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The familiar clack of Impa’s shoes against cold marble tiles alerts Zelda to her presence. She doesn’t turn her head – Impa knows her well enough now that it isn’t rude to do so. Her retainer bows deeply before straightening up again, and Zelda manages to tear her gaze away from the object of her interest for a moment to nod, letting the other woman speak.
“The troops are gathered,” Impa tells her, plainly, as she has come to expect over the years. She wouldn’t want anything else – there is no need for the two to speak in fanciful statements or to use flowery words. “We’re waiting on your command, Princess. Then we can head out.”
“Yes. I will not be a moment.”
Impa’s brow furrows. It isn’t like the princess to be so blasé, so dismissive, certainly not in times like these when one misstep from her could lead to the fall of Hyrule as they know it. The older woman braves a step forward, yet Zelda’s attention remains firmly on the wall hanging.
It’s been there for years – an old stalfos skull that was hung by Zelda’s father, to the best of Impa’s knowledge. Unlike many of her predecessors, the Sheikah woman hasn’t served the family for all of her life, joining Zelda’s service when the princess was very little and herself barely into the throes of adulthood. Impa never knew the old king and queen well, and she has mostly picked up on what they were like through hearsay – not a reliable source at all.
But she never remembers this particular wall hanging not being there. It’s a decoration, as morbid as that may be. Ceremonial swords pierce the skull, presumably in place of where Zelda’s father’s real swords pierced the creature. Oddly enough, this isn’t even the most gruesome of decorations adorning Hyrule Castle.
“Is there a problem, your majesty?” Impa dares to ask.
“We fight so many of these creatures every day,” Zelda murmurs, still unmoving. “When this one breached the palace grounds all those years ago it was a momentous occasion. My father personally slayed it, and since then our security has been as strong as he was. Now… things are very different.”
“That’s thanks to the Gate of Souls,” Impa reminds her. “We would not be in this predicament otherwise.”
“I know.”
Zelda turns her head with something akin to a smile etched on her features. It can hardly be described as a smile really – just an upward twitching of her mouth, no hint of joy behind her eyes. Impa knows the look all too well – it’s one that she’s observed from the princess many times recently.
“If we don’t win this war, I fear that we are to become like this poor soul,” she says, reaching a hand out, taking a step forward, gentle fingers ghosting along the hard bone of the decoration. It’s odd to think of it that way, she realises, when the stalfos once moved around, when it had the liberty to breathe, just as she does.
“I do wonder about what will happen to us if we fail. If we fall, here, when things hang so precariously in the balance,” Impa admits, earning a half-hearted chuckle from the princess.
“It is unlike you to voice your concerns so openly like this. I too, have been plagued by the terror of how I will end up. I pray that if I must die, it will be a swift and merciful death. I pray to the goddess that I don’t become a decoration in Ganondorf’s new palace. Oh, if we fail, he will take over here, won’t he?”
“The thought had crossed my mind,” Impa says, though she feels guilty admitting it. Hyrule Castle has been her home for many years, side by side with Zelda. For it to fall into the hands of someone like Ganondorf would be simply atrocious – she can hardly bear to think of what it would look like under his control.
“Imagine, my head instead of this stalfos. You on one side of me, and Link on the other,” Zelda mumbles, bringing a hand up to her mouth to cover it, to stop any more of these thoughts from escaping the confines of her brain. Her eyes glass over, Impa notices, but chooses not to comment on it.
“It will not come to that,” she says, though she doesn’t truly believe it herself.
“It is easy for you to say that,” Zelda mumbles, wiping away the few tears that betray her, running down her cheeks.
“It is easy to say that we will lose, too. It will be a difficult and long fight, but I… despite everything, I think we can win. We had the Triforce once before – returning it to our possession is possible. We have many strong warriors on our side – myself, you, my lady, and that young boy that you are so fond of.”
“He is a remarkable swordsman.”
“Indeed. Combined, we will be able to take down Ganondorf. Do not let yourself lose sight of our objective here, princess.”
“No. You are right,” Zelda says, shaking her head before standing up a little stronger. “I cannot afford to give up now. Not when the end is in sight. It might be a little while off still, but I can see it. The light at the end of the tunnel.”
“Good,” Impa says, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Come here. Let me fix you up before we head out to the people.”
Impa runs her thumbs under Zelda’s eyes, removing the traces of makeup that escaped with her tears. She straightens her tiara, smooths out her sleeves, and places her hands on the princess’s shoulders. She closes her eyes, as does her liege, and the two of them take a deep breath.
“Enough is enough,” Zelda murmurs. “We put an end to this cycle of violence.”
“Are you ready, your majesty?”
“I do not think that I will ever be ready,” she admits, opening her eyes. “But I am willing to try.”