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It’s a terrible fate to have thought forever without any way to live.
At the end of each journey, she would end up back here again. Sat in a pedestal somewhere in patient wait for the next divine tragedy to occur, as so to assist a new, but always familiar master.
It wasn’t anything to be troubled by at first. It was her singular purpose, after all, to aid her lady grace’s chosen hero… But that kept steadily changing. It kept getting more….. Fi believed the word for this was “lonely”.
Each time she could watch Hyrule again from the hilt on the back of the next version of her master, it was during times of war and panic, in terrain that hardly looked familiar. …Even the bearers of the triforce were becoming less and less so.
Fi had been made as an echo of her creator. She had been given Hylia’s knowledge, her passions, even her face to some extent….. And so it was so odd to watch each princess become increasingly different from the goddess. Stoic she with the deep brown hair and the willowy frame, sharp tongued she with the tan skin and burning golden eyes like that of the Gerudo….. There was even a man among them, at least from what Fi could tell! Resilient he, trained by the sheikah. It was by his own choice, which Fi wasn’t aware that one could do.
If the very inheritors of the goddess’ sacred bloodline could choose to be different, to manifest in forms and make decisions seemingly outside the grand design, what did that mean for her? She had been designed for but one reason, and it was to assist the goddess Hylia and her hero, but Hylia herself seemed a distant, almost forgotten memory by now. And the heroes were as diverse as the princesses now, some taciturn and stoic, others playful and childlike. All wielders of courage, yes, but each a unique, unpredictable permutation.
Fi had stayed the same all these years, and she didn’t even have a body to speak of anymore. What would it be like, she eventually wondered…. If she were a mortal, like they were? The thought was strange and really it felt somewhat insulting, but she couldn’t help it!
Perhaps a dancer, as she was molded to be..? Or a soldier, like her master. She had developed an increasing amount of drive to protect those who needed it, after all. She’d developed so many different feelings in these uncountable years of silence. She didn’t even know the words for what most of them even were!
If she WAS a mortal, Fi thought, she’d want to be just like her master. Kind and determined with a shockingly low amount of selfishness for a Hylian in that typical age range, they really felt like a model of what a mortal should be to her.
What an odd feeling it was to feel so increasingly estranged from your given form… Likely traitorous, as well! The goddess had poured everything into her creation! Who was Fi to see it as a stranger? Who was Fi to ever question her lady? And yet….
She’d come to notice that in all this senseless daydreaming about some impossible imaginary life, she never looked even slightly similar to the appearance she’d been given. Really, and confusingly enough, the imagined person was often a Hylian man, which certainly made no sense, because well… Fi was not a man. Fi was created as a perfected vision of the feminine, as Hylia represented herself. She had the face of a woman, the body of a woman, the grace of a woman…. She HAD to be one! She was.. supposed to be. Or, well, WAS. For the last amount of years she’d just been a sword, most commonly referred to simply as an “it”.
It didn’t matter and she shouldn’t care. Feelings were such a bothersome thing, and she missed when she had fewer! It wasn’t like there was any chance of ever becoming anything new like Sheik and Linkle had anyway, because Fi wasn’t really alive… How could you wish for trivial things like new identity and appearance if you were but a weapon? How foolish…
..It felt so painful not to have a choice.