Author's Notes: Protector and nanny to Princess Zelda, Impa now reveals to us her feelings on the subject of Link's passing.
Warnings: Mentions of some violent content, nothing worth above a PG rating, though.
Obligatory Disclaimer: I do not own Zelda or any of its characters.
From since I can remember, my place in the royal family was the daring role of protector, supporter, and caretaker of Princess Zelda, and for years, I kept that role successfully. At times, I had to flee rather then fight, but in the end, I had effectively cosseted Princess Zelda with as much ferocity and determination as I care for my own life. From the rage of her father to terrible evil that was Ganondorf, I have been successful in all exploits of courage.
As the years fly by, my loyalty and affection for the Royal Family only grows stronger, and my affirmation of spending my life as a protector who burrows through the situations even in the deepest waters of chaos deepens with every victory.
However, for one I am not victorious in these matters, for I have failed in having delayed the end of the most prestigious, generous men who had ever lived: Link, the Hero of Time. For the first time in my life, another hand was in need to save my own, and I neglected to ever repay such munificence and devotion in the simplest manner Link needed: love.
It is not a benign feeling, failure; in fact, it is a feeling whose inescapable culpability I loathe to the very depths of my forged soul. Especially in a situation such as this where my own hectic, befuddled heart beats frenziedly inside my throbbing chest as I look upon the one man whose essence I thought was far stronger then any mortal dagger of unsightly debilitation could slice through with such deadly precision as destiny did. Of all the heroes I have known, and valor comes in its many forms, I thought Link one of the few men whose heart was commodious enough to fill itself with the insight and heartache of others but full enough of that eternally stretching charity to solve those problems without a whimper of dissent.
I abhor to the thought of Link as any lesser then a hero, but I cannot conflict with what my eyes tell me. The Hero has died, and he has done so by his own hand. Who would have thought destiny's handpicked child would have come to such a drastic, unsettling manner?
I have seen far too much in my days, and the weight of a near century's amount of stinging memories are finally beginning to unveil themselves in full force as I gaze upon our fallen warrior.
In a way, I can possibly see the reason as to why the boy chose to end it this way. As a Sheikah woman whose duty was to uphold the laws of Hyrule society and protect the Royal Family, one comes to look at hose whose lives rest in your fateful hands as fragile creatures, like flowers and petals and stems are easily torn away by the angry torrents of malevolence and wickedness that plague this land so frequently. As sensitive as the newly bloomed bud, their need to be sheltered from the raging storm is and essential need, or else they will quickly wither and retreat to their soiled depths when pressed to face the devil's courtiers in the eye.
We, the protectors, are the proud, tall trees, the overseers of the forest of all that goes on within their fortification of safety and security. Watching over the vulnerable and weak, we provide more then just the necessities to survive; we give them a reason to. Evidently, Link's tree was slowly regressing back to the flower stage where he too needed protecting.
On the other hand, am I mistaken? Was Link a quivering blossom all along, his soft petals plucked gradually from his emerald center of valiant envy? Was it I who failed to notice his slowly wilting blossoms in my worry for Princess Zelda?
I can no longer be sure of anything anymore; Ganondorf's wake has made it so that this world is plagued with so chaotic twists of fate and sudden change that I can no longer follow fate's trail anymore. I can clearly see that for now on, my own road will have to form itself for now on, and that I am going to have to learn to stretch my branches a little further to consider others for on. Too long have I gone with only caring for the safety of a royal that I have forgotten the duty I hold to all creatures and people other then those whose fealty I've sworn to.
I have come to believe that Link came to this realization in those final days. He understood that a road laid out does not necessarily require a traveler, and that building your own path is a choice we sometimes must debate whether to go ahead with at times.
While I mourn the Hero's death, I cannot help but contemplate the effects of such a passing has had on my understanding of the world. The boy's death has taught me much, and I praise to the goddesses for providing such a time-honored lesson, but I cannot help but feel cheated. If only the boy had waited just awhile, I could have taught him just so much, including the notion that even paths we lay out for ourselves may still be diverted into another direction.
But it's too late to late to tell him now, and it seems that, once again, the torrential winds have won.
Next excerpt: Ruto: A Miscegenational Bride's
Perspective