Zelda opened her eyes and sat up slowly.
Perhaps it would be a while before she got used to sleeping through the night, to the comfort of a bed, to the regality of dresses and crowns, to the luxuries of a Princess of Hyrule.
It now seemed so foreign.
She looked around her chambers, her eyebrows furrowing when she noticed Impa's absence.
More than an assurance of the Princess' safety, Impa had made a habit of sitting in that chair to console her back to sleep when Zelda awoke in the night, from nightmares that delved into her darkest fears or deepest desires, or from some residual instinct to get up and break camp, to get up and move along to the next destination.
Those instincts were no longer needed for such a Princess, for someone who would soon be a Queen in her fathers' absence.
Zelda pulled away the blanket that covered her, slowly sliding away from the bed, her feet meeting the cold floor with a distinct shiver through her body.
"Impa?" she inquired as she stepped cautiously to the center of the room, looking around.
Was she hiding? Was there some danger? Had she been taken and Zelda spared?
Not that Zelda needed Impa to console her back to sleep, even to protect her from an intruder.
Zelda often forgot, in her return to the castle, in the moment she wore a dress for the first time in seven years, that she was indeed trained as a sheikah warrior.
Impa knew this well, and surely could have left Zelda to fend for herself if she needed to.
But something was off to Zelda. Impa had been stubborn and insistent in her promise that she would watch over her. For the past week since the Princess' return she couldn't get Impa away if she tried.
Really, Impa was the only remnant of a parent figure Zelda had, the only family she had left.
Yet, she must have just left for some reason, Zelda taking a couple steps back to her bed before hearing three knocks at her window.
Her heart beat quicker, nearly jumping out of her skin at the surprise, quickly taking the Sheikah knives at her bedside into her hands.
Zelda stood before the window again, her eyebrows furrowing when she saw a dark figure behind it, no doubt shadowed by the warped glass of the window.
Her sheikah knives were ready and in hand, her fingers clenching at the handles so hard her knuckles were starting to whiten. She quickly stepped to the window and unlatched the hook, stepping back just as quickly and assuming a crouched battle stance.
The window creaked open, Zelda trying to swallow her fear, her anxiety as she stared, the shadowy figure starting to take on a color.
The two knives clattered to the floor when she recognized it as green, Link hopping from the windowsill to the floor of her room with a rather surprising stealth.
Zelda was speechless, her eyes wide and watering, her breath shaky and heavy.
It really was him, Link.
Tall, with bright, blue eyes and that distinct blonde hair she couldn't ever forget. He wasn't armed in any way, the Master Sword and the Hylian Shield completely gone, not even a sheath or a leather strap hugging his green tunic.
It was just Link.
His faced showed a goofy smile, a chuckle at her speechlessness.
"Not expecting me?" he asked playfully with a raised eyebrow.
"Sorry, I'm a little late," he said as he went back and closed the window. "The guards changed their rounds again. I guess they're really trying to keep intruders out."
He approached her, stopping quite close and bringing a soft hand to her cheek, Zelda crying at the sensation.
"Goddesses, I missed you, it's bee—"
He stopped himself at the sight of her tears.
"Is there something wrong?" he asked.
Zelda just stared into his eyes.
If she were honest, this was the most right thing in the world.
That's what was wrong.
She shook her head and said,
"Link, what are you doing here? I…I sent you away…you…you're supposed to be…"
But all her reservations melted away when he kissed her, Zelda almost feeling Link's inhale as it deepened. It was as if they had kissed before.
"You think even all that could keep me away?" he asked with disbelief as he retreated. "I love you."
Zelda let out a shaky inhale as her tears continued.
Something inside her, a small voice she had grown to loathe, told her that all this couldn't be real.
Yet, she wanted it all to be real so much, the whimsy of it, his presence, his touch, his love, his smile, his brightened eyes at the sight of her, that she felt herself delving into it.
"Oh, Link," Zelda said as she kissed him back, the sensation warming inside her so genuine it had to be real.
She found herself leading him to the bed as they continued, their lips seeming to be locked in a desperate, ever-changing hold.
"This is completely improper…" she said jokingly with a smile as she sat down on the bed.
"You say that every time," Link replied with the same smile as she felt her back meet the bed.
"Yes?" she heard him inquire,
"Yes," she replied, her eyes closing,
But, when she closed her eyes, an image flashed in her mind.
A stalfos, a skeleton warrior, with gold-plated heavy armor and gauzy limbs. One eye was blue, its' ocean deep with sadness and despair, and the other eye was red, its' fires burning with regret and with anger.
"Link!" she yelled as she sat up, waking up in a cold sweat, Impa's red eyes across from her perking up with intrigue.
There she was, in that chair, in that corner of the room.
It was all a dream.
Zelda buried her face in her hands as Impa's expression softened.
"I can't do this, Impa," she said, her voice slightly muffled. "Every time, I…I'm so excited to see him…that I think it's real."
Impa her crossed her arms and sat back as Zelda looked up, her eyes wet with tears. It was like staying up with a child with a high fever or some other malady that hinders their sleep. There isn't really much to do but wait for the body to respond to medicine or to heal on its' own.
The only thing Impa could really offer was her presence, and her patience. For the past week that's all she had offered, wanting so much to be able to do more, but knowing she couldn't.
"The image at the end?" Impa asked.
"Same as before, the stalfos," Zelda replied.
"Mmm," Impa said as she nodded. "Interesting…"
"What do you mean, interesting?" Zelda asked, starting to get frustrated and getting out of bed. "That's all you say! 'Interesting' or 'okay' or 'I understand'! That's the best you can offer me?! You just sit here to make monosyllabic and monotone responses?! You could do that anywhere, Impa! In fact, you do! It doesn't help!"
Impa's expression barely changed, she was used to Zelda yelling at her by now.
Zelda started to pace angrily in front of her, from one side of the room to the other.
"Well, it's not interesting! It's completely wicked what I've done! I've ruined his life by thinking I was making a sacrifice, a selfless act on my part, that he couldn't have peace unless it was a time where I hadn't screwed it all up! The first time he gets to have a choice in seven years and I felt I had the right to choose it for him! He must hate me now, living in his timeline! He should hate me! I hate me!"
"And there's the other thing! Is he really living in his own timeline, or is he surviving?! Is that all he's used to because of what he had to do for Hyrule?! Am I going to cause his death?!
Zelda laughed at herself with a short chuckle, the resentment behind it clear.
"No, don't answer that Impa, of course I've caused his death. Whatever happens to him from here on out is my fault."
"But I'll never know, will I?! I'll drive myself crazy wondering what he's doing, whether or not he's hurt, if he went back to Kokiri, if he went journeying somewhere else, how fast he got over me once he started to hate me, why I keep seeing these images of him, whether or not they're true or just tricks of my mind, whether or not the connection between us really exists still or if it was completely severed and my dreams have become nightmares of fantasy, of a lust I can't have!"
"Well?!" Zelda said as she stopped pacing, turning to Impa with the same frustration, making the Princess breathe heavily in the silence that followed.
Impa was crying too, now, but it didn't phase Zelda in the slightest.
She had seen it before.
"That's what I thought! You're silent because you know it's true! That he's not a part of my life anymore! That he never really was, and I just have to accept that and get over him, over all of it! It's inevitable for me to accept that and you just don't want to say it!"
"Well, I don't want to get over him, Impa!" she yelled without thinking, catching herself as she looked down, her fists clenching.
Zelda shook her head in silence, as if there was something in her mind she was trying to block out, to shake off.
"Please," Zelda said in a quiet voice. "Please don't tell me that I have to. I already know."
The Princess retreated a couple steps back, leaning against a bedpost wither arms crossed and her head down.
"You thought I'd tire myself out by now, didn't you Impa," Zelda continued. "Of crying…of shouting…of having these feelings, these dreams, these regrets…I must admit I thought the same."
There was a silence, Impa's gaze not once wavering from the Princess before her, who at all times seemed on the verge of breakdown until she was in the middle of one.
Impa had assumed the habit of clenching the sides of the chair she sat, or clenching at her arms when they were crossed, trying to restrain herself from interrupting.
At times, it was also out of a frustration that her Princess was undergoing such suffering, even after everything she had been through.
She remembered a little girl, distant and foggy in her minds' eye, whose smile and laugh brightened every day. Even when the numbers of Impa's tribe were dwindling, herself forced to watch them recover themselves after the Great Hyrulean Civil War, the smile of the little girl with blue eyes and blonde hair brought her great joy.
After all, if that little girl could smile after her mother's untimely death, then perhaps she could learn more from her than what she was supposed to be teaching.
That little girl, who got excited during story time, hearing about the Goddess Hylia, about old legends in the books, who would run in the meadows for hours, picking flowers and bringing them back to her father.
She made him smile too, in times where the remnants of the civil war left in his kingdom was his responsibility. It didn't matter that he didn't start the war to begin with.
The little girl was changed now, in ways she never expected.
She was empty, the hole in her heart impossible to fill, the kingdom she was obligated to impossible to leave.
Night after night, she yelled at her attendant, a placeholder for herself.
Impa didn't know how to correct the Princess' self hatred, how to heal her broken heart, how to ease her regrets.
"I went to the library today," the Princess finally said, rather calmly, "and I…I found something…"
Impa uncrossed her arms, leaning forward slightly.
This was new.
Normally, the Princess screamed and yelled until she broke down crying on the floor, Impa meeting her there until she consoled her to go back to sleep.
"Logically, I figured I couldn't go to his timeline myself. That was only possible because he was the Hero of Time. He was the only person who wouldn't have been incidentally doubled. It would have catastrophic effects I can't even begin to fathom."
"I looked for reversal spells," Zelda continued. "But those are only for the effects of elixirs or small accidents caused by potions, nothing as big as a shift in time."
Zelda looked up at Impa and said,
"The damage is done. Link is…"
"Link is gone."
"So, I spent the rest of the day pouring through books of old relics. Crystal balls, enchanted mirrors…I even went over all that is known about the Ocarina."
"Nothing," she said with a shake of her head. "Absolutely nothing…"
"Until…" Zelda started, Impa listening intently as Zelda's head went downcast once more, her right hand clutching her left elbow.
"I found a forgetting potion," Zelda said somberly, Impa shaking her head 'no' as soon as she heard it.
"I could forget that I love him," the Princess said as she stepped forward, her glance meeting Impa's.
Only now, Impa's expression was much more heartbroken than concerned, her lips parting.
"I…could forget him," Zelda continued, yet her frustration rebuilt itself in Impa's silence, coming away from the bedpost.
"I could!" she yelled, now petulant. "You don't think I can, but I could! You think I'm weak! Brought to despair by some…some boy! A weakness you warned me about! A weakness you want very much to say 'I told you so, Sheik, this is what you get for letting your guard down'! For falling in love!"
"Well, it turns out that there are remedies for weakness! I can just forget him! I…I could be courted! And…and I could become Queen! Giving birth to heirs without once thinking what they would look like of they were his! I could live a happy life and die an old Queen! Telling my children to be wise and to act on love when I've done neither!"
"Well, is that what you want?! For me to live long enough to fulfill the obligation of passing along the royal bloodline?! Is that all I am to you?! Is that why you sit here in silence, making sure my hate for myself doesn't cascade into something that endangers me! It's not about me is it?! It's about the Royal Family, like always!"
Zelda was now seething with anger, in her eyes a blue flame as she turned away, her back facing away from Impa now. Her arms hugged each other as she brought them up, trying to give herself some comfort she didn't have as she bowed her head.
"It shouldn't be about me, anyway. I…I don't deserve that."
Zelda dropped her arms as her gaze went to the ceiling. Impa didn't know that she was holding back tears. The Princess felt that she had already cried too much, that to cry anymore would be weak and pathetic. What was wrong with her that she couldn't just get past this? She expected herself to be an example to her people, to be within herself the perfection they expected. How could she be a strong leader if she was falling apart?
Zelda walked calmly to the window, opening the latch before leaning her arms and head on the windowsill.
Both her and Impa were truly exhausted, awake for much longer than they were asleep, Zelda especially tired of being so emotionally drained day after day. Impa had gotten used to it all by now, the quick statements of denial before memory betrayed them, the outbursts of anger, the theories she would spin on how to make up for her mistake using the ocarina and the spells she knew, the quiet hours of Zelda's silence in a depressed and unresponsive state, the few times when Zelda acknowledged that Link was gone, and other truths Impa knew was hard to swallow.
They all came and went in a dizzying spell, no rhyme or reason, no structure, no order. Zelda was suffering a grief foreign to Impa, foreign to anyone. There is no grief that is doubled, no grief that is copied, no grief that matches another. Like a unique snowflake on a winters' day, like the distinct patterns of an autumn leaf, like the ever-changing waves of an ocean, grief is never defined, not subject to just one perspective, one overarching statement. It is immeasurable, unstandardized loss that boasts no worse nor better, but just is.
Even the grief suffered by Link, at that very moment, was different from hers.
"Why did he have to love me?" Zelda asked.
Her voice was oddly calm, it seeming to Impa that she was genuine in her inquiry.
But Impa didn't say a word, only keeping her sad gaze on the Princess.
"It makes it all so much harder, Impa, I…"
Impa could tell that the Princess' voice was breaking.
"I don't know what else to do," she said in a small voice.
It was obvious now that she was crying, Impa finally standing up because of it.
The Sheikah attendant placed her hands on Zelda's shoulders, before she felt the Princess shudder at the touch, the sensation so foreign of someone else touching her.
Perhaps that was why the hidden Princess, trained as a Sheikah warrior to be distant and cold, reacted more than most would when the first touches she'd had in years was Links' embrace, his fingertips on her hand, when Malon touched her shoulder, and now when Impa pulled her into an embrace.
The girl she held was so undeniably broken, so torn apart by what she had to endure as a child, by the death of her father, by her love for the swordsman she had wronged, that Impa couldn't help but cry as well.
"The forgetting potion," Impa said. "It's a quick fix to a complicated problem, superficial at best. Your despair won't erase that easily, it never can. The forgetting potion will only make the reason for your pain less clear, it will cascade you into apathy and into darkness. Without reason to follow your pain, you will fall quickly, I've seen it before."
"But Impa, I…" Zelda blubbered. "I can't live like this…I can't rule like this…I just can't…I've never done anything right."
"You saved your kingdom," Impa said softly. "And that, my dear, is plenty."
Zelda was silent as she nodded, as she crawled back into bed, as she drifted off into sleep, as Impa sat back down in the chair.
If Zelda were honest, she had run out of energy, to fight, to yell, to scream.
If she hadn't, she surely would have replied with an 'at what cost'.
Author's Note: So…yeah…you wanted angst, right? You didn't? Well, it's here anyway. That's how that works.
Pretty proud of this chapter nonetheless. Just a couple more to go.