TLZ Final Retribution.prologue

THE LEGEND OF ZELDA

Final Retribution

Prologue

         At the end of the day, the sky was changing – fading from that brightest gold so rich it rivaled an emperor's crown, faint stars sparkling like shimmering jewels in its rivets, to a darkest blue. Gold upon sapphire, it threatened to swallow the world whole in just a moment. In mere seconds, in the time it takes to throw a glance, clench a fist, breathe a last breath, night had come, and nothing scathed its dappled shell, except for stars, small and solitary.

And turrets.

Turrets, festooned with mist like oil used to swab a blade, pierced and stabbed the sky looming overhead like a hungry creature, threatening to crush the castle already so unbeaten and trembling from struggle. Foundations laid with sword-scathed stone and arrows crammed in the cracks between, the whole castle betrayed the war that had raged for seven years among its walls, both within and without. At this moment a soothing breeze, gently tousled grass, and the still pond within its courtyard hinted at a long-desired peace, restfulness finally achieved. Its inhabitants, however, were far too wise to believe such. Until the day they could be absolutely certain all was calm, those within its walls would always sit, tensed, with anxious muscles, anticipating the one false strike that might once again lay their kingdom to ruin. Eternally, they would wait, hand on hilt.

As the night slinked in, the silence it brought was so thick it permeated even the castle walls, the only sounds those that are discernible only in total quiet, or to a hunter honed to listening in vapid darkness, to hear the soft footsteps on carpet, the groaning of ancient wood, like crunches in fallen leaves.

In one room, locked far away from all the others, several rigid figures waited, silhouetted by fireglow and wisps of moonlight. Corridors away maids scuttled busily down the hall, dogs howled and yawned yards below outside the window, constant footfalls sounded on stone, wood, posh, plush carpet – yet not a soul stirred in this particular chamber. With the descent of the sun there arose walls of distaste for talk and idle chatter around each individual. Try as it might the humble fire in the corner could neither provide any warmth to dispel the ominous chill in the air, nor light their faces, each hung and masked with shadows. It was more or less there to keep them from feeling too isolated, its quiet grumbling reminding them they were still alive, in the mind-numbing silence that proscribed even the hum of breathing.

Each was there for the same reason – indistinguishable servants, each seated with the same fretful posture, the same aura teeming of fear and expectation.

With faces sallow as the shrouded moon they simply sat, and waited, cloaked with a dread as tangible as the clothes on their back.

Sitting. Waiting. Praying. That was all they knew, all they could remember ever knowing – until she cried, and their purpose reoccurred to them immediately.

In a flurry chairs were left rocking on their legs and some were overturned as each figure flew from their seat, cloaks flapping, through the threshold. In a straight file the servants ascended the winding stairway of the loftiest turret, following the voice crying out again and again in pain. Blue light flashed as they passed window after window, with each step the voice gaining volume, until cries became clear words:

"Link. . .Link – " Horrible gasps cut her short, and the servants rushed even faster.

By the time they reached the top the princess had finally settled down, her outcries becoming fainter still until at last she only breathed softly, gently. A small smile dressing her lips, she gripped her bulging stomach covered with blankets, and nodded weakly at her company.

All known among each other, the six figures finally uncloaked themselves, each grinning as they approached the princess they all loved so dearly. Never before had they seen her so vulnerable, fragile, and while some smiled gently, others frowned and shook their heads in furtive distress.

Save for the tall, pale woman in the corner who had known her since her birth, this was the first time any of them had seen her uncrowned and unadorned, yet even without the scarlet jewel gilding her forehead, her radiant eyes were enough of an ornament to her face on her own, and wavy hair fell around her like threads of gold. Her sapphire eyes pierced like knives even though the room flooded blue, and just like the rosy chiffon encompassing her canopy bed, her cheeks blushed a lovely pink.

Flanking her protectively, each of the six stared at this girl, this beautiful girl they knew and loved with all their hearts, in total wonder – pondering the memories they shared with her, her incredible strength now this shaming frailty, her marvelous soul – but mostly, the reason why she was here, struggling, gasping in pain.

None of them could believe it, even though they probably understood the reason better than any other.  

As the princess's lips parted, each snapped from their stupor and inclined closer, transfixed.

"I am so glad. . .," she whispered, scarcely audible, ". . .you are all here with me now."

The small, green-haired girl, appearing nothing more than a child, stepped to the bedside and took the princess's hand. "Of course, Zelda," she said, smiling gently.

Zelda shifted a little, then met the girl's equally blue eyes. "Thank you, Saria."

Removing her shroud entirely, dropping it to the floor, a woman with a mess of shocking red hair, tan-skinned and clad skimpily in clothes designed for hot weather, stepped forward and kneeled at the bed.

"Nabooru. . .," Zelda murmured.

"You doing alright, babe?" Tenderly Nabooru smirked and fondled one of Zelda's small, silver earrings.

"Managing." Again Zelda offered the same feeble smile.

One by one the others approached, spoke softly, and took the princess's hand. The tall, imposing Goron looked away embarrassedly when tears formed in his eyes, then tried to make Zelda laugh as she began crying as well. The lovely Zora girl who looked no older than the princess tried to distract her with small talk whenever Zelda felt the pains coming on again, squealing joyfully whenever she put her hand on Zelda's belly and felt the baby kick, and the solemn but kind-faced old man constantly caressed Zelda's hair and smiled whenever he gazed at her round stomach. Each came forward and remained at the bedside, all except for the tall, pale woman, who stood nonchalantly in the corner, features shadowed.

When all fell silent, Zelda spoke the woman's name.

"Impa. . ."

Rigid, the woman did not even flinch, only brushed back a single strand of ivory hair hanging loose from her ponytail. Briskly her garnet eyes roved over the room, then the hands of all the sages coiled around Zelda's, and dipping her head, recoiled from the moonlight so that she was engulfed completely by the darkness.

"Princess," she finally grumbled, her voice deep but smooth. Repeatedly she saw the princess's hand in her mind, the pale, silky skin. She knew that when the others held Zelda's hand, they could feel that, her skin soft as cotton and smooth as water, but when Impa touched it, all she could feel was the ring that was not there.

Finally, Impa forced herself to meet the sapphire eyes she could no longer look at anymore without tears welling. In an environment where all life revolved around family, and upholding honor, and knowing Zelda had been raised as such so strictly, fiercely, accepting the reality that the princess was pregnant out of wedlock was hardest for Impa.

Of course Impa still loved her more than anything, anyone else in the world. Zelda was like her daughter, Impa was like her mother – their relationship was unshakable, and Impa had finally come to accept it like any truly understanding mother would.

But again and again, like forcing two mismatched pieces of a broken jar together, Impa could not unravel the princess's reasoning. Zelda was well beyond her years in wisdom, perhaps the most cogent person Impa could think of besides herself – generally, if it could not be proven to them, neither believed. It was logical reasoning that the two shared, that made Impa feel Zelda was so much like herself, she understood her actions before she committed them, at times the very thoughts racing in her mind.

And then Impa learned Zelda was with child –

And soon she felt she knew nothing.

But still, looking into Zelda's eyes as Impa's thoughts swarmed, she could see the knowing there, that even silently, they understood each other.

"Impa. . ." A dim smile formed on Zelda's lips, and she closed her eyes, sinking deeper into her pillows. "He and I both knew it might come to this. . ."

Suddenly, Impa stepped from the veil of shadows, light hitting her rugged body all at once. "And that, Princess," she said, speaking with such an uncommon urgency all the sages turned to look, "is exactly what I don't understand."

Unmoving, Zelda's eyes remained close. "I admit, I did do something foolish, Impa."

"Which is so very unlike you." Realizing the desperation in her stance, swiftly Impa drew herself back into her full, imposing height, and crossed her arms coolly. Though it had only taken her a second to recover, Zelda caught it.

"I cannot remember you ever letting your guard down, Impa," she murmured enigmatically. Darunia, the Goron, looked at her bewilderedly, while the others turned to Impa.

Impa's mouth twitched. ". . .I admit, I did do something foolish, Zelda."

Smile broadening, Zelda's eyes fluttered open. "Which is so very unlike you."

Before Impa could react, Ruto the Zora sighed, exasperated. "Ugh, you two, can't you just be normal for on – " Nabooru's hand over her mouth abruptly cut her off.

"Impa. . .," Zelda sighed, her frail form drooping even more with exhaustion, ". . .I know how my father's mind works, how the majority of Hyrule's minds work. Without a reputation, a person is nothing." With her free hand she brushed back sweaty golden bangs, shaking her head slightly. "I lived my whole life abiding by that, but never truly believing it. I think it is because of you, that I learned to discern the truth from things, how corrupt perceptions can be.

"All my life, Impa, you were all I had. When that man – no, I'll say his name, Ganondorf – " Her tongue crawled with the word. " – came to the castle, and I had that dream. . .You were the only one who believed me." Staring blindly before, Zelda now looked upward, to meet Impa's eyes. "Until he came. He came, and listened to me, and believed me, and treated me kindly, like a real person with feelings and a soul. He was one of the only people to treat me like that – and every time he came back, I loved him more. He was my best friend, I was his, and we were a team."

She looked down again, clamping her eyes shut.

"And even though it was my doing that caused our downfall in the first place, he brought us up again, wouldn't stop, not once worrying about himself, but me, and everyone else – and we were a team again, and made everything right again. We all did." Their hands intertwined, their grips tightened, and slowly tears lined Zelda's eyes as she went on.

"When we were together, in the sky, and it was finally all over. . ." She breathed the words heavily, with a certain weight. "I thought as soon as I took the Ocarina away from my lips, he would be gone forever. . .but when time reset, and I found myself young again, staring through the window – I turned around – and he was there. He was there for me, to live the dream with me after we'd all gone through the nightmare. . ."

With tears flowing, Zelda gazed at Impa. "We lived those seven years together. Over time we began to feel like children again, to forget the realities of being adults. . .until it dawned on the both of us. . ."

She smiled, though everyone present could see the pain piercing her at every angle.

"I am a princess. He had no reputation. He was nothing."

Pulling her hand away, Zelda drew them both to her face and then knotted her fingers in her hair with disgust, as though she could tear the pain away.

"He saved us all. Without him, we all would be nothing. And when time reset, there were so many with memories of him still, they knew it was true, and understood – he will not die forgotten. He'll be a legend, forever. Everyone will know, except. . ." Her throat burning, finally Zelda doubled over in sobs, only her trembling shoulders visible as she cloaked herself in her golden hair. Concerned, the sages tried to calm her, told her she couldn't get so worked up, in her condition, and finally, she took deep breaths and went on.

"Everyone except father. . .The night Ganondorf finally took over – "

"Shh, Princess," Rauru whispered, touching a hand to her back.

"Yes, I'm sorry, all of you," Zelda murmured, rubbing her face, "but Impa. . ." She glanced up. "Do you see?"

Impa stared.

"Impa. . .I love Link so much. And both of us knew, and I – I will never feel I have to justify myself.  I will never regret it. I wanted to have his child. . ." Her tone softening, she unclenched the fists that had formed and lowered herself back onto her pillows as she spoke softly, "I only regret that, for honor's sake. . ." Her small lips curled. ". . .I will not be able to keep him."

At last, in total solace, Zelda closed her eyes and sought for sleep, and smoothly, swiftly, at last Impa drew closer and took her hand, only able to feel the soft skin of her fingers. For several hours the princess rested unperturbed, as the six others gathered there merely spoke softly, infrequently, still bewildered at the sight of the fragile girl before them.

"Has the baby really been kept a secret this whole time, Impa?" Saria asked, the room so silent even her still, small voice was like the crash of glass against the floor.

Impa nodded gravely. "No one outside the castle's walls knows. . ." Stiffly she turned to gaze out the single arched window in the room, then dipped her head to the shadows. "And no one ever will."

Scratching his overgrown, tawny beard, Darunia grunted. "Is the matter of reputation so significant to the king, that his daughter cannot keep her own child?"

"Absolutely," Nabooru replied without hesitation. Having served as ambassador to the Gerudos for several years now, just as anyone with a position in the king's court, she was accustomed to the king's ways, and most of all, his incredible stubbornness. "Though it is not only the king."

Ruto nodded in consent. "Zelda is the kingdom's pride and joy. . .were the inhabitants of Castle Town to find out, it would not be long before it spread over the whole country, perhaps even farther. . .And if its princess could not uphold an ancient code, all the neighboring countries, and those living in Hyrule itself, might stop respecting the kingdom, namely authority, itself."

Leaning back in her chair, Nabooru folded her arms. "Yes. . . 'If the princess does not uphold the law herself, why should we?' That is how it would be."

"Perhaps you are overthinking it a bit," Rauru said, "but I agree."

"Everyone in Hyrule," Ruto snarled, biting her lip, "is the same. Basing everything on the same stereotypical reasoning, an imaginary hierarchy. With money, looks, family, comes position. Almost everyone. . ." Her tone dropping and eyes drifting shut, Ruto gazed at Zelda, sleeping peacefully. "She and Link. . .were never like that. They understood each other, how it was supposed to be." Glancing upward, her fierce expression returned. "The people are so shallow."

Nervously, Saria twiddled her thumbs. "If anyone were to ever find out, as much as they love Zelda. . .it would ruin her. When she came to power, no one would. . ." Round eyes troubled, she trailed off.

"Even so. . .," Rauru breathed deeply, "the Princess would not give up this child for the world. And she would give anything to have Link here with her, now. As would I. . ."

A silence of mutual agreement settled over the room. Finally, Impa broke in over Zelda's soft breathing.

"No one has said a word about it though. Even maids as gossipy as Hyrule's can have their silence bought with the threat of a death sentence." Massaging her gloved fingers together, she cut a glance at each of the sages.

"It is truly that serious," Darunia muttered.

"Yes," Impa sighed. "And I never even dreamed we would all be here now, waiting on the Princess's baby. . ." Ever her voice, slogged down with stone, could not conceal the smile playing on her lips. "There is a family in Kakariko, who is going to keep the child. They know nothing of his heritage, and do not ask – they are just happy to have a child to call their own. . .I know them personally, and I know the world over, I could not find better parents for the Princess's child."

Smiling, all the sages nodded joint sanction, eyes riveted on Zelda as they did so.

"That is wonderful. . .," Nabooru sighed, plump lips parted in a grin, "but is it true, Impa, that I hear his majesty is already planning Zelda's engagement to the Prince of Lunaea?" She spoke the words with contempt, like a bitter taste on her tongue.

Still as a board, Impa's mouth barely twitched. "It is true."

"Ay, our poor princess. . ." Sighing deeply, Nabooru reached and tucked a gossamer lock behind the princess's long ear, then buried her face in her hands.

"The king would not have it that his line be carried on solely that of unroyal blood. . .," Impa murmured, for the first time contempt scratching her throat, "so it was arranged. Zelda knows. She is trying to stay strong. And the young man knows nothing, and what I have heard of him so far, he is a kind young man. . .which, all things considered, is the type of person I want Zelda to have by her side."

She gazed forward fiercely, as though at something until the life gave out of it – yet nothing was there, only the few stars sparkling outside the window, in the blue infinity.

"She needs someone who will be there, no matter what. Who can always be there, no matter what."

I am not blaming him.

It is not his fault.

But he and I both knew. . .

He could never stay.

Gradually Impa was able to shake herself from visions of a bloodied warrior donned in green as she grew cognizant of the voices around her, still conversing.

"The pieces of the Triforce. . ."

"Zelda still has hers."

"As soon as Link leaves Hyrule, he will possess his no more."

"And as for Ganon, Power will never fall into the hands of evil again," Nabooru declared confidently, but then went on, with a furtive expression and soft voice, "at least not in one piece."

"With time," Impa said firmly, "all will be right again, just as it was and always has been. Of course crisis comes and goes. . .but in the end, all will be right."

Once more the six sages nodded their agreement, though Saria spoke gently,

"That is true. But it's still sad to me, that he, his children will never know where they from. . .that his parents are the two that shaped, saved this country."

A tender breeze floating through the window, the silken curtain caught and drifted on the current, until finally the wind recoiled and retreated back the way it had come, lost forever in the endless sky.

". . .Yes," Impa agreed, nodding solemnly, though as she spoke the last words, eyeing the gently rippling folds of the curtain, a rare, hopeful grin spread on her lips. "But maybe, someday, he will."