Interlude 3: Mama, Mama

Sheik leant back against the wall of the back of the windmill in Kakariko Village, and pondered the strange intricacies of fate. Her mother. Given to her only after being taken away.

But, she could get her back. She would get her back. All the same…all this time, and to hear the words from not the woman herself, but the Hero, sent as envoy. His expression said that he understood the magnitude of the revelation, that he understood her. She didn't deserve his help.

Seven years of his life I've stolen—seven and a half, perhaps, now, she thought, drawing her knees up to her chest as she stared blankly at the iron grate preventing just anyone or anything from wandering into the village from the hills. There were probably spells on it, too, to ward off invasions. But apparently, Kakariko was her Village by birth. She wanted the story behind that. She'd have it, when this was all over.

She needed a few days to herself. Surely, even if he'd found a horse somewhere—borrowed one from the farm girl he'd mentioned as being his friend, perhaps—it would still take more than a day just to reach the Valley. And then, he'd have to find a way past the guards…make his way through the Haunted Wasteland that lay just outside their gates…. Yes. She had time.

But, did she want it? Did she want to stay here for three or four days, occasionally checking in on the Spirit Temple to see if he had yet arrived, or was in sight (there were benefits to her ability to travel through the Sacred Realm)? Would her musings overrun her, consume her—drag her down and swallow her whole?

She didn't tell me, she thought, numb. All this time….

She just kept coming back to that. To all the opportunities Impa—her mother—had had. All the wasted years. She understood why her mother must have kept silent before the fall of Hyrule Castle—Zelda's father had probably forced her to keep quiet.

But now? Who was there to enforce her silence, to punish her? But, she'd left her own daughter to the awkward, crushing weight of her imposture. The daughter already weighed down by the knowledge that, thanks to her, the Evil King of Thieves had obtained the Triforce of Power. The world's ruination approached, Hyrule lay devastated all around, her best and only friend was seven years gone from the world, and it was all because of her.

So, I'm half-sheikah, she mused to herself, forcibly redirecting her thoughts, staring up at the setting sun. She'd considered rejecting the very idea, but she could see that the Hero of Time was in earnest. He was such an earnest, open, friendly sort of person—not duplicitous and closed, as she was herself. Not just an illusion, a trick of the Triforce of Wisdom. It was in my blood all along. Impa—Mama, has red eyes.

How strange, to have the word "Mama" attached to an actual person, to suddenly obtain flesh-and-blood, to learn that all this time, when she'd thought she'd been alone, the last of the Royal Family, there'd been another member of her family still living. Impa, not her false aunt, but her actual mother.

What was she supposed to think? How could she possibly react? She had so many memories of that isolation, the loneliness, of seeing the other children of the castle—with whom she must not interact; it was beneath her—with their parents, mother and father, and siblings, and circles of friends. She had so many memories of begging Impa for any information. Following Ganondorf's coup d'état, there'd been no reason to keep silent.

How would he handle it? she wondered, staring straight ahead now, unseeing.

Maybe it was pathetic, but she wished that he were here. She was sure that he'd know what to do. He'd know what to say to make her feel better. She couldn't find the answer by herself, constantly turning her thoughts over in her mind. But, he wasn't here. She just had to accept that, and move forwards on her own.

She stayed there long after the sun had set, and the village had become completely silent. She revisited the years of her harsh training under her mother's guiding hand, stern and firm, but not without compassion or love.

And, if she looked back on her life, even to her earliest memories of crying alone in her fancy bedchambers in the private suites of the Royal Family, all alone at night, she realised that Impa had always believed in her, supported her, loved her, had done everything that she possibly could get away with for her—and plenty of things that she couldn't have gotten away with, had she been caught. Wasn't that enough? Was Zelda really so greedy to need more out of her mother than that?

She should be grateful that she even had one parent still living—for the moment, that was. Not everyone was so lucky, especially after the disaster she herself had caused, seven years ago….

Sheik was such a dumb name for a sheikah. She should have chosen the name Rilie. There was plenty of precedent for sheikahs named Rilie. It was a common name, far more unobtrusive, less obviously fake than the name "Sheik". If she'd wanted to hide the fact that she wasn't really a Sheikah (although, apparently, she was, more-or-less), she should have chosen a name like that. An oversight, one among many. Not her greatest. She should have—-

It was obvious how her parents had met, when she thought about it. Sheikahs were the guardians and protectors of the Royal Family. Her mother must have been assigned to protect the king, and they'd fallen in love, or some such, but either her father hadn't been serious about it, or he'd decided against a marriage for whatever reason, and then they'd grown more distant, and his concession to his former girlfriend was that she be an integral part of her child's life. Tragic, in a way; sweet, in a way.

And, Zelda had had minimal interaction with her father—not next to all the other noble children, with theirs. She knew that he loved her, and she loved him, of course, but he'd too often been occupied with urgent matters. She'd needed a parent to listen to her, to help her to understand, to teach her how to be, and who to be. Impa had done all of that without ever revealing that she truly was a parent. If Zelda was honest with herself, she'd treated Impa like a parent all along.

It doesn't matter, she told herself firmly. It doesn't matter that she lied to me, even these past seven years. It doesn't matter that we could have done things together—that there are important events that a mother should have been there for, as a mother, and she wasn't. All that matters is that we spend the rest of her life building the relationship that should have been there all along. All the rest is inconsequential next to having her back.

She tried to tell herself that she didn't care, but knew better than to try to take the lie that far. Still, there was truth in the argument she built against herself—and did someone such as she even deserve to have even the supporting influence that Impa had always given without question?

What mattered most, though, was that Impa had gone into danger, could have been killed, but Link Sylvanus, the Hero of Time, had rescued her, and for that, Zelda owed him a debt beyond her ability to ever repay.

What mattered most was that her mother was now safe in the Sacred Realm. Which meant that if she, Sheik, were going to get to the Spirit Temple, she would risk a confrontation with her mother. She hadn't been to the Sacred Realm since she had passed through on her way to the island built atop the Water Temple. It had been quite a while. Ruto would now be there, too.

Oh, Mama, Mama, you have made things so very complicated, Sheik thought, looking up at the rising moon. For I both anticipate and dread our reunion. How can I now address you? How can I speak to you? How can I hope to understand the complexity of what has been revealed to me? What is our relationship now, now that I know?

The moon did not answer her; she hadn't expected it to. She watched it cross the sky, deep in thought, and did not sleep at all that night.

The next day, around noon, when she could bear it no longer, she raised her right hand, and began to build the energy of the Triforce of Wisdom, bending her will towards her goal. Her mother had taught her how to shoot a bow, and how to play the harp, but she'd had to teach herself how to use the Triforce of Wisdom.

There was no one around to see her slip through a hole in reality, into the yellow halls of the Temple of Light. She walked them, deep in thought, but determined to make her way to the Spirit Temple. She'd never been to Gerudo Valley before, or the Haunted Wasteland. Within these halls, there was no need for food or sleep, a frustratingly familiar sensation that she forcibly pushed to the side.

She walked through the corridors for several minutes before she realised that she didn't know where the spirit corridor was. Now was not the most advantageous time for discovering such a thing, but better to learn now, than to be late. An unfortunate consequence of her disorientation was that she met the princess of the zoras for the first time since she'd pulled the nearly-unconscious princess from the ice of the freezing Zoras Domain.

"Sheik? What are you doing here?" asked Ruto, seeming delighted for a chance to speak to her. She gave a cordial smile, and a bow, and Sheik hesitated, and then swept a bow in return. Ruto giggled.

Sheik paused. She'd never encountered anyone in these corridors before except for Rauru, early on, and he knew her secret. She should have expected to meet the others as the halls began to fill, but she'd been too preoccupied to think of a good excuse. What should she say?

"I am Link's guide," she said, at last. "I am allowed to travel through these corridors to facilitate assisting him."

It was a feeble explanation, but Ruto nodded. She must know that there was more to it, but she didn't comment. Sheik's stomach clenched.

"I wanted to thank you for saving my life," Ruto said, arms loose at her sides, her pose a sharp contrast to Sheik's emotions.

"Link told me that already," she said, hostility smoothed into a rather abrupt gruff hoarseness. She just wanted to be gone.

Ruto's face lit up in a broad grin.

"Oh! Isn't he great? I really chose well, asking him to marry me. I'm sure he'll make a great husband, and a great king. We zoras have a long line of great kings, you know, not like the Hylians."

Sheik felt her her hands clench, her eyes narrowing. She couldn't help thinking of her father, whom she loved, for all his faults. And then, too, what Ruto had said about Link…. She forced herself to relax.

"I…I'm afraid I don't understand," she said, trying to keep her voice blank, although she could hear it shake, even so. Ruto's lips turned down, her brows drawing together in concern. Sheik wished that she could just run—away from this corridor, from Ruto, from the entire world, but knew that she could not. She forced her legs to not even twitch.

"Oh! Didn't you know? Link asked me to marry him, seven years ago! He was gone for such a long time, and I thought I'd have to settle for someone else, but then he returned…isn't it great! You're welcome to the wedding, of course! You seem like a really nice person, and I'm sure you and Link are good friends by now."

But, Sheik had stopped listening. If Link had asked Ruto to marry him, then what about…. She bit her lip, wrenched her thoughts out of that particular mental corridor, staring blankly straight ahead.

"Sheik, are you alright? Was it something I said?" Ruto asked, her tone soft with genuine worry. There was no sign of deception, no sign that the other princess even understood the implications of what she was saying. Sheik swallowed, heavily.

"I recently received some news that I am trying to understand concerning my family. It is a private, personal, matter, that I would rather not speak of. But, when I came here, I was heading somewhere in particular. It is good to see that you are well. Please, by your leave, I will continue on my way."

And heedless of decorum, Sheik pushed past the zoran princess, running down the hall, and turning around a bend, and then another.

She wasn't paying attention to where she was going. Dimly, she realised that she was crying. It was too much. Not after what she had recently learnt, she couldn't handle this. She sank down against the wall, and put her head in her hands.

How could he! she thought to herself, on top of everything else!

But then, with a pang, she realised that she wasn't being fair. There was no way of knowing if Link even had understood the full implications of what he'd done. He'd been ten years old, and had grown up amongst the kokiri. It wasn't fair to hold it against him, if he didn't know better.

But, judging by Ruto's exuberance, he hadn't changed his mind. Then, what had their date been, at Kakariko Village? She clutched at her head, covered in its wrappings that hid most of her hair from view or access. If only she could just undo all of this…start over again, without Ganondorf….

Wait a minute! Maybe she could…but it would be selfish to do that, when Link had risked so much for Hyrule, wouldn't it?

Maybe not, argued the part of her mind that had birthed the idea to begin with. He'd never know what he'd missed, after all, and look what she'd taken from him. Wouldn't it be a kindness, to give him back his seven lost years? The idea settled, stabilised in her mind, as she built an argument for the non-selfish reasons to do this, how it would be a kindness more than self-service. She began to convince herself, as she lay there, that everyone would be happier, thus.

And what did it matter, really? This was all a dream, anyway. None of these people around her were real, for all that she usually treated them as if they were. They were all just echoes, memories of real people.

What did it matter if, in a dream, she gave a Link who didn't exist back his seven years of childhood? It would give her a chance to see what might have been, give her a second chance. Why not be selfish, when she was the only real person here?

She missed him. The real Link, out there in the real world. He'd never do to her what this dream-Link had; she was sure of it. He was too noble for that, too good. She'd tried her best to be like him, and she'd failed, so she might as well get something from it, right? She had the distinct impression, however, that the real Link wouldn't approve. But, she'd show him! She'd take the idea, and make it work!

Later. If she could find the courage.