[ An arm wrapped about Zelda's shoulders, holding her in that closeness, the calming heat of the bond settling in between them like a blanket draped over them both, stilling the breath, warming the blood... She was no stranger to intimacy, to be sure, but it still felt different with Zelda. Perhaps because of the bond, and the many barriers still respectfully placed between them, but... ]
How long parted? Is it someone that was able to know you in life?
[It's still so strange, to feel so... comfortable, like this. Scathach's arm around her feels like security she's hardly ever known, and she finds herself... longing for it at times, even when she's not in the midst of a mild existential crisis. Though it's still not something she allows herself to indulge in very often, not unless Scathach is the one initiating.
But here and now she finds the hand at her shoulder, lacing their fingers together, her thumb brushing back and forth against Scathach's own - a tiny expression of the anxious energy that is now otherwise fairly well suppressed by the comfort found in the Bond.
She shakes her head.]
No, thank goodness. I am not looking my daughter in the face while being unable to recognize her as such. [A pause. It's still kind of hard to really wrap her head around this--] ... We are separated by thousands of years. Which I suppose is a blessing in some ways... and a curse in others.
[Something sour filters into the otherwise sweet warmth of their connection then. Something not directed towards this descendant, but rather... herself.]
[ She doubted Zelda would direct such sourness at anyone like that unless they were truly despicable, and even then she'd have plenty to spare for herself. Scathach wasn't surprised by that dip, but she was concerned by it none the less. She tightened her grip a little, letting out a more animal sound, a small huff of concern, rolling from deep in her throat. ]
[She hears the sound, feels the firmness of the arm around her, and she cannot help ducking her head a bit, as if to hide her shame. It does nothing, of course, and she knows that, but it's an instinct that will take a good while longer to break.
Her brow furrows, and she purses her lips into a tight line as she debates how much truth she wants to speak, and in what order.]
Because of her presence... I know things now about my country's future that I likely would have never otherwise been aware of had I never been brought to this world.[And here her struggle is particularly pronounced, her grip on Scathach's hand tightening like it's the only thing keeping her tethered to the present moment.] ... She spoke of preparing for the arrival of a great evil I thought I had put to rest myself, how it will rise again, and again, and again to plague my people for millennia after I am gone...
How many generations are going to suffer, because I--
[Her voice, already wavering like a ringing glass, breaks there, and she claps her free hand over her mouth to help in swallowing the pieces down.
Whatever this "great evil" is, it does not take the Bond or ancient Wisdom to see that she blames herself for it's presence.]
[ Zelda's guilt weighed heavily on her, and that pressure was clear through the bond, Scathach feeling her shoulders literally slump slightly from the load of it all. Even her strength, against something like that... Even so...
That pain in Zelda's voice was a knife. It cut far deeper than the guilt did. That overwhelming sense of failure, the cursed brand that hung from her neck, burned into her pale, soft skin. Regret hung over her like the gallows, and Scathach felt nothing more strongly in that moment than a desire to shield her from it, to form around those burdens and comfort her.
She drew her as close as she could, cradling her in that moment, hand against her hair, holding tight. ]
Do not ever blame yourself for the evil that others do, Zelda...
[She's pulled close, practically into Scathach's lap, her will to protect her from the ghosts of her past nearly as real and tangible as the strong arms that grip her so fiercely... and it breaks her.
So many months of burying the guilt that dwells within her end in a single moment, and nearly instantaneously it surges to the surface like a geyser. Her misery floods into the Bond, unbidden-- she's practically drowning in it as she wails into Scathach's shoulder, staining the fabric of her blouse with her tears. But even as she's lost in the torrent of her feelings, she clings to Scathach like a shipwrecked sailor would cling to driftwood, her body far more honest with her desire to be forgiven than her mind would allow.]
But it-- it was all my fault...! I gave him... everything he needed to steal the Triforce-- he only became so powerful because of me!
[ Scathach's nature as a turnskin granted her a well of strength to draw upon when needed. It allowed her to hold Zelda tightly to her chest, to soak in those tears, but still remain gentle in her embrace, to still offer warmth, acceptance, an absence of judgement for whatever albatross Zelda carried.
Zelda's words seemed like a desperate plea for someone to agree with her shame, to admonish her, to punish her in some way. But by Scathach's reckoning, she'd punished herself enough, and the warmth that countered that torrent of despair within the bond did not falter, still embraced, still enveloped and comforted. ]
None but you hold that sword above your head, Zelda... none but you... please set it aside, if not for your sake then for those that see the good in you...
[She trembles in Scathach's arms as she sobs, a shaking, gasping mess so far and away from the proper princess-ly facade she tries to wear so often. This wound she carries on her heart runs deep, never allowed to properly heal, but though her pain continues to bleed into the bond... the care and affection that meets it urges it to calm, to slow, to abandon the form of a flood and become something less apocalyptic.
It's hard to maintain that level of despair when you're essentially hooked up to an IV drip of love and support, but Zelda is stubborn and has been locked in this mindset for quite some time, so she tries to insist anyway.]
That's just... That's because you don't know. Because I've been too cowardly to say anything. But if you had seen what happened to Hyrule, you wouldn't--
[A pause. Her voice grows quiet, her misery taking a turn for the more personal and reflective.]
[ There was a touch of frustration in Scathach, a beleaguered sigh that fought beneath from Zelda's guilt and despair. Of course there was also anger at whatever forces could have brought her to believe any of this, but the reason that frustration existed was because of the faith she'd built in the other, the strongest emotion of all flowing through the bond, and the one Zelda was resisting most strongly.
Her grip tightened, her voice a whisper. ]
Then speak it to me. Tell me. Let me judge for myself if you are worthy or not...
[Of course. That's the logical conclusion, isn't it? But still... it takes her a few moments of quiet sniffling to settle herself enough to speak, and to swallow whatever frail courage she can grasp at to have her words be the truth.
The bond makes it a quicker process than it would be otherwise, the constant tide of Scathach's faith slowly wearing her down, bit by bit. She pulls herself back just enough so that she isn't speaking into Scathach's blouse, though she still tries to hide from her eyes.]
In Hyrule, I... would have visions come to me in my dreams, sometimes. When I was a girl, I could know the result of a battle long before any messenger arrived at the castle, or whether there would be enough rain for the crops each season, and so on. But one time, I envisioned the darkest clouds I had ever seen enveloping Hyrule, choking the life from it, refusing even the smallest beam of light to touch the ground. It was... terrifying.
Then, the next day, the Prince of the Gerudo, Ganondorf Dragmire arrived at the castle, and... I just knew. He was the one those clouds were representing. He wanted Hyrule, he wanted the power of the gods, and something terrible would happen if he claimed either.
[She pauses there to wrestle with herself, not wanting to continue. Her own self-directed frustration slips out in a whine as she forces herself to do so anyway.]
And, so proud and self-assured in my naivety, I thought I could stop him! By claiming the very thing he wanted before he could! And I dragged the only boy who believed me into it, too. I sent him out into the world to collect all the keys we needed to open the Sacred Realm, never thinking that Ganondorf would play us like the fools we were.
... He launched his attack on Hyrule Castle before Link could return to me. My attendant took me and fled, and as we passed him in our flight, I told him to enact our plan in my stead. And in doing so... I doomed us all.
Beyond the door he had opened with the keys he had gathered laid the Master Sword, a mythical Blade of Evil's Bane that could only be wielded by the one bearing the soul of the Hero, serving as the final barrier between Hyrule and the realm of the gods. Link drew the sword, of course... but it deemed he was too young to bear the mantle destiny had bestowed upon him, and put him into a deep slumber for seven years.
All Ganondorf had to do after that was walk in and take the power he had coveted. We may as well have served it on a silver platter for him.
The dark future I had wished to avert... I ultimately caused. And after that, all I could do was hide, and wait for someone else to come and fix my mistakes...
[The guise of storyteller is a familiar one, and helps to steady her voice as she recounts the tragedy of Hyrule. But once it's gone, the fragility returns, her words becoming high and airy as she fights back against the returning swell of her grief.]
How... How could that ever be worthy? Of anything...?
[ The more Zelda described the situation, the more obvious the matter at hand became to Scathach. She could more easily feel out the form of the weight that pressed on her bonded, the shape of it. This guilt...
She listened to every word of it, slowly pressing her fingertips along Zelda's jaw, directing her face towards hers, eyes to eyes, her own as gentle, despite their scarlet hue, despite their darkness. ]
You made a mistake... I will not deny that. [ Scathach spoke softly. ]
But if you were not greater than your mistakes, I would have known... and not bothered with you at all. That they wound you this much... is proof of your resolve. You fought the way you knew how...
[Zelda meets Scathach's gaze, her own eyes puffy and searching. But she finds no deception, no hidden disgust; only a breath away in both body and soul, all she sees and feels is the tenderness that's always been there, waiting for her despite herself.
How wrong has she been all this time...? How can it be that the hatred she bears for herself exists in no one save herself? It's always seemed so obvious, and that's why she's lied and hidden and kept to herself, and yet...]
Then... what am I supposed to do? I... I can't make things right here. [In Aefenglom, far and away from the people her mistake affected most, save for her descendant.] But how could I possibly forgive myself until I do...?
[Stuck in a purgatory of her own creation, unable to atone, unable to move on-- is it any wonder how she's struggled so much to adapt to this new world?]
I cannot say what you should do... I am no longer a teacher, and have not been for a great, long time. [ There wasn't admonishment in her tone. It was simply the truth. Even if she were Zelda's teacher, she's not sure she'd have the proper, specific guidance she was asking for. But she also believed magical answers that solved her problems weren't what Zelda actually wanted, much less needed. ]
Forgiveness comes with time, with acceptance. You are still young, still have years to grow into a wiser person, tempered by your mistakes. [ Scathach drew closer, nuzzling her cheek against Zelda's tear soaked one, not minding the wetness there. ]
I will walk with you along that time, for as long as I am allowed, but the answers will be only yours to truly discover and understand. And I have faith you will...
[Logically, she knows there's no easy, magical solution to her problems, and even if there were, she likely wouldn't agree with them anyway. Still, it's hard not to feel a little disappointed when she's hardly in the most logical state of mind at the moment. It hurts, and she wishes it would stop hurting, but...
The flow of time is always cruel. Its speed seems different for each person, yet no one can change it.
There's a tiny light in the dark well she's found herself in, however. She sniffles, trying to pull herself together in some small way as she asks:]
You... still want to walk with me...?
[She knows the answer, of course. Scathach doesn't say things she doesn't mean, usually, and even if she did, she can feel it as well as her own heartbeat. She bows her head slightly, closing her eyes as she rests her forehead against Scathach's own, a familiar gesture that makes it easy to allow herself to fall into the warmth of the Bond.]
... Thank you. That... means more to me than I could possibly say.
[Scathach's not bound to her by destiny or duty - only by her word. That she'd still honor it despite seeing the princess as her lowest and weakest self makes her heart ache with feelings she can't remotely describe.]
Then spare your words... I can feel your truth within your heart. The place within it that this Bond betweeen us allows me to dwell within.
[ The warmth in her voice only grew as she felt some of the tension melt out of Zelda, feel some measure of relief fostered by Scathach's faith within her. It would never not be a struggle, facing one's regrets. But Scathach was sincere in her desire to not have Zelda face them alone.
The closeness... she couldn't help but feel herself distracted some by Zelda's scent... But she dared not cross any further than she had. Not yet. Everything felt too raw in that moment. What Zelda needed was for Scathach to anchor her... ]
[She nods, and slowly, gradually, she settles, her breath evening as post-breakdown exhaustion seeps into her bones. Her heart swells with such gratitude and security in Scathach's embrace that if she notices any kind of distraction rippling across the Bond, it is but a small flicker, noted but not examined in depth.
She feels awful and thinks she probably looks just as bad, but... for the first time in a long while, she genuinely feels safe. Not simply in the physical sense, but mentally. Emotionally. Miraculous as it seems, Scathach has managed to turn away the anxieties that so often hound at her heels, at least for now. At least while she's here with her. And she's hardly in any rush to invite them back.]
[ To Zelda's credit, she did look a bit messy. Scathach just... didn't care. She probably wouldn't have cared, regardless, given who she was, but she had especially no judgement in that moment and even might go as far as to say she found it endearing. This was, after all, Zelda as raw and honest as she'd ever felt her, both body and soul.
The instinctive need to surround her in her warmth, to give her shelter from the darkness of her own self-loathing, was all she needed. But it helped she liked her so much. ]
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no subject
How long parted? Is it someone that was able to know you in life?
no subject
But here and now she finds the hand at her shoulder, lacing their fingers together, her thumb brushing back and forth against Scathach's own - a tiny expression of the anxious energy that is now otherwise fairly well suppressed by the comfort found in the Bond.
She shakes her head.]
No, thank goodness. I am not looking my daughter in the face while being unable to recognize her as such. [A pause. It's still kind of hard to really wrap her head around this--] ... We are separated by thousands of years. Which I suppose is a blessing in some ways... and a curse in others.
[Something sour filters into the otherwise sweet warmth of their connection then. Something not directed towards this descendant, but rather... herself.]
no subject
Speak your truth...
no subject
Her brow furrows, and she purses her lips into a tight line as she debates how much truth she wants to speak, and in what order.]
Because of her presence... I know things now about my country's future that I likely would have never otherwise been aware of had I never been brought to this world.[And here her struggle is particularly pronounced, her grip on Scathach's hand tightening like it's the only thing keeping her tethered to the present moment.] ... She spoke of preparing for the arrival of a great evil I thought I had put to rest myself, how it will rise again, and again, and again to plague my people for millennia after I am gone...
How many generations are going to suffer, because I--
[Her voice, already wavering like a ringing glass, breaks there, and she claps her free hand over her mouth to help in swallowing the pieces down.
Whatever this "great evil" is, it does not take the Bond or ancient Wisdom to see that she blames herself for it's presence.]
no subject
That pain in Zelda's voice was a knife. It cut far deeper than the guilt did. That overwhelming sense of failure, the cursed brand that hung from her neck, burned into her pale, soft skin. Regret hung over her like the gallows, and Scathach felt nothing more strongly in that moment than a desire to shield her from it, to form around those burdens and comfort her.
She drew her as close as she could, cradling her in that moment, hand against her hair, holding tight. ]
Do not ever blame yourself for the evil that others do, Zelda...
no subject
So many months of burying the guilt that dwells within her end in a single moment, and nearly instantaneously it surges to the surface like a geyser. Her misery floods into the Bond, unbidden-- she's practically drowning in it as she wails into Scathach's shoulder, staining the fabric of her blouse with her tears. But even as she's lost in the torrent of her feelings, she clings to Scathach like a shipwrecked sailor would cling to driftwood, her body far more honest with her desire to be forgiven than her mind would allow.]
But it-- it was all my fault...! I gave him... everything he needed to steal the Triforce-- he only became so powerful because of me!
How can I ever atone for that...?!
no subject
Zelda's words seemed like a desperate plea for someone to agree with her shame, to admonish her, to punish her in some way. But by Scathach's reckoning, she'd punished herself enough, and the warmth that countered that torrent of despair within the bond did not falter, still embraced, still enveloped and comforted. ]
None but you hold that sword above your head, Zelda... none but you... please set it aside, if not for your sake then for those that see the good in you...
no subject
It's hard to maintain that level of despair when you're essentially hooked up to an IV drip of love and support, but Zelda is stubborn and has been locked in this mindset for quite some time, so she tries to insist anyway.]
That's just... That's because you don't know. Because I've been too cowardly to say anything. But if you had seen what happened to Hyrule, you wouldn't--
[A pause. Her voice grows quiet, her misery taking a turn for the more personal and reflective.]
... you wouldn't feel the way you do about me.
no subject
Her grip tightened, her voice a whisper. ]
Then speak it to me. Tell me. Let me judge for myself if you are worthy or not...
no subject
The bond makes it a quicker process than it would be otherwise, the constant tide of Scathach's faith slowly wearing her down, bit by bit. She pulls herself back just enough so that she isn't speaking into Scathach's blouse, though she still tries to hide from her eyes.]
In Hyrule, I... would have visions come to me in my dreams, sometimes. When I was a girl, I could know the result of a battle long before any messenger arrived at the castle, or whether there would be enough rain for the crops each season, and so on. But one time, I envisioned the darkest clouds I had ever seen enveloping Hyrule, choking the life from it, refusing even the smallest beam of light to touch the ground. It was... terrifying.
Then, the next day, the Prince of the Gerudo, Ganondorf Dragmire arrived at the castle, and... I just knew. He was the one those clouds were representing. He wanted Hyrule, he wanted the power of the gods, and something terrible would happen if he claimed either.
[She pauses there to wrestle with herself, not wanting to continue. Her own self-directed frustration slips out in a whine as she forces herself to do so anyway.]
And, so proud and self-assured in my naivety, I thought I could stop him! By claiming the very thing he wanted before he could! And I dragged the only boy who believed me into it, too. I sent him out into the world to collect all the keys we needed to open the Sacred Realm, never thinking that Ganondorf would play us like the fools we were.
... He launched his attack on Hyrule Castle before Link could return to me. My attendant took me and fled, and as we passed him in our flight, I told him to enact our plan in my stead. And in doing so... I doomed us all.
Beyond the door he had opened with the keys he had gathered laid the Master Sword, a mythical Blade of Evil's Bane that could only be wielded by the one bearing the soul of the Hero, serving as the final barrier between Hyrule and the realm of the gods. Link drew the sword, of course... but it deemed he was too young to bear the mantle destiny had bestowed upon him, and put him into a deep slumber for seven years.
All Ganondorf had to do after that was walk in and take the power he had coveted. We may as well have served it on a silver platter for him.
The dark future I had wished to avert... I ultimately caused. And after that, all I could do was hide, and wait for someone else to come and fix my mistakes...
[The guise of storyteller is a familiar one, and helps to steady her voice as she recounts the tragedy of Hyrule. But once it's gone, the fragility returns, her words becoming high and airy as she fights back against the returning swell of her grief.]
How... How could that ever be worthy? Of anything...?
no subject
She listened to every word of it, slowly pressing her fingertips along Zelda's jaw, directing her face towards hers, eyes to eyes, her own as gentle, despite their scarlet hue, despite their darkness. ]
You made a mistake... I will not deny that. [ Scathach spoke softly. ]
But if you were not greater than your mistakes, I would have known... and not bothered with you at all. That they wound you this much... is proof of your resolve. You fought the way you knew how...
no subject
How wrong has she been all this time...? How can it be that the hatred she bears for herself exists in no one save herself? It's always seemed so obvious, and that's why she's lied and hidden and kept to herself, and yet...]
Then... what am I supposed to do? I... I can't make things right here. [In Aefenglom, far and away from the people her mistake affected most, save for her descendant.] But how could I possibly forgive myself until I do...?
[Stuck in a purgatory of her own creation, unable to atone, unable to move on-- is it any wonder how she's struggled so much to adapt to this new world?]
no subject
Forgiveness comes with time, with acceptance. You are still young, still have years to grow into a wiser person, tempered by your mistakes. [ Scathach drew closer, nuzzling her cheek against Zelda's tear soaked one, not minding the wetness there. ]
I will walk with you along that time, for as long as I am allowed, but the answers will be only yours to truly discover and understand. And I have faith you will...
no subject
The flow of time is always cruel. Its speed seems different for each person, yet no one can change it.
There's a tiny light in the dark well she's found herself in, however. She sniffles, trying to pull herself together in some small way as she asks:]
You... still want to walk with me...?
[She knows the answer, of course. Scathach doesn't say things she doesn't mean, usually, and even if she did, she can feel it as well as her own heartbeat. She bows her head slightly, closing her eyes as she rests her forehead against Scathach's own, a familiar gesture that makes it easy to allow herself to fall into the warmth of the Bond.]
... Thank you. That... means more to me than I could possibly say.
[Scathach's not bound to her by destiny or duty - only by her word. That she'd still honor it despite seeing the princess as her lowest and weakest self makes her heart ache with feelings she can't remotely describe.]
no subject
[ The warmth in her voice only grew as she felt some of the tension melt out of Zelda, feel some measure of relief fostered by Scathach's faith within her. It would never not be a struggle, facing one's regrets. But Scathach was sincere in her desire to not have Zelda face them alone.
The closeness... she couldn't help but feel herself distracted some by Zelda's scent... But she dared not cross any further than she had. Not yet. Everything felt too raw in that moment. What Zelda needed was for Scathach to anchor her... ]
no subject
She feels awful and thinks she probably looks just as bad, but... for the first time in a long while, she genuinely feels safe. Not simply in the physical sense, but mentally. Emotionally. Miraculous as it seems, Scathach has managed to turn away the anxieties that so often hound at her heels, at least for now. At least while she's here with her. And she's hardly in any rush to invite them back.]
... May I stay here with you for a while?
no subject
[ To Zelda's credit, she did look a bit messy. Scathach just... didn't care. She probably wouldn't have cared, regardless, given who she was, but she had especially no judgement in that moment and even might go as far as to say she found it endearing. This was, after all, Zelda as raw and honest as she'd ever felt her, both body and soul.
The instinctive need to surround her in her warmth, to give her shelter from the darkness of her own self-loathing, was all she needed. But it helped she liked her so much. ]