The door had hardly closed behind the last of the royal advisors before Zelda sighs, weariness creeping into the pleasantly neutral expression she had been maintaining for the better part of the afternoon, her eyelids hanging heavy and the corners of her mouth just barely turning down. She leans in over the table, her braids swinging forward with the motion, fingers splayed over the myriad of papers spread over its surface. Their contents had been exhaustively detailed to the princess and her council as the hours wore on, as well as to her guest, who had watched over the proceedings with an unyielding crimson gaze, a silent specter.
Zelda shakes her head, not looking up. "I feel I must apologize. This cannot have been the most enjoyable week for you, my friend. I had anticipated that you might find this parade of consultations tedious, but I had counted on gladder tidings at the very least."
It certainly had been tedious, Midna could not help but concede. Far more so than she had expected when she first agreed to the princess' suggestion that they spend the next fortnight in each other's kingdoms, the better to understand just what they were walking into. Their week in Hyrule was at last at its end, not a moment too soon by her reckoning. The Twili had been introduced to more humans than she had ever seen in her life, from guild masters and the petty lords of the many settlements dotting the countryside to the nobility of Castle Town and the lords and ladies who resided within the castle itself. Of the latter group, Midna had begrudgingly become the most familiar with the members of the royal court, and had rapidly decided that the two humans she had already known were more than enough for her.
A select few of the noble class, those regarded as the very height of their respective orders and professions, were honored with a place on the princess' council. All of them had been nominated by the late king, and it was immediately and troublingly apparent that a number of them considered themselves more loyal to him than to his daughter. It was an odd combination, the reverence in which they held her and the condescension with which they spoke to her, as though she were still the beloved infant child of a living king. Zelda, for her part, seemed to take it in stride, the same way she took everything, and Midna was at a complete loss on where to begin addressing the disparity. Despite their surface similarities, Midna had been advised that having a seat on the council was not quite the same thing as being a Twili clan leader, and after a long week of proposals and reports and requests, she had to agree that the council was another beast entirely.
Their sole purpose in life, she was convinced, was to cling to Zelda's skirts and plead for more.
More access to the castle, more trade options, more tax loopholes, more hot spring water from the mountains and finely woven cloth from the desert and delicately carved furniture from the woodlands and every other triviality she had never heard of. Though some hid it better than others, there was an undercurrent beneath nearly every request, spoken by beady eyes and exaggerated courtesy in place of honest words. More money, more power, more influence. It was the same greed she had come to know in Zant, and it was all she could do to remain still and silent when every fiber of her being screamed to launch them out of the castle and away from the friend she had worked so hard to protect.
The Twili were hardly strangers to prolonged arguments over the distribution of limited resources; the ones in the Twilight Realm had stretched for generations, and Midna had spent many an hour entertaining herself by imagining the looks on her own advisors' faces if they beheld the vast scope of the supplies that so concerned the Hylians. Even after the most recent reports, ones of the kingdom's flagging food stores after a weak harvest, the land struck her as one of endless bounty. A cursory stroll through the town market revealed a staggering variety of fresh foodstuffs, grown by a fleet of farmers who seemed to suffer no shortage of arable land and fresh water. On her first night in the castle, Zelda had apologized for the simplicity of their meal, citing a lack of staff, yet Midna had not recognized a single dish. Whatever it was, it had been vastly different from the pale vegetation and blind fish of her home, or even from the wild greens and berries Link had skillfully procured to supplement the game that he so easily hunted down as a wolf. The food in the castle struck her as suspiciously brightly colored, drowning in butter and flavored with unusual spices, and so rich that she could hardly stomach more than a few mouthfuls. Under Zelda's anxious gaze, she had persevered, but it was no small relief to see her portion shrink dramatically on the following days.
Before a similar gaze now, Midna puts on a smile and a bracing tone. "It was good news yesterday," she points out. "Construction in Castle Town is nearly done, and a blocked pass through the southern field has been cleared."
"Too slowly, it's all happening too slowly," Zelda mutters, twisting a braid around her finger and frowning down at the reports before her. "Construction has been "nearly done" for weeks now. While they continue to linger in town, those workers are sorely needed elsewhere."
"It is no small task that you have undertaken, Zelda. These things take time. Most people seem to be back to their ordinary lives already."
"How much time will it take? How much time do we have?"
Midna has no answer for this, no more than Zelda does, and opts for a shrug instead. "Well now, what world is this, where I'm the one telling you to be patient?"
She doesn't smile, not quite, but her agitation lessens enough that her fingers still in her hair, and Midna counts it as a victory. "I had hoped to show you something more… impressive, I suppose," Zelda admits, casting her eyes downwards. "Perhaps it is selfish, but I wanted you to look forward to becoming part of this kingdom."
Of course I'm looking forward to it. The words ought to come, a dutiful princess or even a halfway decent friend ought to say them, but false as they are, they fail to rise to Midna's lips. Say it, say it you wretch, have you no pity? She doesn't say them, she cannot, and she curses herself instead as the slightest frown creases Zelda's brow.
"I'm sorry, Midna. A typical week shouldn't look like this. I wanted to show you my favorite books in the library, and visit a new curio shop in town." She sighs, and resumes playing with her hair. "And tend to the gardens and swim down at the lake and explore the old ruins at the edge of the field and watch the stars in the observatory. I had it all planned out, I wanted to show you the things I loved most in Hyrule, and chose delegates to handle the new reports that would come in at the turn of the new month. It's fairly routine, everyone should be well used to it, but somehow this month they've all decided that they couldn't possibly manage without me. Here lies the result."
Midna doesn't respond, unable to disagree but quite certain that Zelda would be disappointed if she agreed instead. She has a rather shrewd idea what it is about this month that rendered the reports unmanageable, and that it has nothing to do with their contents. But it would sound so paranoid to say it out loud, wouldn't it? Zelda glances up after a moment, disappointment still worked over her features, and reaches a hand towards Midna's, as though sensing the thoughts behind her silence. It stops a few inches short, fingers splayed upon the table instead.
"I don't know what's gotten into everyone, how so many confident and capable professionals have yet to regain their nerve so long after the day is won. I feel like it's all falling apart, I've hardly had time for myself in months." A snort of bitter laughter escapes her, an ugly sound that lingers too long. "And before that, it was nothing but time by myself for months. When does it end?"
"Soon. We'll figure it out," Midna assures her, her voice firm but her conviction entirely baseless. A measure of gratitude lights in the princess' eyes, but she draws her hand back, as though not expecting her companion to have spoken at all.
"What's happening, Midna? Have the shadows not lifted from this land?"
They have. It was us who lifted them, and they think I'm here to bring them back forever. Can you blame them for being afraid? As before, the words sit heavily on her tongue, and there they remain. Speak, damn you! When have you ever had a problem doing that? She lifts her own hand instead, intending to close the distance between the two, but Zelda turns away, gathering the sprawling reports into a tidy pile.
When she speaks, her voice is brisk, as though her advisors had only just left the meeting. "Well, if nothing else, there's still the presentation of the Accolade this evening. I have not played a part in its preparation, but I am assured that it will be a splendid event."
Midna groans, jabbing a finger in irritation at the papers in her hand. "All week we have heard of supply and staff shortages, why would you approve such a frivolous display?"
The princess does not respond at first, continuing to fuss with her pile until each sheaf is precisely straightened. "However much we may tell ourselves otherwise, no small portion of power comes from the illusion of control. Uncommon as it is, the Accolade of the Goddesses is an old tradition, and a return to tradition makes people feel safe in uncertain times." What good is the illusion of safety? Is the entire kingdom run on smoke and mirrors, then? It is an unkind thought, and one that Midna knows to be false, but she cannot entirely shake it.
Perhaps she had worn her thoughts too close to the surface, however, for Zelda continues. "Please do not think me entirely irresponsible. I've insisted that reconstruction work must come before any kind of ceremony, and it's had to wait these long months until, as you've pointed out, the majority of the people have been able to return to their regular lives." She sighs. "I will be relieved to have it finally over. Delaying the ceremony for so long has not made me popular, I ought to have cancelled it entirely and been done with it."
"Well, only one more night, and you'll never have to hear about it again. And then it'll be another week before you have to deal with your court again," Midna adds with relish.
Only one more night. Though she had said them to comfort her friend, the words become a mantra to bolster her own strength as the night in question wears on. She had quickly learned that the presentation of the Accolade is every bit the stuffy, formal affair that Link had been dreading, taking place in Zelda's throne room for maximum effect. Though Zelda had refused to have the castle fully repaired while her kingdom was in need, even she had conceded that the throne room needed to appear impressive and regal if she was to retain the respect of her subjects. For the amount of work that had been done, there was no evidence of haste as far as Midna could tell, and she was indeed impressed as intended. The previously headless statues of the goddesses had been repaired, a thick new carpet had been rolled across the polished floor, the shattered masonry was removed, and the newly rebuilt walls were decorated with elaborately woven tapestries.
By the time the princesses arrive, the room is densely filled with people, and a cursory glance quickly confirms that all are Hylians. With no Zoras or Gorons to hide amongst, Midna elects to lean against the wall beside a column, hardly eager to draw attention to herself as both the tallest being in the room and the only non-human. The rest of the crowd stands, the only chair in the room being the throne, upon which Zelda sits with her hands folded neatly in her lap. Waiting at both her sides is an array of noblemen, not her esteemed council members but the little lords and ladies who seemed to spend their lives floating idly around Castle Town. Midna's brows knit together at the sight; though they had decorated themselves in highly elaborate outfits, even she knew that they were far from the most influential members of the Hylian court.
Nearly as soon as the princess takes her seat, trumpets blare in the back of the room, and the crowd parts as one. The doors swing open and the last of the day's sunlight pours into the room, framing a lone figure in a green tunic. With slow, cautious steps, Link makes his way towards the throne, looking around the room with the same sharp gaze through which he would analyze a pack of monsters. His eyes fall upon the pillar where Midna stands, and she is heartened to see his expression brighten at her presence. Not entirely able to offer him a smile, she gives a single nod instead, clasping a hand over her chest in whatever show of solidarity she can muster in the silence of the room. We will always fight together, Link. No matter what kind of battle.
Link reaches the base of the throne, falling to a knee while Zelda rises to her feet above him. She produces what seems to be a round copper amulet, dull and green with age. Her voice rings out across the room, but her smile is just for him, aglow with a softness she rarely saw, like the first blooms of spring. "The first Zelda, the goddess reborn, carved this medallion for her first Hero. She meant it as a simple token for her dearest friend, to remember their adventure by. Your deeds have brought them great honor." Link bows his head, allowing Zelda to place the amulet around his neck. A cheer rises from the watching crowd as he straightens up again, and the princess is seated once more.
If the ceremony had ended there, Midna might have found it acceptably short and sweet, perhaps even have appreciated the sentimentality of the act.
The first of the nobles steps forward, a ruddy faced woman whose skirt of silk brocade is so long it winds behind her like a sluggish river. She opens her mouth, and the Twili is struck with a dreadful wave of foreboding, as though watching a tragic accident about to unfold. Link stands only feet before her, but it is to the room at large that she directs her speech.
The woman speaks of the history of Hyrule, and Midna might have found her remarks palatable had they not been so obsequiously dripping with pride and praise. Several long minutes pass before her words trickle to a stop, each one stretching far longer than it had any right to. Finally, she gives Link a small bow, turns and offers a deeper one to the princess, and returns to her vacated space to the side of the throne. A man steps forward to take her place, a heavy cloak billowing around him with his every move and his long, curling moustache shining with wax. He too begins to speak, and Midna's eyes glaze over.
You're joking, right? She looks up at the throne, but there's no hint of amusement in Zelda's expression; there's no hint of anything at all. She sits still and perfect as a doll, her face a neutral mask, and for a moment Midna wonders which of the two of them is closer to human. She casts her gaze around the opulently decorated room instead, turning her attention to the tapestries.
She looks upon exciting hunting scenes, so detailed that she can imagine the thrill of the chase and the wind in her hair by the sight alone. As the man describes how grateful he is to have the kingdom restored to its former greatness, Midna imagines him in the place of the towering beast cornered by the bow-wielding hunting party. His words are pretty enough, to be sure, but they leave a sour taste in her mouth to hear them from the mewling masses who had bent the princess' ear all week despairing of the state of the nation. His speech is longer than the woman's, and continues despite being mentally chased down by hounds, warriors on horseback, and what seems to be some kind of sentient metal creature firing beams of pure light.
Another man steps forward as she studies what seems to be a religious scene, a group of women in matching white gowns standing before a towering stone statue, knee deep in clear water and arms outstretched. The man claims the victory over Ganondorf for all of them, not just for Link. Her eyes narrow, and imagines him held in chains by the woven priestesses in the tapestry, a sacrifice for one of their bloodthirsty goddesses. How dare he! Would any of you have helped us if we needed it during the invasion? If a cursed imp and a wolf came to your door, would you have opened it?
When the third man takes his place, Midna makes no attempt to listen, unwilling to further test her own patience in such a public event. It isn't until he raises his arms and his voice that she glances over. "Now, I think we've all spoken long enough. It's time to hear from the man himself. Link, the floor is yours. Is there anything you would like to say here?" Link whips his head up from where it had been staring at the floor, but smooths his look of surprise into a mildly pleasant smile quickly enough.
'How kind of you.' Though Link had clearly not been informed that he would be asked to speak, it becomes obvious that it had always been part of the plan as a pair of interpreters smoothly move to each side of the room, prepared to relay his words to those who cannot see his hands.
Link pauses for a minute, thinking, as the audience holds its breath. 'As you have noted, this victory is not mine alone, and I cannot let that go unspoken.' He looks over to Midna, his smile as painfully radiant as the sun, pinning her in place. 'None of us would be here without you, Midna, I'm sure of it. Especially not me. What would I ever have done without you?'
"You would have managed," she mutters, face aflame, but Link had already turned away to speak to Zelda, sitting behind him. The interpreters fall silent, unable to see him any better than the crowd can, but after a moment the princess smiles warmly, the illusion of inhuman stillness breaking at once.
"It was an honor to play whatever part I could." She looks past him, and Midna feels trapped once more beneath another piercing blue gaze, suddenly certain what it was exactly that he had thanked her for. "I would gladly do it again, if needs must."
Apparently satisfied, Link turns back towards the room at large. 'This victory also belongs to the members of the Resistance, who guarded their communities when their local government failed them. I cannot overstate the role that ordinary citizens like us played in this effort.' Midna glances up at Zelda, who alone of the assembled nobles appears untroubled, her face once more inscrutably calm. Link continues as though he had said nothing unusual at all. 'And finally, to my friends amongst the Gorons and Zora, to Darbus and Gor Coron, and to Prince Ralis and Queen Rutela. The last Hero to stand before you all fought with the power of the six Sages, representing the different races of Hyrule, working in unison. It is much the same today, and I hope that I have honored his legacy.'
Disgruntled, the speakers are quick to dismiss the ceremony, leading the guests into an adjacent chamber to celebrate the award. The room empties, and Midna's relieved sigh is drowned out by Link's huff of irritation. He runs a hand through his hair, then turns to Zelda. 'I wasn't talking about you, back then,' he offers, somewhat hesitantly, but the princess only nods.
"It was honest, and important that they hear it," she says lightly. "Now, I believe we are expected in the other room." She turns away quickly, but her pace is even as she sweeps out of the room without looking back. Midna watches her go, feeling as though she ought to say something but with no idea what words could be needed.
"Guess we have to go too, Link," she mutters instead, and together they make their way into the side chamber indicated. It pales in size and splendor next to the throne room, but long tables along the far wall had been set with food and drink, and it is here that the crowd eagerly gathers. The rest of the room is clustered with small tables and chairs, though two figures had elected to remain standing off to the side.
She can easily recognize the first of the two as Zelda, and with a wave of displeasure, she recognizes the black-haired man as Link's captain, the man who had mocked Zelda's Triforce the first time she had seen him. Over his shoulder, the princess sees her enter, and a frown blooms across Midna's face as Zelda waves her over. She glances back to Link, but he too had been immediately intercepted by the royal ambassadors, who would no doubt be telling their respective counterparts among the Gorons and Zora about his speech.
Hesitantly, she draws near, but Zelda's voice is airy as she gestures to the captain. "Midna, the captain was just informing me that Link will be moving up in his ranks. This strikes me as hasty, but what do you think?"
She shrugs; this is hardly news to her. "I don't doubt that he'd be up to the task."
Zelda's brow knits, and she turns away. "I still have a bad feeling about it, Lee. He's just a boy. I never expected him to actually ask to join your company, surely he would be happier at home."
The captain crosses his arms and squares his jaw. "If I say he's ready, then he is. And if he agrees, then that's that."
The corners of Zelda's mouth turn down, and her voice is stiff. "If you insist, captain."
"I do insist. This is my decision, not yours, and I'll thank you to keep that in mind." Midna's brows fly up at his harsh tone, but Zelda says nothing. He turns and walks away, but when Midna makes to storm after him, an arm in a long white glove shoots out to stop her. Zelda offers only a slight shake of her head, and Midna turns her glare onto her betrothed.
"How can you allow him to speak to you that way?" she demands. "Even if he's in charge of your military, he owes you his respect as his princess, doesn't he?"
"It is his right!" she hisses, the flash of anger in her eyes is so sudden and intense that Midna takes a step back as though struck. It doesn't linger, but when Zelda sighs and lowers her head, she doesn't move any closer. "I ought to explain, shouldn't I. Yes, this is something you ought to know." She speaks as though to herself, but when she finds the nearest chair and sinks into it, she gestures for Midna to take the one to her side.
When Zelda speaks again, her voice is barely above a whisper, and Midna has to shuffle her chair closer to hear her. "I – I made a terrible mistake, early in my rule. One that cost Captain Lee very dearly." She puts a hand over her eyes, and Midna is shocked to see it shaking ever so slightly. All she can see of Zelda's face is a distressed grimace, her nostrils flaring as she tries to take deep breaths. A minute passes before the hand lowers, and she continues.
"His brother, Jin, had been captain before him. It was only a handful of years ago, and you would not have recognized Lee then. Plenty of natural talent, but no discipline. His head was always in the clouds, but he was very popular."
Midna raises an eyebrow, but says nothing. In her mind's eye, she pictures Link as the younger Lee, the innocent Link she had first met who wanted only to save his friends.
"Jin was a bold man, a genius with a sword but sparse with his words. Perhaps not the most obvious choice for a leader, but he inspired his knights, and they loved him well." She lets out a weak laugh. "I suppose he's a lot like Link, in that way." Midna edits her mental image to include a second Link, strengthened by battle, side by side with his younger self. Practically the Hero of Time all over again. Zelda takes another moment to reminisce, her eyes sad but the corners of her lips just barely turn up at the memory. It is easy to guess why Jin was no longer the captain of the guard, but Midna resolves to give the princess the time to tell the story herself.
"The realm had been at peace for generations. The guards and knights trained and trained, but the position was largely ceremonial. There were some pockets of monsters about, but none showed their face during the day, nor did they venture anywhere near civilization." Her smile, however tiny it had been, vanishes as she speaks. The rest of the story lays itself out, and the telling no longer appears therapeutic for the princess. Midna now wonders if it wouldn't be kinder to not force Zelda to tell the rest herself, and her resolution breaks as quickly as it had formed.
"You received a report of monsters near some town, and sent Captain Jin to investigate," she says softly. Zelda nods, and hides her face in her hands again, leaving her voice muffled.
"Bublins. Crossing Hyrule Field in broad daylight. They had some stronghold deep in the desert, we knew, but we saw no reason to trouble ourselves with them so long as they kept their distance. The desert is part of the kingdom, but at the very edge, and nobody lives there anyway."
She falls silent, and after a long moment, Midna guesses again at what had happened next. "The threat was greater than anticipated, greater than it had been for many years. He was overwhelmed and killed." Zelda nods again, letting out a small cry that wasn't entirely stifled by her hands.
"I still don't know what happened out there, Midna. There were the tracks of what seemed to be a large mounted party, and wounds far greater than any a mere Bublin could inflict. I saw it for myself…" King Bublin and his boar, it had to be. The hulking green figure loomed over her memories, and she remembers that when Link had last fought the brute, he had willingly departed the castle on his own, still alive. Midna's lips set in a grim line, unseen by Zelda, who shakes her head, her fingers digging into her hairline. "I sent him to his death! The first death in the royal guard in decades! Why did I let him go alone? Why didn't I see the danger?" Now it is Midna who shivers, having been haunted by similar thoughts herself for months. She speaks a bit more forcefully than intended, as though to convince them both.
"Hyrule was at peace, you said so yourself. So had the Twilight Realm, Zelda, I didn't expect any trouble either. No ruler thinks that their time will be one of strife and suffering."
But Zelda shakes her head, refusing to accept the respite Midna tries to offer her. "Every ruler of Hyrule must expect Ganon's return. My father did, and his father did, and his mother did, and Ganon never appeared. But he came for me, and I was the one who wasn't ready. He had to have known, he must have been waiting for the weak link." Her voice breaks on the last word.
Midna leans in even closer, eyes blazing. It troubles her more deeply than she cares to admit to see the unflappable Princess Zelda in such distress, however quietly. "The weak link was Zant, not you. He knew your Hyrule was too strong to face alone!" she whispers vehemently.
Zelda's response, when it finally comes, is hardly more than a breath. Close as Midna is, with their heads bent together, she almost doesn't hear it over the raucous crowd in the near distance. "It was my place to know better, the Triforce of Wisdom came to me. Shouldn't I have chosen wisely?"
You were half a child then, what wisdom would they expect from you? Midna is struck by the sudden urge to take her by the shoulders and shake sense into her, but settles for laying a cautious hand upon them instead. The metal plates over her gown feel cold under her palm. "You are responsible for the well-being of your people, Zelda, that's true. But a guard or a knight or any kind of warrior accepts the risk of danger, they know they could die protecting the realm. It's what they signed up for. There was a problem and you took action to stop it, that's plenty wise," she whispers urgently. Zelda bites her lip, unconvinced. She closes her eyes, shakes her head, and takes a deep, shuddering breath. After a long moment, her eyes flick open once more, her expression returned to its normal calm, serene state, her eyes as blue and clear as the Hylian sky. Midna flinches as though struck. That's… not natural.
"Thank you, Midna, for your concern and your kind words. And thank you… for listening. But as you can see, there can be no mistakes made by the crown. We have no margin for error whatsoever. Captain Lee knows that as well as I, that is all." Her attempt at a gentle smile is nothing short of heroic, but her eyes look empty. Midna feels a thrill of horror crawl up her spine as she is reminded of how Ganondorf had once possessed her, however briefly.
"Princess," she begins, but Zelda had already stood, neatly pushed in her chair, and walked away. Midna remains in her seat for a long minute longer, unnerved, before slowly rising to her feet and setting off through the crowd to find Link.
Her search ends as soon as it begins, however, as the boy rushes up to her with an ear-splitting grin, evidently having waited for her conversation to end. 'Midna!' he cries. 'Look who's here!' He practically bounces on the balls of his feet as he gestures behind him, but Midna sees only his friend, the girl who had lost her memory, and the old woman who had sheltered her in the village infested with Bublins and cats. 'You remember Ilia and Impaz, right?'
"Of course," she replies, and the lie is entirely justified as Link beams at her. The girl, Ilia, offers her a hesitant wave, and she musters a smile in return, if only for Link's sake. It feels stiff and unnatural, unnerved as she is by her conversation. Impaz, however, looks at her with interest.
"Ah, you must be the princess, then. It is an honor to meet you at last," she warbles, sinking into a bow.
"No, the honor is mine," a voice says behind her, and Midna whirls and sees that the old woman had not directed her words at her, but at Zelda. She stands with wide eyes, bright with a flicker of recognition, as though beholding a friend so long lost that they lingered as only the faintest memory. "It has been far too long since the Shadow Folk have resided in Hyrule Castle." Midna stares at her, though she doesn't look back. What is this? The Twili are the shadow folk, and we have certainly never lived here before.
Impaz smiles warmly. "You are too kind, your Highness. I have waited in Old Kakariko for many years, and I am glad that I have been able to fulfill my sacred task. I am no longer bound to that awful place, and the messenger has received his book. There is nothing more I could ask for."
"If you should desire it, you would be more than welcome in the castle. It is just as much your place as Kakariko." Link and Ilia join in the staring as well, but Zelda has eyes only for the old woman, who looks thoughtful.
"I… would like that very much, your Highness. Yes, I am grateful to have remained in the village as long as I did, but I am grateful to bid it farewell." She bows again, and Zelda inclines her head in return before turning away. Link and Ilia fall upon Impaz immediately, eager for an explanation, but Midna follows after the princess.
Before she can get too far away, Midna takes her by the shoulder, and she spins around. "So… what was all that about?"
To her surprise, Zelda looks delighted, her weariness eased and the ghost of their previous conversation washed away. She clasps her hands together and her words come out with excited speed. "She's a Sheikah, Midna, the ancient protectors of the goddess. They have guarded and guided my family since the kingdom's founding, but their race has since died out. At least, we thought they had, this is wonderful news…"
They have died out. This one old lady isn't enough to save a race. How terribly lonely she must be… In the face of Zelda's enthusiasm, however, she merely smiles. "Well, that does sound exciting." But the princess taps her chin, struck by a sudden thought.
"You know, I can think of someone who might be more excited. The Crone, in your world, I learned that she too is a Sheikah. Perhaps the two of them should meet, it may bring them comfort."
"Is she now?" A frown crosses her face when Zelda nods. "But, if their people are held in such high esteem by the royal family, why had she been banished into the Twilight?"
She regrets asking almost at once, as her friend's smile vanishes like a snuffed flame. "I'm told that it involved an ancient temple, a cursed place where foul deeds were carried out. But I've found no records of such a place, none at all, and my search has gone back through hundreds of years of archives. It certainly is strange, isn't it?"
Midna frowns. "Yes, that does sound strange…" Zelda merely nods, and the next thing she knows, her faint smile is back in place and she's swept off to visit more of her guests. The Twili watches her for a time, perhaps longer than decent, entirely transfixed by the sight.
How easily she bears it, the weight of the world. How elegant, how effortless. Princess Zelda floats through the crowd, all smiles and gentle laughter. Despite the density of the crowd in the small room, she seems to command the space all to herself; like water beading away from a drop of oil, they cannot help but part for her. She is pristine, untouchable. Halfway deified, even, if the interactions that Midna had seen the past week were any indication.
Is this what they expect from their monarch? Is this the standard they will hold me to? However gracefully Zelda wears it, it all feels like an elaborate costume, desperately concealing the unflinching, unyielding, steel-eyed warrior that Midna thought she knew. Perhaps she's content to put this mask on for them, but I cannot.
At last, the night ends, and Midna is more than grateful to bid them all farewell. All is quiet as she finally returns to her room, which Zelda had no doubt carefully selected to overlook the castle orchards, with their blooming trees and their sweet fruits. She moves to the window and throws it open, leaning out into the perfumed night.
It wasn't the long, sun-soaked days of planting and sprawling out with a stack of books that Zelda had imagined, but she had at the very least insisted upon giving Midna a full tour of her garden on the first morning they spent together. She had been consumed with an almost childlike glee that Midna had never before seen in the stoic princess, and she had seized the Twili's hand and tugged her along the winding paths, naming every species of flower, shrub, and tree along the way. There was a vast swath of herbs, half for cooking and half for healing; a number of woven wooden trellises before which Zelda had paused to croon words of encouragement to her flowering vines; and in the very center, a pond teeming with brightly colored fish that swam in endless lazy circles. While the gardens in front of the castle were carefully manicured by groundskeepers, the ones in the back were Zelda's domain alone, and it was immediately clear that the grounds were her pride and joy. Every inch teemed with vibrant life, and when their tour finally came to a stop, Midna praised it until Zelda had glowed with delight.
By night, the expansive gardens of Hyrule Castle were near silent, with only the chirping of frogs and the gentle flowing of fountains. Hyrule's animals had once been every bit as unfamiliar as its people, and she had slept badly and jumped at every sound even with the promise of Link's protection by her side. Midna had firmly resolved to say nothing of the matter to her human companion, of course, until one night he had pointed into the sky and said 'That's an owl. Those are the birds that call to each other after dark'. She hadn't known he was awake, and his eyes were sleepy as he shuffled next to her, but she responded with only a nod instead of pushing him away. Throughout that night and into the early morning, Link had waited by her side with a shepherd's endless patience, identifying and describing every creature that shrieked into the darkness.
Tonight, the muffled cacophony of the forest would be quite welcome, the better to drown out her churning thoughts.
A memory had been dislodged of when Midna had been preparing to leave for this exhausting trip to Hyrule. Brow furrowed and voice low, Taivo had come to visit her, describing a conversation he had exchanged with Zelda when he last saw her, and how she had been entirely unaware that there had been any prisoners sent through the Mirror of Twilight. Though it clearly troubled her cousin, she had thought little of it at the time, easily laughing off the ignorance of humans.
She doesn't laugh now. What else doesn't Zelda know about her own world? What rotten core has time gilded over? What else is hidden from this noble history they keep telling me about?
Midna chews her lip, the seemingly stable ground of the path before her falling away into a yawning chasm, yet she had already begun to walk. Is this marriage really going to benefit my people, or is it my own selfishness for not being ready to say goodbye? She closes her eyes and leans back, frowning as a floral breeze wafts in as if to punctuate the point. Will they be safe in Hyrule? Will they prosper? Is it too late to go back? Isn't it my job to have all the answers, to make the right choices? Have I already failed them?
There is one action she can take, one that only she can take, that would protect her land and its people forever. She had been prepared to do it, had planned it for weeks as she watched the Twilit blight strangle and corrupt every light-bound creature it encountered. Somehow, in the months since, the thought began to give her pause, and Midna curses herself for her weakness.
She looks out over the gardens, abloom with every conceivable shade of every conceivable color, the flora of Hyrule overindulged in its sunlight. Just like its people. Just like me.
