World Tree MUSH

  After the unicorn had been subdued, the Summoner and the Hylian had made their way back to the desert. Their chocobos had carried them swiftly and surely over the desert sands, but it spoke to the latter's waning strength that the closer they drew to Kaipo, the more she was nodding in the saddle. Magic could mend her wounds, but it couldn't lift her bone-deep exhaustion. Only rest could do that.
  The princess had mumbled an apology and a half-coherent promise to explain more... tomorrow. At that she'd had just enough strength left in her to ready herself for bed, and crawl into her threadbare blankets. She was asleep as soon as she touched the pillow, and didn't wake through the night.

  There were nightmares, but so far, there have always been nightmares.

  Sleeping uncharacteristically late into the morning, the princess had been true to her word and taken it easy. She had swept outside the room, tidied the room, and mended some of her damaged clothing; wearing much simpler fare to stitch her royal dress and her mourning cloak back together again. That was finished a little while ago, and now, with the desert light waning and the sun low and red in the sky, the princess is looking over the small, curiously plain lyre she had liberated from one of the shadow beasts.

  Every so often Rydia, if she's around, might hear the soft but discordant sound of strings out of tune being plucked. Zelda is still behaving herself and doing things that won't turn her into a bleeding wreck. That's good. The princess is nothing if not a willful one; although that's probably good, too. Someone less willful probably would have given up by now.

  The instrument must be very old, to go by how carefully and reverently Zelda tends to it. Her head is bowed over it, hair loose, dressed simply; lightly testing strings here and there, the fingers of her other hand carefully turning the pegs to tighten the strings.

    No, there was no sweeping. Rydia was just as adamant on that as she was adamant about the princess getting some actual rest. Rydia handled the sweeping and the tidying. Rydia handled a lot, actually, though she did leave Zelda to her own devices- to sleep in- to mend clothes- to perform no activities more strenuous than a light rest. She was very firm on this considering how things had gone with the unicorn.
    They could have gone worse if the unicorn had decided to do anything more rash, or charge down the princess.
    Rydia has also refused to SPEAK to Zelda all day. It's the silent treatment, and most interactions had been scowls, petulant looks, and pushing Zelda back into her room at any and every sign of attempts to leave. The girl was serious when she said Zelda should rest, and the chocobos were given VERY specific instructions that she was to go nowhere if attempted.
    So when Rydia heard the soft sound of strings from Zelda's room... Curiosity won out over childish petulance, because the door creaks open, one eye peeking inside; as sneaky as a train wreck.

  The princess has largely behaved herself, and she's even spent time attempting to nap between the light tasks she's given herself. Her sleep hasn't been very peaceful, but at least she's tried. It may just be a sign of how exhausted she really is. Every time she maages to sleep, her expression is troubled; her dreams interrupted by nightmares that have her shuddering in her sleep and urgently trying to talk to someone or something -- but the words are always unintelligable.

  Now, though, she looks peaceable, and the quiet and reverent way she handles the harp is almost like a priestess handling a revered augury tool. Maybe it has some kind of significance to the Goddesses she prays to. It certainly looks very, very old. She's also staying in bed, which might appeal to Rydia's irritation; blanket drawn up to her stomach, a pillow or two stuffed behind her to rest her shoulders against the wall behind her.

  Slender fingers pass over the strings again in an experimental run of notes, stopping short to adjust the tuning on another worn string. Her eyes lift from her task, though they're still hooded, and there are still shadows under them.

  "You can come in, if you like." Her voice is soft, enough that she doesn't disrupt the music of the harp. Her fingers move into a gentle tune, a strangely fitting blend of hope and melancholy, its cadences soothing and simple like a lullaby. Zelda must have learned how to play an instrument like that; she speaks in the midst of her playing without ever fouling a note. "Have a seat. I will not jump up and get out of bed. I do not think that I could, right now."

    Spotted. Well, Rydia isn't exactly a ninja, but she had hoped to just check in on the princess and what better way to do that than to actually enter and check in on her? Rydia opens the door just enough to slip herself inside, before closing it quietly behind her. Not a word though; not yet, as she folds her hands together behind her back.
    Zelda in bed right now is agreeable enough to her, but the harp has her clear curiosity. "... Good." She finally speaks, and she keeps the response simple and curt, her very firm little praise emphasizing her approval that the Queen-Regent will not be going anywhere. Rydia sets herself down gingerly on the edge of the bed when bidden to sit, resting her hands on her lap as Zelda's fingers pluck over the strings in that soft, soothing, tune. "I..." She pauses a beat. Before she finds her words.
    "I don't care if your goddess herself walks in here right now. I'd make *sure* you didn't jump out of this bed."
    There are some small constants in this world. Things that never change. Flowers bloom, birds sing, and Rydia... Rydia is still feisty.

  That the girl doesn't want to talk doesn't appear to bother the princess. It makes no difference to her whether the girl speaks or whether she only observes. When Rydia is ready to speak, she will speak. It doesn't take supernatural wisdom for Zelda to know that will be on Rydia's terms, and only on Rydia's terms.

  Out of necessity, Hyrule's royal women learn patience early in life.They learn to be as water, and flow unresisting toward their goals. Blue eyes flick up as Rydia settles on the edge of the bed, and Zelda can't help a fleeting half-smile. There's some of the ice cracking.

  Without her royal adornments, she looks somehow gentler; hair long and loose, dressed simply. Her appearance might even be considered plain by some standards, but she carries herself with too much quiet dignity to pass for a commoner.

  "If Her Grace walked into this room, I would be very surprised indeed," Zelda says, with a flicker of amusement. "But there is a reason for my behaviour, although I am not pleased at it. I do not wish to be contrary, nor risk my life; I have done quite enough of that within the past season."

  A gentle swipe of her finger mutes the harp's strings. Zelda bares the top of her rgiht hand, where golden-white light blooms from a triangular symbol. It seems part of her very skin. It practically radiates divinity, just like Zelda herself; this mark, whatever it is, is undeniably a thing touched or wrought by Hyrule's gods themselves.

  "This is a relic of the Golden Goddesses. It is one third of a whole, and the other two are borne by chosen individuals of Hyrule. Every woman of the royal line has borne this relic. It is the Triforce of Wisdom." The princess settles blue eyes on Rydia as she explains. "There is also the Triforce of Courage, which manifests in the hero chosen by the gods, who is bidden to rise up and right Hyrule's wrongs in times of crisis. The Triforce of Power is the last, and it is borne often by adversaries of Hyrule."

  She lowers her hand, plucking at the strings again. "It is a divine relic, and its purpose is to maintain peace and order in Hyrule. It guides us to choose wisely, and to rule over our people in a fair and just manner for the good of the kingdom. And that, child, is the rub. 'The good of the kingdom.'"

  "With this, we are no longer allowed to behave as we wish. We are beholden to rule our people, and their well-behind becomes greater than our own. It drives us to do what we must to ensure that our people are happy and healthy; that they are prosperous, and that Hyrule knows peace." Her fleeting smile is melancholy. "In that, it succeeds admirably; or did, until I surrendered Hyrule to the usurper-king."

  "I find myself now in extenuating circumstances. I do not have a people to govern; not until I am able to free Hyrule from the Twilight... so instead, I must watch over and guide those around me. It is a compulsion, dear child, one that I am powerless to resist. It will drive me to madness if I choose what it perceives as a selfish desire. 'The good of the many must outweigh the good of the few.' And before you ask, no, I cannot remove it. I was chosen by the Goddesses. This is what I was born to do, like my royal mother before me, and her mother befor her."

  Zelda sighs, rolling one shoulder in a shrug and wincing. Ouch. "I must simply choose my battles, where I can, and seek help where I cannot. If I cannot defy it, I will learn to work with it in a way that does not kill me before I see my kingdom and people restored," she adds, a little bleakly.

    It would be pretty surprising if a goddess chose now to enter this very inn. And Rydia would slam doors shut in her face and lock them just to get Zelda some more time to convalesce. But that is niether here nor there, and Hylia is not paying the princess a bedside visit, Rydia is. Jade eyes follow Zelda's fingers until she silences the harp, and then they turn upwards- to the hand presented to her, and the gleaming white-gold light the holy mark that manifests upon her hand.
    She listens. She listens in silence to a tale of a bloodline's devotion to protecting that divine symbol and what it means. Wisdom. The wisdom to guide and lead a nation. And the other two parts of the Triforce as well.
    The girl's lips purse as she lets the symbol and its meaning sink in, and as quiet understanding starts to come over her.
    "That's just stupid."
    Rydia is forthright with her opinions, and she spares no one's feelings with them. At some point the child will have to learn some filters, but right now it seems that the nature of this compulsion only agitates her.
    "It's obvious you want the best for your people." She concedes. "But if this Triforce is so wise in everything it compels you to do, it's downright foolish if it forces you to be suicidal."
    There's a huff and the child fisses with the hem of her robes, fidgeting as. she struggles on trying to find the right words to convey her point. They come to her piece by piece.
    "The many are always made up of the few. And if the few... Die... Then, one by one, there won't be a many. If it pushes you when your body is broken..."
    Now. Now she reveals what bothers her so much about it though, shoulders tensing with a faint tremble, it lasts only a beat before she dispels it with a breath. But what she suppresses in body language, she can't hide in her whisper.
    "Zelda... You'll die."
    Rydia is staring. But those are not innocent eyes. Not the eyes of a child who simply says something without understanding it. Those are the haunted eyes of someone who has known death firsthand. Someone who understands everything there is to know about the finality of it. Those are eyes no child should have, yet she does- eyes of a girl forced to grow up well before her time.
    "And that's not fair."

  The princess waits, giving Rydia what time she needs to grasp the explanation given to her. Her fingers intermittently glide over the harp's strings, as much idle gesture as something to quietly soothe the agitated Summoner.

  "I never said I was fond of the arrangement." Zelda smiles, though the expression is a little melancholy. "However, I must credit the wisdom of the Goddesses. In times of peace, it performs its duties admirably. We are blessed with the wisdom to sustain those times of peace."

  "Save when the Triforce of Power has manifested, Hyrule has enjoyed golden ages of peace and prosperity." Zelda settles her fingers over the harp's strings, gently plucking out that lullaby-like tune again. "It prevents the monarchy from succumbing to corruption, and in having the wisdom to stalemate arrogant or selfish kings who would drive Hyrule to ruin."

  There are kings. They just don't get magical wisdom. Sounds like it's all about the female power in Hyrule, what with the plethora of goddesses and all.

  One shoulder twitches, less of a shrug and more of a subdued gesture. "I do. Yes, a certain part of that is the Triforce, pushing its purpose onto its possessor. But it is also my own personal desire to lead my people well." She shakes her head, faintly.

  "I will not die." Setting the harp aside, Zelda reaches out to rest a hand on Rydia's shoulder, pushing the girl into a comforting embrace. Pat, pat. "Do not worry yourself. There are still things I must do. The Chosen Hero must be found. The usurper-king must be cast from my throne. And Hyrule must still be restored."

  "I cannot ignore the guidance of the Triforce of Wisdom... but I can choose the circumstances," she says quietly, shaking her head. "If I must place myself in harm's way for the sake of others, I will see that I have allies. If I must push my broken body past its limits, I will see that I rest in due time. For the time being, yes, I intend to rest. I am very tired, Rydia of Mist, more tired than I have ever been."

  But she'll hold the poor girl for a moment, because her exhaustion is nothing compared to the horrors this girl's seen. It's no trouble to her to try and offer a broken spirit some small measure of comfort.

    Now... Now the harp's soothing tones aren't helping. Rydia's hands quake where she holds onto the hem of her tunic, but she falls to silence again. Hyrule must have been such a wonderful place before the twilight came. The dark blight that the Summoner had seen first-hand when she rushed to Eldin Province to find the Queen-Regent on death's door, she had seen it and she marked it well. Now is not one of those times of prosperity Zelda speaks of, and she cannot even come close to comprehending the suffering that the people of Hyrule must be enduring even right now in this very moment... And that is, somehow, even more painful for the girl. Once again she remembers the lesson she learned through the horror of Mist and finding Zelda within an inch of her life.
    In this world bad things happen to good people.
    Once again Zelda catches the child by surprise; and Rydia tenses in the embrace, but relents. How long has it been since she felt such a kind touch? The last time by Zelda notwithstanding, the last person to hold her in such a way is dead now, and that brings with it a keen and yearning pain.
    Rydia's sob is muffled. A singular little croak that she does her best to stifle in hopes of going unnoticed, before she strangles it down. It is the confused, injured, whimper of a gentle girl who simply wishes to see no one else die, and when she pulls herself back for a deep, slow, breath she has somehow already dried her eyes through some subtle means.
    "Whether you choose the circumstances or not, it's still too much for one person to handle all alone..." She murmurs, sullen and glum. "If you're so doom-driven to throw yourself at things 'wisely', then fine. You just make sure your chosen circumstances involve me already being there."

  "It will be alright, Rydia." Zelda's reassurance is quiet. The princess has always been an empathic and kindly person, and seeing the kind of pain this brave and selfless girl must endure every day is heartbreaking. "It will be alright. Shhhh. I will be fine. I am only tired."

  Exhausted, actually. She can't remember the last time she'd felt so tired, short of the night Rydia had dragged her back to the inn, after Copen had left her broken and bleeding. It's almost overwhelming, and it makes the problems before her almost insurmountable.

  But there is hope.

  Zelda tightens her arms at the sound of the child's sob, squeezing her own eyes shut. It's one thing to endure suffering for the sake of her people, when she willingly puts herself in harm's way for their sake, but this girl didn't ask to have her life destroyed.

  "It's alright." Her voice is soft, little more than a whisper in the girl's green hair. "It will be alright. May the grace of the goddesses watch over you, child... and it is not doom-driven. Not when I have allies and friends to share the task of guarding Hyrule. The Chosen Hero, he is out there, somehwere; so is Midna. Hyrule's wrongs will be on their way to being made right when they are found."

  Don't worry about her, in other words. Zelda gives the girl a comforting pat, easing back to her pillow when Rydia pulls away. The Summoner threatens her to be included in those circumstances, and Zelda can't help a faint smile. "Yes. I will do so."

  "Will you stay with me, for a little while? I will play for you. It is a very old harp," she murmurs, carefully taking up her harp. "This harp belonged to my mother." Her thumb absently runs along the harp's frame, where something dark stains the wood. It's blood, old blood, though it looks like there's been some token effort at removing the stain. "It is a very old harp. According to legend, it belonged to the Goddess Hylia herself, from which the royal family is descended." She smiles faintly, cradling the harp in one arm. "I have doubts whether something so fragile would survive for so very long, but it is certainly a treasure of Hyrule's queens. It is a priceless heirloom."

  Maybe it really is that old. Its ornamentation is simple, simpler than the royal attire that belongs to Zelda. It looks much-mended, and well-cared for. "Perhaps it did belong to Her Grace, and perhaps this is the very harp she wielded to hold the darkness at bay. Whatever its tale... it is still a lovely instrument, and I have always found it calming. I am relieved to have it back from the Twilight King's clutches. Neither he nor his brutes have a use for such a thing."

  Her fingers glide over the strings again, almost hesitantly, before plucking out the familiar, soothing tones. She plays slowly, carefully, eyes drifting closed as her fingers find their way. When the song runs out, she finds another; something gentle and slow. She'll play until the moon rises over the desert, for as long as Rydia stays to listen -- until her fingers slow and her head lolls slightly to one side.

  Even in sleep, the princess still holds the harp loosely, as though reunited with an old friend.

    Alright. Zelda says she will be alright.
    Rydia is still somewhat skeptical, but she's voiced that enough. One last shivery breath and she nods her head. She remembers what must be done. Find the chosen hero and the Twili princess that journeys with him. But that can come later.
    The harp can come now.
    "I will listen." Rydia says so quietly her voice is almost inaudible; jade eyes watching how the princess so delicately handles the cherished harp. As though sensing the small Summoner's earlier dismay a thin mist floats its way into the room from under the door, swirling in place briefly before floating toward the bed and lingering all around the child.
    It is only when Rydia drifts off that a white claw eases her to lay back against the form of the dragon hatchling, now on the bed, composed entirely of mist. Whyt coos softly, before turning his attention; staring intently at Zelda as she plays- staring in silence until she too drifts off; one wing spreading, reaching over to lay the princess back on her pillows and set the harp aside safely.