Chapter Text
Zelda ran her palms along the top rail of the balustrade that bordered Mipha’s chambers. Carved out of the same blend of metamorphic rock as all of the Domain’s architecture, it had been overseen by inter-generational teams of artists and architects, decorated with hammered or inlaid gemstone, with bright silver alloy latticeworks that remained somehow, naturally, untarnished, standing in undying testament to the lofty character of the Zora people. And like their architecture, those people seemed always to be strong, graceful and gleaming, glistening with the moisture of ever-present river mist, and the wise inner light of a longevous species, embedded too like precious minerals within their biome.
She envied the quiet certainty that they all seemed to possess; even Mipha, whom Hylian standards would call ‘timid’, was an unwavering exemplar, her certainty wrapped in unlikely gentleness; unlikely, because of her age, her rank, and the tragedies to which she bore witness. Zelda truly doubted whether she could herself be so gentle, once another three decades had their way with her. Doubtless she would develop some of the same rigidity as her father, given the similarities she had already observed between them, and accepting the duties of a young general in war-time had surely impacted her psyche in ways she could only guess (though Urbosa had cautioned her not to project bitterness along her timeline, noting that souls are not entirely slaves to the world’s violence upon them).
She stepped back to make room, as Mipha’s crimson curvature arrived from below, ascending the aquamarine staircase with a silver tray of food: Terrako’s harvest, now glazed in honey, with assorted entrées from the banquet.
“I’m sorry to have caused so much bother,” Zelda breathed, once Mipha was past her shoulder.
“Not at all. I told my Father you were here, and he assumed we were holding a private Peace Day. After all, you and I represent the Treaty’s signatories.” With a sweet smile, and she gestured to the tray, conveying that she would not eat before her guest.
With polite acquiescence (that hopefully did not look awkward), Zelda picked up a canapé topped with salmon paste and fennel flakes, and brought it slowly to her lips – though did not open them, until Mipha chose her own piece and slipped into a floor-level dipping pool that was the Zora equivalent of a couch.
Mercifully, Mipha’s vertical pupils did not dwell upon her long, moving to gaze at the twilight sky and allowing Zelda to chew without a censoring hand.
Sounds of group merriment rose up from below, in response to a speech by the king, itself neutralised to vague rumbling by waterfalls on either side. Zelda was just relaxing into the sounds, and the chorus of evening birdcalls, when Mipha spoke, soft but clear:
“What was it you were going to ask before? You said I almost told you something, once.”
“Oh... um, what, I wonder...” Not that she had forgotten her question, but having had the hours to re-consider, it felt both unfair and unnecessary.
“While I was healing you?” Mipha prompted, and Zelda did not turn to meet those golden eyes, nor see how the changing light might alter their depths.
“Well, it’s just...” she shook her head; being tongue-tied was so unseemly. “I think you were trying to raise my spirits, at the time. However in vain.” She forced a tight laugh. “Because I couldn’t seem to access my abilities— my sealing magic, that is.”
“Which you have since used to vanquish Ganon, forever more.” There was a kind smile in her voice, proffered to ease the tension.
“Yes, well... yes.” A blush was at her jaw, threatening to rise further: it was, as always, overwhelming to contemplate what she had done; it felt too unreal most of the time, and she had somewhat disassociated herself from the event, written it into something that had ‘happened’, by no one’s hand but Fate. Things had become as they should be. Everyone had played their part. Like the rest, she had ultimately not failed in her role. That was all there was to it.
Thus, it felt impossible to celebrate. Even as celebrations had erupted around her, and across the land. Celebrating herself? How arrogant. How needlessly childish.
Something sour must have made its way onto her face, because Mipha gave one of her little sighs:
“It’s all right to feel proud, Princess. If it helps to know, I’m certainly proud of myself. And of all of us who fought so hard, against such great odds.”
“Oh...” It was no kind of response, but it was what she had to give.
“When the Calamity threw its fist at Link, I thought we must surely be undone, despite all our efforts. But then you! Zelda, you...” Mipha’s voice had grown quieter on her name, as though fearing it too direct, “you held him at bay. With just one hand, you warded him off. It was magnificent.”
There was true awe in Mipha’s voice, and Zelda wanted to shrink below the waterline, with how impossible acknowledging it felt. “You make me sound quite mythical,” she managed.
“It was a mythic battle, certainly. But the moment Hylia’s warrior princess stopped Ganon in his tracks? It will be depicted in paintings and mosaic for centuries, at least.”
Zelda wished she could have held back the embarrassment that slid rudely from her throat, but it had arrived too quickly.
“Sincerely, Princess!” Mipha insisted. “The immense light within you – no shadow could withstand it! And so, I just know that... that Link would...”
It was the Zora’s turn to hesitate now, and Zelda used the moment to urgently divert the conversation:
“But before that! I was beset by doubts. And you told me then that you had a particular method for summoning your healing magic, no matter what was afoot. But now, having said it aloud, I suspect I... may have wasted both our time in asking.” She sighed, her shoulders falling. “Haven’t I?”
She turned to look at Mipha at last, finding her eyes not on the stars, but on the water that rippled ever so slightly, with the tracing of webbed fingers, just below its surface.
“It’s Link. Isn’t it?” Zelda said, attempting to soften her voice, to not have anxiety turn her cruel. “You were going to tell me that I should think about someone I love, and for you... that is Link. Just the thought of her,” she pinched the hem of her tunic, to steady herself, “is enough to focus your magic, in any circumstance.”
Mipha’s eyes were hooded, her delicate mouth a thin line, her courteous lips constricted.
Eventually, she gave a little nod, and did not meet Zelda’s gaze, but hovered in the space below it:
“She opens a channel for me, to my innermost reserves. When I think of her, it is as if I can reach the depths of the most ancient oceans. And pull up whatever power waits for me down there.”
“I understand. In that moment—” her throat closed up, and she cleared it sharply. “When Ganon went for us, I– without knowing, I reached down into myself. With the speed of Urbosa’s lightning, there was something inside me, channelling through my arm, from—” she laughed with how grand it would sound aloud, but having no better word for it, “my Destiny. Which I could never connect to, when my need wasn’t tied to the– the one thing I absolutely could not lose.”
A somber smile reshaped Mipha’s lips, oh so slightly.
“I’m happy we share this understanding.”
“But I’m—”
“I’m truly happy,” Mipha repeated. But her voice was tight, and her shoulders were more narrow than before.
“Mipha, you don’t have to...” Filled with concern, she reached out her hand, then lowered it when she could not say what it should do.
“It helps...” Mipha said quietly, echoing her earlier sentiment, “to have one’s own type of people along. Not so? It’s only natural. In the end, I...”
Experienced diplomat as she was, familiar with rousing speeches to soldiers and down-trodden villagers as she was, Zelda felt nonetheless helpless in the moment, to mitigate her melancholy.
She could only leave it hanging around them like grey velvet drapes, and chew upon another canapé, its toppings tart on her tongue.
Sounds of gaiety rose up again, and apparently gave Mipha the strength she needed to narrate her swirling memories:
"It frightened me... many years ago, how day by day, she spoke less. I sensed it was the duties of being a knight, first armouring then jailing her tongue. It might be hard to believe now, but in her adolescence, Link was never short of words. Not when she spoke of what mattered to her most. 'Just wait until I'm an official knight, Mipha!' she so often told me, and then described the adventures she would have, the wrongs she would right. She was..." splayed fingers slipped over her heart, "overpowering. And so dashing.” Her eyelids pressed against her brow-ridge, in a Zora frown. “I believe I would have lain down my life for her, in those moments. For her lofty ideals."
“Mipha...”
The frown progressed and she shut her eyes, self-effacing. "Perhaps it is silly to promise one's heart to another, when one is still a child. What can we possibly know of the wider world, and what its experiences will make of us – and our hearts – in the years ahead? Of course, as children...” petite, sharky teeth were briefly visible, nibbling at her lip, “we think we are already, entirely, who we are destined to become. What archetypes we embody. We need only become taller, and more skill will grow within us, to match. But the world... it has other ideas, doesn't it? Nothing is so simple.”
This Zelda understood to her bones, and nodded as much.
“But even with that said,” Mipha continued, “some rare individuals can manage it. No matter how relentless this tumultuous world can be. I’ve always wondered, what is that like? Sometimes... please don't laugh at me, Princess, but sometimes...”
Laughing was the furthest thing from Zelda’s mind, almost as far as breath seemed to her lungs, in the wake of Mipha’s earnestness.
“...I found myself staring into her eyes, while she looked elsewhere. Seeking out her confidence and steadfastness, like I was staring into a blue wishing pool. As if doing by doing so, I could awaken it in myself. That just being in her presence could teach me to be more than I was. To... to unstick me."
“Unstick you?” Zelda whispered.
A nod. “From my limitations. My fears. My... my smallness.”
“You’re the last person I would ever call small,” Zelda heard herself declare, with breathless sincerity that should have been embarrassing, but was merely how the truth should sound.
Mipha looked at her with surprise, the frown vanishing from her eyes and her lips falling loose.
“Truly?”
“Of course!” Now that she had said it, there was no cause for censure. “You’re just about the bravest woman I’ve known. And you might say that should fall to Link or Urbosa, but... their courage comes from an entirely different place. You’re...” she may as well say it, “I’ve always seen you as the sort of woman I should have been. Should have been able to become. You’re not loud, or– or childish. Or brash or foolish, or any of the other ways of being that had held me back, or had me scolded. You are wise and prudent, but you also fight with all your heart! You protect those around you, without a scrap of doubt that you might achieve it.”
Golden eyes picked up flecks of cool moonlight. “Is that... truly how you see me?”
“It is.” With regal bearing, she dipped her head; even if she had not collected these thoughts so succinctly before, they were full of sincere truth.
Mipha tilted her head querulously, her blank expression hinting at how much was being processed within.
She was not given time to reach a response, however, because a Zora guard had arrived on the stairs, giving a low bow that nonetheless put him above Zelda’s height.
“Your Ladyships,” he greeted, “Mistress Link has arrived, and awaits your invitation to intrude.”