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Sheik cannot pray for much.
He can pray for the wisdom, for the aspect of the Triforce that Nayru has deemed him worthy of.
He can pray for guidance, for the destiny to lead that he hears within the wind and within his harp.
He can pray for mercy, for when it all crumbles around him. Ganondorf is smart and cunning, and he will not be fooled for long.
But Sheik cannot pray for a hero. For he doomed his hero to death, and now he is repayed tenfold for such.
The first year had been tense. He was young and foolish, and had done all that he could have but more than he should have. He had relied too much on premonition and subpar intellect, and sent the little boy with a fairy from his dreams to save the world in his stead.
So when the world began to end, and Sheik had seen just a glimpse of Link as it happened, he had made one final mistake to help. And so Link was tossed the Ocarina of Time, the key to the Sacred Realm. And then he was gone.
There was no way to know what happened after, but it wasn’t awfully long until a golden light shone on the back of Sheik’s hand. The Triforce had been split. The Sacred Realm was open, and Link had likely drawn the Master Sword.
A year was a reasonable length of time, to plot and fight Ganondorf’s reign. Sheik spent that time afraid, barely starting to train with Impa. Weak, a damsel waiting for his hero.
The second year had been nervous. He turned 13, and Impa’s regime was in full swing. Even if, when Link returned, Sheik would need to be able to hold his own. Sheik would help and would need the skills to do so. But the year dragged on, and the gloom resting above the world didn’t fade. The people were not saved from their turmoil.
The third year felt numb. Impa discussed disguises with him, dressed him in traditional Sheikah warrior garb. He settled into his role as Sheik nicely. She had laughed at his choice of name, but he could only feel fondness. But, beyond such things, there was only training and waiting.
It was the fourth year when he began to explore. Ganondorf's hold wasn’t as tight as it used to be, though Sheik could not risk helping anyone. Such things would be known, whispered of. He was to stay in the shadows.
And in the shadows, he stayed. It was in the shadows, inside the Temple of Time, when Sheik realized his hero was gone.
The Master Sword stood in its pedestal, gleaming from the sunshine coming through the windows. It cared not for the thick clouds, nor for his crumbling spirit feet away.
Link had not drawn the Sword. The door to the Sacred Realm was left wide open, yet the Sword was still in its place. Sheik had been so foolish. Of course, Ganondorf had known of the Sacred Realm, of the key. Of course, he would see Sheik throw said key to Link.
Of course, he would strike Link down once the Sacred Realm was open, before he could even draw the Sword. Of course. Of course.
Sheik, in the comfort of the shadows, peeled back one of the bandages on his hand.
The Triforce of Wisdom shone bright.
What a mockery of a princess he makes.