Author's Note: Once again, my sincerest apologies for the delay. I really wish it didn't take me so long between updates (part of me even considered removing the story and reposting it all new and improved, but I decided to keep it as is). As always, thank you to everyone who have read and reviewed.
Twilight Princess - The Silent Maiden: Interlude
(4 years ago)
"She's still a child. A princess unfamiliar with war and battle. What are you planning on doing with your daughter? Assign her an entire division?"
Said princess folded her arms across her chest, trying her best to keep her composure in check. The King glared at his friend while musing that this was strange, bizarre, out of the norm—Alek was usually one of the more reckless of his advisors. Always relying on the unorthodox, on creating mischief, on bending the rules without ever technically breaking any of them. The King himself did not get where he was by strictly following proper conduct all the time, of course, but usually he broke rules with purpose, whereas Alek was more impulsive with his actions. Of the two of them, Alek should have been the more sympathetic one regarding the princess' desire to aide them.
"This 'child' is the princess of Hyrule Kingdom. She has proven herself time and again to possess great wisdom far beyond her years. And if the Imp's words of warning are true, then this danger from the Twilight Realm is already marching upon our doorstep. We no longer have the luxury of being picky in our decision making. There are not many nobles who are willing to fight for the people alongside our knights."
Alek loomed in front of Zelda, the differences in size seemingly emphasizing how young she was, how youthful and childlike she appeared, even with her most recent growth spurt. Her face still round from the vestiges of baby fat without adequate bones to smooth out her face, betraying her youth.
"These beasts are killing those even younger than me," Zelda pointed out to Alek before the advisor could begin ranting anew, "War does not spare the young and old. No one is safe during a war. I am not afraid."
"You're not afraid because you aren't familiar just what it means to fight a war," Alek articulated in a display of profound perception—for all his flaws, he was not an advisor to the King without good reason, "All these years you were a princess, you've never undertaken anything like this. Hundreds of lives, thousands of innocent people, will be in your hands, and one misstep can cost them all. You think your fifteen years gives you the wisdom to handle such?"
"You think your fourty-five years does?" Zelda challenged. "You think anyone is ready to take the reins before they do? You think I'm not still responsible for those lives if I step back and keep away? Do you feel the royal family is no longer accountable for the casualties just because the princess is not the one making decisions? Would you rather father be absolved—?"
"That is not the same, my lady! You are assuming a role, I believe, that you are not ready for! Whatever the Holy Spirits have decided, it is my duty as an advisor to fulfill that role. For all we know, the Imp could be speaking nothing but lies!"
"Alek, that is enough," Frankly, the King expected Alek to be pleased by the enthusiasm of the princess who was so determined to protect her people from harm. Doubly so, given his own village was directly in the path of the Twilight that was beginning to form, if reports were to be believed, and the chaos was an issue close to heart for him. Still, seeing Zelda, young, fresh, innocent, beautiful, and untarnished by the darker aspects of the world—he would no more send Zelda to war if she had been Alek's own baby sister.
Except they needed the princess and her connection to the triforce. There was no one else to substitute such a boon. "We can discuss this in a civilized manner, if you so please."
"...You keep her in the back lines," Alek turned to face the King directly. To his credit, he regained his composure with a remarkable swiftness. "She can help prepare the soldiers, manage the messengers, but we're not sending a child out onto the battlefield."
"I am hardly a child," Zelda's tone was polite and proper, which could have been seen as amusing, coming from one who could indeed still be regarded as a little girl. "You don't have to treat me like I'm some kind of helpless infant."
Alek glared at her, and then at the King, who scratched at his nose. At least on this point, he was not going to refuse his dearest friend.
"I cannot send you on the front lines, my child," He said to her, "Soldiers have to trust each other, and no one is going to trust you. Alek and I both know how capable you are, but ability does not make up for years. You're not going to look any older than fifteen just because you were chosen to bear the gift of the gods. While I'm confident you'll learn to adapt, I need to consider the performances of others that you will be working with."
To her credit, the princess did a remarkable job of keeping her composed mask in place. Her father, however, knew his daughter all too well, her body language incredibly turbulent as she tried not to release her frustration. She was desperate to help—her heart ached for those who were suffering from the dangers upon the horizon, and the King could understand and empathize. It was an uncomfortable feeling, being helpless.
"At last you speak sense," Alek muttered. "Mind you, my lady, the back lines are even more important than the front. We're placing a lot of responsibility on you. No spire touches the sky without a solid foundation beneath it. Frankly I'm not even sure if you should even be doing that."
"My name is not 'girl', and if you think my 'short years as princess' somehow means that I can't handle war, then perhaps your short years as knight hasn't taught you anything about the correlation between wisdom and age, and the fact that not everyone has the luxury of knowing war before participating in it, but that doesn't mean they can't succeed anyway. It might be news to you, but the kingdom hasn't always been in a state of war!"
"He cares about your well-being, my child," The King reminded her gently, his hand coming up to suppress a sudden coughing fit.
"No he doesn't," Zelda huffed, "He just thinks I'm inept. If we judged everyone by their appearances, many a great Knight or ruler would have been lost to obscurity."
"Many a warrior was lost to death because they strove for duties earlier than they were supposed to," Alek exclaimed sarcastically.
"Alright you two, stop." The King rubbed the bridge of his nose, "We need her, that's that. It's unfortunate, but then so is this war."
"This is monstrous," Alek whirled away, "Throwing children onto the battlefield—even Bulblins aren't so barbaric!"
But the matter was settled, whatever Alek had to say about it.
It became very obvious early on that Zelda's abilities stretched further than just her skills channeling the Triforce of Wisdom. From a tactical point of view, the King soon saw that keeping her behind the lines was an inefficient use of resources. She did well there, and the army was well-sustained because of her, but she could do better elsewhere and it was his job to see to that.
"You'll break her, even if she doesn't get herself killed," Alek growled under his breath.
He could not say that he thought she was inept anymore—her death would not have been caused by her incompetence, but they both sensed a heaviness that was fated to settle over her, an emptiness that symbolized death and demise. Her future lingered on the precipice of light and dark, and the King's reallocation would tip it to one side and one side only.
"I can't hold on to an asset and not use it when this could spare thousands, perhaps even—" An awful, hacking cough suddenly wracked his body, and he staggered under a sudden bout of weakness. Silence hung over the dead hall of Hyrule as Alek could only helplessly watch.
"As it is, Alek, I cannot leave things as they are."
One for all and all for one—the individual for society, and all individuals for one society; it was never a fair exchange, but life was not fair. He looked at Zelda and noted that she was still thin, even if her build had filled and matured little by little over time, and a few tired lines dotted her complexion, a result of both her natural growth and the stress of leadership in someone so young. She still wore her hair in a simple braid—easily mistaken for a student without a teacher, because none of her teachers followed her into the war. It was like looking at an orphan; while he was certainly there as best he could manage, there was also still a feeling of abandonment surrounding her, no one to take care of her, no one she could depend on when duty required they be separated. When he assigned her to a proper division, he was going to have to assign someone to look out for her, especially given she was still so young, inexperienced, and there were a lot of frustrated men around.
"I hate children," Alek muttered. "Children are so complicated—we would never have to consider all of this if she were four years older."
The King looked at him from the corner of his eyes, but had the grace to say nothing to this.
"You do this, people will think you're crazy," He continued, "They might abandon her if she makes a mistake."
"She won't." Zelda had great tactical skill, evident from her unofficial counsels. There was something that worried him though, fatherly instinct overriding the King for the moment. "I'm more concerned that she'd get overwhelmed. Like you said, if things bend her too far, she might snap under the strain."
The look of irritation faded from Alek's features, if only for a moment, given way to a nod of understanding.
"So…what do you intend to do?"
"I don't know," the King replied, rubbing a hand through his beard for a moment, barely suppressing another ragged cough from breaking free. "But one thing is for certain. The people she works with will have to be very particular. Someone strong, but dependable outside of battle. An individual who trusts her implicitly, but also heeds her commands if they might not agree with them. Trust will have to be paramount. Anything less would hamper morale."
"Short of the one wielding the Triforce of Courage appearing before us, I don't see that happening." Alek remarked dryly.
The King scowled. "It wouldn't be the first time we relied on means beyond the triforce to determine one's character," He pointed out, "As for the rest, she does have her sword. Let's just hope the Spirits protect her from her youth and naïveté; I certainly can do no more than select those close to her with discretion."
He met Agron by chance.
He had been overseeing the knight's solemn task of dealing with the aftermath of a razed village, the people alive, but their homes lost to the dangerous beasts of twilight that were becoming more and more frequent, plaguing the lands with misery and death. At the time, they were escorting a group of refugees and sending them to either Hyrule or neighbouring villages to start over. The foot soldier was a giant of a man, broad in the shoulders and standing nearly a full two metres in height. Even without the heavy plate armour or the massive two handed blade on his back, there was no denying his size and strength. Intimidation was a skill he needed no practice to perfect.
And yet when the king first spotted him, he was doing nothing more than kneeling down to comfort a scared girl with brown hair in pigtails, even removing his helmet to look less scary while the mother watched close by. A rather unremarkable gesture in the grand scheme of things, truth be told, but the will of the triforce usually worked with subtle, small things. Details often hinted at the bigger picture, and the sight of this man and his gentle actions struck the king profoundly.
Most of the captains in the guard were use to the King's "whims", as they were called; more than once the King had gone against the norm, gut instinct and fate's guiding hand shaping his decisions in ways that others couldn't see. No doubt there were some individuals that found these sudden decisions to be a touch irrational, but could not argue with the results. The man was in an entirely different division from those normally chosen to serve as part of the Royal Guard, but his captain offered no complaints when he pulled Agron out for an audience. One did not say no to the King after all.
"Do you have any siblings?" He asked in his main office, a rather spartan place especially when compared to the majesty of the throne room close by.
Agron was caught off-guard, but answered promptly enough: "Two brothers and three sisters, my lord."
"Quite the large family." the King remarked. "And how are they faring nowadays?"
"Most of them are doing well, sire. Duro and Caspar are in training to become knights like me, while Shamir and Emra have their own business in the markets."
The King did not miss the exact wording, nor how the man had neglected one of his sisters. "And what of the last one? You didn't mention her."
"...She's no longer with us, my Lord. She died when I was still a squire."
"I'm sorry for your loss." The King stopped briefly as another of his coughing fits plagued him. They had only grown more numerous and painful as of late. "And what was her name?"
"Yeda, Sire. She was a full ten years younger than me."
"That's quite the age gap."
"Aye, so it is, my lord."
"What was she like?"
Agron was obviously confused, but he indulged the King with admirable composure. "She was beautiful. Most little sisters don't like their older brothers, or annoy them endlessly—always one of the two. She was very quiet and always tried to be helpful, even when she was too little to be of much help. Everyone adored her." He chuckled suddenly, evidently remembering one fond memory or another, before slowly lowering his head. "When she died, I…I had only recently become a knight. Still new to the responsibilities and all. ... The Bulblins took her. They don't always kill their victims immediately. I heard her screams as I pulled the others away. I couldn't fight them off for her, not without subjecting someone else to the same fate."
He paused briefly, features sharpening as he recalled the moment. The King gave him all the time he needed. When he did finally speak again, the voice trembled with emotion, a desire to improve, but still carefully under control.
"It's why I joined the knights, so I could train and actually do something to protect innocent people like Yeda. So that no one else would suffer the same fate."
"That is admirable of you," said the King, "Many others become embittered, and some even go so far as to wish the same fate on everyone else. They become jealous when others have better fortune than themselves."
"... I would be lying if I said there weren't times where I got jealous too, sire. But... I like to think that somewhere, someway, Yeda is still watching me, and I can't let her down like that. The big brother always has to keep his promises to his little sister, no matter what happens."
The King nodded in understanding.
He talked with the soldier for a little bit before sending him on his way.
Three months later, dreadful news made its way to the King's chamber.
"What do you mean the Goron Tribes are blocking off access to the mountains?!" Alek demanded, as he and the King read the report. "How come this is the first I'm even hearing about it?"
"Darbus and his council have always kept their secrets close to the chest."
"But to attack anyone who dares approach? Even messengers bearing Hyrule's seal? That's not normal. They are knowingly leaving Kakariko Village to fend for itself, and still they refuse to offer any reason for any of this! Is it the Twilight Creatures? Where did they even come from?"
Another messenger arrived before anyone could continue the debate.
"My King, the princess' talks with Queen Rutela have concluded. She says the Zora tribes are willing to assist when called upon, and she's on her way back to Hyrule as we speak."
It was good news, but it was very disorienting to hear that when they were dealing with the sudden hostilities from other allies mere seconds earlier.
"Oh," The King tried to gather his wits. "And what of Princess Zelda herself?"
"Um..."
The King cursed mentally at this—It was all but an open secret that his health was on the decline. The Princess would soon be becoming Queen, should things continue as they had been over the last few months. He was not supposed to emphasize Zelda's younger status, lest it undermine her authority.
"She is uninjured, sir. Shall I send her to you once she returns?"
"No," The King shook his head, his energy suddenly feeling hollow and drained. "I will send for her later. For now, see to the wounded and have the knights already deployed hold their positions until further orders are given."
For a long time, silence fell after the messenger departed.
"She could have been one of them," Alek said softly in the end.
"Aye, she could have." The King nodded. As yet another coughing fit took him, he all but fell into a chair behind him, limbs shaking from the effort to retain his composure and balance.
"Strange, isn't it, that wanting to aide in the war all but saved her life. Those we thought our staunchest allies ended up being the real danger. …I didn't think the Goron Tribes would sink so low. We both worked together with them for so long—"
"It no longer matters," the King declared after a moment. "With time, we might learn their reasoning, but there's nothing we can do about it now."
"Still," Alek pondered, "To think, I was actually fond of some of them."
So was the King, to a point. The Goron Tribe and the Kingdom of Hyrule were never really close-knit due to affection. They supposedly shared similar goals, similar ideals, similar skills, but it would be a lie to say they easily formed attachments to one another. And while between peers there were friendships, some even strong like the one between the King and Darbus, two rulers united in defending their respective peoples, it was another matter between the other pieces of each people. Among the knights and fighters, there was rarely a bond stronger than respect, or perhaps even tolerance. Still, there was that inherent trust, the faith that both sides would have rushed to the other's aide in times of crisis.
It was that unspoken pledge between Humans and Gorons—or at least it had been until today.
He wondered if something terrible had happened to Darbus. Perhaps something more dangerous than even the creatures of twilight had imperilled him into such acts of savagery. He doubted it, though. The Goron Leader was never one to be overwhelmed in a fight. As difficult as the situation was, he chose to remain hopeful that the rift between nations could be healed in time, once they learned why the Goron's had become so hostile.
"Should we tell her?" Alek asked, "About the Gorons I mean?"
"She might find out eventually," the King shook his head, "But there's no need to hasten the process. My daughter won us a great victory today. While we have lost one ally, we have gained another in the Zora Tribes."
"How in Spirit's name did she manage that, anyway? Queen Rutela has always been supportive to us, but never actually allied with Hyrule before. What could have changed that?"
"Because my daughter knew exactly what to do to ensure the best for both sides." The King smiled, eyes shining with pride. "As young as Zelda is, she has a sharp mind."
A sharp mind and a soft heart, as it turned out.
"We encountered more of the twilight creatures on our way back. And while everyone held their ground, it wasn't much of a victory,"
She lowered her head as she wiped at her eyes, pretending that it was because of an irritant and not because tears were welling up. The King decided not to comment on the moisture that streaked to her temples with each gesture, glistening obviously even in the orange tinted shadings of the setting sun. "We lost fifteen men, and many of the others are wounded, some seriously so."
Behind her, Agron stood with his facial expression controlled but his eyes alert, watching the King over Zelda's head. Next to the man, she looked so small and weary, holding herself straight and in attention with the last vestiges of her energy reserves.
"They were isolating the area near our northern borders, but the Shadow Beasts surprised us. I ordered the men to separate into individual squads and scatter to hide our exact numbers. Many of the soldiers were able to drive them off, but the beasts were formidable. We weren't able to count their numbers due to the suddenness of the attack. I fear we might have lost had they continued fighting instead of retreating when they did."
The King tried to see if she was hiding any injuries from him, but could only sense her exhaustion and crestfallen disappointment. He was tempted to ask her for himself, but with Agron there, the poor child would likely choose to lie even if she was hurt.
"You did well, my child," He told her, "Have those who are able continue to hold their positions. With luck, fresh reinforcements should be there in about three days to bolster their battered numbers. Your efforts certainly will not be in vain."
He could tell she really did not believe his praise was deserved, but she was mature enough not to protest. Good girl, he thought, though he had to talk to her about coping with losses. He had no idea how she was doing, but from the way she kept wiping her eyes, she probably was not hiding her grief well from the men under her command.
Then again, perhaps this vulnerability was just what would earn her the loyalty of the knights and people all the more. No one could argue she didn't care for the men serving under her, seeing her like this, hearing her voice break as she blamed herself for losses simply beyond her control.
There was no way any of them could forget that she was a bloody fifteen-year-old girl.
"Do they have enough healers with them?" He asked.
"Not nearly enough. I need to go to them, if that is alright with you?"
"Of course, child. Make sure you eat something first—you've had a hard few weeks." He glanced subtly at Agron, who did not react, but he sensed that the large knight understood the hidden command. "I will send help to the affected areas as soon as possible."
"Yes, father."
He did not dismiss his daughter immediately, instead studying her countenance. Young, tired, almost sick-looking. He wanted to comfort her, to praise her, but felt that might not be appropriate given the circumstances. Perhaps he could have Agron talk to her in private. She was taking the loss a little too hard for her well-being, and it was not even a loss. More compassion than the entire kingom of Hyrule put together.
She needed to know that.
"We'll make it through this ordeal, my child," He told her at last, "You know you're duty; I know you will not fail. One day soon, I know you will make a wonderful queen. Don't ever forget that." It was the only thing he could think to say before letting her depart and nurse her aching heart.
As more time passed, the King remembered, Zelda became increasingly withdrawn. The bright light in her once youthful features began to dim, to be replaced with a flat glint that was pure intelligence and determination but lacked the previous joy. He was not sure if even she knew what she had lost, but perhaps the kind of innocence she was losing was not the kind worth missing; it was valued because it was rare, but rarity said nothing of goodness and quality. Still, as a King and as a father, as someone who had allowed her to participate in this goddess forsaken war, he could not help feeling like he had failed her, that he should have taken better care of her.
Still, how was he to comfort her, take care of her? They were not close as they once were. She was so much younger than him, and yet they operated as near-equals. Now, with his health as it was, she all but surpassed even him. To shelter her at all would be insulting, an attack on her youth and inexperience, and as the battles dragged on, the King could no longer afford to think of her as the baby of the group, the youngling to defend. He had to use her skills, her impressive ability to inspire those around her, her great tactical acumen and abilities granted by the triforce. He could not allow himself to believe that she was somehow more important than anyone else, more vulnerable or more precious, just because she was so young.
When it became apparent to him just who that Impish creature was that had warned them so long ago, what it meant for both realms and not just his own, The King had to consider that before anything else.
The true threat was still unknown to them—they had united factions as best they could, but could not yet determine the leader of the creatures of twilight that sent such monsters after them. Most outside of the military forces were still largely ignorant of the dangers, but it became apparent that something would eventually have to give. Revealed too soon, and they would react poorly, which would cost them much, much more in the grand scheme of things. Were it up to him, it would be best that the innocent civilians remain unaware of the dangers ahead.
But the key to everything actually lay with the one who could so easily form connections through the will of the triforce, link wisdom and courage together and unite all sentients together to become a mighty entity. As the war progressed, Zelda's strength grew, and she was like a sun whose light stretched out to touch distant stars across the night sky itself. It would not be long before her presence was felt by those who were waiting for the right opportunity to strike. Already, as the eve of her coronation drew ever nearer, he could see just how far her support had grown beyond even his wildest imaginations. She, amazingly, knew all of their names and all of their backgrounds, and had more friends than anyone he could think of, past or present. If the true enemy ever got their hands on her, they would have to contend with an entire army who would be determined to fight to bring her back.
In war, timing was everything. If something happened too late, it could prove catastrophic for all involved, but the same could be said of anything that happened too early. Zelda's strength was growing fast, potentially too fast, and the Imp had warned that this could only cause more problems in the long run if the Imp's enemies found her before the people themselves were ready. Rise too high and too quickly, and the sudden fall would be even more devastating than it'd normally be.
"I'm beginning to see," Alek's voice broke through his thoughts, "Just what you saw in her back when this all started. I didn't think she was ready, yet she was determined. Proved me wrong over a dozen times, and now... I trust her like I should have since long ago. Funny how that works out, eh?"
"Does this make you feel more kindly towards her?" the King asked.
"I wouldn't use the term 'kind'," His friend replied, "But less exasperated, I would say. I wouldn't go back on my old words, of course, It's worse to be an underling in these sort of things." He then looked at the aged King with the perception he had always somehow had into the King's character. "You're afraid she won't be able to handle it, aren't you? Sweet innocent little princess. Strange, she's seen a lot but she hasn't really changed. Just quieter, sadder, but still that shining young maiden. Her being bound to the triforce has doomed her. She would have been happier were she free of it entirely. I do wish you could find some other way. Out of all of us…she is the best one out of all of us."
"Indeed she is," the King agreed, "Where others can only aspire, she achieves. She is much stronger than me," he paused, breaking into yet another ragged series of coughs, strong enough to shake him down to his core. Even in his prime, his daughter would always be stronger. She would always rise above the danger ahead, even if she may not believe it herself.
No matter what happened next, he truly believed she would be able to overcome it. Everything would be as the triforce willed it.
"But I hurt her to help her. Sometimes you must hurt someone to save them. She is already walking a different path from the rest of us, but if she remains with me, she will suffer the consequences that were never hers to take."
Alek did not fully understand, but he understood enough. "Are you certain this is the only way?" He asked.
No, the King was not, but he could think of no others given the time and resources he had to work with. There was simply not enough time to find another means. "Yes," He finally declared, trying not to show how he truly felt to his friend.
Alek might have sensed something was amiss, but if that were indeed the case, he gave it no sign. He trusted the King, even if he did not know all of his motives. "We wouldn't be able to protect her anymore."
"We never really were," The King pointed out.
Just like the Imp creature had warned them, the attack came with little warning. Caught flatfooted by the sudden attack on Hyrule Castle itself, the soldiers nevertheless stood shoulder to shoulder, prepared to fight to protect their princess. As battle commenced, the princess found herself forced into a decision that only she had the power to make for the good of not just Hyrule, but the entire world of Light.
The rest was history.