that hay cart?" Vio looks down again. At the foot of the wall, there is indeed a haybale. How odd. Why would there be a random haybale at the side of the courtyard? Of course, a knight could have taken their horse here for a private feeding session, but that seems weirdly coincidental. Now that he has to think about it leaving a lone cart full of hay is strange. If only he had enough brainpower to care and investigate it. Alert him would have found the sight suspicious instantly.

"Yes."

"Good," Sheik smirks, eyes scrunching with thinly veiled entertainment. 

Oh no.

"I'll teach you how to land in one safely. It should be handy in the future." Case in point. Vio groans, resting his arms against the windowsill. Someone like him would never survive the fall. The shockwave would leave his body sore if he did land in it. He could crack his head! So many things can go wrong, especially when he is only partially alert.

"Sheik, have you lost your mind?" 

Sheik shrugs, "No, not that I know of. If there is anything that will wake you up, it is a shock." 

"I don't doubt that." Vio sighs, the people he surrounds himself with are a piece of work, "But, you know – I was kidding about the killing me part. I still have a lot of work to do."

"I know, and that-" They jab his chest. Vio winces, rubbing the sore spot. Sheik does not pull his punches – as amicable as their relationship is, "That's exactly why you need to take a break! And I know you can't! You don't have to remind me, but if you're going to stay awake, you might as well learn a few things. You're going to kill yourself one of these days, you workaholic." Vio snorts. He appreciates that Sheik worries, but it is not like he can do much with their advice.  

"That's rich coming out of you. When was the last time you took a break? Do Sheikah get the holidays off?" Vio snickers. He is worn out, and his reply comes out naturally sarcastic. If he remembers correctly, the Sheikah are all about duty. He is pretty sure Sheik has not had a day off since he met them so long ago.

Sheik's face is stoic, unmoving like stone as she stares him down. Oh, he might have hit a nerve there. But, instead, their face splits into a sharp grin. It means nothing good.

Vio senses the danger too late. In one quick motion, his mind cannot follow. Sheik grabs him by the back of his neck, lifts him by the belt and chucks Vio out of the window. He only realises he is falling when the ground is coming too close too fast.

Vio screams at the top of his lungs, but he is inaudible against the wind rushing past him. Still, he curses Sheik's existence with every fibre of his being.

" Sheik !!!" 

Vio hits the hay in the haycart and promptly passes out.