Dumping all of my feelings of disappointment, however slight, that TotK's story wasn't a bit more nuanced.

This will be a morally grey reimagining of Zelda's story in the game. There is implied Rauru/Sonia/Zelda, but it's not the focus by any means. If any of that is not your jam, you've been warned. It's my first foray into the world of LoZ fic (I've been a fan since before I can remember, though), so I'm not entirely sure what the scene looks like.

Enjoy, xox
-Vivi

She did not know when she stopped remembering what her mother looked like.

It was all Zelda could think as she walked by King Rauru's side, their footsteps echoing in the long, dim hall, attempting to look remotely invested in his teachings of the day. It wasn't that she was uninterested, not truly, because it was history—well, modern events to this era, but history for her. Silently she chided herself; she'd come a long way from the scared girl ineffectively trying to tap into the talents of her ancestors, but the young princess found herself just as unable to focus as when she'd made her journey to visit the goddess springs around Hyrule.

Young wasn't quite right, either, was it? She nodded idly at the king, who chattered on and undoubtedly had no clue she wasn't actually paying attention. Queen Sonia was far better at that. Zelda wondered if her hundred years spent staring the Calamity in the face had altered her memory, decayed it as it had began to decay her world before she was whisked away to the past. She furrowed her brows, trying to conjure her mother's face in his stead. When she'd died, Zelda hadn't shed so much as a single tear. Her father had prided himself on having such a steadfast daughter, but the way he would eye her sometimes in the decade after made the hairs on her neck stand on-end.

He'd lost some amount of trust in her, after that. She hadn't known, far later, how to tell him that she did not understand the permanence of loss until much later—but it was the death of the Champions, her beloved friends, that had finally forced her to understand. But her mother? She'd never truly left her. Zelda could hear her voice, even now.

Her musings were cut short the moment she registered the word Triforce had been spoken aloud. She snapped to Rauru's attention, curiosity quickly overflowing from her. It was a word she'd read of only a handful of times, mentioned rarely in her texts, but evidence of it was all over ancient Hylian architecture and stitched into their clothes. Even Sonia had the triple-shape pattern tattooed onto her skin, something that'd piqued Zelda's intrigue immediately.

Laser-focused now on his lecture, she weighed his confidence and did not find it lacking. What he spoke was the truth, in his eyes. He explained it as if it were a school of thought, a way by which to live one's life: the wisdom to know one's path, the courage by which to carve it into reality, and the power to see it through. They were necessary components in the pursuit of happiness and fulfillment, and a balance among them was crucial. All three of them had certain attributes, more pronounced in one than the others, he explained, to sum them up.

Wisdom protected.

Courage fortified.

And power corrupted.

She had to keep herself from visibly deflating. It was not at all the flexible ideology passed down to her by her mother—that all three could be dangerous in the wrong hands, capable of corroding oneself without the weight of the others keeping them in line. To single one out as inherently evil, could Zelda agree with such a black-and-white statement? Link, for all he ran headfirst into danger without any second thoughts, had strength in spades. And she herself harbored an immense power of will, for how else had she managed to wage a single-handed war to keep the darkness at bay until her knight recovered that strength? And more than that...

Should she speak up, tell him that the golden glow of the Triforce had appeared on the back of her hand when sealing the Calamity away? He'd had a piercing, disembodied voice that had nearly driven her mad, but he'd called to her by name many times, tempting her to give into her exhaustion. Even the corpse beneath the castle had known hers and Link's faces, lending credit to her rapidly-developing theory: the Triforce was more than a tenet—it had to be. It had to be the source from which she and her mother and her grandmothers and their grandmothers had drawn their power.

Power reveals, her mother reminded her as if in warning.

She swallowed. Wisdom grew with time—Queen Sonia had been right about that—but what Zelda needed now was the courage to be crafty, and the power to have such audacity in the first place. But Rauru wasn't as perceptive as his wife, and that was an encouraging thought. Zelda put on her best demure look and batted her lashes just so, the way she knew he liked.

"The symbol holds significance even in my time," she said meekly. "I wonder if there is some deeper force to it, long forgotten by time."

Their leisurely stroll had led them to the throne room by now. The palace was dim and green, a color that made her feel a bit sickly, like it had been shut away for too long without the light of the sun to warm it. At the head of the open space, Sonia's throne sat shorter and slimmer than Rauru's, a subtle display of their uneven status that gave her a sense of unease.

He came to a stop a few paces before she did and placed his hand upon his chin, a habit she'd noticed early on that meant he was interested in whatever it was he'd just heard. While he hummed thoughtfully and mentioned that the world hadn't seemed to have much in the way of order when they Zonai arrived, the glowing stone on his hand shone brighter, just for a split second.

When he smiled down at her, his small, sharp teeth glinted for a flicker of a moment in the low light of the room. It stirred something within her, her heart squeezing as she thought briefly of Link. She returned his smile more genuinely than she'd expected. Rauru meant well, she knew, but she was often ill at ease in his presence. He'd been wary of her at first, needed proof of her tale to be convinced of its legitimacy where his wife had read her like a book. Zelda couldn't blame the man for it, not truly, and often wondered if she would have had an easier time in trusting him had he not given her that same look she'd seen in her father's eyes so many times before. Not disapproval, exactly, but then she didn't know how else to describe it.

"Perhaps you're right," he agreed then, placing one of his big, clawed hands on her shoulder. The shimmer of his magical gem was warm and inviting, lighting the space between them. He'd said more than once already that it was his belief that she was sent to him and Sonia for a reason. "The matter is worth looking into, surely. Come to think of it, my secret stone seems...pensive, if you will, when I mull over the Triforce. When I first arrived here, it was the one thing that did hold structure. Maybe it is my duty as the wielder of light to dig a bit deeper."

She shivered. For all that he was calm and kind, the reminder of his alien origins prickled at her. About any and all matters of Zonai history he was strangely tight-lipped, and she wondered what it truly was that his kind found when they first arrived in Hyrule. How much of the native's ways of life had they influenced, reshaped, and, she had no doubt, even destroyed?

Sensing her discomfort, he removed his hand as if it were the offending piece. But she steeled herself, drawing upon her memories of Link to embolden her. If she were to make it back to him, she would need to play her cards right in this time. As Sonia had done to her countless times already, she reached out both of her hands to grasp at Rauru's that had fallen back into place at his side, the gesture intended to provide comfort and reassurance. It was a bold move indeed, and felt at once far too intimate with just the two of them here. But he did not seem to mind.

It was hot and dry against her skin. She smiled up at him once more, and he back down at her. He was one half of all she had left, and the instant she thought it, she was overwhelmed. His secret stone reacted to the close contact in a pulsing rhythm that matched the one around her neck, the beat of it hard and strong for one heavy moment, and quiet as it had ever been in the next. Breathless from it, she stared up at the king and knew what it was that they shared.

It was the power of light.

But that did not mean it was not power, still.