Work Text:
-Mija-
She sat below a pool of stars, looking out as far as she could from her bud. A once great fortress peaked at the edge of the petals. The bud was not fully open, it could not be. She was alone, her power waning as fewer and fewer stopped to greet her, to give her offerings for their protection. With her once great power dwindling they could no longer feel her presence. They did not know her, and did not know what she could offer.
Not that there were many left in Akkala. The villages and Citadel were gone, only monsters, machines, and bold travelers remained. Far from the beaten path, no one had reached them here for a long time.
Nearby she heard the twinkling wings of her little sisters. So young, so full of vitality compared to herself. Still able, after all these years, to return the peoples of Hyrule back to fighting shape if only enough to run for their lives.
Under the water in her pool she stared at the stars, and wondered if it would come tonight at the full moon’s height. It didn’t always, she recalled, and the peaceful glow was welcoming and familiar. Nostalgic. Other nights she wished it would fall to the world and crush that damned beast in the castle.
The sky moved above her, and she picked out as many constellations she could see. Remembering the gods attached to them she prayed to each one she saw. Praying for endurance, for help, for the strength to pull herself fully to the world above once more to stretch what was left of her wings. Praying for the sky to maintain its clarity during the full moon –
She slumped at the sight of the red waves around the clouds, her wings falling flat, and braced herself.
She felt it start, a surge beneath her. All around her. The malice pulsing through the earth where monstrous remains lie to rot. Slain in the name of light, the anger of Calamity would grip them, reforming them and forcing their essence from the ground back to their old haunts. She grit her teeth at her inability to stop it. She, Great Fairy Mija, could do nothing now but protect the garden surrounding her spring, protect her little sisters.
She should have felt it coming back then. She remembered the soldiers who would come to her spring speaking in whispers and hushed tones. They spoke of preparations as they waited to give offerings. The constant moving of stones and weaponry for reinforcements against hordes that grew stronger by the day. The stories her eldest sister told should have rung in her ears, the tale of what had happened before she was even a small, flitting thing. Monsters rising, the Sheikah moving to harness Hyrule’s hidden energy, the awakening of Great Mechanical Beasts.
By the time Mija heard the Master Sword finally ring her true awakening to her chosen one, it was too late. There was no time for Mija to build the power she needed to be a healer that Hyrule required, that the Citadel required.
Healer.
That poor, sweet Zora princess.
As the sky turned red above her, Mija closed her eyes. She needed to focus on now. As important as the energy stored in Rupees was for her strength, so too was her connection to the life force of Hyrule. Something the Calamity sought desperately to separate her from. Mija poured herself into the ground around her bud, wrapping herself tightly against the seething anger of the Calamity, and she felt her bud close further. She glimpsed to the sky in time to see the red moon directly above, before the petals closed tightly.
Her little sisters rang out around her, flying around the bud panicked. Even the little Korok that had made a hiding place peaked out from under its yellow flowers. With the protection of the Great Deku Tree it knew little of what the blood moon did to the spirits of Hyrule. A child, it had never understood the true price of the Calamity’s draw. It hardly knew that the Deku Tree sent it to help maintain the integrity of the land.
Mija sent out a prayer to Hylia, if she were still listening to this world, hoping for aid to come soon. The beating of wings continued, tiny hands pulling at petals far larger than they were.
My dear sisters, she thought, know that I am not gone. I am still beside you and will be until the Calamity forces me from this bud.
She took a deep breath, untroubled by the water she dwelt in for decades, held it, and surrendered herself to the new darkness of her spring. Her corporeal form dissipated - she should have done that long ago to save strength - and she fell into a trance, a half slumber to wait for one who would approach her spring with the ability to revive her.