Chapter Text
[ incredible artwork by the incredible harmonybreeze ]
1: Old Faithful
Two years.
Two years until her coronation, when Hyrule acknowledges its true sovereign; the one who spared her Kingdom from impending death. Her advisors are excited, almost dashing along the hallways, eager to fulfil their duty, eager to offer her their best support. And, of course, she is grateful. Of course, she is honoured to still be alive, to accept the role of Head of State. As the last of her family bloodline, Princess Zelda simply cannot refuse. To renounce the throne for another is out of the question.
Within a month after the defeat of Calamity Ganon, Zelda rewarded her loyal knight, Link, with freedom. Naturally, he hesitated at first. However, she could see the glory in his eyes. The sudden realisation that the world was his, that everything he had ever desired may possibly come true; no longer tied to a prophecy he never even wanted to be a part of. He bowed, dropping to one knee, and kissed the back of her hand, and then, merely a ghost in her memory, he turned his back on her, departing.
She doesn’t miss him. Or, more, she refuses to.
There are more demanding things on her mind than the worry of love. Whether that is truly what she felt for Link, she will never be sure. Either way, Zelda begins to realise just how much she can manage without him. Gradually, her confidence returns, and she is able to establish herself within the realm. After sparing Hyrule Kingdom, her people, thankfully, welcome their Queen with open arms, celebrating all she has achieved, and all she has done for them. She can’t imagine what would have happened if she had failed.
Yet, the only reason Zelda has been promised a coronation is due to an empty throne. Although her father, the late King Rhoam, had survived the events of Calamity, his war wounds eventually caught up with him. He passed away shortly after, leaving his only daughter and child to take the helm, and live up to all that he was. Zelda has not yet mourned his passing, and still to this day, she can’t find it in her to cry.
All that he forced upon her weeps into her memory like a sad song. Zelda can’t forget. Throughout her entire life, her father looked down at her as a disappointment; she will never admit he practically bullied her, but Zelda has scars of her own to prove the impact his words and actions had on her. She wants to miss him, to love him like a daughter ought to love her father, but, it never happens. Even as she lies awake at night, waiting for the tears to burst through, nothing happens.
Even at the funeral, watching his body burn on the pyre, she felt numb.
It has been eight months since Calamity Ganon’s defeat. A letter of grave importance has arrived for the Princess, and she opens it in hurry, recognising the handwriting as Lady Mipha’s. Zelda already knows what the letter reads, yet her hands are clammy, her heart racing, as she eats up every word.
A union, between Sir Link and Lady Mipha, will be initiated within the coming fortnight. The two of them would be honoured to have Princess Zelda present, should she feel comfortable to do so. Mipha takes extra care to make it clear how Zelda is almost essential, and Zelda can tell she is slightly anxious of the Princess’s reaction. It is no secret Zelda held a significant warmth towards Link, yet Zelda is beginning to realise how innocent that warmth was in the end.
She accepts, of course, and writes back immediately.
Although Zelda holds no resentment or envy or anything of the sort, she can’t help but wonder if their union had potentially been delayed because of her. If Link and Mipha were having an affair before, they certainly kept it quiet. Zelda can’t be sure, though. The two of them were so loyal to their duty, they probably never had the time or chance to consider each other, until the Kingdom was safe.
The world is catching up for all that has been lost, whereas Zelda feels as if she’s still stuck in the same place. She hopes Link would write to her, and tell Zelda what happened between him and Mipha. After all, Zelda likes to believe she is their friend, but, then again, she hardly knew them in the first place. Link was randomly assigned to protect Zelda, whereas Mipha, while she has always been kind to Zelda, is a foreign sovereign. It was generous of Mipha to resign from her throne rights during the battle of Calamity, but she has, indeed, returned to her position as heir to the Zora throne.
Maybe none of them were friends, just strong comrades. Zelda had noticed how Link and Mipha preferred battling together. They were a strong team, after all. She also will never forget Link’s desperation to rescue Mipha from Vah Ruta, nor the fact he stayed behind to help her injured wounds afterwards. Whatever occurred between them in private, Zelda will never know. During Mipha’s rescue, Zelda was admittedly terrified Mipha would die. It would have been horrible to lose her, but a nightmare for Link, and she would resent the Goddesses for having Link go through that kind of trauma.
Yet there is one person in particular who offered Zelda more than protection.
After Calamity’s defeat, Lady Impa had gone in search of adventure (or, refuge) leaving Zelda on her own. Zelda was surprised Impa could drop her duties like that, because she always thought Impa was her most loyal companion. Then again, Impa is human too; not to mention a very tricky individual to read. She might have expressed devotion and charisma to Zelda, but Zelda cannot be sure what was truly going on in her mind. Her departure had just been so abrupt, and Zelda was admittedly hurt.
What makes matters worse is that, out of everybody, it is Impa she misses most.
Like Link, Impa hasn’t written to Zelda either. While Link may have his reasons, Zelda isn’t so forgiving of Impa, somebody who was supposed to be her friend before the Calamity. Or, maybe she simply saw herself as another of Zelda’s guides. Disposable, and, once the war was over, irrelevant.
Zelda requests flowers be sent to Zora’s Domain, a gesture of celebration for both Lady Mipha and Sir Link. One of her advisors has them sent, and once all the most important errands have been finished for the day, Zelda retires to her private quarters. She changes into her night wear, shrugging on her gown, before opening the doors to the balcony outside. The moon is beginning to reach the dark clouds, and she leans over, inhaling the night.
Usually, in the evening, loneliness is a familiar companion.
In all honesty, Princess Zelda believes she deserves loneliness. While she may have eventually accessed her powers, it took time, and many perished due to her incompetence. Zelda cannot thank the Champions enough for all they have done, nor her armies. Their sacrifices, patience and willingness to protect a woman who does not deserve protection in the slightest. Sometimes, she wonders if she should have died in the end; at least, then, Hyrule would be rid of a lousy sovereign. Why anybody could rejoice over Zelda ascending the throne, she has no idea. Zelda, she believes, is too worthless of an honour.
Once, Zelda did have a mother. Lady Urbosa speaks of her often, too often. A woman she admired and felt a great deal for. How sincere these feelings were remain a mystery, but Zelda can’t deny that Urbosa’s dedication to keep Zelda safe is because of her mother. They must have been close. She had heard great stories of her mother: she wasn’t a warrior by any means—not like Mipha or Urbosa, anyway. But, she had a big, kind heart. Her generosity and beauty are widely spoken of, and how much of a great mother she would have made.
Unfortunately her mother died when Zelda was barely six years of age. She wonders whether things would have been different had her mother survived. Whether she would have accessed her powers earlier.
Zelda isn’t the only one without a mother. Link, Impa and Mipha did not know theirs either. What does that do to a person? To have an absent mother, yet a neglectful father, almost hating his own daughter’s existence, surely that will have detrimental effects on how one will not only live their life, but raise their own children. Zelda grimaces. At least Impa and Link don’t know their father, and Mipha’s father is far more forgiving than Zelda’s. Still, the impact of absent parents cannot be understated.
Returning to her room, Zelda leaves the balcony doors open as she searches for her book. It’s one Urbosa let her borrow, focussing on old legends of the male Gerudo, Ganondorf. How, in different generations, he was actually a kind man. Zelda finds that difficult to believe, though. Most stories she has heard of the great Ganondorf have always been surrounded with evil and greed. Yet, there was a reason why Urbosa gave her this book, and encouraged her to read it. That, maybe, the world isn’t all bad after all.
The spine cracks open as she resumes from where she was. However, before she can begin, Zelda hears a light thump from the balcony. Initially, the Princess freezes, not sure if her mind is playing games with her. Then, cautiously (yet, prepared to defend herself), she moves towards the open balcony—
‘Your Royal Highness,’ Impa bows. ‘Sorry for the late intrusion.’
Zelda blinks, stupefied. ‘We have a main entrance.’
‘I know, however I wanted to skip niceties with the guards, and see you as soon as I could.’
‘You—you climbed the Castle walls?’
They look at each other, both equally baffled. Zelda because of Impa’s entrance, and Impa because is Zelda honestly that surprised?
‘If you prefer, I can visit you in the morning. I admit, it is getting rather late.’
‘You never wrote.’ Zelda’s rage flares. ‘Not once. You left, and I was happy for you to be independent of me, but I expected a letter at the very least. Just so I knew you were okay. It’s been months, and you expect us to continue as normal?’
Impa chews on her lower lip. Perhaps it was naïve of her to hope Zelda would, well, let that slide. She should have written admittedly, but Impa thought it best Zelda not be advised by the same people all the time. That she establish herself on her own, become a Princess who doesn’t depend on another.
Glancing at her shoes, Impa says, ‘Sorry.’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ Zelda mutters, although it clearly does. ‘You might as well come inside. Close the doors behind you.’
Relieved, Impa steps inside the Princess’s quarters, obeying her instructions. Once the doors are shut, she turns back to Zelda, who now sits on the edge of her bed. It is obvious that the young Princess is still frustrated with her, but Zelda is trying her best not to allow emotions to dominate her decisions.
Impa reaches for a chair in the corner, and drags it over to sit near Zelda, yet makes sure it’s a couple of metres away. She doubts Zelda is completely forgiving yet, and it’s probably best Impa doesn’t intrude on her space.
‘You look well, Princess,’ she starts. ‘How are you getting along?’
‘Fine,’ Zelda answers shortly. She wraps her gown around her tighter. ‘So, are you going to tell me where you’ve been?’
‘Mainly outside of Hyrule. The other nations which lie across the seas. I’ve discovered all kinds of different religions, how people rule; the diversity of species which roam our planet. Honestly, it’s remarkable! I’m sure you would have enjoyed yourself, ma’am, had you the liberty to accompany me.’
‘Well, in case you’ve forgotten, I have a Kingdom to rule.’
Impa sighs. ‘Look, I know you’re angry at me, but—’
‘I’m not angry.’
‘Okay.’
Zelda exhales slowly, pinching the bridge of her nose. ‘Since your departure, I have been completely alone. I accepted that, and I shan’t complain. Gods know it’s what I deserve. I understood why Link chose another life, and why the other Champions have moved on from their oaths. That is what I expected from them. However, for my dearest friend, and most loyal companion, to abandon me without even a good bye—’ she shakes her head, ‘—that hurts me. You didn’t even consider staying a little longer after Father’s passing.’
‘That—that isn’t true!’ Impa has taken the defensive, honestly shocked Zelda can describe her so awfully. ‘Don’t you recall, Princess? I asked you whether you prefer me stay. You barely hesitated, and ordered me to leave. In fact, you demanded all the Champions, including I, to resign from our initial positions. I don’t think you gave any of us a choice in the matter.’
‘Maybe not for them,’ Zelda is on her feet now, clearly distressed. ‘But you? When have you ever buckled to any of my demands? That’s why I always enjoyed having you close. You—you talked back. You weren’t afraid to say no to me, and—’ she stops. What’s the point? Impa has her story, and Zelda has her own. Clearly they’re in disagreement as to who is in the wrong, and it only rattles Zelda’s anger all the more.
Impa stands too. She rests her hands on Zelda’s shoulders.
‘Shall we let bygones be bygones? I’m here now.’
The temptation to fall into her arms, and be held, is overwhelming. However, Zelda remains glued to the floor. She looks up at Impa, expression beginning to soften. Seeing her now, to have her comforting presence, admittedly fills Zelda with a merciful joy she cannot describe. But she is still mad at her, so she won’t smile, nor initiate a cuddle.
Not yet.
‘Link is to be wed,’ she says.
‘I heard,’ Impa replies. ‘Good for him, I say.’
‘Quite.’
‘How do you feel about the matter?’
‘I’m happy for him. I am happier for Mipha, though. She has always been so—’ much better than I. ‘Perhaps you would accompany me to their union?’
‘Of course,’ Impa smiles. She lowers her hands. ‘Honestly, I did wonder if those two had something going on. Whenever us three went on errands, they never made me feel like a third-wheel or anything, but… I don’t know. Just a hunch, you know? Plus, they were exceptional warriors, weren’t they?’
‘Link told me a few of stories from his childhood. How Lady Mipha helped raise him, even train him to become the soldier he is today. I suppose it is of no surprise they always worked well together.’
‘Princess, you are also at liberty to move on, as well.’ Impa folds her arms. ‘I, admittedly, am surprised you’re not feeling anything negative towards the union. It would be perfectly understandable if you were.’
‘Huh. Despite the rumours, Impa, it was never a mutual connection. Looking back now, it was a mere fancy on my part. I’ve never been in love.’
Impa raises her brows briefly, and says nothing.
‘Are you hungry?’
‘Ravenous,’ Impa grins. ‘Thirsty, too.’
‘I am sure we can spare you some water.’
‘You have my thanks, Princess, but honestly: I’d kill for something stronger.’
Minutes later, Zelda has escorted Impa to the kitchens. She informs the guards they need not disturb the cooks. She is confident Impa can arrange her own meal without professional help. While Impa browses the cupboards for food, Zelda grabs two glasses and a bottle of mead. It isn’t entirely appropriate for the occasion or meal, but it’s the best she has at the moment. Besides, Zelda doesn’t really drink.
Once the mead is poured, she holds a glass up to Impa, who gratefully accepts.
‘God save the Queen,’ and she downs it in one.
Zelda pauses the drink to her lips, wondering if Impa is being sarcastic.
The mead is a hot sweetness in her mouth, warming her body as she swallows. Zelda pours Impa another glass.
‘On your adventures, did you make any friends?’
‘Friends?’ Impa accepts her fresh glass. ‘Not exactly friends, ma’am. I did meet some very interesting people, however.’
‘Oh.’
‘Some were most attentive,’ Impa smirks, downing the mead in one again.
Zelda twitches a smile. ‘Oh?’
‘Very hospitable. I did enjoy the, uh, friendliness of certain territories.’
Zelda snorts, and Impa laughs.
‘My God,’ Zelda murmurs, clearly amused. ‘You are incorrigible.’
‘Living life to its fullest while I’m still young.’
‘Nonsense. You’re young for a while yet. You don’t age exactly as Zora do, but you Sheikah aren’t too far off. I know some of your people who are over the age of one-hundred years, and they’re still kicking.’
‘And you, Princess?’
Zelda lowers the glass. ‘What about me?’
‘Have you met anybody of interest in my absence?’
‘No,’ Zelda answers honestly. ‘I have been busy with other matters.’
Impa decides not to take her tone the wrong way. ‘Well, as you told me, you are still young yet. Only seventeen, are you not?’
‘Eighteen.’
‘What, since when?’
‘Since my birthdate, three months ago.’
‘Ah.’
By this point, Impa has completely forgotten her hunger. Guilt shreds her apart, realising she had forgotten Princess Zelda’s birthday.
‘I’m sorry—’
‘Please. No more apologies. It’s nothing important.’
‘It is to me,’ Impa replies, and Zelda can see just how sorry Impa is. ‘You’re right. I’ve been a shit friend to you.’ Zelda glances at the doorway, hoping the guards hadn’t heard Impa’s foul language. Not that she really cares. In fact, she is touched Impa has recognised her poor behaviour. ‘I promise to make up for my mistakes.’
‘My dear friend, you already have. If it weren’t for you, Hyrule would no longer exist.’
‘I disagree. It was you who saved us.’
‘And you who guided me, kept me safe. Kept me sane. Anyway, it’s just a birthday, Impa. I’ll have many more. I was kind of glad no celebrations were made. Because as grateful as I am for everybody’s help, it is they, and you, who deserve honours and blessings. Not I.’ Zelda turns away, leaning against the table. Impa doesn’t move. ‘I was weak. A mere child. A burden. And, I can never, ever do justice for how sorry I am for all the grief and turmoil I have caused.’
Impa is speechless, horrified by Zelda’s words. How long has she been thinking this way?
She knows Zelda has had her sincere doubts in the past, but to still be beating herself up over something she had no control over—it breaks her heart.
‘I wish you saw yourself the way I see you.’
Zelda frowns, looking at her. ‘How do you see me?’
The atmosphere has drastically shifted, and Impa isn’t very good at conversations such as these. When things get too emotional, too intense, too intimate even, Impa finds it easier to run away from the scenario. She can fight any monster or demon who crosses her path, and do it with a smile on her face, but to be open, to be brutally honest about what plays on her heart and mind, it scares her more than anything.
Yet Zelda is almost pleading. She needs this.
Needs to hear from somebody, anybody, that she is wanted after all.
(That she is not a bad person; she is not as evil as Calamity Ganon.)
Impa abandons her drink. She steps over to Zelda, and considers touching her, but retreats at once. Instead, Impa stands beside her, and she is quiet for a short while. Struggling to be emotionally vulnerable with another human being is not easy.
But she can’t bear witnessing Zelda in this state; how cruelly she speaks of herself.
‘As you are.’
Zelda slumps slightly, underwhelmed by that response.
Yet Impa continues.
‘Everything. You are everything,’ her voice has lowered, so quiet Zelda can hardly hear. Yet Zelda’s heart stills at that simple word. Everything. ‘A purpose, a reason to live; the dream we aspire to be; a legend, a God—the reason why people find it in themselves to wake up, to fight, to love once more. The comfort on a dark day. Hope. And you never grew up to be like this. You always were. You are this. I see you exactly as you are: terrified, with a really foul temper sometimes—’ Zelda stiffens, ‘—yet so powerful, you scare me. So resilient, so devoted and humble, the pressure on your shoulders enough to break you, yet you push onwards.’
Zelda can’t think. Can’t speak.
Hardly breathe.
Never has she witnessed Impa like this, nor did she ever imagine such beautiful words could come from her. The fact Impa sees her this way, and to Impa, she is so much. Too much. Zelda, for the first time in her life, feels whole. As if all the splintered pieces have slowly found their way back home, cradling her tired heart and aching head.
It is close to unbearable, however. To be seen.
Not just as a God. Not just as sovereign.
But human. A woman.
Something real, no longer made out of fiction or legend. A real woman, with a beating heart, who feels so much, and too much. Who is so desperate to do what is best, yet, as humans do, fails. Who has been so let down not only by her own father, but the Goddess she allegedly embodies. To have the world crash at her feet, and to fix it alone, to carry the weight of everybody on her shoulders, and not once complain.
And then, when it’s all over, to be abandoned. Just as she ought to be.
Zelda, a woman destined to be alone.
‘I didn’t know you could talk like that,’ she whispers. ‘How long have you thought all of this?’
Admittedly, it’s difficult to meet Impa’s gaze. Zelda’s cheeks have flushed, she feels warm, hot all over, and it’s almost unbearable the way Impa watches her. Never, ever has Zelda been looked at the way Impa looks at her.
Sees her.
‘God knows.’
Zelda isn’t entirely sure when it happens, how it happens; whether she meant to, or if Impa was planning to beforehand. They kiss, and it is nothing as Zelda ever imagined kisses to be. It’s barely a feather’s touch, hesitant, as if both timid with one another, or scared of what they’re doing; what they want. It barely last a moment, a heartbeat, and Zelda struggles to open her eyes; afraid to face reality, knowing that whatever this is, whatever she is feeling, how close she is to bursting, it is only temporary.
Everything for Zelda is always temporary. Nothing lasts, nothing survives, nothing stays.
She barely allows herself a glimpse, before allowing her senses to completely delude her. Zelda pushes herself forwards, her body hitting Impa’s, and then her arms are around her neck, hands touching her face, and they’re kissing again. This time, they’re not as uncertain. This kiss could not be more certain, in fact, and a shudder travels up and down her spine as she endures Impa’s response.
Clearly Impa is way more experienced than Zelda, and she guides Zelda through her kisses, introducing her to what it’s like to express affection for another. If Zelda wasn’t so filled with euphoria, she would comment on how good of a kisser Impa is; how soft her skin is, like velvet beneath her fingertips. The fact she smells heavenly, and when she touches Zelda, she’s firm yet gentle. The security Zelda has always wanted.
As Zelda’s hands pull at Impa’s collar, close to demanding, she moans softly when Impa bites tenderly on her lower lip, her tongue warm in Zelda’s mouth; excitement thrills Zelda with each passing second, and she allows herself to fulfil her curiosity for a moment. Her palms smooth down Impa’s shoulders, the muscles in her biceps, before meeting just above her chest, stopping there, her insecurities getting the better of her.
Their kisses grow more enthusiastic, deeper, almost frantic, and Zelda’s back is pushed into the table, Impa’s hands pressing into her hips, and she’s everywhere, intoxicating, and Zelda can hardly breathe, she might go crazy—
A gasp shatters Zelda’s reverie. It’s from herself.
Impa has stopped kissing her, and, for a second, Zelda is horrified she has done something wrong.
Then when she looks at Impa properly, she realises Impa hasn’t stopped because of her necessarily. The two of them are quiet, and Impa hasn’t moved, still pressed up to her Princess. Another second passes, and, ‘I got ahead of myself back there.’
In all honesty, Zelda is too dazed to care.
‘You did?’
‘I wasn’t expecting that. From you.’
To Zelda’s disappointment (and minor relief), Impa steps back, separating them both from one another. Zelda wasn’t expecting that from herself either. She has no idea what was going through her head when she kissed Impa, but it’s what she wanted; all she could think about. The very idea of not kissing her would have driven her mad.
Maybe she already is.
Oh, Gods, what are they doing?
‘I’m sorry,’ Impa places her hands behind her back, almost as if trying to restrain herself. ‘That was unlike me. Only, you never gave me the impression that you—’ Impa isn’t entirely sure what to add. That Zelda liked her? That Zelda wanted to kiss her? Or, maybe it’s just Zelda’s youth. Maybe she is confused, and Impa is merely being a negative influence. I never knew you had it in you, she wants to tease, but this is neither the time or place. ‘I truly hope I have not made you feel uncomfortable.’
‘No,’ Zelda insists, catching her breath. ‘Never.’
Impa smiles, trying her best to relieve the tension between them. ‘I had best retire, as should you.’ She steps past Princess Zelda, ‘By the way…’ Zelda turns to look at her, expectant. ‘Don’t obsess over this. I assure you, you have nothing to worry about.’
Just as she was at her father’s funeral, Zelda has gone numb, but she can’t deny the frustrating thrill beginning to rise.
She just nods, silent as ever.
‘Good night, Your Highness,’ and, in only a couple of seconds, Impa has left, through the doors and out of sight.