She couldn't help but wonder when, exactly, her country had gone to hell to this degree.
It had never been a great country - at least within her own memory, though the histories she had studied as a little girl told of an age of prosperity, of free trade with the country beyond the curtain of reality, a time where the people were happy and loved peacefully, and there was no need for heroes.
Hilda dreamed of these things, although she had never seen them with her own eyes. All she had seen was chasms between areas that seemed to fall infinitely, monsters that roamed freely, and former palace guards reduced to drinking and cursing the royal family's name. Her family's name.
Hilda was desperate to change this. She yearned down to the marrow of her bones to look out the window of her bedchamber and see golden sunlight lighting green meadows, to hear the clash of swords as guards trained in the castle courtyard...
She looked up at the monstrously transformed Yuga, standing beside her and admiring the painting of Princess Zelda.
Yuga felt her gaze and looked down at her. "Soon," he said certainly. "The Hero only has one dungeon more... then he will be drawn here, to us, to finish his 'task' and complete our plans."
Hilda looked again at the portrait of Zelda. It was likely her imagination, but the Hylian princess seemed to be pleading with her captors. Don't do this, please, there must be another way.
There is no other way, Hilda replied silently. There can be no other way. Lorule will be restored. My kingdom will be restored, after so long a time of darkness. Lorule will rise again, even at the cost of Hyrule's existence.
Hilda stared solemnly at the picture for a moment, then smiled a small smile, full of terrible promise. "Excellent."