A/N: Here is the next part of the chapter for you guys - once again, thank you for all your support!

Chapter Nine

Part Two

Zelda woke to the croaking of bullfrogs. The room was dark, though moonlight trickled in from the far right window. Silver glinted on two sleeping bodies beside her in a large bed - a long comforter blanketing all three of them. And squinting her eyes, Zelda made out two young girls - one on her stomach, the younger snoring on her back. Fast asleep, they nuzzled into their pillows.

Zelda clutched her head - it throbbed.

"No!" An old, withering voice shouted from beyond a closed door. "I'm not seeing her without Link's confirmation!" Footsteps stamped the wood floors, shaking the wooden house as Zelda sat up from the silken covers. Even the paintings were shaking from their anchors on the wall. This room, Zelda pondered, was very familiar - even in the dark.

"What do you mean he's not here?" The voice came again, rising and falling with the coming and going of its pacing, "Well, go get him! I don't care if he went after that stablemaster! I'm not going in that room unless I hear it from him and only him!"

"Just look, elder." Someone whispered. "You'd know if it's her."

Elder? - was this Impa?

Surely, this was Impa.

"Heresy! You are heresy itself, Dorian! Have you no compassion? No understanding of how I'm feeling? No, I shall wait! I cannot look! I won't look without Link!" But, in popped the head of an old woman. She was short and ragged with a stern, angry brow that suddenly lifted. She squealed upon seeing Zelda - hands cupping her mouth, long flowing sleeves flying up with the sudden movement.

Zelda froze - her chest swirling with fear as she beheld the angry imp in the doorway, lowering her shaking hands.

"Oh, my dear." Shook the old woman.

Zelda could only stare, painstakingly adding one hundred years to the visage of the attendant as she knew her. "Impa?"

The woman trembled back into her guard - as if verbally assaulted.

"Elder Impa?" The guard held out his arm for her taking.

She shoved him away.

Zelda cupped her mouth.

Materializing between them was Zelda's parlor high up in the castle. An attached sunroom sat quaintly, beholding a white marble table adorned with the late Queen's mauve tablecloth and porcelain teacups. Checking the clock for the third time, Zelda waited over the cold tea for Impa's knock on the door - her chores done, prayers memorized and recited, books read and reread, and future studies put off in sheer excitement for a visitor. Almost an hour late came the oppressive knock! - Zelda jumped! She scampered towards the door as it blew away the one-hundred gusts of wind, sweeping away the precious memory as a hurricane in Lurelin, reducing precarious shacks to rubble.

One hundred years of muck and misery removed, the visitor stood shaking.

"Oh my Zelda." She then made her way across the bedroom - trembling, one hand on her chest, the other reaching towards the seventeen-year-old Princess, as if she were the broken knob to a forever-locked door. Busted open, Zelda took that old, bony hand and turned it over in her own palms, finding the thick purple veins of an old woman bulging beneath her brown skin. Her dented fingers and dark moles twisted her up inside. And ever so slowly, her frozen breath began to melt.

Violently inhaling, Zelda exhaled all the memories knitting between them - first came the attendant's first day on the job and how the attendant had separated Zelda from her precious time with her mother. Zelda had snuck a frog in the poor Shiekah's pocket. It was all mischief and rolled eyes until the death of the Queen. Only after would the little Princess hold Impa's hand - searching for it had been easy on that miserable funeral procession, marching from the sanctum to the mausoleum. The attendant taught Zelda how to braid her own hair, snuck her books from the lab, and convinced the King to consent to weekend retreats to Kakariko. There Zelda could let loose, dabble with the visiting scientists, and even cry over trivial things - like a stubbed toe. Surely, tears for her mother followed. Impa was a caring face to glance at when the King made his scoldings public and her defender when the King demanded an outside opinion - after all, the Sheikah was the keeper to the most disappointing teenager in the kingdom. But love for a growing child could not prove itself credible to the King of Impending Doom. No more trips for Zelda! No more visitors! Zelda always thought she had forgiven the attendant for listening - but those empty hours alone in her sunroom tested such grace. Drinking that cold tea, Zelda drowned out her doubts with books. But, if she were honest with herself, she'd find herself questioning her best friend. Was Impa's position more important than Zelda? After all these years, was it now too dire to knock?

Zelda searched her friend's face for a feature that could betray this old exterior, but all she could remember were those young, doe eyes in the fray of invading guardians - the castle sanctum utter chaos: rubble falling, the Princess ripped away from the King at the docks while the last line of Sheikah whipped out their blades to fend off the invasion. Chasing them until she could go no further, Impa yelled and yelled at Link -

"Keep her safe!"

"Don't let any harm come of her!"

"Please, I beg of you! Take care of her!"

Forgiving her, Zelda brought the woman's hand to her lips - letting out a sob to commemorate the passing of time made so obvious in the bags beneath her friend's cloudy eyes. A face thrashed by Time - what a beast, thought she, with a maw more frightening than the Calamity's. No Goddess could tie down Time; no burst of light could stop Age from rearing its ugly head; Nature locked the law in divine chains, compelling Zelda to drink in exactly how much time had passed. One hundred and one years (and seven months), to be exact, removing Zelda three generations from her friend.

"My Zelda," whispered she, bowing. As she lifted her head, Zelda saw the steady flow of tears twinkling in the moonlight. She took the Princess's puffy cheeks in her feeble hands and wiped away the runaway tears with her knobby thumbs. "Truly, you are my Zelda - without a doubt up until the first last mole on your neck."

Zelda bent her head low once more and cried.

"Don't cry, Princess. Just let me cry."

"Impa!" Zelda moped - all too loudly.

The children in the bed beside her stirred.

The elder cooed, shaking Zelda's hands, "Let us move to that table over there." She then pointed to a nook up by the tall shuttered windows- oh, Zelda remembered that nook - and this bed... and these walls.. and that bathroom across the way. Surely, this was the elder's house - taken from one hundred years ago and dressed up for the New Age. The chairs in the nook were different. They were high chairs - not cushions - blue and ornate with a matching table topped with a lace cloth. Around the set circled a refurbished room with new flooring and wallpaper. Their touched-up paintings looked Zelda's way. At least - breathed she, pushing herself out of bed - the milky moonlight pouring over the space was the same.

"Dorian!" Impa waved her hand to the guard in the background, suddenly flustered. "I need a candle on that table over there. And two cups of spearmint tea! No, I don't want you to make it. Get Paya - she knows how to make it best."

Zelda caught his eyes in the glinting moonlight - they rolled as he left.

Squeezing her hand, the elder spoke, "Forgive my tempers, oh Princess, there is so much on my mind, and one-hundred years of practice has not prepared me enough for - " she took a sharp breath in, "perfecting what I want to say to you."

And what could Zelda say? She just stared.

The elder grabbed Zelda's side without much warning and walked her to the ancient moonlight - a crescent moon peering through the pane. A hot night, Zelda needed no shawl, but she still found herself shivering.

Again, the children stirred as they passed the bed- this time, Zelda could see their faces. They were Sheikah children, now scooting into the space Zelda left in the bed for their warmth.

"I'm sorry to have you share a bed, Princess."

Zelda gazed their way, "Who are they?"

"More targets for the Yiga." Said she, wiping her eyes, "There are five targets in this very house."

Zelda opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out.

Still, Impa answered, "Five targets - those children, their rebel father, Your Highness, and me, of course." She let in a brief pause, sitting herself down in the new chair. Reluctantly, Zelda took her seat too. The elder went on, "I'm a hefty reward for the Yiga, so I must thank you for bringing a whole army to this glen of mine. I think that's what gives me enough peace to sit in this very seat with you by the window here."

The woman took a moment to gaze out into moon-kissed hillsides beyond the dirty panes. Resounding in the valley came subtle singing - thugs and barmen singing the songs Zelda had only heard from the stable inn.

Gingerly, the elder took her hand, "Though, with all these thugs and nomads, Kakariko will look… very colorful for our festival."

Zelda fixated on her fingers, "...A festival?"

"Think hard Princess - not everything is all that different."

"The equinox festival."

"Bright as always, my girl."

Zelda peered up, "This week?"

"Tomorrow."

"Tomorrow - sincerely?"

"A merciful gift of the gods, this is. To have you here while we - " her voice cracked, she tapped her mouth to maintain some composure and pushed out a smile, "My people hate me for being traditional in such a different world. But, after all these years, I deserve to be adorned in rice water and honored, don't I?"

"You do, Impa," Zelda choked, "You do."

Just when Zelda thought she could take in another glance at the woman, another girl came in with the rebel guard, as Impa had called him, with an ornate tray of tea.

Zelda gawked - the ghostly girl wore the face that Zelda kept trying to push away. That flat nose, the signature high cheekbones, and those doe-eyes - yet her brow line differed from the Impa that Zelda once knew. Impa's brows could deaden any expression, craft out a scolding glare, or add judgment to any conversation about guardian parts. But, this girl before them - with an anxious gaze and a scrunched-up mouth - looked like she couldn't dare to dislike a thing.

The girl almost tripped on her way over - Zelda averted her eyes, only watching the shaking teacups as the tray made its way to their table. But when it came, she couldn't resist the urge to remember the past as she knew it and glanced up once more.

"Thank you, Paya." Said the elder, wiping her eyes. "You two have already met, I see. I heard about the meeting downstairs. But, Princess Zelda, this is my granddaughter, Paya. And yes, she gets it all the time - she is the spitting image of her grandmother. We apologize for the scare."

The girl made an anxiously grand display of a bow on the ground. "Yes - H-How is your head?

Shivering, Zelda took the girl's hand and shook it, "F-Fine, thank you." Said she, as if talking to a ghost. "I-It's a pleasure, Paya."

"Now, try not to get confused, Princess!" Warned the elder, waving her bony finger in the air, "Though you'll find that easy enough! This girl is a lot more compassionate than I was at her age. If you want to talk on and on about science and frogs and courtly issues and other teenaged things, then this is your girl. She will listen until you are done - but please don't over-exhaust her.."

The poor girl broke out in furious blushing.

Yet, the warmth tickled the Princess. A slight smile slipped through her lips, "Then, she is an improvement to the model, Impa."

Zelda felt a feeble slap on her shoulder - Impa glared her way before taking a sip from her tea.

"Ah," she let out a long breath, "This is lovely, Paya, my dear."

Weakly, Zelda wrapped her fingers around the handle of her cup - its heat scorched her palms.

Meanwhile, the sheikah girl stood awkwardly beside them, twirling her fingers, "M-Might I assist with anything else, Grandmother?"

"I'd like you to help the Princess get clean later tonight - but let us catch up first. For now, just remind Dorian over there to light a candle! I'm not protecting him so that he just stands around useless."

Dead silence fell.

Paya glanced over at the guard; he reluctantly plucked a candle off the far wall in response. With a long sigh, he fumbled through a drawer for a match and lit the candle. He then walked it over with a mocking smile. As he approached, Zelda found herself leaning far away from him, instinctually distrusting from the poorly hidden discord between him and her best friend. Yet, some sort of complex pain glinted in those eyes as he set the firelight between Impa and her.

This man of whiskers and bushy brows looked up - his mouth opened to say something.

But, Impa interrupted, spilling tea over the lip of her cup, "That's enough - you may return to your post unless you want to tell her what you told me this morning." The firelight lit up her furrowing brow.

He took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped up the spilled tea, "I think the Princess would rather hear about much nicer things."

"Nice things?" Mocked the elder, "Listen, Princess Zelda - here we have a Yiga Spy." She snatched away the towel and dried the spill herself, "Living under my nose until today. But, don't fret, honey. He won't hurt anyone. Or at least, I'd assume so after twenty-five years of knowing him, Protecting his daughters with information?- tsk! Hard to believe precious Cotla and Koko have been under the ax since the killing of their mother."

"Her Majesty doesn't want to hear about this."

"Then we will speak of nicer things once you leave us - so be gone!"

Shoulders high and proud, the man let out a defiant snort and turned away - only pausing once for a fleeting glance at his ransomed daughters. Gazing, he let his shoulders fall; a quiet breath escaped. He brushed the little one's cheek before sauntering back to his post in the hallway outside. The girl named Paya followed.

Zelda watched them go.

"I shouldn't be so awful to him," came the elder, cussing, "He had an opportunity to save himself -and maybe his family- at the price of exposing you and Link to the Yiga today, but he came to me instead." The elder leaned back in her chair, the light of the candle flickering on her wide eyes, "I'm trying to decide if I should thank him, but nevertheless, I gag at the thought."

Zelda remembered the kodachi and the elder's handwriting on the note.

"Link," she mouthed, shaking, "Have you seen him, Impa? I'm sorry, I don't mean to interrupt our time together, but he has a wound in his side. Did you say that he was fighting out there?"

"He went after that stableman - the one with a kodachi tucked into his belt loop," the woman waved her hand before pulling her tea to her lips, mumbling, "Am I frustrated he's not here, yes? Do I think he's fine? Of course - he's just as much of a cannonball as he was back at the castle a century ago."

"We had a lot of friends with us."

"They're all fine, Princess. It was a landslide."

"Truly?" Zelda broke.

"Never have I heard of a sheikah troupe demolishing the Yiga so quickly! But, adding fifty thugs to the mix as well as our hero - my gods, they wrote today into the books." She let out a cackle, "So, thank you for bringing them, Princess Zelda."

She then stood and shuffled her way to the window. "The last foot soldiers retreated a few hours ago, and some of our volunteers are guarding the glen now. I thought I heard another party come in singing, and maybe Link was with them." She pressed one eye to the glass, "Ah! -yes, there he is."

Zelda scampered to the window.

Across the valley floor was a string of little cottages that Zelda had never seen before. Modern cottages? No - they were still Kakarikan with pagoda roofs and buttresses, but the windows were paneled much like Impa's - not just shutters closing out the open air. Lighting up the panes across the way were three candles along the windowsill. Sitting among the yellow light was a beautiful boy with his hair undone. His back was turned towards them.

Link - Zelda sighed, relief relaxing her body.

Another old woman sat with him, holding what looked like gauze. Medicine bottles adorned the table before them. In the same room stood Leekah, bouncing Pris back and forth - Zelda could make out their faces, especially as Lawdon as he bent low to inspect the nurse's workings. Linus looked busy with the trinkets at someone else's desks.

Consoled, Zelda thought she could smile - Lawdon safe, Leekah hanging by, Link getting medical attention. But, she faltered, feeling responsible for their disrepair.

Leekah must have seen her because she tapped her husband's shoulder and pointed up towards them in the second-story window. Zelda scampered back from the view, wishing the moonlight gone, and turned away when she saw the long blonde hair turn towards her.

She forced herself in her seat, wishing herself invisible.

Impa must have noticed too - she gingerly sat herself back down in the chair. Her tone was so light, "I like that woman that came with you - Leekah, her name. This glen needs more spirited women."

Zelda bundled her fists, "They lost their inn because of me."

"You don't say?"

"A gang just came and - bloody torched it."

The elder let out a sigh.

"And Link had to fight again - I felt so helpless."

"Honey."

"The inn just fell apart, destroying all their lives - after they took us in and cleaned Link's wounds."

"Honey," Impa stopped Zelda's hands from tearing at the flesh, "Drink your tea.."

Breathless, Zelda took a big gulp.

"Now go on if you need to, but you don't have to."

"They had little trinkets, Impa! Trinkets they loved - like whittled horses and notes from friends and family. And all their guests were so attached to the inn. They were so kind - but it's all gone now!"

"It's not gone, honey - at least the people. They all came with you today. You know the snoop I am. Was it right that tge gang that destroyed the inn also fought off the Yiga today?"

"I don't know why," Zelda wiped her tears, "They can't be redeemed."

"Princess." Her voice was so warm.

"No, if I stay here, then will I see Kakariko go up in flames?"

"You don't need to worry about that right now."

"I feel like such a mess, Impa." She wept, "And I bring the mess wherever I go."

"That's not true."

"Of course, it's true! Hyrule is a mess!"

"But, everything is growing back - even the flower you loved so much."

"What's the point of silent princesses when there are graves everywhere? Are there any cities out there?"

"My Zelda, you were just released from the Calamity - it's going to be hard."

"Impa, look at you! You're so old. And you've been waiting for the last one hundred years because I -" Zelda inhaled sharply, breath like knives, "I just couldn't do it on time!"

"Listen, Zelda."

"How can I listen? Even so, it's so hard to look at you - I'm so sorry! Deeply sorry."

Zelda felt the attendant's hand on her cheek, "You need not apologize. Just breathe."

But, Zelda couldn't, "It's all my fault."

"Don't blame yourself for going with the will of the gods, Zelda."

Zelda grabbed her hand, "How could they will this? Dust and fire and guardians?" She let out a sob, "Oh, Impa - if you are my Impa - let me tell you this! Four days have passed and I've felt no power from the goddess." Wildly, she searched the room, "Come and gone - evaporated away as if this disaster was nothing. As if I'm nothing!"

"Let me tell you something, child."

"I don't think I can hear it - I'm so confused."

"Do you remember how stuffed away you were? People were forbidden from disturbing you!"

"I don't want to remember."

"Down with the kingdom, I say! The brightest, most loyal, and hardworking girl in the country was hidden away and scrutinized for what could not be controlled."

"It could be controlled, Impa - I just couldn't do it!"

"That's a lie! Hylia has the authority to show up whenever she pleases - she showed up when she meant to, and you carried on with the most valiant of sacrifices."

Zelda cupped her face, unsatisfied - fitful fantasies wished her attendant to drive in the daggers that felt so fit for her soul.

"What's done is done. My hope for you is that you experience life as you've always wanted it. No kingdom nor beast to seal you away. "

Zelda could only shake her head.

"Breathe, my Princess."

"Impa." Zelda huffed.

"Breathe."

Zelda took in a deep breath. "Impa, I have awful nightmares."

"I know - your friends have told me."

"What do I do?"

"Just breathe for now."

Zelda took another deep breath in - wildflowers flurried in her mind's eye, the scent of open fields, Link holding prairie flax to his nose while a wagon rolled beneath them. She exhaled, thinking of him.

"And drink your tea, honey."

Zelda took another sip, suppressing her own sobs, and drank. The waiting silence allowed her a moment for her to catch her breath - and soon, her tears dried; her hiccups lessened.

Among the subtle choir of crickets and croaking frogs, Impa smiled - the flickering light catching creases of her wrinkles, "Why don't we catch up on the last century?"

Zelda cocked her head - incredulous.

"The fun parts, at least."

"I can't imagine it being fun, Impa."

"Some parts were. You've seen my granddaughter. Surely, her existence begs a topic of interest. And I'll tell you this - I didn't just birth her mother by my sheer will."

"Oh." Zelda blushed, following the attendant's wit, "Impa - you!"

"That's right."

"But you never wanted to -"

"I hated the thought of it!"

"The courtiers - they were always flirting with you, but you said - "

"I meant what I said! All of them were classless and - "

"Too unintelligent to tie their own boots!"

"You remember me saying this? - that's word for word."

"I remember everything you've said, Impa. Those hours over tea meant so much to me."

"Then tell me this - who do you see me with?"

Zelda pondered, snuffing out a smile, "A warrior, obviously. One who is intelligent and stubborn… You also wanted someone with a great - " She stopped herself, blush tickled her cheeks. She let out a weak smile, "Well, you said this, not me."

The elder's hands crept back up onto the table - a cute gesture betraying the old exterior, "What did I say, Princess? I am testing your knowledge."

"I wish not to say it."

"Go on."

"No, I think I shall let you say it."

"Then, I'm not telling you the man I ended up with."

"Well," Zelda paused, "Might I use cleaner words?"

"Of course - such is the noble lady you are."

A moment of silence set in.

"Go on, Princess."

Zelda lifted her finger to imitate the woman, "...A man with a great caboose…"

"Oh Zelda." The woman whispered with the crickets, "I missed you so much."

Zelda smiled, feeling too happy to say much else.

"I'm going to get Paya to help you clean up, okay? Feel free to dress down and use the towel in the bathroom."

"But, you said!"

"Yes, yes," She said, standing, "He was exactly that - warrior, intelligent, stubborn, but not as stubborn as me. And yes, he had a great," she winked, "Caboose, as one says"

"Wait! Won't you tell me more?"

"Stay with me longer, and I shall." She then shuffled away - taking the candlelight with her. Yet, she stopped at the doorway, "I'll come back tomorrow morning with breakfast, and we can continue chatting then."

Then she was off.

Zelda watched her go, letting the darkness settle in again.

A friend gone, Zelda found her thin smile fading. Grief was so odd - sneaky. It burrowed itself back in as Zelda undressed in the bathroom. Weakly, she laid her coffee-stained blouse on the accent chair. Her eyes lazily on her feet, she could only kick off her pants. Only when she had wrapped herself in a towel did the granddaughter enter. Paya - Zelda repeated her name to herself.

"If you'd like to step in here, Princess." She awkwardly gestured to the wooden tub built into the corner of the horrendously familiar bathroom - the same muggy taste, the sweet stench of the mildew snuffing out her senses, glazed red-oak framing her in a hotbox. A serene pool of steaming water sat uncaring for everyone - who should step into it? A shiekah child? A princess? A coffee-stained nomad sweating from her heavy hair? Drips from the iron faucet punctured the quiet waters while steam swirled up and out the cracked windowpanes like the ghosts Zelda imagined so closely.

Never did she allow herself to look up from the towel that she clenched so tightly against her naked body - dirty and sweaty from another day of imposing. Her white-knuckled fists shook in anticipation for the moment she'd look up and take in the bathroom she loved so dearly as a child. Sure - just a bathroom, a place Impa's family came to dirty, but everything was so homey, unlike the stone and iron from home. The handcloths were so dainty - embroidered with terry-blue rice stalks. And beneath it - well, there should have been a wide-lipped trough. Zelda peeked over - replacing it was a delicate white sink topped with a small glass vase of camomile. Were there still notches in the wood of the bath? No - it was a new bath. How about water stains ringing the wooden floors? They were gone too.

Oh, Zelda couldn't forget the grooves in the panel of the shutters framing the window by the sink - how she'd trace it with her finger while Impa huffed from the threshold of the bathroom, her foot tapping. Kinder attendants would join her, making a game out of the maze which only a child could see in the simple panels.

Bravely, Zelda finally took in the room - all at once.

In the chirping of careless crickets, a modernized bathroom stared back and unbuttoned the brave face Zelda had worn since the day of her liberation. Yes, moped she - the shutters had been replaced with glass panels. And the tub was indeed new, showing off its intricate pipes transporting water from the ponds outside. Shouldn't that make the engineer in Zelda happy?

No, she could only hold herself because before her stared the visual-face of change. And ironically, a face from the past stood behind her, quivering from the overbearing silence. Not Impa, Zelda corrected herself - Paya.

Zelda thought herself cruel for leaving the shaking girl to such disdainful silence.

So much did Zelda want to interrupt the chattering crickets and pull through as she had in the stable - perhaps ask for the girl's help or get to know her as a kind Princess should do. Could she push away the pain of survival and guide this crashing vessel into a river of conversation?

Could she distract herself beneath the crushing eye of failure?

The answer was no - though the spirit pleaded.

Zelda shut it down.

Suppressing the spinning emotions, Zelda sauntered to the bath, sorrowfully neglecting the anxious hand extended to her. She then lowered herself into the tingling, hot water. Only when submerged did she realize she still had her towel around her chest in a death grip.

"Uh," quaked the granddaughter, averting her eyes, "D-Did you want me to take that, Your Highness?"

Vulnerable, Zelda relinquished the sodden towel.

The girl babbled to the ground, "D-Do you need any bubbles? We have bubbles and well - also rice water for hair and what else?"

No - Zelda shook her head, afraid to look up at her.

"We," she began, scampering away with the wet towel, "We - well, I left some clothes by this bench here."

Zelda stared at the folded nightgown of sheikah silk, grieving how many more years she'd have to impose on such kind people.

"Thank you," was all Zelda could say, but the girl was gone before she could make out the words.

Additional A/N:

Thoughts on Paya:

So, I love Paya - to me, she is a character with anxiety and a soft-spoken nature. And it seems like characters like her have fallen out of favor - yet, I think they are so important for developing youth to see. A girl who is "shy, self-doubting, and nervous" is just as important as a girl who is transparently "bold, confident, and strong" (emphasis on the quotation marks) - and I think we are losing that message if it's not lost already. Jane Austen wrote a character named "Fanny Price" who is so much like how I see Paya - unassuming, gives everyone the benefit of the doubt, incredibly kind and vulnerable, and lets herself be imposed upon. She's a flawed character, no less, but such traits is what makes her relatable. What encouraged me most is how Austen wrote her arch. She didn't become someone else to earn her moment, but the beauty of her strengths came forward. When scrutinized by her adoptive family, she did (however) need to hold her ground, which was a new skill, but she did it with her feet shaking, her breath quivering, and even crying when wrongfully berated. I highly recommend "Mansfield Park" (book, not movie) if you're looking for an interesting perspective of strength.

Thoughts on Impa:

Impa, of course, has her own personality from the game. I guess I base how I relate to her by thinking of my own grandma. We've spent many summers together up at my grandpa's cottage in our "selected" chairs, sipping coffee, reading, and chatting. She's been sick for years, getting worse, so those memories are a delight to step into right now. I got to visit recently - she made her attendant make me coffee . Thinking about our summer tradition - well, it was very moving.